Chapter Text
Jimin felt the warmth of the sun on his face coming in through the glass ceiling before he opened his eyes. The brightness seeped through his eyelids, but he kept them closed, wanting to bask in the feeling for a few more moments before he had to stop pretending he was still asleep. When he did open his eyes, he did so slowly, to not shock his pupils and momentarily blind himself. The tall, gold posts of his bed frame are the first thing he sees, reflecting the light and bouncing it onto the baby blue walls in varying directions so his room resembled the inside of a snow globe, and felt just as magical as one.
He smiled to himself. When he was old enough to pick the room he wanted, he specifically asked for the one with the glass ceiling so he could wake up to sights like this, and at night he could fall asleep admiring the stars.
His white sheets were a blend of silk, satin, and cotton, and made for a material that was sturdy yet kitten soft; perfect for Jimin, as he had sensitive skin. He pulled them up to his face and curled up into a ball underneath them, still not ready to become a fully functioning human yet, and drowned his senses in vanilla, lavender, and if he honed in enough, the faintest hint of sex, and blushed as remnants from the night before filtered in and out of his memory.
Now that he was more awake, the slight soreness in his ass and his lower back was much more prominent, but it wasn’t terribly painful. It was a good kind of hurt, in the same way he would wake up sore after a day of riding his horses or basic combat training.
He extends his hand to the other side of the bed, reaching blindly for the other body that he knew was still there, and when he finds it, he curls his fingers around the other man’s hand and drops his head to the side to face his lover, who was already awake and had been watching him with his sharp, piercing gaze this entire time. He didn’t jump at finding his lover staring at him like he did the morning after the first night they were together like this. They’ve done this many, many times now, and he’s come to expect it. Yoongi was a light sleeper, and therefore would always wake up before Jimin and then watch him until he woke up too, making sure he arose peacefully. And also to make sure he stayed out of harms way, as Yoongi was not only Jimin’s lover, but also his bodyguard, his knight, and took his job in protecting Jimin very seriously.
With an upward tug of his lips, Jimin places his other hand, the one not occupied by his lover’s grip, on said lover’s cheek. Yoongi’s other hand follows immediately, though his eyes, always keen and watching, stayed fixed on Jimin’s face.
“Good morning, my Prince,” Yoongi said, his naturally gruff, deep voice even gruffer and deeper from lack of use. “Did you sleep well?”
Jimin hummed, and nodded. “I slept great. One of the best sleeps I’ve ever had, thanks to you.”
Yoongi quirked an eyebrow. “Thanks to me?”
“Well of course,” he cheekily responds. “No way I would’ve slept as well as I did had you not been there to...help me relax.”
Yoongi takes his hand out of Jimin’s and gently runs his palm over the skin of his side. “Hm, is that what we’re calling this now?”
Yoongi's hand is hot on his skin, and Jimin melts into it, scooting his body closer. “I have other terms for it,” he says, but doesn’t indulge what those other terms are, and instead changes the subject. “What time is it?”
Yoongi looked up, examining the position of the sun in the sky. “Eh, I’d say it was a little after 7am,” he answers, and turns back Jimin. “Breakfast will be served soon.”
Jimin bit his lip, and gently pushed Yoongi - who didn’t resist him - so he was lying on his back, and situated himself on top of him, wincing a little at the sting that was still present, and straddled the knight’s narrow hips with his thighs. “So that means we have some time to ourselves, then?”
Yoongi smirked, and ran delicate fingers through Jimin’s slightly tangled hair. “We have some, yes.”
A smile broke out over Jimin's face, and his eyes took in all of Yoongi’s features, his stark black hair fanned out on the almost blinding white of the sheets, his sharp, cat like eyes, his button nose, and his pretty pink lips that permanently rested in a cute pout as he slowly began to lean down. Yoongi’s hands in his hair acted as a careful guide, creating a barely there pressure as he led Jimin’s face to his until his mouth fell shyly on top of Yoongi’s.
