Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“If I may, Mother, I would rather tear my own wings and feed them to myself than be wedded with this man.”

“Son.” Dahee makes a reprimanding click of her tongue. “You’ll be fine.”

“Of all men populating Aurora, not only have you chosen one from Amaris, a human, but also the heir of the Jeon dynasty.” Taehyung meets his mother’s gaze, his own hardening at her stubbornness. “The son and future prince of the very empire that had attempted then nearly succeeded in expunging dragonborns from the world.”

“You speak my mind, Son,” Junhyun says, the rotund man sipping from the mug of coffee he had fixed himself minutes ago. “I have been trying to sway you mother toward a more befitting suitor for you, all in vain.”

“You two.” Dahee peers at her mate who rests the bottom of his cup on his round belly. “This rivalry with humans has lasted for far too long. The Great War occurred centuries ago, long before either of us was born. While we still suffer its repercussions, it is tamed by the peace treaty. By the Accords. We must move forward. Learn forgiveness and acceptance. This association with the Jeon dynasty will be a prime example of how humans and dragonborns can, not solely live next to one another, but unite as a thriving nation.”

“Dragonborns don't need peace. Not with humans,” Taehyung snips, his right leg jutting up and down. “We have peace among our peers and that is all that should matter.”

Dahee shakes her head. “You spend too much time with your grandfather. He has corrupted your mind.”

“My dear, our son—”

“Will go through this marriage as he had agreed upon,” Dahee declares with stern firmness. “Taehyung had found no trouble being wedded in such fashion when we had approached him about this subject in the past. The mutual dowry that will be granted to our family and the Jeon family cannot be neglected because of archaic worldviews.”

“An arranged marriage is a fine endeavor with anyone but a human. Jeon's son at that,” Taehyung emphasizes because his mother seems to have yet fully encompassed the horror of her inane proposal.

“A lot is to learn from humans."

“Like what? Betrayal? Vanity? Or perhaps they could teach us how to entirely erase a race to satisfy an insatiable greed.”

Junhyun makes a face; a grimace that is half in agreement, half in denial, yet fully silent as he prefers to munch on the pastries he and his mate had baked earlier this morning.

“As I said many, many times, forgiveness must be given in order to grow. Vengeance is regressive, Taehyung. It would do you well to remember this.” Dahee pushes herself up. “Until then, if you must find me, I will be out with our hunting squadrons. Winter is arriving, and we must stock up on meat.”

“Be safe, Darling,” Junhyun smiles, earning himself a peck on the mouth.

“I always am.” Dahee aims a pointed look toward Taehyung.

Then, and without any further ado, she vacates the dining room, the door closing behind her back.

A silence stretches between Taehyung and his father. The latter busies himself with dipping his croissant into his coffee. It’s when Junhyun’s teeth clasp around the pastry that he peers up, his eyes roundening at his son’s scrutiny.

“Guessing you won’t help me change her mind."

“You and I both know such things rarely exist. Your mother is obstinate.”

“Could you, at the very least, side with me in a less quiet manner?”

“I had, Son.” Junhyun has this look in his eyes that easily translates as a forlorn surrender. “However I found it wise to not push further as I am not looking forward to an early death.”

“She’s your wife,” Taehyung objects and he purses his lips when his father pats his arm with a bright smile.

“Exactly, my son.” Junhyun rises from his chair, taking his cup with him.

“You’re a coward. She has you wrapped around her finger.” Taehyung bites back a smile when his father enthusiastically nods.

“Happily so!” Air leaves Taehyung’s lungs for a split second when his father smacks his large hand between his shoulder blades. “Your mother and I were in a marriage akin to yours. I fell in love at first sight with her brilliant mind, fierceness and otherworldly beauty. She hated me. Or rather disliked me. It took time for her to come around, however she eventually did and—”

“I know the story, Dad.”

“What I mean to say is to not give up on hope. Your marriage may be an unexpected good omen.”

“It’s not marriage in itself that bothers me. As I said years ago, I don't mind it. It’s who I will marry.”

“As much as I understand the reasons behind your anger, I also understand your mother’s motives behind her faith. Dahee’s care and ambition is why she makes such a well respected leader amongst others. She has her family and her people’s best interests in mind, and more. She has always wanted to be closer to humans and grow alongside them.”

“For political matters only.”

“You and I know that isn’t true. She cares about humans. She has friends in Amaris and other cities in the west.”

“Let me guess.” Taehyung leans back against his chair and tilts his head up to meet his father’s gaze. “Those humans befriended her because they gain something in return: money, influence, knowledge and whatnot, either way information that they will inevitably use against us.”

Junhyun frowns. “You are spending too many days in her father’s lair. You're starting to sound like him.”

“Speaking of.” Taehyung slides his chair back to walk around it and toward the exit door. “I have to see him.”

“Remember to be there at 8 pm for dinner, Son.”

“Yeah.”

Taehyung briskly strides outside the dining room and through the hallways, passing by the living room.

Taehyung has always loved his home. The place is vast, with open spaces and ceilings high enough to accommodate dragonborns if they wish to bring forth their wings or tail while in their human form. The house is mostly made out of sturdy wood of all kinds, accentuated by bay windows and haphazard touches of green with the various plants arranged here and there.

Now, however, the comfort it would usually provide yet fails to after the argument with his mother prompts Taehyung to vacate the place.

The moment he steps foot in the garden surrounding the house, Taehyung tugs at the pool of arcane residing within his chest. A gust of grey wind wraps around him, and the familiar warmth is next. Soon, his body changes, the human leaving place to the dragon.

The process is and has always been painless, like adorning a new suit, one albeit much more scaly, large and deadly than the other. 

Not wasting another second, and angsty to leave the ground, Taehyung propels himself up, the grass rustling at the powerful down sweeps of his wings of a pearly iridescent white. He soars further away from his home and he remains afloat high aloft the canopy, his gaze raking across the view below him.

Being a dragonborn is a legacy that Taehyung wears with pride. Everything that it brings in its path is enchanting and breathtaking: whether it being the prospect of transforming into a full fledged majestic dragon, or having the possibility to glide through the sky and clouds, reveling in the boundless freedom. It’s still an occurrence Taehyung has not gotten used to: this chance to be allowed to coexist among other aerial creatures, like the flocks of birds that accompany him and migrate this or that direction.

He’s not the sole dragonborn airborne. Thunders of them drift above the tree lines of the forest and the outskirts of Vanae on the far east, the main town in Taehyung’s family’s land. He sees families with parents guiding their wyrmlings through the sky while some prefer to enjoy the ride on their parent’s back, their wings too underdeveloped to carry them.

Taehyung’s wings thrust him near his destination.

He soon reaches the broad mountain range spanning across the horizon. He turns sideways and flies toward an isolated cave in the rocky hill.

Taehyung’s grandfather on his mother’s part of the family has always been a recluse man. Since his retirement from his role as Vanae’s leader after his daughter had taken over, he had chosen to live away from most in favor of a peace that Taehyung envies when reminded of the current circumstances of his visit.

A roar bellows in the quietude that Taehyung echoes with one of his own, signaling his presence to his grandfather.

Minutes later, and only after receiving a loud rumble of confirmation, Taehyung flattens his wings against his flanks to dive inside the lair. The tunnel is wide, accommodating the gargantuan size of Taehyung’s dragon form. The lair that it leads to is even wider, to a point where it could easily fit a dozen fully grown dragons.

There, at the middle, stands a bulky man with short, black hair who appears to be concocting what Taehyung can only describe as a slimy sludge.

Taehyung’s mood that had spoiled pacifies at the scene — even if he may become the test subject of yet another potion prepared by the healing dragonborn.

Taehyung’s wings flutter as he lowers himself on the makeshift of a landing platform, and after deftly coming to rest on the flat rock formation, he adorns his human self again, clothes reappearing at once.

“You better have a good reason to be bothering me in my sleep."

“You seemed awake?” Taehyung perplexedly says. He jumps down in the lair, a round room that forms the living and dining room, as well as the kitchen and bedroom.

Minsoo turns around to glare at Taehyung, enough for the latter to notice his grandfather’s bloodshot left eye. “I sleep with my eye open, kid.”

Taehyung snorts and marches toward one of the tables that isn’t littered by knickknacks of vials, pots, books and other miscellaneous goods that Minsoo hoards. “Have you slept at all recently?”

Minsoo waves a dismissive hand. “Why are you here?” 

“My wedding.” Taehyung slumps down on an uncomfortable, frayed chair that surprisingly does not fall apart under his weight.

Minsoo’s lips curve around a curious smile, a glint of amusement flicking in his eye before it vanishes as he faces his workstation. “Have you finally met your betrothed?”

Taehyung scoffs. “No.”

“Why so damn petulant?”

“You wouldn’t be able to guess who my soon-to-be husband is.” Taehyung softens his tone so as to not ignite his grandfather’s temper, a flaw that Dahee had gained from the old man and that had then been — regrettably — passed onto Taehyung.

“Is it a woman?” Minsoo stresses the last word with offended vehemence, well aware of Taehyung’s preferences.

Taehyung can’t reign in the laughter escaping his mouth. “No."

“S’what I thought. Then it can’t be that bad. Unless it's Kang's son, Jisung. Dimwit of a kid wouldn’t be able to add one plus one if you asked him to. I had asked him once and his eyes had taken the light of the emptiest void.”

“It’s not him.”

“Who? Youngjae? Minho? By the Elders, if it’s Woobin—”

“Jungkook.”

Minsoo swivels on his left foot, the prosthetics of his right leg whirring when he does. Taehyung sees the soot covering the right half of his grandfather’s face, surely the results of a potion gone terribly wrong. Features etched in his usual scowl, Minsoo snatches a rag to roughly wipe his face, the attempt at making himself more presentable only serving to spread the grim. 

“Who in hell is that?”

“The heir of the Jeon dynasty."

Minsoo flings the dirty rag on the workstation, a tad too close to the cauldron filled with a boiling substance. He walks forward and in a few long strides punctuated by the clack of the foot of his metal prosthetic, he stops in front of Taehyung.

Minsoo has always been an intimidating man, mostly due to his abrasive and blunt personality, but also because of his large stature, rivaling with Junhyun’s. However where Taehyung’s father is overweight with rotund but powerful muscles hidden under the chubbiness, Minsoo is squared with a burly and athletic strength that ripples beneath the loose garments.

So Taehyung reclines in his chair when Minsoo looms over him, the old man's frown aggravated to a glower. “You better be lying to me, Kim Taehyung.”

“I’m not. Mom and Dad summoned me this morning to tell me more about my betrothed. We’ll properly discuss this around dinner tonight."

“You are not marrying one of those human bastards, let alone Jeon's son. Your parents must have gone mad and forgotten what has happened to us. To you.”

“That’s what I told her,” Taehyung grumbles, vindicated by his grandfather’s fury.

Minsoo steps away to save the rag from burning to a crisp, tossing the remainder of it on the ground. “Do you want to marry Jeon's son?” 

“Of course not," Taehyung snips. "They're definitely concocting some kind of plan to overthrow us or stab us in the back one way or another. Their son must be some sort of bait, at best. An instigator at worst.”

Minsoo hums and he strokes his beard, the low rumble echoing through the lair. “Your father has developed the backbone of a damn hatchling. He would break his own spine if it meant keeping Dahee happy.”

Taehyung barks out a laugh. “You raised her to be as hard-headed as you are.”

“A mistake.” Minsoo lifts the heavy cauldron to unceremoniously drop it on the ground, some of its now turned teal sludge spilling over. “Come here and give a hand to your old man instead of sitting in that chair wallowing in your despair,” Minsoo says. Taehyung purses his lips but obeys. “Have to fill those bottles.” Minsoo nods at a row of glass vials. “Then I’ll take you to a new spot I found. You’ll like it.”

