Chapter Text
Morning sunlight spilled across the polished stone floors in long bands of gold, warming the sprawling chambers of Prince Park Jimin long before the servants had finished drawing back the curtains. Beyond the open balcony doors, the kingdom stretched beneath a pale spring sky. Rooftops of clay and slate packed tightly together beyond the palace walls, smoke curling lazily from chimneys, merchants already dragging carts through the waking streets below. From this height the capital looked peaceful. Safe.
It always had been.
The Park Kingdom had spent decades becoming known for exactly that. Peaceful harvests. Fair laws. Kind rulers. People spoke warmly of the king and queen even outside the capital, and because of that, the palace itself rarely carried the suffocating tension that seemed to haunt royal courts in other kingdoms. The halls here were busy, yes, filled with advisors and guards and servants and nobles endlessly weaving around one another, but laughter was not uncommon. Neither were soft conversations between staff. Jimin had grown up in warmth rather than fear.
Which was precisely why his current frustration felt so dramatic.
“I swear to God, if they bring me one more embroidered jacket covered in jewels, I’m going to set myself on fire.”
Taehyung snorted from where he lounged carelessly across the cushioned bench near the door, long legs stretched out in front of him. “That seems excessive.”
“It’s practical.”
“You said the exact same thing last month.”
“And I meant it then too.”
Jimin yanked another layer of silk over his head before emerging from the fabric with an exhausted expression. One of the attendants standing nearby quickly stepped forward to smooth the wrinkles from the prince’s shoulders while Jimin stared at his reflection with deep offense.
The cream-colored robes were beautiful, unfortunately. Gold threading curled through the sleeves like vines, delicate enough that the fabric shimmered whenever he moved. Which meant the council mothers would adore it.
Jimin looked horrified. “I look marriageable.”
Taehyung finally laughed properly at that, dropping his head back against the wall. “Well, that is generally the goal, Your Highness.”
Jimin grabbed the nearest decorative pillow and launched it directly at his face. The attendants immediately looked down to hide their smiles.
Taehyung caught the pillow easily. “Violent this early in the morning?”
“You’d be violent too if strangers kept trying to offer their sons and daughters to you over breakfast.”
“That old duke from the western province really liked you.”
“That old duke tried to sell me his son like livestock.”
“He did compliment your eyes first.”
Jimin groaned loudly and turned away from the mirror altogether. “See? This is exactly what I mean. Nobody even tries to hide it anymore.”
The attendants finally finished fussing over the layers enough for Jimin to wave them away with a grateful smile. The moment they exited, he visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping.
Taehyung watched him knowingly from the bench. Unlike everyone else in the palace, Taehyung had never treated Jimin delicately.
The two of them had been children together long before titles fully meant anything. Taehyung had been brought to the palace around the age of six after being selected as a royal companion for the young prince — a noble enough background to be acceptable within court, but not so politically important that friendship would become another strategic arrangement. His grandmother still lived within the capital city below the palace cliffs, though Taehyung spent most of his life inside these walls now.
At this point, he existed beside Jimin as naturally as breathing.
“You’re brooding again,” Taehyung said.
“I’m not brooding.”
“You’ve complained about marriage six times since sunrise.”
“That’s because everyone wants to marry Prince Park Jimin.” Jimin grabbed one of his rings from the table and slid it onto his finger with unnecessary irritation. “Nobody wants to marry just Jimin.”
Taehyung’s expression softened slightly at that, though his voice stayed light. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
Jimin moved toward the open doors, sunlight immediately spilling across his face as he stepped onto the balcony for air. Wind tugged softly through his dark hair.
Below, palace servants crossed the lower courtyards carrying baskets of linens and crates of produce toward the kitchens. Guards rotated positions along the walls in gleaming armor while horses were led across the training grounds farther west. The palace was awake now.
And somewhere within it Jimin’s fingers brushed unconsciously against the inside of his sleeve.
Taehyung noticed immediately. His eyes narrowed. “You got another one.”
Jimin looked over his shoulder, trying and failing to suppress the smile pulling at his mouth before turning toward the doorway again. “Come eat with me.”
Taehyung pointed at him accusingly as he stood. “You absolutely got another letter.”
Jimin only grinned and walked out into the corridor. The palace halls unfurled endlessly around them in warm ivory stone and polished dark wood, enormous windows allowing morning light to spill across the floors in glowing patterns. Servants bowed as Jimin passed. Guards lowered their heads respectfully.
Jimin greeted nearly every person who looked at him.
“Good morning.”
“Your son’s fever better?”
“Thank you for the flowers yesterday.”
Half the palace brightened when he spoke to them. The other half looked startled every single time, as though they still weren’t accustomed to a prince remembering details about their lives.
Taehyung walked beside him with easy familiarity, hands tucked into his sleeves as they descended one of the sweeping staircases toward the kitchens below.
“You know,” Taehyung said casually, “most royals don’t stop to ask servants about their children.”
“Well, most royals sound miserable.”
“That’s because most royals aren’t raised by your parents.”
Jimin smiled faintly at that.
His parents truly were loved. The king ruled with a steady hand rather than a cruel one, and the queen carried herself with a warmth that made even nervous servants relax around her. Jimin had been raised with expectations, endless lessons, diplomacy training, council meetings, etiquette drilled into him since childhood, but never without affection.