It wasn’t anything like the first kisses they shared. The first kisses were rough and hard, laced with months and months of prior building tension, and fear of what might happen if anyone were to ever find out. They led to desperate make out sessions in the shadows of secret corridors that hardly anyone used, and quick yet passionate fucks in the dead of night when they were positive everyone else was asleep. But over time, it seemed like nobody noticed any strange atmospheres surrounding the prince and his knight, or if they did, they minded their business and didn’t say anything about it. They were able to relax, and their intimate moments evolved into something much softer, more tender. Yoongi no longer held Jimin like he might slip away any second, and instead, held him like he knew they had the rest of their lives together, much like he was holding him now.
Maybe what they had was taboo. Maybe it was immoral and the relationships between knights and the princes they served should remain exactly that. But maybe Jimin didn’t always like to follow the rules. And maybe his feelings for Yoongi went beyond a good fuck. And maybe Yoongi’s feelings for Jimin went beyond his loyalty to the royal family and the kingdom. And maybe those things counted for something, too.
If anything, Jimin was just grateful he was the second born, and therefore his parents hardly paid any attention to what he did.
Yoongi closes his eyes, and sighs softly when their lips touch, gripping his hair just a little bit tighter, pulling him a little bit closer. One hand travels down Jimin’s back to rest on his ass and gently pull him down on top of Yoongi fully, both of them letting out high pitched noises when their naked bodies come together while Yoongi’s tongue, hot and wet, glides across Jimin’s bottom lip and gently pushes through his closed mouth. Jimin didn’t put up much of a fight, eager to connect with his lover in every way he possibly could, groaning a little as their tongue’s started a lazy dance. Yoongi takes over the kiss easily, even from his position under Jimin, but the prince doesn’t mind. He’s always been content to let Yoongi do, for the most part, whatever he wished. He trusts him enough to not do anything that would hurt him, and he also knows that Yoongi would tie the noose himself if he ever took advantage of Jimin like that.
So Jimin lets Yoongi kiss him. Lets him explore every inch of his mouth with his tongue, lets him take his tongue in his mouth to meticulously suck on it, and let's him dig his blunt nails into his back. It stings, enough for Jimin to let out a small hiss, and this seems to spur Yoongi on. He kissed him with much more determination, now occasionally biting his plump lips before soothing the bites with strategically placed licks.
What started as chaste and almost innocent quickly ventured into more dangerous territory, something hot and needy that had Yoongi tightly wrapping an arm completely around Jimin’s middle while the other gripped his hair and pulled him closer, licking inside of his mouth like he tasted like the sweetest candy, and had the prince beginning to feel that familiar ache spread in the pit of his belly and between his legs. He was warm all the way down to his toes, and even though he was the one on top right now, he was completely surrounded by Yoongi’s presence, all five of his senses only focusing on how flushed he looked, the guttural sound of his moans, the way he tasted like mint and strawberries, his natural scent of pine and redwood, and how every inch of his skin, scalding hot to the touch, was pressed against Jimin’s own.
In the back of his mind, Jimin pondered on if it was a bit pathetic of him to succumb so easily. But then Yoongi ran his tongue down the side of his neck, and that thought flew straight out the window.
Yoongi’s sucking on his collarbone, albeit lightly, so to not leave a mark, but Jimin is still heavily affected all the same. His head filled with too many sensations as moans and whines spill from between his lips, and his hips, seemingly possessing a mind of their own, rut insistently against the other man, causing him let out a groan from deep in the back of his throat against Jimin’s skin but it also seems to bring him back to reality, because in the next moment his arms unwraps from around Jimin’s torso to come between their bodies, and carefully pushes Jimin away. He almost can’t help but begin to pout, but any initial disappointment about the loss of contact is drowned out by the feel of his heart hammering in his chest when he looks down at Yoongi properly.
His hair is even more of a mess than before. A single strand sticks up above the rest like a cowlick, and Jimin giggles at it a little. His lips are a bit swollen, and shiny with spit, and there are four parallel scratch marks on his shoulder that probably came from Jimin but he doesn’t remember putting them there. He looks thoroughly loved, and Jimin felt a small swell of pride in his chest knowing it was his doing.