Taehyung gazes at his grandfather with skepticism. “Will I really like it? Or are you saying that because you want to see me struggle to fit through whatever cave you’ll be taking us to?" He tries to harden his tone with faux annoyance but it’s rendered useless by a bubbling anticipation. He remembers the numerous occasions where he has gone out with Minsoo, the two often spending time flying and exploring together, where some of those outings would sporadically end with them finding themselves at the core of a dragonborn’s wrath when his grandfather would decide to pester one of his old friends.

A cheeky smile dances on Minsoo’s mouth, his golden eye full of mirth. “You’ll see, kid.”

“What about Mom?” Taehyung worries, surprised that Minsoo would let the issue of the marriage fall off so promptly.

“We’ll speak to her tonight during dinner. Perhaps the both of us can change her mind.”

“No.”

“Mom—”

“I said no.” Dahee’s glare snaps from her father to Taehyung.

“You don’t seem to grasp the dangers you will bring upon our family by allowing a Jeon to marry your son,” Minsoo interjects, the haphazard wrinkles betraying his age deepened by his furrowed brows.

“You have raised me to be welcoming and loving to others,” Dahee retorts, setting her chopsticks on her empty plate.

“To our people. Our kin,” Minsoo spits. He doesn’t raise his voice, per say, but it still booms through the dining room. “Humans cause nothing but pests of all kinds. Me, of all dragonborns, knows that.”

Dahee visibly deflates at this addition as she lowers her gaze on her glass of wine. Taehyung glances at the scar marring the angle of Minsoo's jaw: it cleaves up to the forehead, the right eye socket deprived of its organ.

“Must I remind you that humans have decimated my family’s family among dozens of thousands more? Your own ancestors?” Minsoo's hand flies to what remains of his amputated right leg, fingers squeezing to ease down the quivers Taehyung can notice.

“I know what was done to dragonborns,” Dahee's mellowed gaze meets Minsoo’s, “however I, and other members of the Council, believe we can learn to—”

“This marriage and any other the Council will agree with will provide an effortless way for humans to slither inside our politics.”

“Yes. However it’ll be done in a controlled environment where what knowledge the humans will earn will not only be reciprocated with their own, but also wisely chosen by us . It’s an exchange, Father. Our Elders have worked themselves to the bone to ensure the survival of our people, hence the Accords made after the Great War, but it is not enough anymore for many reasons.”

“Dragonborns don’t need more than that. All humans know is plundering, killing and war. I will not allow my grandson to—”

“You seem to forget that you are not part of the Council anymore since you have resigned and allowed me to take leadership in your place.” Dahee tilts her head up with poise. “You do not have a say in this matter.”

“What about me, then?” Taehyung shoots. All eyes turn on him.

“Is the race of your betrothed the only reason why you are so averse to this union?” Dahee fires back.

Taehyung can feel the ire radiating from his grandfather, scathing and growing. “As I said before, if my betrothed is a dragonborn, I have no problem with the marriage.”

“If so, we shall proceed with the wedding negotiations,” Dahee says with finality.

“This is madness!” Minsoo’s fist slams on the table. The cutlery and plates rattle together.

“What is madness is how measly, ancient, and bigoted your mind is.” Dahee’s eyes shift to those of her dragon counterpart in reflection to her father’s. “As dreadful and tragic as the Great War had been for dragonborns, remaining stuck in this old age segregation will serve us or humans no good in the long run.” She rises to lean forward on her hands and look down at her father. “Allowing humans inside the Council will grant us more land to hunt and live on. Expansion . It’ll give us access to their science, medicine, influence and more. Possibly including their warlocks. All that dragonborns need in order to survive and thrive toward a prolific future.”

Exhausted by the winded argument, Taehyung drags a palm down his face with a deep sigh. “I understand what you aim to achieve, Mother, but it remains incredibly hazardous. It could backfire at any moment.”

“And perhaps it will, but you cannot know that.” Dahee straightens up and brushes the front of the dress shirt soiled with smudges of dirt. “Nonetheless, nothing is set in stone yet. A meeting is arranged with the Jeon family. In the meantime, I would like to speak with my son only. ”

“Of course, Darling,” Junhyun says. 

“Spineless,” Minsoo snips with a scornful peep at Junhyun.

“And belly full. I refuse to argue with a full belly,” Junhyun deflects.

“Taehyung?”

Taehyung peers up at his mother. Catching onto the underlying request, he leaves the table as she does and trails behind her. The two of them make their way to the door. Dahee pries it open, allowing her son to pass by the threshold first.

“I’m sorry,” Dahee says once out of earshot from Junhyun and Minsoo. “I do not mean to be so persistent.”

“Do you not?” The quip earns Taehyung a playful slap on the arm.

Dahee grows silent as she curls a hand around Taehyung’s left arm, guiding him throughout a series of corridors. Taehyung has an inkling that more is to be shared. His expectations turn into confusion when they halt in front of the basement’s door.

“Are you truly opposed to the idea of marrying the Jeon family’s son?”

Taehyung’s cheeks puff around a huff of air.

He has never been against the concept of arranged marriage, a rare affair that can sporadically happen between dragonborns, and that he knows to be common in human lands. Taehyung had never envisioned finding a mate to begin with. This kind of love does not matter to him, but he has standards, so to say. One, more specifically, that will not be met if he proceeds with his family’s association with the Jeon’s.

“I don’t trust humans,” Taehyung chooses to answer.

“I know, Son, but we should learn to.”

They climb down the stairs, the basement’s walls and grounds made of rocks that Taehyung’s slippers grate against.

“They’ll turn against us. They always find a way and reason to,” Taehyung adds as they advance deeper and walk through a series of corridors. “Plus they largely outnumber us and have access to weapons able to take dragons down, including warlocks.”

“However they won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because they haven’t hurt us for centuries.”

“That’s… That’s naïve thinking.”

“Perhaps,” Dahee concedes with a small smile, “but we need their help as much as they need ours.”

“We don’t need humans’ or warlocks’ help.” When Taehyung is met with the disappearance of his mother’s smile, replaced instead by pinched lips and a glaze in her eyes, he immediately understands that more to be said. “Mom, what aren’t you telling me?”

“There is a concern of high importance you must know, one that the Elders have allowed me to share with you only.”

“Why only me?”

“I’m not entirely sure."

Taehyung studies the familiar heavy door they have paused in front of.

It’s one that he has seen a few times in his childhood when he would launch himself into a journey in the basement, or a game of hide and seek with his grandfather and Jimin.

Taehyung has never seen this door opened in the past. 

When he had been young, he had conjured plethora of theories as to what it may withhold: heaps of gems, spell books or other arcanic trinkets, and he had wondered if perhaps some ancient dragon eggs dating millions of years ago were kept hidden as well. But Taehyung had grown, and with it the memory of this door had vanished. Up till now, where he’s confronted with those same queries once more.

“The concern resides in our land and has been relocated under our property, so to speak, due to our family presiding over Vanae,” Dahee resumes. “You are to become Vanae's leader too, so they must judge it wise to inform you about this matter. However I believe these reasons pale in comparison to what the Oracle must have seen, whatever it may be."

“ The Oracle?” Taehyung echoes with surprise.

The Oracle is the most ancient dragonborn known to dragons and humankind alike. Taehyung has heard legend after legend about them; how they had predicted diseases, catastrophes, wars and other ailments; so his curiosity swells at the mention of this mythical being.

Dahee nods in affirmation. “They were the one to instruct me to keep what you will see next a secret, and to keep it safe in our basement. Only them, the Elders, and I, are aware of what lies beyond this door.”

“How do you—”

Dahee produces a flame on her index finger, the fire flickering at the faint gust of wind seeping through the space around the door’s hinges. Then, and with an assurance honed by years, she burns a trail of strange letters into the wood of the door, one after another, soon forming a circle of characters. Runes . Draconic and ancient ones.

The door opens, and what Taehyung sees next does not come close to what his imagination had envisioned.

“Well...” Taehyung peers ahead, bemused. “Lo' and behold, another tunnel. I was expecting something a little more exciting with the secrecy surrounding this door.”

“Son.” Dahee frowns. “Levity has no place in this matter.”

“And what is this matter, exactly?” Taehyung holds onto the torch his mother hands him and allows her to ignite the cloth surrounding the tip doused in oil. “You make it sound like a cataclysm is about to happen."

Dahee tugs Taehyung forward. “May as well.” 

“That’s not worrying at all…”

The tunnel, unlike the previous ones of the basement area, doesn’t seem man-made nor altered in any sort of way. The walls are rough and jagged, eroded by time, however still somewhat well preserved on their own where Taehyung isn’t afraid of the ceiling collapsing on itself and burying him to death.

The scent of stale and humid air suffuses Taehyung’s nostrils that wrinkle when a drop falls on him. “Even the Council doesn’t know about this?”

“No. The Elders had found it wiser to keep it hushed from them.”

“And for how long whatever I’m about to see has been occurring?”

“A while,” Dahee elusively answers. “It’s punctual, for lack of a better term. It follows a pattern, one that we have yet to unearth the origin of.”

They reach a flight of stony stairs bringing them deeper underground and in an umpteenth corridor. Taehyung is thankful for his draconic blood that runs hot, making it easier to brush off the growing chilling atmosphere, the torch’s flame not enough to warm the area.

The tunnel widens. It must be the last one before Taehyung and his mother arrive at their destination because Dahee takes the torch away from Taehyung’s grasp to slot it in an iron ring attached to the wall.

Two double doors are facing them, wide and impossibly high. It wouldn’t be enough for Taehyung to pass through them in his dragon form, however smaller dragonborns would, like his mother.

“What you will see next must stay between us, Taehyung.” Dahee turns her head to bore her gaze into her son’s. “Under no circumstances should you share what is behind. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother.”

Dahee bobs her head, satisfied with the answer. Then, and after motioning for Taehyung to help her, the two of them push open the double doors, this time the gate freed from any seal or runes.

A billow of foul air rustles their garments and hair.

The stench is distinct and peculiar, one that Taehyung has experienced in the past but cannot for the life of him pinpoint from where. It’s pungent enough for him to raise an arm to his face but it’s pointless, the odor soon clinging onto Taehyung’s senses and clothes.

“By the Elders.”

Unlike Taehyung, Dahee appears unfazed as she walks past the doors. “You get used to it, as grim as it may be.”

Taehyung follows his mother while mapping out the place. “What the fuck is that stench?” 

Dahee’s mouth parts around a cone of fire aimed at the ceiling, the latter stretching so far up that it seems endless. Lanterns — hanging from chains wedged between fissures, fastened on ragged walls or stalactites — burst to life, the fire piercing through the opaque, navy veil.

The cave is half brightened up now, and is absolutely immense .

Taehyung can’t see the other side of it that is plunged in pitch black. Dahee’s fire breath has only lightened up the lanterns up to the center — or what Taehyung believes to be the center. Taehyung and Dahee are situated on the edge of a tall cliff. The ground, from the bits perceivable, is occupied by smaller hills and craters as well as some unnatural formations of rocks.

Something is odd about the latter, however.

Off.

The structures and shape of some rocks are strange. Taehyung can’t fully decipher what they are from there. The cave’s bottom is partially swallowed by an obscurity that the lanterns on the ceiling can’t fight off, however some materials pick up the light, reflecting it in haphazard speckles.

“I don’t understand.” Taehyung's head twists toward his mother.

Dahee steps to the edge of the cliff. Her wings spring out of her back, rustling in the air. “Watch, and fall.”

Taehyung studies the cave once more and his confusion worsens: he can't determine where the foul stench comes from, nor why everything resembles familiar yet hard to decipher silhouettes. 