His father wanted him prepared to rule, His mother wanted him happy enough to survive it.
The kitchens were already alive with noise by the time they entered. Heat rolled outward immediately, rich with the scent of fresh bread, herbs, roasting meat, and sweet pastries cooling near the windows. Cooks moved around one another in organized chaos while younger kitchen assistants hurried between stations carrying trays and bowls.
Near the center counter, Kim Seokjin stood directing three different people at once with the ease of someone fully aware he was the most competent person in the room. “No, the honey glaze goes after it comes out of the oven unless you enjoy ruining my work— ah.”
Seokjin straightened immediately upon spotting Jimin entering the kitchens. “My prince.” He bowed smoothly despite still holding a wooden spoon. “You’re up earlier than usual.”
“Taehyung kept complaining outside my door until I surrendered.”
“That is not what happened,” Taehyung argued.
Seokjin hummed skeptically before turning toward the long preparation tables. “Your breakfast is already ready.”
“See?” Jimin said smugly toward Taehyung. “Someone here appreciates me.”
Taehyung placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “After all these years together.”
Seokjin hid a smile as he plated several dishes himself instead of allowing the assistants to do it. Jimin noticed that immediately, because Seokjin only personally prepared meals for people he cared about.
Which, increasingly obviously, included Taehyung. “And extra honey pastries?” Taehyung asked innocently.
Seokjin slid the plate toward him without looking up. “Must’ve been a mistake.”
Taehyung’s mouth curved slowly while Seokjin very carefully refused to meet his eyes.
Jimin watched the entire exchange with growing delight. “Oh my God,” he whispered.
Both of them snapped toward him immediately.
“What?” Seokjin asked too quickly.
Jimin pointed between them. “You’re flirting again.”
“We are not,” Seokjin said.
“At all,” Taehyung added.
Jimin stared. Taehyung stared back with complete confidence while stealing one of the pastries directly off Seokjin’s tray. Seokjin smacked his hand with the spoon.
Jimin burst into laughter. “Hopeless,” he informed them.
Seokjin muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like brat before ushering them toward one of the smaller dining alcoves beside the kitchens.
The space overlooked an inner garden through wide open arches, quieter than the main hall and flooded with sunlight. Jimin settled onto one of the cushioned benches while Taehyung immediately reached for food.
The second they were alone, Jimin glanced toward the open archways, Then toward the servants moving in the distant kitchens, Then back toward Taehyung.
Taehyung narrowed his eyes immediately. “You’re about to tell me something.”
Jimin leaned across the table. “I got another letter last week.”
Taehyung nearly choked on his tea. “I knew it!”
Jimin was already pulling folded parchment carefully from inside his robes. The movement alone revealed how precious the thing was to him. His fingers handled it delicately, smoothing the edges before unfolding it across the table between them.
Taehyung watched his face soften before Jimin even began reading, And that alone said far too much.
Jimin lowered his voice anyway. “Listen.” His eyes scanned the page once before he read quietly.
You looked tired during council this morning.
One of the ministers kept interrupting you whenever you tried to speak. I think it angered me more than it angered you.
You kept tapping your finger against your cup afterward when you thought nobody noticed. You always do that when you’re frustrated.
I wish there was someone allowed to tell you that you do not have to carry every burden quietly just because you were born a prince.
You deserve gentleness too.
Silence settled between them for a moment after Jimin finished.
Taehyung slowly blinked. “…Okay, that was admittedly very good.” Jimin looked unbearably pleased by that reaction. Taehyung reached for the letter carefully. “This is also a little creepy.”
“Oh, come on.”
“No, seriously, Jimin, they’re watching you enough to notice nervous habits.”
“That’s observant, not creepy.”
“That is literally the definition of creepy.”
Jimin laughed softly, taking the parchment back and folding it with obvious care. “I think it’s sweet.”
Taehyung studied him for a long moment, And there it was. The thing underneath all of this. Jimin looked hopeful. Not frightened. Not disturbed. Hopeful.
“You really like these letters,” Taehyung said quietly.
Jimin’s fingers lingered against the folded parchment in his lap. “People like the idea of me,” he admitted after a moment. “Or they like the crown. Or what marrying me would mean for their family.” His gaze dropped toward the table. “But this person…They notice things.”
Taehyung’s teasing expression softened.
Jimin continued quietly, “Nobody’s ever written to me like they actually see me before.”
The garden breeze drifted softly through the arches. For a second, Taehyung looked almost concerned by how sincere Jimin sounded. “What if they’re ugly?” he asked finally.
Jimin stared at him in disbelief. “That’s your concern?”
“I’m asking important questions.”
Jimin laughed so suddenly he nearly spilled his tea.
By the time breakfast ended, the palace had fully erupted into midday motion. Taehyung disappeared somewhere toward the outer courtyards after stealing two more pastries “for the road,” while Jimin wandered back toward his chambers alone through quieter hallways above the western wing.
He pushed open his bedroom door to find Yoongi halfway through changing the bedding.
Soft cream sheets were gathered in his arms while fresh linens rested folded nearby. Sunlight illuminated drifting dust through the open windows as Yoongi worked quietly, entirely focused until he noticed movement near the door.
Immediately, he straightened. “My prince.”
Jimin sighed dramatically as he shut the door behind himself. “You know, one day I’m going to convince you to stop doing that.”
Yoongi looked vaguely alarmed already. “Doing what?”