“As much as I’d love to continue this,” Yoongi says, hand still on Jimin’s chest, “breakfast will be served soon, and I need to get you dressed so we can go down to the dining hall.”
“Let’s just skip breakfast,” Jimin suggested, already leaning down to capture Yoongi’s lips again, but the hand on his chest keeps him at a distance.
“You need to eat, Jimin,” Yoongi says sternly, forgoing his title in favor of his given name, something he only did rarely to emphasize a point.
Jimin sighs, and moves Yoongi’s hand off his chest and leans down to instead nuzzle his face into the knight’s neck. “Must you always look out for my well being?”
Yoongi chuckles from underneath him. “It’s sort of in my job description, yes.”
“As my bodyguard or as my lover?”
“As someone who cares about you,” he corrects, and pats his ass. “Now get up, I have to get your clothes.”
Jimin places one final kiss where the scratch marks are and rolls over, watching as Yoongi swings his legs out from under the sheets and plants them on the floor, stretching his arms up over his head. His muscles ripple under his pale skin, though they aren’t very big, and Yoongi also isn’t very tall, and honestly, with his youthful face and small stature he didn’t look much like any kind of warrior at all, but Jimin knows better. He was small, but he was quick, and what he lacked in brawn he made up for in his cleverness and his wit. Yoongi knew he wasn’t the strongest or tallest, and instead played to his strengths, relying more on his wit, his observational skills and his sharp senses.
The first time Jimin got to bare witness to them was a few weeks before the tournament that would determine who would serve him as his personal protector. The kingdom held this tournament six months after an heir turned eighteen, and everyone was off on the training grounds or in the training rooms, studying up and practicing.
It was early spring. All of the plants were in bloom, but there was still a left over chill in the air from the winter that just passed. Jimin was walking through the gardens in his bare feet, something he did often because he liked the feel of the freshly cut grass on his heels and in between his toes, and on this particular morning he was walking to the berry bushes located near the lake on the west side of the palace to see if they were ripe yet. He loved those berries, even though he consistently got scolded for eating them, but when he got to them, he found they were still just buds and frowned, aimlessly looking around for other places he could go until he saw a figure with a bow and arrows kneeling on the side of the lake. His back was turned to Jimin, so he couldn’t see his face, but he knew it was someone of the royal army by his attire - a deep, mossy green tunic with a burgundy belt with the kingdom’s seal secured around his waste, and black tights.
Motivated by his curiosity, he carefully placed his steps to hide behind the bush. He can’t remember why he felt compelled to spy on him, but he does remember feeling like he was unapproachable at the time, and it would be best if he kept his distance, so he stayed crouched behind the berry bush for some time until, with the knight’s back still turned, he called to him.
“There’s no need to hide, Prince Jimin. You can join me, if you want.”
Jimin tensed, but cautiously came out from behind the berry bush, and padded his way over to the man. When he got closer, he saw that the man was Yoongi. He didn’t look up at all, and kept his gaze fixed straight ahead while his right hand was in the water. Jimin cocked his head to the side as he knit his eyebrows together.
“How did you know it was me?” Jimin asked as he lowered himself down in the grass.
“You’re the only one who doesn’t wear shoes out here,” Yoongi answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and kept his eyes trained forward. “Had you been wearing shoes, your footsteps would’ve been much louder.”
Jimin stared at Yoongi for a few moments, not sure if he was freaked out or impressed. Eventually, he settled on impressed, and curiously looks at Yoongi’s hand in the water. “So, what are you doing out here?” Jimin asked.
“I’m working on my observational skills so I can be better in tune with my surroundings,” Yoongi stated, still looking straight ahead. “A rabbit is behind that tree, and he’s about to come out from it.”
Jimin followed Yoongi’s eyes, and sure enough, right out from the side of the tree peaked a brown rabbit with floppy ears on the other side of the lake. The wind blew.
“The bucket to the well is about to click against on of the posts.”
In the distance, the sound of a bucket hitting a post resonated through the air.
“And a fish is about to try to grab at my hand.” Yoongi barely finished his sentence before he snatched his hand out of the water, splashing himself and Jimin, and causing the prince to jump in surprise. Yoongi turns to him for the first time. “I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I should have given you more of a warning. I guess I still have to work on it some more.”