His lips part open around a shaky breath. He lifts a hand. He visualizes in his mind this imaginary roulette in the pool of his arcane: an intangible wheel that churns in his head. It spirals as an arrow rotates with it and both of their speeds slow down. Then, they come to a halt, the wheel immobile, the arrow settled on one of the seven segments.

The compound of his draconic arcane has done its selection, aided by Taehyung.

An orange flame, similar to his mother’s, envelops Taehyung’s hand right as he summons his wings, their sizes heavily diminished to accommodate his human form. He inches a foot off the edge of the cliff, and he lets himself topple down.

The rush of wind pushes Taehyung’s hair off his forehead. The flames wildly flicker around his fingers, and his eyes narrow as he soon gets a better view of the ground. His wings soften the fall, snapping up and down to keep him afloat until his feet touch the floor. Taehyung generates a larger fire as he thrusts his arm above his crown, the auburn hues casting a wide glow around him.

Taehyung stills. A freezing understanding begins to dawn on him but this cannot be. It wouldn’t make sense.

What he witnesses does not make any sliver of sense, and the rational part of his mind tries to deflect the view, to pretend that this ghastly sight isn’t what it seems to be.

The ‘rocks’ litter the ground, piling up in heaps here and there or haphazardly scattered around. Some of those rocks are elongated and round, others thin and sharp, a few snapped in the middle. All are adorned with lines made of silver, as though painted on the surface.

When Taehyung had first looked down upon his arrival here, he had noticed the shadow of a column half fused with the cave’s soil that he had presumed to have crumpled down at some point, as it is broken and carved in several places along the length. However the fractures are too orderly. Too regular. Where a crack can be seen exactly every three feet, or where the broken part isn’t so broken as it is simply protruding out of the main, long pillar. But the pillar isn’t one, nor is it made of rock. A shiver of pure fright wakes a flare of goosebumps on Taehyung's nape. 

It’s bone.

The column is a spine.

It’s surrounded by femurs, tibias and more and there are skulls near them, some deprived of their teeth and fangs. The bones are of different sizes, yet all originating from the same kind: dragonborn.

Dozens upon dozens of skeletons are entombed inside this horrifying coffin.

Taehyung startles when his back knocks against the wall of the cliff he was upon minutes ago, having not realized he had started to back away from the horror laid before him. 

“This is a graveyard,” Taehyung whispers to his mother when she lands beside him. “A graveyard of dragons . Why— Why is there a damned dragon cemetery beneath our home?”

“Dragonborns are dying, my son. Afflicted by a plague devoid of a cure.”

The tremors running through Taehyung are relentless. He curses under his breath. He dissipates his fire and presses his balled up hand against his mouth. “Mom, I can’t believe— Fuck.” He crouches then drops on the ground. Staring at the burial ground kept alight by the flames in his mother’s hands, he rasps “Tell me what you know.”

“The dragonborns were always found dead in their dragon form,” Dahee starts and settles next to Taehyung. “The sickness makes it seem like a natural cause of death at first glance, however one of the Elders, whose granddaughter had succumbed to the plague, had noticed something missing from the body when she had inspected it.”

“What?”

“The pouch of flame in her granddaughter’s chest. It had been emptied and reduced to silver dust, as though consumed by itself from the inside. It had been the same for other dragonborns, no matter what kind of breath they could produce, no matter the size or age of their breath pouch.”

“But dragonborns can survive without their breath pouch. If it’s at the core of the sickness, perhaps simply removing it can be a cure.”

Dahee grabs a hold of Taehyung’s hand. Taehyung squeezes it, seeking for a comfort and warmth that the cave is wrenching away the longer he remains here. 

“The removal of the breath pouch is a dangerous process, Taehyung. It is too risky, with a high mortality rate. Remember it was used as a way to incapacitate us during the Great War. Plus this sickness attacks every organ one by one. The Elders have noticed a pattern, and specifically the frequency of it.”

“How so?”

“The plague seems to be working like a… A heart. It has a major pulse every three months, then it vanishes from existence until the next pulse. It does kill here and there in between two pulses, close to the end and beginning of a pulse, but it only affects very few dragonborns. However it replicates this cycle, over and over.”

“A heart, you say. That is a strange comparison.”

“Perhaps. However it sends and takes something at every pulse, like a heart. It spreads the sickness and takes the lives of dragonborn. Never of humans, which is another curious aspect.”

“Do you think it’s sentient? Does it choose which dragonborn to kill?”

Dahee shakes her head. “It is aimless when it comes to which dragonborn, but it is definite in what it corrodes. We've attempted to unravel the intricacies of this plague, why it only attacks dragonborns, why it occurs at every change of season, why it focuses on the organs and most importantly the breath pouch.”

“But you found nothing,” Taehyung concludes, confirmed by a nod from his mother. “So there’s this plague killing our people, no cure has been created, neither have you discovered its origin, yet no one else knows about it? No one ever noticed?”

“The plague does not kill many, thankfully, and as I said, it can be easily mistaken as a natural death. Our seer Elder is the reason why we can locate those dragonborns and bring some of them here if they had no family.”

“But this sickness is arcanic, isn’t it?” Contempt coats the rasp of Taehyung's voice, his upper lip curling around a snarl. “It’s born from the Arcane. It kills dragonborns only. The origin of it couldn’t be more evident if it hit me in the fucking face. And it has.” His gaze shifts on the display of bones and dragon skeletons.

“It isn’t that simple, Taehyung. No mere human, warlock or dragon has ever been capable of creating something like this. The potent power of this plague is from an unprecedented arcane.”

“Still. You must admit that the identity of this plague’s instigators circles back to humans, as most ailments happening to dragonborns do,” Taehyung derides and he doesn’t want to disrespect his mother, but her lack of suspicions toward humans and warlocks is nonsensical. “Dragonborns are dying. Again . And amidst this clusterfuck, some future leaders that will be part of the Council must consort with the people that may be at the center of our second almost extinction. It’s foolish to allow them in our midst, Mother.”

“Is it if it grants us warlocks’ arcane and knowledge?”

“That is assuming they’ll be willing to help us, which is once more overly hopeful.”

“Then what do you suggest, you who seem to have all the answers? You speak as though we have not tried to find every possible cure for the past years since we've identified this plague. But we have, Taehyung. We did and are doing everything in our power to—”

“Why not tell the rest of us?”

“It is our next goal. To warn dragonborns and humans both. We wanted to collect as much information as possible and entirely innocent warlocks before that. This sickness is not something we can disclose recklessly lest it incites terror and psychosis among our peers, which could very well lead to our extinction then . I know some dragonborns who share the same sentiments toward humans as you do, and if they were to hear about this plague, they would without an ounce of hesitation immediately start a war against humankind. We cannot afford that. Not again.”

Dahee’s voice wavers and falls quiet toward the end.

The guilt swallows Taehyung as rapidly as he laces his fingers with hers. “I’m sorry. Everything is— It’s a lot to digest.”

“I know, my son.” Dahee cups Taehyung’s cheek. She softly pats it before letting go. “I didn’t mean to spring all of this on you at once. I wanted to wait after the wedding, if it were to happen, however the Elders insisted upon you being made aware of this matter.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. They had caught wind of your potential wedding with the Jeon boy, and I had been summoned to discuss this with them.”

Taehyung makes an incredulous, noncommittal noise at the back of his throat, his eyes narrowly. “The Elders not only know but also care about this wedding? Why would they give any attention to an unimportant marriage?”

“That I do not know,” Dahee shrugs. “All they said is that a ‘fruit may be reaped’.”

“From me possibly marrying the human son?”

“It seems so.”

“Sounds like a damned, bitter fruit. I wonder what seed was sowed in their mind, then.”

“I have no idea what it could be, but it convinced me greatly.”

Taehyung understands that the Elders and the Oracle are all encompassing beings; ancient dragons that have seen many wars, peaces and times. He usually would never doubt them — no dragonborn would dare —, however he questions the truth of the Elders for the first time, if perhaps they may have misinterpreted what they have seen.

“What about Jeon's son? Why him?”

“Jungkook has caught my attention during one of my visits.” The gravity that had taken over Dahee faintly loosens up, her form relaxing. “There is something peculiar about this boy, and the Elders seemed to agree with my assessment.”

“Peculiar? What is?”

“His mind, among other things I can’t pinpoint. I only got the chance to chat with him once, unfortunately under the distant supervision of his parents. However this single discussion was enough to pique my curiosity.” Dahee's smile grows as she stands on her feet. “He seems sharp, although hidden behind this facade of compliance. He would do great as a leader with you. He would balance your tendencies to be brazen and impulsive.”

Taehyung swats the arm his mother extends to rise on his own instead. “Thanks, Mom,” he says with playful offense.

“You can be too reckless sometimes, Son," Dahee chuckles. "I believe Jungkook could temperate you.”

Taehyung doesn’t argue in spite of how much he wants to. He’s tired and desires nothing more than to leave this horrid cave.

“I know you may not trust me on this, but the marriage will strengthen our relationships with humans and warlocks, as well as give us assets that aren’t negligible.” Dahee's wings spread behind her and she begins to fly along the side of the cliff, Taehyung joining her.

“Assets to help us against the plague.”

“Yes. Humans and warlocks trust each other, and if this trust extends to us due to the upcoming weddings, warlocks will then be more inclined to help us elucidate the cause of the plague.”

It makes sense , Taehyung thinks, but he still isn’t fond of the idea of humans being an active part of the Council. 

“When is the next pulse?”

“In around 90 days. When winter will leave place for spring.”

“So we have a little over three months to somehow trust warlocks and humans, and then hopefully gain their aid.” Taehyung lands on top of the cliff, his wings disappearing. “It’s a short time frame. Not telling anyone makes it harder to find a solution, but the opposite is also risky for reasons you mentioned earlier. It all sounds too precarious."

“Prices and gambles must be given to move forward.”

“Except humans could make us trip on the path,” Taehyung remarks. His eyes narrow at the amused expression that Dahee schools a tad too late for Taehyung to miss it. “You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?”

“While I am not ‘having fun’ with the death of our people,” Dahee quotes and taps her upper lip to fruitlessly conceal her smile, “I do like the prospect of allying with the Jeon family. I enjoy infuriating the Queen without her realizing it is done purposefully. You will see that it is quite entertaining.”

Taehyung emits a fond chuckle. “I’m sure I will.” 

“It will also be interesting to watch how you act around this boy."

“Huh? I won’t act like anything.”

“We shall see. Jungkook’s beauty is one I have rarely seen before. Aside from you and I,” Dahee adds with a wink and loops her arm around Taehyung’s. “He’s beautiful. Impossibly beautiful.”

“What's that gotta do with anything? Plus he’s human, he's ugly by definition.” Taehyung doesn’t really mean this childish jab, but the offended look on his mother’s face is, as expected, hilarious.

“Taehyung!” Dahee smacks his chest. “I've raised you better than that.”

“Too bad Minsoo has been dismantling it all.”

“Nonetheless, you’ll be fine if you accept to wed Jungkook.”

“And what if I refuse?”

Dahee stops and turns to face Taehyung. “Then I’ll cancel it. You always have a choice, my son, no matter how I may have made it seem otherwise. All I ask of you is to give it some proper and unbiased thoughts, unlike you have thus far.”

Taehyung heaves a sigh, shoulders slumping. “I’m not saying that I’m accepting, but I’ll ponder over this. Properly.”

Dahee grins and pulls Taehyung into an embrace that he reciprocates. “I love you, my son.”

“I love you too,” Taehyung mumbles. However, unable to keep at bay his last shred of irascibility, he adds “I reserve myself the right to be indefinitely obnoxious.”

Dahee bursts into laughter. She releases Taehyung to swivel around, her long, brown hair held in a ponytail nearly smacking Taehyung on the way. “Now, if you were anything but yourself, I would be disappointed."