“Calling me that like we’re strangers.”
A faint flush touched Yoongi’s face. “Right. Sorry.”
Jimin dropped onto the edge of the bed with a groan, sprawling backward across the mattress while Yoongi tried not to look scandalized by royal behavior. “How are you today?” Jimin asked.
“I’m alright.”
“You look tired.”
Yoongi snorted softly. “You sound exactly like him.”
Jimin’s eyes immediately lit up. “Him?”
Yoongi froze.
Jimin slowly sat up on his elbows with growing delight. “Oh my God.”
“My prince—”
“Aha!”
Yoongi looked seconds away from throwing himself out the window.
Jimin grinned wickedly. “So the rumors are true.”
“There are no rumors.”
“There are absolutely rumors.”
Yoongi pressed both hands over his face briefly. “Please don’t say this so loudly.”
Jimin leaned closer immediately. “Namjoon?”
Yoongi lowered his hands just enough to glare at him. “You are enjoying this far too much.”
“I think it’s cute.”
“You think everything is cute.”
“That’s not true.”
Yoongi stared at him flatly. Then, despite himself, laughed under his breath. The tension eased a little after that.
Jimin softened too, watching Yoongi refold one of the blankets nervously before speaking quieter this time. “You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to tell anyone.”
Yoongi’s expression shifted immediately. Because beneath the embarrassment sat something more real.
Fear.
Namjoon was the palace steward. trusted directly beneath the king himself, responsible for overseeing the palace staff, finances, organization of the household, and was always around for ‘big decisions’. A respected position. Which also meant scrutiny. Getting involved romantically with a member of the staff beneath him could become scandal very quickly if the wrong noble families decided to make it one.
“I mean it,” Jimin said gently. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
Yoongi looked at him for a long moment before nodding once. “Thank you.”
Jimin smiled warmly. Then immediately ruined the sincerity by wiggling his eyebrows. “So how long have you been secretly in love with each other?”
Yoongi threw a pillow directly at his head. Jimin collapsed into helpless laughter. Later, after Yoongi finished fussing at him for “acting nothing like royalty,” the room eventually quieted again.
The afternoon light had softened gold by then. Yoongi excused himself with another respectful bow — smaller this time, more familiar than formal. leaving Jimin finally alone inside his chambers.
The silence settled comfortably around him. Slowly, Jimin crossed toward the carved wooden dresser beside his bed and pulled open the bottom drawer.
Inside sat a stack of folded parchment. Dozens of them now, Carefully preserved. Jimin reached down and picked up the oldest one first, fingertips tracing familiar creases. Some were shorter than others. Some barely more than observations.
One complimenting the way Jimin read to children during winter festivals.
Another describing the way he smiled at old women in the marketplace.
Another thanking him quietly for convincing the king to fund repairs to the lower district after flooding last year.
Every single one written by someone who seemed to notice him when nobody else truly did.
Jimin sat slowly on the edge of the bed, letters spread around him like pieces of a person he still couldn’t fully see.
‘Who are you?’ The thought haunted him more each week.
A sharp sound suddenly broke the silence. The faint scrape of parchment against stone. Jimin’s head snapped toward the door. Another letter slid neatly beneath it.
His breath caught. Immediately he lunged forward, nearly tripping over the blankets as he rushed toward the entrance. “Wait—”
The door flew open. Empty hallway. Jimin stepped out quickly, looking both directions down the corridor lined with glowing evening lanterns. “Hello?”
Nothing. Only distant footsteps somewhere deeper within the palace.
Jimin cursed softly under his breath. “Fuck.”
Disappointment crashed through him almost instantly. He stood there another moment anyway, staring down both hallways as though whoever it was might suddenly reappear, But they never did.
Eventually Jimin sighed and bent to pick up the fresh parchment from the floor before retreating back into his room. The door clicked shut behind him.
——
several corridors away, hidden tightly behind the curve of a stone archway, Jeon Jungkook pressed a hand against his own racing heart.
‘Oh God.’
For one horrible second, he’d thought Jimin was going to catch him. He could still picture the prince yanking the door open, wide-eyed and breathless, light spilling around him like something unreal.
Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut briefly.
‘Beautiful.’
That was genuinely the only word his brain ever seemed capable of producing around Park Jimin anymore. Beautiful enough to make Jungkook feel vaguely sick every time he got too close.
Jungkook exhaled shakily before quickly retreating down the servants’ stairwell toward the lower guard quarters beneath the western towers. His boots echoed against stone the entire way down.
By the time he reached the barracks level, evening training had mostly ended. The familiar sounds of guards cleaning weapons and shedding armor filled the large chamber while lanternlight flickered warmly against the walls.
Jung Hoseok sat atop one of the long wooden tables sharpening a dagger when Jungkook entered. He looked up once, Then sighed immediately. “You were giving him another letter, weren’t you?”
Jungkook froze halfway through removing his gloves. “…Maybe.”
Hoseok pointed the dagger at him. “You’re insane.”
Jungkook laughed weakly under his breath and dropped onto the bench beside the table. His pulse still hadn’t fully calmed. “He almost caught me this time.”
“Oh, good,” Hoseok said dryly. “That would’ve gone wonderfully for you.”