“It’s okay,” Jimin said, airing out the front of his robes. “But shouldn’t you be practicing for the tournament?” he asked. He liked Yoongi, and he remembered how poorly he did during his brother, Seokjin’s tournament, and wanted him to have his best shot, but Yoongi only smiled coyly, and said, “I am practicing.”
Yoongi picked up his bow and arrow, and took no more than three seconds to line up his shot before he sent the arrow flying, and then got up and walked away without even checking to see if he hit his target. Jimin watched curiously as Yoongi walked away, and once he was out of the prince’s line of sight, he turned his head back in the direction Yoongi sent his arrow, and on the other side of the lake about 100 meters away, lay the rabbit with the arrow lodged in it’s head, pierced perfectly through it’s left eye.
The second time Jimin got to see his skills were at the tournament some weeks later. He was watching everything take place below from his position on the throne located on the balcony. There were banners in the kingdom’s colors - moss green with a burgundy trim - cascading down the sides of the palace and on poles that were scattered all across the garden to commemorate the event. Every member of the royal army was in the garden. Some were stretching, some were sparring by themselves or with a partner, and all of them surrounded the raised platform that was set up for the combat portion of the tournament.
Jimin scanned the garden, searching for Yoongi until he found him off by himself, a good distance from everybody else, but not disengaged by any means. He was sitting in the grass, watching - no, observing - everything that was going on around him. Even from where Jimin was perched on the balcony, he could see his eyes following everyone’s movements, could practically see the gears turning in his head. Jimin wondered if anyone else could feel the weight of his gaze, because Jimin felt it from all the way up where he was, and Yoongi wasn’t even looking at him.
After the competition started and progressed, Yoongi established himself as one of the main contenders. During the archery portion, he scored perfect tens. His mind briefly flashed back to the rabbit, and he wondered how much he’d been practicing, because during Seokjin’s tournament he couldn’t even land an arrow on the board, and when it was time to test battlefield skills, which was actually just a more intense version of ‘capture the flag,’ he excelled at that, too. His smaller build and his quickness made it easier for him to hide and evade, and he managed to capture the other teams flag without being seen at all, but he also did something that Jimin found interesting. There were several points in the game where he paused to closed his eyes, but even with them closed, he still knew when he was in the clear to move, and Jimin gasped to himself - earning him a curious look from his brother - when he realized what he was doing. He was feeling his surroundings, relying on his other senses to tell what was around him and how to respond, just like he did that day at the lake.
When the hand to hand combat portion came up, Jimin was, admittedly, a little nervous for him. His small, lithe frame might have been great for the battlefield part, but most of the others in the army were bigger than him, stronger than him. He was rooting for Yoongi all that time and he hadn’t even realized it until that moment, and he shook a little. He didn’t want to see Yoongi get hurt, but when his time to fight came up, he realized, quickly, that he had nothing to worry about. Yoongi didn’t fight like the rest of them. Where the others immediately dove in, he played with them first, able to dodge their attacks easily because he was small and wiggled out of their grips like a snake, and took the time to figure out their fighting style before waiting for the opportunity to deliver that perfect strike that knocked out his opponent. Every single time.
Yoongi was knighted the next day, and when he knelt down in front of Jimin, he kept his head up, looking Jimin in the eyes with a smirk on his face.
Some months later, he noted how hard Yoongi must have practiced to come from not even making it past the archery round to being his bodyguard. That was the day that Yoongi admitted, with blush tainting his cheeks, that he threw Seokjin’s tournament on purpose because he wanted to be Jimin’s bodyguard instead.
If Jimin remembers correctly, that was also the day they shared their first kiss.
It was kind of amazing, he thought, how the same hands that had all of the potential to kill with a simple flick of the wrist were the same hands that were currently caressing him like he was made of glass as he dressed him. Yoongi’s hands ghosted softly over his shoulders as he adjusted the red, silk fabric of his robes in place. The knight, now in uniform, with his sack of arrows strapped against his back and his bow in hand, places one last delicate kiss on his lips, and with a wink, says, “Let’s go eat breakfast. After last night, you’re probably starving.”