“Are you implying that I’m always obnoxious?”

“I would never speak ill of my own kin.”

Taehyung peers inside the cave. He draws a final swipe of his gaze on the dragonborn graveyard, before he tucks the memory somewhere at the forefront of his mind, however far away enough to hopefully not elicit any additional nightmare.

Taehyung catches up to his mother. There’s a jitter in his steps that prompts him to walk faster, as though being in the mere presence of skeletons of those that have died from the plague could infect him as well. 

“Has the son agreed to the wedding?”

Dahee, as if sensing Taehyung's discomfort, says “You and our people are safe until the next pulse, Son. Only very, very few will succumb to the plague until the next pulse.”

“But in 90 days some of us will die in a large batch if we don’t find a cure or create some sort of safe spot against the plague.” Taehyung brings the double doors shut. They close in a heavy thud that resounds between his ears, and his unease only alleviates the more space and barriers there are between himself and the cemetery.

“Time is of the essence, yes, which is why we have been proceeding quickly with the marriages. With your accord, we shall see through yours.”

“What about the Jeon son’s accord?”

“As far as I have heard from himself and his parents, he is not opposed to it.”

“Of course he wouldn’t be. Elders know they would gain a lot from this marriage, starting with a spot at the Council,” Taehyung grumbles. “You mentioned a meeting with them. When will it be?”

“This upcoming Saturday night.”

Taehyung freezes. He can only gape at his mother.

“That’s in less than a week!”

Dahee has the audacity to giggle, undoubtedly entertained by this prospect as she sashays down the tunnel.

“Taehyung?! Are you ready?!”

“Yes!”

Taehyung trudges out of his bedroom in unhurried steps, making his way through the corridors. He descends the staircase where his parents wait for him at the bottom.

“Shall we use a cart?”

“How about a flight for you and Taehyung, darling? It would be much faster, and I could tag along on your back.”

“Let us fly there, then. I’m sure Taehyung wouldn’t mind.”

“Son!” Junhyun's boisterous excitement at the outing is one that Taehyung does not share, the older man dressed in an obscure, sage suit adorned with some of his own dragon scales at the shoulders. “You look…”

“Informal,” Dahee supplies, hands on her hips. She is also wearing a suit, Taehyung notes. She's not fond of dresses and other garments as such that she finds both impractical and uncomfortable. 

Taehyung has only mustered a slight effort to make himself presentable to the Jeon family. 

He has opted for a tight fitting, burgundy linen shirt, the top buttons opened to reveal two golden chains, one closer to the neck and the other dangling against his chest. The shirt is tucked in a tapered pair of black pants, the latter decorated with a plethora of pockets on the side as well as some front and back. Taehyung has also finished the look with some equally black work boots and a rapid pass of comb in his raven, wavy strands.

The outfit is complemented with Taehyung’s favorite cloak to have on during the winter, the garment made out of wolf fur. Its collar is wide, wrapping around Taehyung’s shoulders and down his biceps. The cloak is long, the hem nearly dragging across the wooden planks as he fastens the cross of double belts over his chest.

Taehyung’s draconic heritage as well as the type of his arcane renders him much less sensitive to the cold, however this early winter has proven itself to be one of the most frigid, where he finds himself shivering once outside. 

“You look good, Son, but you could have dressed up a little more formally. We are meeting one of, if not the most important human imperial lineage.”

“Why should I?” Taehyung mutters. “My betrothed will rarely see me dressed in formal clothing. Might as well get him used to it if I marry him.”

“Petulant child,” Dahee says with a lighthearted laugh. “Oh I love this, actually.”

“Why the change of heart, Darling?” Junhyun guides his mate toward the exit door with a hand on her back, so Taehyung takes it upon himself to fasten the entrance door shut behind them.

“Because the Queen is a stickler for rules and etiquette. She’ll be appalled to see Taehyung’s casual ensemble.” Dahee’s chuckle turns into a sound that is more of a sly cackle and by the Elders . Taehyung will always be thankful to not have this devious woman as his enemy. “The look on her face will be priceless.”

“It will be a promising night, then. Perhaps we will have the chance to taste their wine again. It was divine the last time we did.”

“If not, we can task our son to steal some from their wine cellar,” Dahee whispers to her husband. A glint of interest gleams in Junhyun’s eyes.

“We have more than enough money to afford whatever refined bottle of wine the Jeon family makes,” Taehyung reprimands.

“Yes, but I do not like the Queen, and…borrowing from her would be a pleasing gift in return for the tolerance we have to exert in her presence."

“Elders know patience will be needed with her and the King."

“Mom. Dad.” Taehyung pinches the bridge of his nose. “We are not stealing from the Jeon family and starting a war over wine of all things, so can we please leave now and get this over with?”

“We were dallying, Taehyung."

“We’re not foolish enough to steal from Amaris' Queen and King, in spite of our dislike for them,” Junhyun confirms. “But it does sound charming, doesn’t it?" He promptly backtracks. "I can already envision the look on the King’s face. Do you think his everlasting frown can deepen more if possible?”

“Shall we test it out? He abhors being opposed to, maybe we could…”

Taehyung ignores the rest of the conversation — scheming, really — in favor of changing to his dragon counterpart.

Another aspect that Taehyung loves about it is the lack of shredded clothes that the transformation saves him from. He doesn’t know why dragonborns’ arcane and physiology works this way, however the shifting from human to dragon and vise versa has no impact on anything he may be wearing while in his human form.

Taehyung shakes himself and raises on his talons. His elongated and acute claws dig into the soil, his size now allowing him to see above the tree lines. His mother’s dragon is slender, the scales of a light auburn color. She is much smaller than Taehyung or her mate, yet equipped with stronger muscles that ripple under her skin as she lowers on the ground.

Taehyung himself in terms of width, length and weight is part of the rare breeds of gargantuan dragonborns towering over most dragons. However he still pales in comparison to his father. Junhyun is downright colossal, nearly twice the size of Taehyung and the largest dragon in Vanae, and perhaps even in Aurora.

“I’ll ride on your mother’s back for the trip to Amaris, Son,” Junhyun says, to Taehyung’s relief. Junhyun may be impressive in his dragon self, and it is reflected in how slow and rapidly exhausted of a flier he is.

Taehyung turns his forelimb, palm facing the sky to let his father climb on it. Seconds later, Junhyun steps down to sit crossed legs on Dahee’s nape, his position secured with practice eased by the tall spike he leans against.

Without any further ado, and with an ‘En route!’ shouted by Junhyun; Taehyung’s and Dahee’s wings sweep through the air, and the family flies off toward Amaris, the capital of the Jeon dynasty.

The flight is peaceful and elapses without a hitch, except for those few times where Dahee, prompted by Junhyun, decides to do some tricks in the sky, one of them involving a laughing Junhyun who falls from her back when she turns upside down amidst an arch.

Taehyung loves his parents.

He truly does.

But he takes some distance from them and their embarrassing aerobatic maneuvers when a thunder of dragons passes by them and throws a perplexed look at the human happily tumbling down the sky through a ring of fire.

A few hours trickle by before Taehyung finally perceives the outskirts of Amaris in the horizon.

There's a knot in his chest that coalesces with the irritation lingering in him. What does not help his sour mood and meager patience is how deprived of sleep he has been for the past week, his nights and days tormented by the constant reminders of the dragon graveyard under his home. Flying helps, however. It always has.

His mother and him are hovering above the canopy, still low enough to glimpse at the city that endlessly stretches under them.

A wave of dread emanates from Amaris' inhabitants and reeks Taehyung's senses. He can easily assume that these humans aren't used to seeing dragons pass over them. After all, dragonborns prefer to remain inside the borders of their own lands, in territories kept away from humankind.

Nonetheless, the humans must have been warned about Taehyung and his family’s arrival because only a few scamper inside their home, the rest continuing with their cautious examination of the occupied sky.

Choosing to disregard the people, Taehyung slows down his pace to scout the city. He further decreases his speed to enjoy what is left of his peace before the meeting — confrontation, his mind supplies — with the Jeon family.

A soft growl grabs Taehyung’s attention, and he peers ahead at his mother who angles toward a castle situated on a hill at the north of Amaris, overlooking the rest of the city.

Taehyung speeds up when Dahee and Junhyun vanish from his view as they descend. His wings billow him near the citadel. Five tiny spots stand close to the set of stairs and platform leading to the castle’s entrance doors. There’s a garden as well, of intricate shapes, colorful floral compositions and perfectly trimmed hedges that Taehyung has to admit to find elegant.

With one last internal sigh, a prayer to the Elders, and the thought that he will at least enjoy a midnight flight when he will go back home, Taehyung dives.

He lands with a gust of air and dust on the avenue of beige cobblestones. An immature satisfaction flares within him when his claws dislodge the well crafted path, bits of soil meddling with the stones. His tail unravels and snaps behind him while he looks down in every meaning of the word at the Jeon family.

They seem so measly and insignificant like this, as the King and Queen peer back at him with their chin held high in palpable conceit.

It would be so easy, Taehyung thinks with disdain.

The talon of one of his forelimbs could so effortlessly squash those imperious humans, and while Taehyung is not a homicidal man per se, he cannot rein in the thoughts that flicker in his head at the remembrance of all the suffering and death the Jeon dynasty and other humans have inflicted upon dragonborns. It’s only at Dahee’s warning glare that Taehyung reverts in a rustle of fabric. The faux fur cloak drapes over his shoulders as he walks forward, hands tucked in trousers’ pockets.

Taehyung’s gaze immediately settles on a young man standing still behind those he presumes to be the King and Queen.

The son, Taehyung summarizes.

Taehyung doesn’t know what he had been anticipating regarding the appearance of his suitor. However, objectively speaking, and just as Dahee had said, the Jeon’s family heir is beautiful, which infuriates Taehyung for reasons he cannot name.

The son’s features have fine angles, what with the angular jawline, arrays of golden earrings, or the piercing gaze aimed at the ground. They’re sharpened by the short raven hair neatly slicked back on the right, while the bang is parted to the side and reaches just under the eye. Yet, the edges of the man’s face are unexpectedly softened by the round eyes and button nose, as well as the sparse beauty marks dotting his skin.

The Prince looks exactly like one in the navy, nearly black suit he’s wearing that clashes against the necklace holding a ruby pendant. His head lifts as his parents and Taehyung’s exchange their greetings, and the detachment that sticks to the Prince’s figure fleetingly dissipates.

It happens shortly, briefly to a point where Taehyung would have missed it if he hadn’t been staring at the man, however there is an evident shock that washes across the Prince’s face when his eyes meet Taehyung’s for the first time. Taehyung can’t tell if it’s positive or negative, and he frankly does not care enough to give the question any more thought.

“Queen Seohyung, King Sungmin, a pleasure to be in your company tonight,” Dahee says with a hospitality Taehyung knows to be fabricated.

“A pleasure as well,” the Queen echoes with mirrored diplomacy.

What Taehyung cares about, on the other hand, is the way the Prince isn’t averting his attention from him. The son’s gaze darts across Taehyung’s face and figure, most likely to assess him and his worth.

It irritates Taehyung.

He wants to utter a ‘The fuck are you looking at?’ , or maybe an Ô so childish and silly ‘Want to paint my picture?’ just to hear what the Prince would answer. Would he look away in shame and fold back in on himself as he had been mere seconds ago? Or would he bite back with a retort of his own?

Perhaps a bit of both.

Taehyung bristles when the human still maintains his scrutiny, the stare now holding a quiet challenge in it that Taehyung refuses to be defeated by. His upper lip twitches with the repressed urge to snarl, and he’s left to wonder again why he has ever agreed to this charade of a marriage.