Jungkook rubbed both hands down his face. “I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” Hoseok set the dagger aside with a sharp clink. “Jungkook, if the king finds out you’ve been sneaking anonymous love letters beneath the prince’s door at night, you’re lucky if all they do is throw you out.”
Jungkook stared down at the floorboards quietly. Because the worst part was, Hoseok was right. Jimin is a prince, The future king. And Jungkook was… Jungkook. A palace guard who spent most days standing silently along walls pretending not to stare too long whenever the prince walked by.
“It’s stupid,” Jungkook muttered eventually.
Hoseok’s expression softened slightly. “No,” he admitted. “It’s just dangerous.”
Jungkook leaned back against the wall behind him, exhaustion slipping into his face all at once. “I can’t help it.”
Hoseok huffed quietly in amusement. “Yeah. I noticed.”
For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Jungkook looked down at his hands and smiled helplessly to himself. “He smiled at one of the kitchen boys today because he dropped a tray,” he said softly. “Everyone else was annoyed, but Jimin just helped him pick everything up.” His voice lowered even further. “I swear he’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.”
Hoseok watched him carefully. Gone was the composed guard Jungkook usually pretended to be around the palace. This version of him was younger somehow. Hopelessly in love.
“He’s still a prince,” Hoseok reminded gently.
Jungkook nodded once. “I know.”
But his expression said something else entirely.
———————————————
The capital always smelled different in the mornings.
Cool river air drifted upward from the docks below the cliffs, tangling with the scents of baking bread, damp stone, horses, smoke from merchant fires, and flowering vines that crawled along the outer palace walls. From the highest balcony tiers, the city looked almost painted beneath the pale gold sunrise — narrow streets slowly filling with movement, colorful market awnings unfolding one by one, fishermen hauling fresh catches toward the lower district while bells echoed softly from distant temple towers.
Jimin loved mornings in the capital.
Not the royal mornings. Not the ones trapped inside council rooms drowning in parchment and diplomacy and discussions about grain tariffs
Real mornings.
The kind where the kingdom actually breathed around him.
“Slow down,” Taehyung muttered beside him as they descended the final palace staircase toward the front courtyards. “You walk like someone’s chasing you.”
Jimin barely glanced back. “That’s because if my father changes his mind and decides I should stay for another council briefing, I may actually throw myself into the sea.”
“You say that a lot for someone who hates getting wet.”
Jimin gasped in offense. “Traitor.”
Taehyung grinned.
The lower palace grounds were already alive with preparation by the time they crossed the main courtyard. Stable hands rushed between horses while servants loaded supply crates into wagons bound for the city markets. Guards lined the gates in polished armor that gleamed beneath the growing sunlight, their spears reflecting gold.
Near the front carriage, King Park stood deep in conversation with Namjoon, both of them bent over several rolled maps spread across the open carriage bench.
Namjoon looked up first. “Your Highness,” he greeted smoothly, immediately straightening.
The king turned a second later, his stern expression softening almost instantly at the sight of Jimin approaching. “There you are.”
“I was kidnapped by breakfast,” Jimin informed him seriously.
“Mm.” His father nodded as though considering this gravely. “A tragic fate.”
Taehyung snorted under his breath. Jimin smiled immediately. Moments like this always reminded him that before the king was ruler of an entire kingdom, he was still simply his father. Even dressed in full royal attire, deep navy robes embroidered with gold threading, ceremonial rings glinting against his hands. The king carried warmth naturally, Authority never smothered it.
Namjoon carefully rerolled the maps. “The lower market district is already prepared for your arrival.”
Jimin brightened immediately. “Are the repairs finished near the eastern bridge?”
“Mostly,” Namjoon answered. “Though a few homes near the river still need structural work.”
Jimin frowned slightly at that.
The flooding last season had devastated portions of the lower district after weeks of relentless rain caused the riverbanks to overflow. The palace had funded repairs immediately, but rebuilding entire sections of the capital took time.
His father noticed the shift in expression instantly. “We’re going to inspect it today,” the king assured calmly. “That’s the point of this visit.”
Jimin nodded once, tension easing. From the corner of the courtyard came the sharp rhythmic sound of boots striking stone. Guards approached in formation moments later.
——
Jungkook moved with controlled precision alongside the others, dark armor fitted cleanly across broad shoulders while morning sunlight caught against the gold detailing near his chestplate. His hair had been pushed back neatly today, exposing sharp brows and focused eyes as he approached the royal carriage.
Prince Park Jimin stood bathed in sunlight at the center of the courtyard, cream-colored robes moving softly in the morning breeze while gold embroidery curled around his sleeves like flowing water. His dark hair framed delicate features too beautiful to belong to a real person.
Jungkook had spent years trying not to look. He had failed every single time.
Beside him, Hoseok spoke without moving his mouth. “Blinking helps you look less insane.”
Jungkook’s eyes snapped forward instantly. Heat climbed his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered. Hoseok made a quiet noise of disbelief.
The king stepped toward the guards then, expression sharpening into something more official. “We’ll move through the lower district and eastern market before noon. Remain close once we enter the crowded streets.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The group departed shortly after.
Rather than enclosed carriages, the king preferred horseback through the city whenever possible. The royal procession remained modest compared to many kingdoms — enough guards to ensure safety, enough attendants to maintain protocol, but never excessive.
The people of the capital didn’t fear their rulers approaching them. That mattered. By the time they descended through the palace gates and into the city streets, morning had fully awakened around them.