Under the gold chandelier of the dining hall placed in the center of the convex ceiling, the long, rectangular dining table was covered in food. From where Jimin was standing at the door, he could see an assortment of fruits of every color of the rainbow skewered and assorted in clear vases lining the middle of the table. Different breads and breakfast pastries like danishes and crepes, as well as various meats and cheeses were decorated on plates that were placed all around the vases, so much so that you could barely see the white table cloth. Jimin thought it was way too much food for only six people, but his thoughts on even trivial matters often went ignored.
The burgundy curtains were drawn over the windows, opting to use the chandelier for lighting today. The queen and king - his mother and father - were at the head of the table. His brother, Seokjin, was to to their mother’s right, already with a plate of food in front of him and eating to his heart’s content while his bodyguard, Jungkook, watched from a few meters away with a serious expression on his face that looked slightly out of place on his youthful features. Jungkook was incredibly young, two years Jimin’s junior, but he was something of a prodigy, exceptional in almost all aspects for his age and won his tournament three years ago when he was just fourteen. Had he not seen him in action, Jimin wouldn’t believe someone so young could go against people almost twice his age and win. He wondered how Yoongi would hold his own against him. It would definitely be an interesting fight, since they were both stubborn and didn’t like to lose.
“Jiminie, sweetie, and Yoongi, how nice of you to join us!” his mother says, flipping her silky, black hair over her shoulders so it all fell down her back. Jimin and Yoongi bowed, and Jimin takes his spot at the table to his father’s left, opposite Seokjin, while Yoongi stays standing. He and Jungkook didn’t eat until after they were finished.
“Good morning mother, good morning father,” Jimin said after he was fully situated in his seat.
“Hi, Jimin,” Seokjin greeted him around a mouthful of food. Jimin scrunched his nose and giggled.
“So,” his mother started, clapping her hands together, “now that we’re all here, we can start discussing the details of Seokjin’s wedding.”
Jimin took that as his cue to zone out of the conversation. He reaches over into one of the vases to grab a fruit skewer instead, biting off what tastes like a cantaloupe and placing it on his plate. He then grabs something shaped like a ball, and he thinks it’s a biscuit, but is covered in powdered sugar and feels too soft and squishy to be a biscuit. He bites into it, and is surprised to find it has fruit filling. Peach, if he’s correct, spiced with cinnamon and vanilla. He grabs two more and places them on his plate, and also grabs some apple butter. He goes to cut off a piece of steak, but Yoongi’s at his side in an instant, grabbing the knife out of his hands and cuts it for him. Jimin fondly rolls his eyes. Yoongi pretends he doesn’t see it.
He eats as he looks between his mother, father and Seokjin. Seokjin had stopped eating, now listening intently to everything their parents were saying, giving them his utmost attention with his broad shoulders back and his head high, looking very much like a future king. He took after their mother in that sense, who was tall and elegant, with a natural regal air. Jimin took more after their father, short and more on the chubby side, and sometimes it would make him insecure but then Yoongi would tell him - show him - just how much he loved his body and he’d forget all about it.
“Are you listening, Jimin?” his mother’s voice cuts through his thoughts.
“Huh?” he replies dumbly.
His mother sighs. “Of course you weren’t. I said, we need to find a wife for you, too, and I was wondering if you had anybody in mind? Princess Hirai Momo is a lovely girl, don’t you think?”
Jimin sighs inwardly as he feels Yoongi tense behind him, and discreetly with his fingers, rub circles in between his shoulder blades. He knows how much Jimin hates these conversations.
“Is it absolutely necessary that I get married?” Jimin asks, his voice high and squeaky. “I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be the king anyway. So why would I need a wife?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jimin,” she waves him off. “Luckily, you have plenty of time to think about it, but I’d start considering your options if I were you.”