When their parents bow to each other, the Prince promptly follows suit and breaks the tension that had flared up. Taehyung remains immobile. Hell would freeze over before he bows to humans.

“Meet our son, Kim Taehyung, future leader of Vanae, and member of the Council,” Dahee introduces and she grabs Taehyung by the sleeve to drag him to her side.

“A pleasure to meet you, Taehyung.” Seohyung smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Likewise.” While Taehyung does not blatantly antagonize them, he also makes no effort to present an amicable facade. Plus he’s busy fighting off the hilarity that rises in him at the evident displeasure in the Queen and King's eyes at his casual wear.

“Shall we drop formalities? Our families are to possibly unite, after all,” Junhyun proposes.

The Queen and King promptly agree. “We shall.”

“Let us head inside,” Sungmin says and turns around. “It is too cold to meander outside.”

“Beautiful garden as always,” Dahee starts, well in her element. “I see you have changed your floral arrangement.”

“I found it appropriate to follow our gardener’s advice and deviate to winter resistant flowers for our home. Otherwise our previous flora would have met an unfortunate end and been of no use for decorum.”

Taehyung tunes them out.

The King and Junhyun are at the head of the group, conversing together about matters Taehyung does not try to pry on. Dahee and the Queen are behind their respective husbands, the two engrossed in a banal exchange of niceties while Taehyung is at the back of the group.

The Prince, at Taehyung's left from a safe distance, is carrying the same unreadable expression, made eerie by his muteness. Something about him bothers Taehyung, aside from the fact that he appears as aloof as Taehyung has been and feels. The Prince makes no attempt to socialize with Taehyung’s parents or his own, except for the small curve of his mouth when Dahee tilts her head toward him.

Taehyung seizes his 'opponent' with darts of his glare that flit across the Prince's surprisingly fit figure. His eyes narrow when his gaze collides with the man's. The son, to Taehyung’s ire, quirks a brow and deadpans Taehyung in a way that can only be deemed as irked.

So the Prince has some backbone to himself. 

An attitude , really, oozing of arrogance and malice or worse, and perhaps Taehyung is imagining it all in his head but there has to be some truth in it. Taehyung wisely chooses to ignore the man, but he has to bite down on his tongue to refrain himself from spitting out a remark full of vitriol. He still pays heed to the nagging whispers at the back of his head telling him to exert caution when it comes to the cryptic prince.

 “We may immediately settle in the dining room. Our fare for the night is awaiting us,” Sungmin announces.

Now…

Taehyung and his parents are well renowned, one of the most important families of dragonborns in Aurora. They’re wealthy, to put it in other words, however compared to the display that unfolds before Taehyung as they enter the citadel, Taehyung’s family looks destitute.

Everything expresses affluence and riches. The interior is not decorated in a manner to please one’s artistry, but rather to flaunt one’s money in anyone’s face.

It’s of poor, ostentatious taste.

Chandeliers of diamonds illuminate the area, large enough to instantly kill whoever may be underneath if they were to fall — Taehyung fleetingly considers it as the Queen and King pass beneath one. Vast paintings mounted with golden frames depicting scenes of colonization and dragon slaying; armors of silver and gold, and also what seem to be historical weapons like swords, crossbows and more; line the walls in a painstakingly crafted exhibit.

The display of wealth strikes one in the face whether they want it or not. A ‘Look at all we’ve achieved and gained through blood, murder and war!’ The allegory of Jeon history. After all, the pool of avarice is to humans what the pool of arcane is to dragonborns: nigh endless and rarely emptied.

Taehyung catches up to his father in two quick strides, and the remainder of the walk is brief.

They soon pass through the threshold of two candelabras and glass double doors opened to the lit dining area. The place, just like everything else in this castle, is unnecessarily huge for such meager and small-minded people: dozens of chairs are installed at the table, and soon three on each side are tugged away by servants.

Taehyung internally scoffs at how much time it takes the Jeon family to round the ridiculously long table. It must be thirty feet long.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” Seohyung gestures to the seats facing her. “I believe this sitting arrangement will suit us best.”

“No need, thanks,” Taehyung mutters to the maid who makes an aborted motion to take away his cloak. He can very well undress himself and sit his ass on his own, and he does just that, unfastening the two criss-crossing belts against his chest.

“Some rest at last,” Dahee sighs. “This flight was taxing, mainly due to a mischievous person.”

“Hopefully your energy will be replenished after our fare,” Seohyung smiles. “If not, you are more than welcome to stay for the night.”

“I believe we will be fine. Our son can fly us back home if I am too fatigued for the return. He prefers the sky to the land.”

Taehyung emits a distracted noise of agreement, his gaze riveted on the man before him he scrutinizes every motion of.

The Prince lowers with poise and elegance, spine straight once installed and a leg crossed over the other, eons away from how Taehyung is used to dragonborns slumping down and loitering about in whatever awkward position they find most comfortable.

“How about some wine from our own vintage?” Sungmin proposes, met with an expectant compliance from Junhyun.

“It would be lovely,” Junhyun grins, mirrored by Dahee.

Footsteps echo in the dining room. Taehyung surveys the two servants who make their way toward the table, armed with a couple bottles of wine. 

A wave of restlessness suddenly bubbles underneath Taehyung’s skin.

He understands why when his gaze falls on the Prince who's already peering at him. Taehyung fully shrugs off his cloak and folds it over the back of his chair, all under the Prince’s attention. Even as Taehyung readjusts his shirt that had shifted during the walk, the Prince follows Taehyung’s movements.

The man’s eyes jump to Taehyung’s neck — probably to estimate the cost of the necklaces —, then they skim lower to the hint of displayed collarbones or the chest — Taehyung doesn’t really know —, but the Prince looks with an intent that, once more, Taehyung is left to guess the countenance of.

One of Taehyung’s eyes twitches.

He unceremoniously plops down. 

The Prince averts his gaze.

“Thank you,” Dahee and Junhyun both say after their glasses have been filled up. Taehyung notes the absence of similar politeness from the King and Queen toward their own maids.

“Would you like some wine, sir?” A servant asks.

Taehyung shakes his head. “Nah. Can I have some water instead, if it’s no bother?”

“Right away, sir,” the man nods and briskly strides away, skipping the Prince with the wine offer.

Taehyung slouches against the back of his seat, propping his forearms on the armrests in faux nonchalance. His combat boots drag across the marble floor to spread his legs and stretch his tense muscles that are already aching for another flight. The presence of the Jeon family facing his own is a constant reminder that he's surrounded by humans in an unfamiliar human land, and the uncomfortable cold sweat crawls up his spine into a repressed shiver. 

“What a delight,” Junhyun exclaims after another sip of his drink. “Exquisite wine.”

“My husband and I closely surveyed its conception.” Seohyung snaps her fingers, and like an owner commanding a pack of griffins, a flurry of maids enter the dining room. “Finish and bring our fare. Promptly. Bring us some iced water as well.”

“Of course, my Queen.”

Whatever nonexistent sliver of respect Taehyung may have had the will to muster for tonight scorches to nothingness at the sight. His parents themselves seem bothered by the Queen’s pedantic order, if the downturn of their lips is any indication.

Taehyung welcomes the distraction of a servant pouring water into his glass. When he speaks, his voice is lowered, ensuring that the Queen and King can’t hear him. “Say,” he starts and discreetly leans near the servant, “do you have some chocolate you can sneak to me? I think I’ll need the sweetness to counter the Queen’s acrid presence.”

The servant chuckles.

When the Queen glances their way, Taehyung conceals the servant’s sound with a cough.

“We have an assortment of syrup you may distill in your water, if you wish to,” the servant says, loud enough for those at the table to hear.

Taehyung meets the servant’s amused eyes. “Do you have a strawberry one? And what’s your name?”

“We do, sir. My name is Sohee. Pleased to meet you, sir.”

“So am I.” For the first time today, Taehyung draws a genuine smile. “Is syrup a secret code for chocolate?”

“No. I will bring chocolate chips to you, however I believe its sweetness won’t suffice for the purposes you seek through them,” Sohee quietly jests, drawing a chuckle out of Taehyung. “I will be quick, sir.”

“No rush. Thank you, Sohee.” Taehyung's mood slightly improves. At least one human seems somewhat nice, even if he would never trust one ever again.

“Making new friends?”

Taehyung’s smile drops faster than the words can reach his ears. “I believe it is important to extend respect toward those working with, or rather for you, in your case.” His eyes don’t stray away from the Queen whose abjection at his kindness toward her workers marks her tight features. “It may come as a surprise to you, but a simple ‘thank you’ and ‘please’ can go a long way."

“Of course, that I agree with. However respect must be earned, akin to trust.”

Taehyung wants to throw a retort about how her agreement is rendered useless by the finger snaps plural that she uses to order her maids around, however he finds it more astute to not push the issue. For now.

“Happy to know we all seem to be in accord in this matter. The marriage, if it is to happen, will be a great show of mutual trust,” Dahee says, now regarding Taehyung with a merry understanding.

“It undeniably will,” Sungmin concurs in spite of the wariness that surrounds his every word and glance aimed at Taehyung.

What a slimy buffoon. Taehyung straightens up and props his elbows on the table, his hands raising to clasp over one another in an effort to hide the grimace that twists his mouth.

He peers at a point on the wall, and the rest of the waiting for the fare passes like that.

He doesn’t participate in the idle chat floating through the dining room, except for the instance where Sohee comes back with the syrup and pieces of chocolate that she leaves in a small pouch on the table. However the Queen tears Taehyung out of his internal meandering and munching of chocolate chips.

“Taehyung, we have not heard much from you.”

Taehyung's gaze slowly drifts on Seohyung. Similar to her son, something about the Queen ignites Taehyung’s instincts to stay away from the woman. The feeling is much darker than with the Prince, more cunning and abrasive. Where Taehyung is annoyed with the Prince and King’s masks of aloofness, he is unnerved by the one the Queen adorns.

“What would you like to know?”

“Anything that allows us to hear more of you. We were given limited personal information about you."

“I’m 26, for starters. While I’m not an official member of the Council, per se, I still participate in many of the reunions since I lead the hunting and exploring squadrons in Vanae.”

“Interesting,” Sungmin hums. “You must know your way in Aurora and neighboring islands.”

“I know my way everywhere. If not, I quickly learn to,” Taehyung adds.

“It would be quite beneficial for us. There are lands, caverns and other places we haven’t been able to explore due to our inability to fly."

Of course the line of questions all rotate back to how useful Taehyung and his family can be to them.

“Have you had other paramours or betrothed in your life?”

That is a query Taehyung had not expected to hear, let alone from the Queen. “No, I never have. I had no interest in that. Still don’t.”

“No improper offspring, then?”

“I’m gay,” Taehyung flatly declares.

“Good. So is our son,” Seohyung nods. “I suppose the integrity of our lineage will end with you both, but will hopefully extend through rigorously selected fostering.”

“Time will tell,” Taehyung shrugs.

“You don’t have any prospect of adopting an heir?” Sungmin asks.

“I never said that,” Taehyung rebuts. “I’m simply wondering if the heir you speak of will need to be exclusively human and non-dragonborn.”

“Well... That is a subject we can breach when the time comes,” Seohyung dismisses with a wave of her hand. “You don’t seem particularly happy about the wedding."

Taehyung ponders on whether to be brutally honest or lie. He ultimately opts on giving a half truth. “I’m a cautious man.” Somewhat. “However I trust my parents, and I hope the trust that will be awarded to your family will not be received with ill intentions.”

Annoyance flickers in the Queen and King’s eyes.

“I can assure you our ambitions are honest. We have the best interests in mind for our kingdom. And yours,” Sungmin says with a deliberate delay that he explains next, “given that our association comes to fruition.”

“And if not?”