Merchants called out from crowded stalls draped in dyed fabrics and hanging lanterns. Children darted recklessly through alleyways until exhausted mothers grabbed them back by the sleeves. Fresh fruit overflowed from woven baskets while blacksmiths hammered glowing metal beneath open shop fronts.
And everywhere the royal party moved, people bowed.
“Your Majesty!”
“Prince Jimin!”
“Blessings to the royal family!”
Jimin smiled so easily among them that Jungkook sometimes forgot he’d been raised inside palace walls. He dismounted near the lower market square almost immediately despite the attendants protesting softly around him.
“Your Highness—”
“I’m walking.” Jimin cut through sternly.
“You really shouldn’t—”
“I said I’m walking.”
The attendant sighed in defeat. Jimin was already moving through the marketplace before anyone could continue arguing. The king only looked amused.
Jungkook remained several steps behind as part of the rotating guard formation surrounding the royal family, though his attention stayed fixed embarrassingly on Jimin the entire time.
It wasn’t intentional. Jimin just Shined. That was genuinely the only way Jungkook knew how to explain it. Everywhere Jimin walked, the atmosphere softened.
He stopped beside an elderly flower seller first, crouching immediately beside her display rather than forcing the woman to crane her neck upward toward him. “You’re out earlier than usual today,” Jimin said.
The woman laughed warmly. “And you still remember that.”
“You sold me lilies for my mother’s birthday last winter.”
“Well, now I’m emotional.”
Jimin grinned.
Jungkook watched the entire interaction helplessly. “He remembers everyone,” He muttered under his breath.
Hoseok heard him anyway. “Yes,” he replied dryly. “You’ve only said that seventeen times.”
Jungkook ignored him.
The visit continued through the lower district afterward, where portions of flood damage still scarred several streets near the riverbanks. Workers repaired collapsed roofs while others reinforced weakened foundations with fresh timber.
Jimin’s mood shifted the moment he saw the damage still remaining. The brightness in him dimmed immediately into concern. “How long has this section been unfinished?” he asked quietly.
One of the local foremen bowed quickly. “Two weeks behind schedule, Your Highness. Materials from the northern mills haven’t arrived.”
Jimin frowned. “Why?”
The foreman hesitated.
The king answered instead. “Trade complications.”
Political and Careful answer. Jimin clearly hated it. Jungkook noticed the subtle tension immediately. the way Jimin’s shoulders stiffened slightly, the way his fingers curled against the fabric hanging at his sides.
Still, Jimin nodded calmly and continued walking. Then a small blur suddenly collided with his legs. A child, No older than six. The boy had clearly been running too quickly through the crowded street before crashing directly into the prince and stumbling backward in horror.
His mother went pale instantly. “I’m so sorry—!”
Several guards moved reflexively toward the scene. The child burst into frightened tears.
And immediately Jimin dropped to one knee in front of him. “Hey, hey,” he soothed gently before the guards could even speak. “You’re alright.”
The boy sniffled hard. Jimin glanced back toward the guards first. “Ease up a little, you’re frightening him.”
Every guard immediately stepped back, Including Jungkook.
Jimin turned back toward the child with a small smile. “That was a pretty strong hit. Are you secretly training to become a knight?” The boy stared at him through watery eyes. Then nodded weakly. Jimin gasped dramatically. “I knew it.”
The child giggled. Just like that, Jungkook felt something in his chest ache painfully.
Beside him, Hoseok looked over slowly. “Oh, you’re gone gone.”
Jungkook stared ahead. “What?”
“You look one compliment away from writing poetry.”
Jungkook didn’t answer. Mostly because that was technically already happening.
The remainder of the city visit passed in a blur of conversations, inspections, and greetings. Jimin spoke to workers rebuilding homes, listened carefully to complaints from merchants about delayed trade routes, and spent nearly ten minutes kneeling beside an old fisherman discussing river currents while the palace attendants slowly lost their minds trying to keep the schedule intact.
By the time they returned to the palace hours later, sunlight had shifted warm and heavy overhead, And Jimin looked exhausted.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Jungkook noticed that too. He always noticed.
——
The moment they reentered palace grounds, the king was immediately intercepted by waiting council members requesting updates about trade negotiations. Namjoon disappeared alongside them carrying several stacks of documents while attendants scattered in every direction trying to reorganize the afternoon schedule.
Jimin peeled away from the chaos almost instantly. Taehyung followed without question. The second they reached the privacy of the upper western halls, Jimin’s expression darkened fully. “I don’t understand how they can speak about people like that.”
Taehyung glanced sideways at him. “Jimin—”
“No, seriously.” Jimin shoved open the door to his chambers harder than necessary before storming inside. “Those homes are barely standing and all they care about is trade routes and shipping delays and whether the treasury can afford additional wood.”
Taehyung shut the door carefully behind them. Jimin was already pacing, Fast. Agitated energy rolled off him immediately now that nobody important was around to witness it.
“They were talking about families like they were inconvenient numbers on parchment,” he snapped. “Children are living near collapsed buildings and Councilman Lee had the audacity to complain about budget strain.”
Taehyung leaned quietly against one of the carved pillars near the window. He knew better than to interrupt immediately. Jimin needed to burn through the anger first.
“He literally said,” Jimin continued furiously, “‘The lower districts recover eventually regardless.’ Eventually?” He laughed sharply in disbelief. “What kind of answer is that?”