Jimin feebly nods, leaning back into his chair and Yoongi’s touch. Of course he knew that eventually, they would have to stop...whatever it was that they were doing. One day he'd have to marry someone that wasn't Yoongi, and the feeling of the knights hands lightly grazing the inside of his thighs, him holding Jimin against his chest as they lay in the prince's bed, and Jimin whispering in Yoongi’s ear just how much he means to him will be forced to become mere memories. Of course he knew that, but that didn't stop the truth from crushing him every time he momentarily quit pretending he didn't.
He angrily chews on his steak, wishing on the sky and the stars that he could be free to tell his parents about him and Yoongi, and how he makes him feel so loved and safe in a way that surpassed just the stability of his physical being. And about how his kisses fill his tummy with butterflies and make his head swim, and how he makes love to him as if it’ll be the last time. It’s a wish he’s made a thousand times, and a wish he’ll make a thousand more times though he knows it’s moot. Wishing on stars never made things so, and the sad reality is he has no idea how they’d react, and getting disowned or banished would practically be a death sentence for the both of them, and even though he knows Yoongi would follow him into a monster infested forest blindfolded without a second thought, he couldn’t do that to him. He wouldn’t do that to him. So he just eats his food.
His parents continue their conversation with Seokjin, either unaware or thinking nothing of Yoongi’s hands on his shoulders massaging the tension out of them. He tries to relax, but now his head is producing thoughts of weddings and the future and how Yoongi will have to watch him marry someone that isn’t him, and he’ll have to stay by his side for the rest of his life regardless, and the guilt he feels bubble in his stomach makes him lose his appetite, and he stops eating.
He assumes that’s why he feels Yoongi’s hands freeze suddenly on his shoulders. He tilts his head back to look at him, and crinkles his nose at what he sees.
It’s not just Yoongi’s hands that were frozen, but his whole body. His eyes, wide and blown out, were the only thing on him moving, shifting all over the room, but he didn’t blink.
“Yoongi, are you okasdwk,” his sentence got muffled by Yoongi’s hand on his mouth. Jimin shifted his eyes to look at everyone else, and they were all staring at him, too. Jungkook notably, had a hand on his sheath.
“Yoongi, what’s gotten int-” his father didn’t get to finish his sentence either, because in the next moment with blinding speed, Yoongi’s bow was in his left hand while his right reached into his sack as he turned around and sent an arrow into the top of one of the curtains covering the windows. When it hits, a shriek that’s unmistakably human sounds through the dining hall, and a lump can be seen falling through the curtain until it hits the ground with a thud. The head of a man sticking out and the pool of blood seeping into the blue carpet under the curtain are also, both unmistakable.
“Get under the table,” he says with a low and dangerous tone that Jimin's only ever heard in a completely different context, and he momentarily freezes.
The swarm of people that come out from behind the curtains is almost overwhelming. There were at least thirty of them, all dressed in the same blue tunic and silver pants, but their attire bares the absence of a seal. He stood paralyzed with his mouth hanging open until he felt Yoongi’s hand on his shoulder.
“Get under the table!” he said more forcefully, and pushed him down until he was ducked down and completely obscured by the table cloth. He could see the scuffle of multiple feet in the inch between the table cloth and floor, frantically moving back and forth across the room. Focusing on his breathing wasn’t doing anything to calm his heart, which was beating faster than a hummingbird’s, and he swore it was about to beat right out of his chest any second. He could hear the clanging of swords over his heavy breathing, as well as grunts and bodies falling against the floor and the table. He didn’t hear any screaming from voices he recognized, which was a good sign. Neither Seokjin nor their parents were under the table with him, but all of them could hold their own in a fight, and he trusted them to come out of this alive.
The white table cloth is now dotted with drips of red, and more and more splatter onto it with each passing second. Jimin, with a great effort because his instincts are yelling at him to move faster, get out of there run, slowly backs away from the edge. The last thing he needs to do is bang against one of the legs, and alert everyone to his whereabouts.
He backs away until he hears something heavy fall on the table directly above him, and stops. The plates of food and vases clatter against each other as they land on the carpet, and he hears someone above him beg, “No, no please don’t,” before it’s abruptly cut off by a sword covered in blood, flesh and meat plunging through the table a mere two inches in front of Jimin’s face.