“Then we will search for another suitor. Our son was to be married to a few other dragonborn leaders before you. Unfortunately, some difficulties had arisen with them.”

“Really?” Dahee probes. “With whom, if I may?” She asks the Prince but the latter doesn’t respond.

“Kim Changmin, Kang Sukwoo, Cha In-Pyo and Choi Seungwon, to name a few,” Sungmin lists.

Taehyung catches onto the pattern there, and so do his parents. The three of them exchange looks of incredulity for Taehyung, and of pure revolt for his parents.

“Choi Seungwon had been the last one we had attempted an union with before you,” Seohyung discloses.

Taehyung studies the Prince in the corner of his eyes.

The intangible mask the son had carefully crafted fissures, the crack visible through his head held low. It grants Taehyung a glimpse of the unadulterated scorn that overtakes the Prince’s face for a moment so abrupt that Taehyung thinks he has imagined it. 

“Isn’t Seungwon and every other dragonborn listed in their forties?” Taehyung questions the Prince, but when the latter slips on his veil of apathy and does not reply, Taehyung peers at the Queen.

“Late fifties, actually. Early sixties for Sukwoo. Seungwon is the youngest amidst the lot, in his mid forties," Junhyun intervenes. He is not the kind of man to be quick to anger, but even he can’t conceal the indignation from his timber.

Sensing the terse shift in the atmosphere, Seohyung smiles and pats the Prince's thigh under the table. “Our son knows the importance of his role as the heir of the Jeon dynasty. He is aware of the numerous advantages and the prosperity that being wedded to a rightful dragonborn will bring to the empire.”

“Right,” Taehyung chuckles through a derisive upturn of his mouth. “And you don’t find the idea of giving him up to men over twice his age abhorrent?”

“Taehyung,” Dahee warns.

“I personally find it quite repulsive at best, and horrifyingly immoral at worst. Aren’t you supposed to be parents before Amaris’ Queen and King? Unless your son’s happiness has no importance for you as long as yours is satiated, which is the most distasteful knowledge I’ve acquired about you both tonight.”

“Son. Enough.”

“Not only are those men twice the Prince’s age, but also awfully cruel in Seungwon’s case, and that's saying something since three out of the dragonborns you mentioned are despicable pigs. Was this selection purposefully done, perhaps?” Taehyung carries on, forgoing his parents' interventions. “While I understood years ago that humans can be incredibly vile and heartless, Seungwon is by far worse than most other humans I have met in my life, and Elders knows I have stumbled on really, really barbarous ones.”

“Taehyung.”

“It has me wondering, truly. If this is the best interest you have for your own kin, I’m curious to how it will translate for my people in the future.”

“Taehyung! This is en—”

“Seungwon had never shown any sign of this alleged harshness you speak of,” Seohyung counters — lies — and she looks amused by the veer in the tone of the conversation. It only serves to worsen Taehyung’s bubbling ire. “He had been kind and welcoming toward us and our son.”

“Oh please, you cannot be so naïve," Taehyung chuckles and reclines against his chair. “Seungwon’s reputation precedes him. A damn rat would know about it.”

“Perhaps your ‘rats’ were misinformed.”

“Or perhaps you've denied every word they may have narrated to your neglecting ears, even if it meant throwing him between Seungwon’s claws.” Taehyung jerks his head toward the Prince who is still not uttering a single word in spite of Taehyung's attempts to integrate him in the discussion.

Seohyung is chuckling, surprisingly. Sungmin is smiling as well, even if the edges of it are made acute by irritation.

“You seem to care a lot about our son’s well-being already, Taehyung,” Seohyung says. “It is reassuring to see.”

Taehyung pauses. 

His fingers tighten around the glass of water he grips onto.

The audacity of this fucking —

“Our son does care about yours indeed,” Dahee assures with a tight lip smile.

Taehyung would be caught dead before caring for a human again, but he makes no mention of it.

“As for the previous suitors we have met, they are no different than you, Taehyung,” Seohyung resumes. “You may share some similarities with Seungwon considering your… fiery temper.”

“Don’t be insulting. The age difference is an important distinction between this pig and I, among many others,” Taehyung says, falling right into Queen’s taunt without concern. Worst case scenario: they get offended enough to start a war, granting Taehyung the luxury of burning their pretentious asses to a crisp. Best case scenario: he gets to wipe off the parents’ stupid grins with a punch or two.

Either way, it would all end in Taehyung’s favor.

Temporarily.

“Marriages like these serve singular purposes that are not to be restricted by something as mundane as the age of those involved,” Seohyung carries on, her infuriating haughtiness returned. “If the participants are adults, and if the wish to marry is mutual and consensual; I, my husband, and son, see no issue with a few decades of disparity.”

“What has happened with Seungwon?” Junhyun inquires. “Knowing this man’s preferences, I can’t quite place why he would refuse your lovely son as his betrothed.”

Sungmin casts a disappointed look at the Prince who tenses. “Jungkook had brought shame upon us that day.”

Right.

Jungkook.

“He had been disobedient to his betrothed. When our son had been sent back to us at Seungwon’s request, the marriage had been called off. However Jungkook has been disciplined since then. He will be compliant to you. Seungwon had deemed it crucial to improve upon obedience and manners.”

Taehyung doesn't bother concealing his scorn and disgust from his voice when he rasps “Seungwon doesn’t wish to have a betrothed leading with him. Or doing anything he doesn’t demand, really. All he wants is a mindless doll he’ll keep by his feet to shape and brutalize to his whims." 

“What about what you want?”

“Unlike Seungwon, I don’t particularly get off on that kind of thing.” Taehyung revels in the faint snarl of aversion on the rulers’ face.

“Kim Taehyung.” Dahee lowly rumbles.

“That is another difference between him and I.” Taehyung's glower bores onto the Queen. “I’m not fond of forced compliance.”

“If you do not seek obedience from your betrothed, why are you so hostile toward anyone daring to oppose you?”

“I’m hostile toward the lack of honesty, not the opposition.” And also because the Queen is a fucking waste of air but that’s a subject Taehyung won’t touch on quite yet. “I don’t seek obedience.”

“Every leader should."

“No. A leader guides, accompanies and listens. A ruler, on the other hand, orders and offers no choice. You, Queen and King Jeon, are rulers. I’m a leader. Or rather soon to be leader." A silence settles in the room, only disturbed when Taehyung speaks once more. “Anything else you would like to know about what I desire?”

“No.” Venom drips through Seohyung's smile. “You have made yourself clear.”

“Nonetheless, Jungkook is a quiet man and will be devoted to you and the duties you see fit for him, Taehyung,” Sungmin says, who has clearly missed the entire point of Taehyung’s rant or decided to dismiss it altogether. “It is in his nature.”

Willingly in the Prince’s nature? Taehyung doubts it, and he’s about to say as much when he feels a hand on his knee. Dahee squeezes it once. Taehyung glances at her, and behind this thick curtain of approval that she feigns to aim at the Queen, there is an anger in her shaking hand, echoing with Taehyung’s.

The uncomfortable muteness that had stretched for what feels like hours is soon torn by the arrival of a dozen servants coming in with tonight's fare.

Taehyung — ever so stubborn — presses onto one of Sungmin's earlier comments. “Why reach out to us and not try with Seungwon if you have been ‘disciplined’ as Seungwon wanted?”

“Seungwon had felt too disrespected by Jungkook and—”

“I’m asking him,” Taehyung firmly interrupts Sungmin and tilts his glass toward Jungkook.

“That man had forcibly overstepped the boundaries that I had made crystal clear, and had paid a price for it in consequence,” Jungkook declares, his voice leveled. “I had rapidly realized that I would have been at the receiving end of his strictness if I were to stay with him.”

A hush of surprise floats in the room.

Taehyung’s gaze darts at the Prince. The servants’ motions falter before they resume their pace as they lay down plates of food and baskets of bread, refilling glasses of wine at the same time.

“What price?” Taehyung asks.

“Jungkook,” Sungmin warns, jaw set tight.

“What price?” Dahee pushes with a pointed look at the King.

Jungkook’s lips curl and it’s easy to tell that it’s a practiced smile, drawn over and over again. It knits the corners of his eyes but it isn’t trailed by any genuine joy, instead darkened by a ruthless satisfaction. It has the taut muscles of his jaw shifting beneath his skin, his right fist balled up around his cutlery.

“It isn’t import—”

“His left earlobe," Jungkook rasps. "I bit it off and spat it back at him.”

“Jungkook!”

Jungkook flinches and drops his head at lightning speed. The chopsticks rattle on the table when he lets go of them. He snatches a napkin, his hands flying out of view under the table. “My apologies, my kin—”

Taehyung and everyone in the dining room jolt at the rambunctious laughter that erupts out of Junhyun. The latter slams a palm on the table and his hilarity is echoed by Dahee who joins him with a pleased chuckle. Taehyung smiles as well, partially due to the puzzlement on the Queen and King’s face.

“My! I like this boy!"

“So do I.” Dahee presents a hand toward Jungkook. “Hello again, dear.”

Jungkook stares at the extended limb for a second before shaking it. “I’m... Hi?”

“Pleased to properly make your acquaintance,” Dahee says with a knowing smile.

“My deepest apologies for his rudeness." Seohyung's words are clipped, so painfully wrenched out of her mouth, that Taehyung has to press his lips into a thin line to quell down his laughter. “He is usually well-behaved.”

“Nonsense,” Junhyun disregards, standing to also shake hands with a bewildered Jungkook, the Prince’s eyes ever so slightly widened and eyebrows raised on his forehead.

“Indeed, Darling,” Dahee grins. “Dragonborns have no trouble with said ‘rudeness’. We appreciate it, contrary to forged appearances.”

Taehyung picks up his chopsticks, twirling one between his fingers. He rests his chin in the palm of his left hand and unabashedly stares at Jungkook.

The something that perplexes Taehyung is here anew. It’s the way Jungkook moves, Taehyung slowly begins to unravel. The Prince’s demeanor is demure at all times: chin lowered, shoulders slightly withdrawn in themselves, gaze avoidant, and when he does look at his interlocutors, it's done with a palpable coyness. 

Taehyung stills as he's hit by a belated revelation.

The Prince plays a role. 

He makes himself look small, for lack of a better term, but Taehyung sees beyond this.

Taehyung assumes that this impersonation is the result of a strict, perhaps abusive upbringing. But this isn’t enough. There’s another thing the Prince is keeping hushed, buried under this pretense of harmlessness and complacency. 

Eyes riveted on the Prince, Taehyung can catch onto the danger that Jungkook can represent. It’s enhanced by the earlobe tale and the shimmers of violent vindication that had gleamed in Jungkook’s eyes at the retelling.

Taehyung wishes that he could see through the wood of the table, or make himself invisible to hunch under it and verify if his observation had been a trick of the candles’ light or not. Thankfully, as if his request had been heard, the Prince’s hands find their place back around the cutlery.

A hum rumbles in Taehyung's chest, of prudence and curiosity.

There are crescents carved in Jungkook’s right palm. They’re pink and raw with leftover smudges of blood, faint enough to be imperceptible to a distracted eye, but Taehyung is anything but that at present. “Should I worry about losing an ear if we’re to marry?”

Jungkook’s gaze sharpens when it settles on Taehyung. He lolls his head to the side, and his biting stare pierces through the few strands of hair brushing his forehead. “You won’t if you keep your hands to yourself when I demand it.”

“Jungkook.” It’s Sungmin, waves of displeasure wafting off him. “We have spoken about this.”

The mask that had taken an acute edge is gone, replaced by the safety of submission. “My apologies, my king.”

“Well,” Dahee chirps, evidently entertained, “if this wedding goes through, it will surely prove itself to be a particular spectacle.”

“Let us begin our fare,” Seohyung says, encouraged by Junhyun. “Lest it grows any colder.”