He ripped the ceremonial rings from his fingers one by one and dropped them carelessly onto the nearby table. Metal clinked loudly against wood.
Taehyung winced slightly. “Easy. Those are expensive.”
“I don’t care.”
“Yes, that’s the problem.”
Jimin whirled toward him. “How do people become this heartless?”
There it was, Not arrogance, Not spoiled frustration. Genuine anguish. Jimin cared too much About everything.
Every person.
Every injustice.
Every wound inside the kingdom settled beneath his skin until eventually it overwhelmed him entirely.
Taehyung’s expression softened. “You know why,” he said quietly. “Most of them were raised believing wealth matters more than people.”
“Well then they were raised wrong.”
“I agree.”
Jimin dragged both hands through his hair before turning away again with another frustrated sound. “They looked at those families today and all they saw were expenses.”
Taehyung finally pushed away from the pillar then, crossing the room slowly until he stood directly in front of Jimin’s pacing path. Jimin stopped automatically. “You know what your father saw?” Taehyung asked.
Jimin frowned slightly.
“Responsibility,” Taehyung answered himself. “That’s why he brought you there personally.” Some of the anger flickered uncertainly. Taehyung continued gently, “You notice suffering because you care. That’s a good thing, Jimin. You’re just letting it eat you alive.”
Jimin looked down. For a moment he suddenly seemed much younger than princehood allowed him to be. Quietly, he admitted, “I hate that people are hurting while I live here.”
Taehyung’s face softened fully then. Because underneath every outburst, every spiral, every emotional explosion— Jimin’s heart was devastatingly kind.
“You’re going to be a good king someday,” Taehyung said softly.
Jimin scoffed weakly. “I almost threw a council ledger at someone’s head this morning.”
“Yes,” Taehyung replied. “A compassionate king.”
That startled a laugh out of him.
——
By evening, the lower guard barracks smelled strongly of oil, metal, and smoke from the forge rooms nearby.
Jungkook sat at one of the long wooden benches cleaning his sword carefully while several other guards filtered around the chamber changing shifts. Lanternlight flickered gold across the stone walls as armor clinked softly throughout the room.
Across from him, Hoseok sharpened daggers with practiced ease. For several minutes neither spoke. Then— “You looked ready to marry him today.”
Jungkook nearly dropped the sword. “Hoseok—”
“I’m serious,” Hoseok said, not even glancing up. “At one point during the market visit I genuinely thought you were going to start reciting love poetry in the middle of the street.”
Jungkook groaned quietly and rubbed his face. “Can you not?”
“I could,” Hoseok admitted. “But this is more entertaining.” Jungkook muttered something deeply insulting beneath his breath. Hoseok ignored it easily. “So what was today’s emotional revelation?”
“There wasn’t one.”
“Liar.”
Jungkook stayed quiet. Which, unfortunately, confirmed everything.
Hoseok finally looked up from the dagger. “You’re really gone, huh?”
Jungkook stared down at the cloth in his hands. Then, quietly— “He apologized to that kid.” Hoseok blinked once. “The guards scared him,” Jungkook continued softly. “And Jimin apologized for it even though he didn’t do anything wrong.” His fingers tightened slightly around the sword hilt. “Most royals wouldn’t even notice.”
But Jimin noticed everything. That was the problem. That was always the problem.
Jungkook exhaled slowly before setting the sword aside. “He remembers people,” he murmured. “The flower seller. The fisherman near the river. The workers rebuilding homes.” His mouth curved faintly to himself. “He remembered one servant’s dog died three months ago.”
Hoseok watched him carefully. Not mocking now, Just listening. And Jungkook looked completely helpless about it all.
“He deserves someone who sees him properly,” Jungkook said after a while, his voice quieter now, almost lost beneath the scrape of metal as he finished cleaning the blade in his hands.
Hoseok didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he set his dagger down with deliberate care, the soft clink of steel against wood louder than it needed to be in the quiet barracks. When he finally spoke, his tone was lower. “He does.” A pause. Then, more firmly, “That’s exactly why you need to be careful.”
Jungkook glanced up slightly.
Hoseok leaned back against the edge of the table, arms crossing loosely, expression no longer teasing. “You think no one notices things in this palace? A guard getting too familiar with the prince doesn’t stay invisible forever.”
Jungkook’s jaw tightened a little, though he said nothing.
Hoseok continued, quieter now but sharper with intent. “If someone connects those letters to you, it won’t matter how harmless you think it is. You’ll lose your position at best. At worst…” He exhaled slowly. “You know what palace politics do to mistakes like that.”
Jungkook looked down at his hands. The cloth he’d been using to polish his sword was suddenly still. “I know,” he said finally.
But it didn’t sound like agreement. It sounded like endurance. A long silence stretched between them, filled only by the distant noise of the barrack, other guards talking, armor shifting, someone laughing too loudly in the next room like none of it mattered outside these walls.
Then Jungkook exhaled and reached slowly into the inner pocket of his uniform.
Hoseok noticed immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t tell me you’re—”
Jungkook had already pulled out the folded parchment.
Hoseok sighed through his nose, half frustration, half resignation. “You’re unbelievable.”
Jungkook didn’t respond. He smoothed the paper carefully against the edge of the table, as if it mattered more than anything else in the room, then reached for ink with quiet precision.