He scrambles backwards, unaware how close he was to the other end of the table and accidentally falls out from under it. There are bodies all over, some screaming in agony over lost body parts, and others with their eyes open, hollow, and lying unnervingly still. Seokjin and Jungkook were fighting side by side, as were their parents, but Yoongi was fighting by himself. Except the more Jimin watched him the more he realized he wasn’t actually fighting. He would let them surround him, and then one would attack and Yoongi would slip out of the way at the last second so they would end up attacking each other. The amount of bodies laying on the floor around him gradually increased, but it did so without him having to lay a hand on anyone.
Jimin rises to his feet. The amount of people in blue tunics and silver pants on their feet had drastically dwindled in number, and from the looks of things they were finishing off the last of them. He let's a quick sigh of relief, and turns to his side only to come face to face with one of their attackers. He sucks in a breath, and curses himself for not bringing his saber with him. He hadn’t felt the need to carry it after Yoongi was knighted to him, but now he felt pathetic and afraid as clutched at his waist for something, anything, as the man backed Jimin into a corner.
He raises his sword, and Jimin shuts his eyes, preparing himself for a blow, but it never comes. When he opens them again, the man still has his sword raised, and his eyes are open wide, but he’s still. And then Jimin looks slightly lower, and that’s when he sees it.
A purple flower gradually blooms around the tip of an arrow protruding from his chest, and in the next second, he unceremoniously falls to the floor, revealing Yoongi standing right behind him with his bow up and his right elbow still cocked back. He holds Jimin’s gaze as he lowers both of his arms. There’s a tear in his uniform below his left shoulder, and the gash in his skin is dripping down his arm but Yoongi ignores it as he runs over to Jimin, taking his face between his hands and moving it from side to side, checking for any injuries.
“Are you alright, My Prince?” he asks, sounding winded and halfway to panicking.
“Yeah, I’m fine, but your arm-”
“Don’t worry about that,” he cuts him off, and moves his hands from his face to his shoulders, shaking him a bit. “When I tell you to do something, just do it, yeah? Damn you.”
The last part is said quietly, and he pulls Jimin into a tight embrace. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” he whispers even quieter into his ear. Jimin nuzzles his face into his neck, and wraps his arms just as tightly around Yoongi’s torso.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers back, and he really is. Yoongi hardly ever loses his cool, even a little bit, and when he does it’s only when his emotions are at their peak. He must have been terrified.
Jimin’s peaks his eyes out, scanning the room that was now in complete disarray. The food that was on the table was all on the floor, as was the dishware, and the table cloth, splattered in red, was askew and almost hanging off, but the most grisly thing were the bodies everywhere. Some of them were still moving, but most of them had stopped, and blood pooled out from underneath them, staining the carpet. They probably wouldn’t be able to use the dining hall for at least the rest of the day.
Up by the windows, his brother and mother were tending to a minor flesh wound on his father’s back. His mother occasionally throws odd glances in Yoongi and Jimin’s direction, probably because Yoongi’s still holding him, brushing his hands through his hair and rocking him from side to side, all behavior that wasn’t customary between knights and princes, but he doesn’t have it in him to care about that right now.
“Yoongi,” Jungkook called. Yoongi, relucantly, turned to him. He had one of the attackers with his hands behind his back, fighting tooth and nail to get out of Jungkook’s grip. Jungkook, on the other hand, looked calm, albeit a little annoyed, as if the man in his grip was nothing but an ill behaved child. He was on the shorter side, with short, spiked hair and a mousy face. With a last subtle cup of Jimin’s cheek, Yoongi turns away and starts toward them, grabbing a knife off the floor on his way.
“Let one of his arms go,” Yoongi says authoritatively when he reaches them. Jungkook complies, and Yoongi grips it immediately in his hands, holding the knife to the man’s pinkie finger.
“Talk,” he orders.
The man stays quiet with his lips pressed into a hard line, chest out and head up, but as the still as the statues in the garden. His eyes meet Yoongi’s head on, and they stay locked in a game of will until with a quick flick of his wrist, the knight slices the tip of the man’s pinkie finger off. The ear splitting scream that rips through the room makes everyone except Yoongi and Jungkook jolt.