Everyone at the table obliges.

The dinner elapses over the span of a couple hours. It is spent animatedly, the chit-chat kept alive by Taehyung’s parents and Jungkook’s. The food is good. Divine, even, and Taehyung finds some comfort in it, thinking that if the night is to veer into a literal bloody nightmare, he will at least have a belly full of a newly discovered meal.

Jungkook hasn’t spoken another word since his apology. Instead, it’s his parents who take it upon themselves to reply to the inquiries asked by Dahee and Junhyun. The Prince must be used to this because he distantly smiles and nods, but never provides more than that.

Taehyung is nonplussed by this dynamic. Dragonborns never cultivate this kind of excessively hierarchic relationships. There is a respect given by and to every dragonborn no matter their social rank, wealth and other criteria. They treat their peers with genuine kindness and care. Yet here with the Jeon family, everything feels fabricated, from the floor they walk on to every word their tongues curl around.

“Do give our compliments to the chef,” Junhyun sighs once their dessert is consumed. “It was one of the best meals I have ever gotten the chance to feast on.”

“Was it?” Dahee wonders with a playful frown.

“After yours, Darling."

Dahee pecks Junhyun’s cheek. Jungkook, along with the Queen and King, peer at the display of affection with surprise.

Taehyung discreetly rolls his eyes from where he’s loitering in his chair. He fiddles with the golden rings adorning his fingers as he watches the Queen and King converse with his parents. It's only when he feels a pair of eyes on him that his attention drifts on the Prince.

Jungkook is also leaning against the backrest of his chair, albeit more gracefully than Taehyung. The air of supremacy is worn once more. It grates on Taehyung's nerves.

“Taehyung,” Seohyung calls out, “your mother has mentioned in the past your disdain toward our kind, vehemently confirmed tonight.”

“Disdain is a mitigated way to put it."

“I’m afraid he hangs about in his grandfather’s lair too much. It influences him greatly,” Dahee laments.

“While your dislike for humankind is understandable and built on a complex history, I believe it is time for us to move past it and seal a proper peace anew,” Seohyung starts.

“Your family is one of the most eminent dragonborn ones, so is ours to humans and warlocks,” Sungmin carries on. “Our union, along with other marriages to occur between humans and dragonborns, will solidify the Accords that were signed centuries ago.”

“I still have some difficulties believing that it will,” Taehyung contests. “After all, the Jeon dynasty is the very one that had instigated the Great War, joined forces with other humans and warlocks, and had proceeded with the decimation of dragonborns.”

A billow of coldness rushes through the room. 

Seohyung’s and Sungmin’s veneer of amiability vanishes. However someone has to address the skeletons in the room, and Taehyung has always loved to be the one to do so.

“What happened during the Great War was regrettable, and I unfortunately cannot erase the past abominations my ancestors inflicted upon dragonborns.” The Queen’s speech is an evidently reenacted one, mechanical and emotionless. “However my family and kingdom are more than willing to amend for them. You have to accept that a token of trust must be given in order to receive one, Taehyung.”

“That I abide by,” Junhyun agrees. “Our families allying in spite of our history would be a great show of forgiveness. We will bring assets, influence and other exciting merits to each other.”

“An alliance is the first step toward an acceptance, a harmony between dragonkind and humankind, rather than a tentative tolerance,” Dahee adds. “This marriage will set an example and could be the start of a great friendship.”

“I concur,” Sungmin nods.

Seohyung mirrors him. “So do I and our son.”

“Do you?” The question launched by Dahee is directed at the Prince.

“Yes,” Jungkook answers. “I believe it is time for humans and dragonborns to grow. Together.”

“What about you, Taehyung?” Seohyung seems to enjoy egging him on because she says “Would you allow yourself to grow past your wrong beliefs toward humans?”

‘Wrong beliefs.’

Taehyung has heard humans refer to the Great War with the most inane terms to clean their hands of the blood they have shed, however referring to it as a ‘wrong belief’ is something else entirely.

“Perhaps,” Taehyung says.

“If your hesitation is partially due to Jungkook’s behavior, I can assure you that he will be a wonderful asset to your leadership. You will find him quite useful with economical, strategical or political acumen. However he'll be most valuable for social events and relationships he was trained to excel at, as he will also spur many envious gaze toward you that will be advantageous when the time to convince and charm a fellow leader will come.”

Taehyung stares, not even bothering to hide his disgust at how distasteful the last addition is. "My husband being my arm candy is more important than anything else?

“Once Jungkook has become your husband, he will be yours to employ and dictate as you see fit. Isn’t it right, Jungkook?” Sungmin’s eyes crinkle around a smile as he peers at his son, and Taehyung can feel a bile of repulsion crawl at the back of his throat when he imagines that Seungwon has probably heard this exact same speech. “What do you say, Taehyung? Would you perhaps like to spend an afternoon with Jungkook?”

All eyes skim on him.

“Time is of the essence, however,” Seohyung interjects. “We cannot afford to wait much longer before a decision has to be made.”

“If so, the assessment of the Prince and I’s compatibility prior to the wedding doesn’t matter,” Taehyung summarizes. “What mutual gain will this association provide?”

“We will cede part of our land to Vanae, as well as access to our libraries and warlocks, among other things we have discussed with your parents.”

Taehyung’s mouth parts open.

Warlocks are rare.

They commonly live in recluse, more specifically away from dragonborns that they fear, and away from humans that they distrust. Warlocks still maintain a better rapport with humans. The two often work together, as they had during the Great War, and this coalition had been the tipping point towards humans’ victory. However warlocks remain elusive and easily swayed, their loyalty given to whichever side seems more prone to win. So if Taehyung has a hard time trusting humans, it is even worse with warlocks.

“What about you?” Taehyung's eyes shift between Seohyung and Sungmin. “What do you gain in return?”

“A seat at the draconic Council as well as a percentage that has yet to be determined of the precious stones your people bring,” Sungmin replies. “We will also require the help of dragons to expand, fend off rivals and other potential threats if they are to arise.”

“Can your warlocks be trusted?”

“The two we detain, yes. One of them is a close friend of Jungkook. Any other questions?”

Detain? Taehyung thinks.

 “What about accommodations?” 

Taehyung's question takes aback both his parents and Jungkook's.

“Accommodations?”

“I am not leaving Vanae for Amaris," Taehyung snips.

Seohyung crosses her arms over her chest, lifting a hand to her chin as she pensively peers at Jungkook. “Arrangements could be made. You and Jungkook could reside between the borders of our lands, preferably closer to the citadel, so that we can easily keep in touch with Jungkook.”

Or rather control him, Taehyung mentally corrects.

“It would be frowned upon if you don’t live together."

“Jungkook could come move in with us in Vanae,” Dahee casually offers with a bright grin.

“ Hah?” Taehyung gapes at his mother. His home being invaded by the enemy is where he draws a li— No. A barricade of spikes and fire. "What?" Before he can voice out more of his denial, Dahee shushes him with a pinch on his knee.

The Queen herself stammers at the unexpected proposal. “I… I’m not sure it would be a wise idea.”

“Why not,” Junhyun exclaims. “While dragonborns are familiar with humankind’s history and accomplishments, the reverse cannot be said, isn’t it? If Jungkook lives in Vanae with us, it will grant him a direct insight into draconic politics, history, arcane and more,” he adds, and there is this glint of connivance in his gaze that Taehyung catches.

The hand on Taehyung’s knee tugs at the fabric of his pants. Once assured that he can peer down without arousing any suspicion, he does.

Tamed flames flicker at the tip of Dahee’s fingers, the fire shaping around letters.

‘This boy is not safe here.’

Taehyung’s jaw clenches. He darts a look at Jungkook’s parents, the latter discussing together.

“Plus it isn’t as though Jungkook would be a prisoner in our house,” Dahee resumes. “He would, of course, be more than welcome to visit you whenever he’d desire to. He is a free man, after all.”

For the first time tonight, an emotion that isn’t detachment or swift disdain blooms on the Prince’s face. Taehyung can’t really make out what it is, exactly, but Dahee appears to because she gently smiles at Jungkook.

“It could work,” Seohyung muses.

“Yes. Let us try,” Sungmin decides. “We will need to speak with Jungkook beforehand.”

“If Jungkook were to live in Vanae, he would be surrounded by your kind. Dragons,” Seohyung continues.

“Yes, and he would learn a lot from and about us."

“Would he be the only human there?”

“For the most part, yes. Vanae’s population is of dragonborns only aside from the occasional human visitors.”

Seohyung takes a sip of her wine, peering at the liquid that she twirls in the glass. “It goes without saying that nothing drastically unwarranted must happen to this union.”

“I can assure you that your son will be safe with us,” Junhyun says.

“It isn’t necessarily our son we are worried about. We know he will be well,” Sungmin clarifies like the piece of shit that he is. “But it is good to hear nonetheless.”

“I believe we all agree with those parameters for the time being?” Dahee's gaze drags across the table.

Sungmin’s eyes shoot toward Taehyung. “All except for one.”

Taehyung grits his teeth together.

He knows that he can refuse it, that his parents would not be upset or angered about his decision. His mind drifts away from the table. His vision glazes over as he recalls the graveyard under his home. Then he glances at the unreadable Prince.

Taehyung believes that his mother has caught onto the something about Jungkook. Or perhaps her apparent personal interest for him is due to the strained relationship between the Prince and his parents, Dahee’s impulse to protect and care then awakened. Taehyung does not share much of this concern. He’s still unsettled by the cracks he has seen in the Prince’s mask: a darkness in Jungkook that may unleash itself one day, and Taehyung does not know if it’ll be aimed at him, dragonborns, or the Queen and King.

“May I have some time to deliberate on it? It is a lifetime commitment, and I would like to confer with my parents,” Taehyung eventually settles on replying.

“A few days at most, but yes,” Seohyung agrees.

“Excellent.” Dahee smiles and turns toward Junhyun. “We should leave, Darling, before we overstay our welcome.”

“You can rest here for the night, if need be."

“That won’t be necessary, thank you. Tonight’s fare has revitalized me, and I’m sure the same can be said about Taehyung.”

“Yeah." One of Taehyung's knees jumping up and down as he picks at the skin of his thumb. The angsty restlessness at the prospect of finally flying flares up. 

“Are you ready to leave, Son?” Dahee asks, her eyes drifting between Taehyung and Jungkook. “Or is there another matter you wish to discuss?”

“I've heard everything I needed.”

Not waiting for any permission or cue, Taehyung's chair scrapes across the smooth marble tiles as he rises to his feet. Everyone else follows suit. He throws his cloak on and in the same movement, he retrieves the pouch of chocolate chips that he sneaks in an inner pocket. 

Eager to be out of this suffocating citadel that seems to be more of a fancy prison, he marches toward the dining room’s entrance doors.

“Thank you for the dinner, it was wonderful,” Dahee says once in the garden.

“Thank you for being here," Seohyung smiles. "The company has been unexpectedly amusing.”

Taehyung dips his head backward and admires the view. The night sky is full of stars, shining bright alongside the Moon. His lids fall shut, exhausted from the social outing, and he basks in the cold breeze that ruffles his hair, slowly sweeping away the tension from his shoulders.

Jungkook looks to be elsewhere when Taehyung glances at him, the Prince's gaze settled at a point on the outskirts of the garden and river surrounding the citadel.

“Jungkook, it was lovely to see you again.” Dahee steps near him and without any hesitation, she pulls Jungkook in a hug.

Dahee’s face is tucked against Jungkook's tense shoulders who tentatively returns the embrace. She must whisper something to him because a sudden glassiness springs in the Prince's eyes, his lips pressing into a thin line. 

Jungkook discreetly nods.

Taehyung frowns.