Hoseok watched him for a moment longer before shaking his head. “You don’t get to act surprised if this blows back on you,” he said finally, voice softer now but still firm. “I’m serious, Jungkook. Be careful. That’s not just a prince you’re writing to. That’s the future king.”
Jungkook’s hand hesitated slightly above the page. For a brief second, something flickered across his expression—something restrained, almost afraid.
Then he continued writing anyway.
—————————————
By midday on another afternoon, the palace had descended into complete chaos.
Not dangerous chaos.
Festive chaos.
Servants hurried through the corridors carrying armfuls of flowers and folded fabrics while musicians wandered half-lost through unfamiliar hallways clutching instruments to their chests. The scent of fresh pastries drifted up from the kitchens in warm waves thick enough to make several younger servants repeatedly “accidentally” pass through the lower halls in hopes of stealing samples.
Every open archway overlooking the courtyards had been wrapped in long strands of pale silk and climbing ivy. Lanterns waited to be lit after sunset, hanging from carved stone pillars in delicate clusters that would eventually flood the palace gardens with warm gold light once evening settled.
The Spring Renewal Festival happened every year just after the first successful planting season. Part celebration, part religious tradition, part excuse for the palace and capital alike to spend several days drowning themselves in food and music.
Jimin adored it. Mostly because everyone stopped acting unbearable for a little while. “Move.”
“No.”
“Taehyung.”
“I’m helping.”
“You are physically lying across my clothes.”
Taehyung remained sprawled dramatically across the cushioned bench near Jimin’s wardrobe without a trace of shame. “Moral support matters.”
Jimin stood in the center of his chambers wearing only half of his formal layers with growing irritation. Rich cream robes hung open around his frame while several silk sashes remained discarded across the bed from previous rejected attempts at dressing himself.
“You disappeared for an hour,” Jimin accused.
“I had important business.”
“You were flirting with Seokjin again.”
Taehyung grinned lazily. “Maybe.”
Jimin rolled his eyes so hard it bordered disrespectful toward the gods themselves.
Outside the open balcony doors, music drifted faintly upward from the lower courtyards where preparations continued beneath the afternoon sun. The festival proper would begin after sunset once nobles and guests arrived, but the palace had already transformed into something brighter and softer than usual.
Jimin normally enjoyed the excitement. At the moment, however, he was losing a fight against his sleeves. “This is your fault,” he muttered while fumbling one-handed with an annoyingly tiny cuff fastening near his wrist.
Taehyung watched him struggle for several seconds before offering absolutely no assistance whatsoever. “You look like a disgruntled swan.”
Jimin glared at him. “You know what?” he snapped. “I hope Seokjin rejects you.”
Taehyung sat upright immediately. “Too far.”
Jimin huffed and turned back toward the mirror. Most days servants helped him dress for formal events, but he’d dismissed them earlier after becoming overwhelmed by too many people talking at once inside his chambers. Usually Taehyung eventually took over helping him finish the complicated layers.
Usually.
Unfortunately Taehyung had become useless the second Seokjin entered the conversation. Jimin finally gave up on the cuff with an irritated sound. “I have to meet my parents in ten minutes.”
“You’ll survive.”
“I’m the crown prince.”
“You’ll survive elegantly.”
Jimin snatched one of the abandoned silk sashes from the bed and threw it directly at Taehyung’s face before storming toward the door.
“Wow,” Taehyung called after him. “Violence again. You really are becoming regal.”
Jimin ignored him entirely.
The palace halls beyond his chambers buzzed with movement. Servants crossed endlessly carrying trays, flowers, wine bottles, folded linens, decorative banners. Somewhere deeper within the western wing someone was attempting to rehearse music and failing horribly enough that several nearby attendants visibly flinched every time the instrument screeched.
Jimin moved quickly through the corridor, still trying unsuccessfully to fasten the stubborn cuff around his wrist. “Why are you evil?” he muttered directly at the sleeve.
The cuff remained evil. A pair of younger servants passed him carrying lantern oil and immediately bowed.
“My prince.”
“Hi,” Jimin replied distractedly before nearly walking directly into one of the hallway pillars while still fighting the fastening.
The palace really had become too crowded today. He turned the next corner sharply— And spotted a guard standing near the entrance to the southern staircase.
Jungkook.
Jimin recognized him. Not in the way nobles recognized guards as background fixtures within palace walls, but genuinely recognized him. Jimin had always made an effort to learn names whenever possible, especially among palace staff and guards who most royals barely acknowledged at all.
And lately…
Well.
Lately Jungkook stood out more easily. Maybe because Jimin had started noticing how often he seemed nearby during royal outings. Maybe because Jungkook always looked slightly startled whenever Jimin looked at him. Maybe because he was objectively very pretty.
Jimin slowed slightly before approaching.
Jungkook noticed him almost immediately and straightened instinctively. “My prince.” His voice came out steadier than he felt. Because internally, Jungkook’s entire soul had just launched itself directly into the ocean.
Jimin stopped in front of him with visible relief. “Oh, good. Jungkook, right?”
For half a second Jungkook forgot how language worked.
Jimin knew his name.
Jimin knew his name.
“Y-Yes,” Jungkook answered quickly. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Jimin smiled immediately, warm and easy and devastating. “Could you help me for a second?”
Jungkook would have walked directly into active battle if asked in that tone. “Of course,” he said instantly.