“Talk,” Yoongi orders again. The man shakes violently, but still stays mute, and by consequence loses the tip of his ring finger as well, and he remains silent even until he's writhing and sobbing with all five of his fingers sliced, and blood is covering his arm, dripping onto the floor.
It’s a good thing Jimin didn’t eat much during breakfast, because surely he would’ve been sick.
“Give me his other hand,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook wretches the man’s bloody arm behind his back as he lets go of the other one. The man grunts as Yoongi places the tip of the knife to his other pinkie, and levelly looks him in the eyes.
“You know,” Yoongi starts in a way that’s eerily charming, “If I end up having to slice all of your fingers off, there’s a very good chance that you’ll bleed out. So I’ll make you a deal. You talk, and I won’t kill you.”
The man narrows his eyes at him. “How do I know you will not just kill me after I tell you what you want to know?”
Yoongi considerately looks down at his feet, and back up. “I am a lot of things,” he says, “but one thing I am not is a dishonest man, and I can assure you that I will keep my word.”
And to further convince him, he slowly backs away, and puts the knife and his bow and arrow on the table.
“Let go of his other arm, Jungkook.”
Jimin would think that Jungkook would put up more of a fight about it, but surprisingly, he doesn’t. He lets go, and the man, stands shocked, cradling his sliced hand with his other.
“Talk,” Yoongi says gently, the way one might confront a friend in need of help. The man looks at Yoongi, and back to Jungkook, and Jimin sees his thought process all through his eyes, pinpointing the exact moment when his brain decided he was safe.
“We’re from the kingdom by the edge of land, near the sea,” he began. “We specialize in goods from the ocean and sea supplies, for that reason. We usually trade stocks with you, but because lately you’ve also been exporting goods from the water because you’re right near a huge body of it, it’s competing with ours, and our king doesn’t like it. So he sent us to execute the princes-” Yoongi visibly tenses “-and leave you without an heir, and weaken you. He’s going to send another swarm, two nights from tonight if none of us come back with their dead bodies. That’s all I know.”
Yoongi smiles and quickly thanks him before he pointedly looks at Jungkook. In the time it takes Jimin to blink, the knight's expression shifts back from friendly to deadly.
“Kill him,” he says
Jungkook seizes the man again, and his face flickers between fear, anger, and betrayal as he uselessly fights Jungkook’s iron hold. “Wait! You said you wouldn’t kill me!”
Yoongi only cocks his head. “And I’m not killing you,” he says innocently. The man’s eyes widen as Yoongi’s words make sense.
“You tricked me,” he spits. Yoongi chuckles.
“Desperate people are easily tricked,” he shrugs, and looks at Jungkook. “If you could, please do it somewhere else. There’s a big enough mess in here as it is.”
“I can hang him over the balcony,” Jungkook suggests, letting his youth show through in the excitement in his tone and his eyes. The man let's out a sound of protest that goes ignored.
Yoongi rolls his eyes. “For goodness sake, don’t make a show out of it. Just kill him.”
“You never let me have any fun,” the younger knight grumbles, and starts dragging the man, who’s still uselessly trying to escape, out of the dining hall.
“Of course not, what kind of mentor would I be?” Yoongi replies. Jimin quirks an eyebrow up at the word “mentor.”
The knight turns, and his eyes land on Jimin. His face crumples a little, and he walks to him, eyes remorseful as he puts his head down and carefully tucks a lock of hair behind the prince's ear when he gets to him. He doesn’t have to say “I’m sorry you had to see that” out loud, because Jimin understands.
His hands trail his neck as he makes his way over to the king and queen, and immediately launches into battle strategies.
“The rest of the army will man the perimeters. Jungkook and I will man the forest on the east wing, since it’s the most obscured area of the palace and I’m positive that’s where they came in from. We’ll make sure whatever swarm they send is taken care of.”
“But what about the princes?” the king inquires. “What if they get past the you? What if they get past the army? If you’re not here, who will protect them?”
Yoongi turns his head to Jimin, and smiles the exact same coy smile from that day at the lake all those months ago.
“They won’t get passed me.”