“Likewise,” Jungkook says as he separates from Dahee, his expression schooled back to neutrality, but the shine in his gaze remains.

“Let us fly home, Son, lest I fall asleep mid flight.”

“If you do, I could fly you home, Darling. Although the stakes of me falling asleep then would be much higher, and I believe Taehyung wouldn’t be strong enough to carry me in my dragon form,” Junhyun muses.

“My dear, we would need a thunder to move you in your dragon self,” Dahee teases, earning herself a resounding smack on the rear as Junhyun bursts into a boisterous laughter.

Taehyung grunts a sigh.

“That is true, Darling.”

Dahee pats Junhyun's round belly. “I love you."

“And I you, Darling.”

”Have a great night, Queen Seohyung, King Sungmin,” Junhyun and Dahee both say with a brief bow. “Once more, thank you for your invitation to your beautiful abode.”

“The pleasure was ours,” Seohyung echoes, her lips curved into a tight, uncomfortable curl.

Taehyung internally cackles, suddenly happy about his parents’ shameless flirtations.

“Have a safe flight,” Jungkook says with a smile that seems genuine for once.

Taehyung wordlessly shifts to his dragon counterpart. He heaves a deep rumble of relief when his claws protract while his wings flutter, working out the kinks and incessant soreness in them. After some maneuvering, Junhyun finds his place on his wife’s nape. Dahee lifts off the ground first, remaining afloat as she waits for her son.

Before joining his mother in the sky, Taehyung peers down at the Prince.

Their gazes meet, one of scorn, and the other seeming more. Perhaps even curious. 

Taehyung huffs a puff of fire through his nostrils, a petulant gesture to punctuate his departure. He takes off and snorts a chuckle when a gust of dust is propelled toward the Queen and King, the two forced to cover their faces with their arms.

“His parents are revolting,” Taehyung announces when he storms inside his home, throwing his cloak on the coat hanger and removing his combat boots. “I can’t believe they considered Seungwon as a betrothed for their son. Seungwon? To this disgusting, sadistic pig? ” He drapes himself over his recliner, The Armchair, and by the Elders if it isn't eons more comfortable than the dining chairs at Jeon castle.

“From a pragmatic point of view, I can understand why Jungkook’s parents would choose him,” Dahee says. “They would have gained a lot from that wedding, and they obviously have no qualms in sending their son to any griffin’s den. They’re desperate, a reason why they also put up with your behavior.”

“They are so unbelievably despicable. Blew my mind this whole fucking night.”

“Because you are good, my son.”

“Do you really want to be associated with the Jeon family?” Taehyung wonders.

“I’d rather have it be us than someone else. Your father and I can handle Seohyung and Sungmin. Plus the Council has already given their approval.”

“The Council can go eat shi—”

Dahee gently smacks Taehyung’s forehead. “Son.”

“This is absolute nonsense. Of all human families the Council may want, they chose the Jeon?”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” Junhyun affirms, an unusual severity stiffening his demeanor. “This is mainly what it is about. We don’t have much faith in the Jeon family’s loyalty, however they will grant us great benefits while we can keep a cautious eye on them.”

“But it also allows them to do the exact same thing on top of collecting information about us.”

“So will we about them. The Kang Family is engaging their daughter with a human heir as well, and it will continue forth with a couple more marriages.” Dahee perches herself on her husband’s lap. “It is time for us to forgive.”

“This is…” Taehyung trails off. His cheeks puff around a sigh.

“Son, you seem to have misheard me, so allow me to repeat myself. We will forgive,” Dahee begins and her timber is low, voice wavering with contained ire, “however we will never, ever forget what was done to us. All that humans have taken and stolen from us.”

“What did you say to him?” Taehyung blurts out, half to distract his mother from the upset he has awakened in her, half out of curiosity.

“How so?”

“The Prince. You whispered something to him.”

“He wants to run away from his parents, that much has been evident to your father and I over the course of our sparse visits.”

“Understandably so,” Junhyun mumbles, face etched into a glower. “They never allow him to express himself or speak his mind how he wants to. I hope the poor boy is alright and not being disciplined for his brief outburst of honesty tonight.”

“What did you exactly tell the Prince?” Taehyung pushes. He narrows his eyes at his mother when her mischievous gaze settles at a point away from Taehyung in faux innocence.

“Well.” Dahee pauses. For dramatic effect, Taehyung suspects. “I told him that if you were to deny the marriage, I would steal him from his parents. Kidnap him, if you will. Consensually and discreetly, of course.”

Taehyung blinks once, twice, and a third time, in case his mother is a mirage concocted by his lunatic mind. “Mother, have you finally gone mad?”

“Darling, you cannot kidnap the heir to the Jeon throne,” Junhyun chastises but it’s melted down by the fond smile that stretches his lips.

“As I said, it would be agreed upon. I want to help him. And I like him.”

“I don’t and jeopardizing the whole clan for one single human is mindless,” Taehyung counters.

“I've raised you better than this, Taehyung.”

“You've raised me to do everything in my power to protect my people.”

“I want to consider humans as our people as well. Not every human is bad, just like not every dragonborn is good. The world isn’t so cut in black and white.”

“Every human I've met was either greedy and cruel, or a megalomaniac unable to see further than the tip of their nose."

“We have similar kinds of pricks among dragonborns. You think too highly of yourself and our kind,” Dahee scolds. “We have taught you humbleness, not what behavior you’ve been exhibiting lately.”

Taehyung sighs. He's been doing so more often than not lately. “I know, I’m just—” He rubs a palm down his face. “I can’t bring myself to suddenly be fine with humans invading our lives that had been peaceful.”

“We know, Son."

“I don’t trust humans. I most certainly don’t trust the Jeon rulers and neither do I trust their son.”

“You could make some effort to—”

“Should I remind you of what happened to me the last time I tried to make an effort for a human? Because you seem to have forgotten about it. I haven’t. Every damn day and night the pain and nightmares mangle me. A constant reminder that I unfortunately can’t discard as easily as you have.”

Tremors ripple through Taehyung. His nails sink into his palms and he anchors on the stinging prickle to not let himself be swarmed by the memories harassing his mind. The ache on his back heightens, as though called forth. He rolls his shoulders to alleviate it.

“Humans humiliated me that day, and if it hadn't been for myself, the Elders and that one warlock who helped me, I—” Taehyung’s teeth clamp down on the inside of his cheek. Blood suffuses his tongue, his fists clenching and relaxing every few seconds. “They’ll backstab us, eventually. It’s only a matter of when, not if.”

“My son…” Dahee steps forward to crouch in front of Taehyung. She grabs a hold of his hands, coaxing the stiff fingers to come loose. “We know, Taehyung. We expect it to happen. But we will be ready when it does come. If it does, because I still hold onto some hope that people can change and be better.”

“What if it happens and we aren’t ready?”

“Then we will die defending what is ours. Our legacy,” Junhyun says as he pushes himself off the couch. Dahee hums in approval. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“We’re taking so many risks."

“We have to.” Dahee waits for Junhyun to be out of earshot to add “With the plague.”

“We should tell Dad. I don’t want to keep this secret from him.”

“I will speak to the Elders tomorrow, and then to your father. However your father is an intelligent man. I know he suspects that I am hiding something from him, but he trusts me.”

“Alright,” Taehyung concedes, too tired to argue any further, what semblance of energy he had left vanished.

“As for the wedding, if you truly do not wish to go through it, tell me. I will warn the Jeon family.”

“Here, Son,” Junhyun says and Taehyung looks up at his father who’s handing him a gauze doused with some liquid ointment. “For your palms.”

“Thank you.”

Dahee straightens up and finds her place perched on Junhyun’s legs again while Taehyung cleans the small specks of blood off his skin. His thoughts derail to the Prince, to the similar sight he had seen on Jungkook’s palms.

“What about the Prince?”

“What about him?”

“You want to help him.”

“Yes, as much as possible, and while I agree that we mustn’t underestimate him nor what he’s capable of, I have a good gut feeling about him.”

“Yeah, and the gut feeling is the one of him cleaving a dagger through your stomach."

Dahee produces a tiny ball of fire that she flings at Taehyung. The fireball faintly singes the front of Taehyung’s shirt and he pouts as he swipes the smudge of ashes. Feeling revengeful, he toggles through the roulette of his arcane that slots on an element. He forms a flimsy bolt of lightning that he fires at his mother.

“How dare you attack your own mother,” Dahee frowns and pokes the bolt that fizzles in the air.

“You started it,” Taehyung shrugs but regrets it when it tugs at the tightness in his skin. Then, he emits a long, drawn out grunt and sags in his seat. “I never dreamed of finding a good mate I like. You know I don’t care about any of that, but I had one standard: a dragonborn betrothed.”

“If you’re this adamant about it, perhaps you could build mechanical wings to attach on Jungkook’s back so that he can fly with you,” Dahee quips. Junhyun, who had dozed off, barks out a laughter.

“And then you wonder why I’m such a little shit,” Taehyung mumbles through pursed lips.

“Like mother, like son.” Dahee's chin juts up in pride.

Junhyun emits a happy sigh. “I love you both so, so dearly."

“I love you too, Darling.”

“Love you,” Taehyung slurs through a wide yawn.

“I feel for this boy,” Junhyun says.

“If the marriage happens, we will take him away from a potentially abusive home. That is also to take into account even if I know you don’t like Jungkook much,” Dahee addresses Taehyung.

“I despise his parents even more. They’re so… They made my skin crawl in the span of one meeting. The Queen is the worst. She gives me the heebie-jeebies. And there’s also something about the Prince.”

“You've noticed as well,” Dahee smiles.

“Hm? Noticed what?” Junhyun wonders, waking up enough to peep at his mate.

“I believe Jungkook holds a darkness in his heart that he carefully buries deep down. Or maybe it’s a penchant for... Hmm.” Dahee pauses, tapping her chin with her index. “For chaos? Perhaps? However only if provoked and warranted. Like the wonderful earlobe tale.”

“A chaos?” Taehyung echoes.

“I cannot find another way to phrase it.”

“The thing about him is that, for the most part, he knows how he is expected to behave. What he should say or not, what he should and shouldn't do. Means he’s a good performer and liar. Like a damn vixen. A sly, cunning fox.”

“Taehyung, you do realize that vixen, when used for a human and not to refer to the female fox, usually means that you find them irritable yet sexual attractive, right?”

Taehyung glares at his mother as a heat creeps up his neck. “Backtracking on what I just said and entirely ignoring what you just said. Jungkook is a— A—” He stops to mull over for a second. “A viper.” He nods to himself. “Sly. Cunning. Slithering their way everywhere to strike when you least expect it. Yada yada.”

“You don’t know this boy, Taehyung. You’re misjudging him."

“What I mean is that he’s hiding something. And his true self."

“We all are to some extent,” Dahee rebuts.

“I’m not,” Junhyun says.

“Except you, Darling,” Dahee laughs and kisses her mate. “But I understand, and we will be cautious with Jungkook. We’ll ensure that what secret he suppresses isn’t aimed at us, although I’m fairly certain we’re at the bottom of his list of vendetta, if he has one.”

“Yeah. I guess his parents are first,” Taehyung concedes.

“Indeed.”

A silence floats in the room.

Taehyung thinks and thinks and thinks some more, then he breaks the quietude with a heaved 'Fuck.'

“Is this ‘fuck’ a sign of another tantrum of yours or a decision made?” Dahee inquires with an amused lilt.

“Both."

“Oh?”

Taehyung can already tell that he’ll regret his choice. However he has taken everything into account: the trust in his parents, the plague, the Elder’s words of wisdom as well as the atrocious Queen and King.

And so Taehyung makes a decision, one that he hopes won’t turn around to bite him in the ass.

“I’ll marry the heir of the Jeon dynasty.”