Jimin lifted his arm slightly, exposing the half-fastened cuff hanging loose around his wrist. “This thing has declared war on me.”
Jungkook stared at the delicate fastening for one horrible second before carefully stepping closer Close enough to smell faint traces of jasmine and clean linen clinging to Jimin’s robes, Close enough to see the soft gold threading woven through the prince’s sleeves. Jungkook’s heartbeat became genuinely dangerous.
“Sorry,” Jimin said lightly while holding still for him. “Taehyung abandoned me in favor of flirting.” Jungkook swallowed hard. His fingers shook slightly as he carefully worked the fastening into place. Jimin watched him quietly for a moment before speaking again. “You’re helping with security tonight, right?”
Jungkook nodded quickly, eyes fixed very firmly on the cuff rather than Jimin’s face. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“I figured.” Jimin smiled softly. “You seem to end up everywhere important lately.”
If Jimin only knew how violently those words affected him. Jungkook finally managed to secure the fastening properly and stepped back immediately before his nervous system fully collapsed. “There,” he said quietly.
Jimin looked down at the cuff before brightening. “Perfect. Thank you.” Then he smiled again. Directly at him. Jungkook would remember this interaction until death. “You just saved me from arriving half-dressed in front of my parents,” Jimin continued. “I owe you.”
“No,” Jungkook answered far too quickly. “No, you don’t.”
Jimin blinked once, slightly amused by the immediate panic in his tone. ‘Cute.’ The thought appeared unexpectedly. Jimin tilted his head slightly. “You alright?”
Jungkook felt like someone had set him on fire internally. “Yes.”
The answer came out embarrassingly fast again. Jimin tried very hard not to laugh. “You seem nervous around me.”
“I’m not,” Jungkook lied instantly.
Jimin’s mouth twitched. Before either of them could continue, distant voices echoed from farther down the hall followed by approaching footsteps. Jimin visibly remembered he was late. “Oh, shit.”
Jungkook blinked.
Jimin looked horrified at himself immediately afterward. “Don’t repeat that. I’m supposed to be royal.”
Jungkook stared at him helplessly. Then, despite every instinct screaming professionalism, He laughed. It slipped out unexpectedly soft.
Jimin’s eyes widened slightly at the sound before he grinned right back. “There it is,” he said triumphantly, already backing away down the corridor. “You do know how to smile.”
Jungkook forgot how breathing worked.
“I’ll see you tonight,” Jimin called before hurrying down the hall toward the southern wing, robes fluttering behind him as he disappeared around the corner.
Silence.
Complete silence.
Jungkook stood frozen in the corridor for several long seconds.
Then another guard passing nearby slowed slightly. “…You good?”
Jungkook stared blankly ahead. “No.”
The guard wisely kept walking.
————————————————
Several hours later, the palace glowed like starlight.
Lanterns illuminated every garden path and balcony in warm amber light while music drifted through the courtyards in endless flowing melodies. Nobles from across the kingdom filled the palace grounds dressed in layered silks and jeweled robes, their laughter blending with the sounds of dancing and conversation beneath the open evening sky.
Long banquet tables overflowed with food beneath flowering trees wrapped in ribbons and candles. Children darted recklessly through the gardens chasing one another between fountains while musicians performed near the central terrace overlooking the cliffs.
The entire palace looked alive.
Jungkook stood stationed near the eastern garden entrance trying very hard to behave like a functioning member of society.
It was not going well. Because every single time he managed to calm himself down Jimin appeared somewhere nearby again. Across the courtyard laughing beside Taehyung, Near the musicians speaking with guests, Kneeling beside a little girl helping her relight one of the paper lanterns after the candle blew out. Each glimpse somehow made the problem worse.
“You’re staring again,” Hoseok muttered beside him.
“I’m observing the crowd.”
“You’re observing one specific member of the crowd.”
Jungkook ignored him. Mostly because Jimin had just smiled at an elderly noblewoman so brightly that Jungkook nearly lost consciousness.
The festival carried on around them in waves of warmth and celebration. Somewhere near the lower gardens, Seokjin argued loudly with another cook over stolen desserts while Taehyung watched with obvious delight from nearby.
Near the fountain terrace, Namjoon stood speaking with several palace officials while Yoongi quietly fixed crooked table linens behind him whenever nobody important was looking. At one point Namjoon passed behind him just closely enough for their hands to brush briefly together.
Tiny.
Hidden.
But Yoongi’s ears turned pink immediately afterward. Jungkook smiled faintly to himself at the sight. He knew Yoongi, but not very well. Yoongi was only ever supposed to focus on Jimins needs, But would sometimes sneak clean sheets to the Gaurd barracks.
Then movement near the upper balcony caught his attention.
The king.
King Park stood partially removed from the festivities speaking quietly with two unfamiliar advisors near one of the overlooking archways. Unlike the relaxed warmth carried throughout the rest of the evening, the conversation looked tense. One advisor handed over rolled parchment while the king’s expression hardened visibly beneath the lanternlight.
Jungkook frowned slightly. “That doesn’t look very festive.”
Beside him, Hoseok followed his line of sight toward the balcony. His expression dimmed a little too. “Yeah,” he said quietly.
Jungkook glanced sideways at him. “What’s going on?”
Hoseok hesitated briefly before lowering his voice. “There’ve been problems near the eastern borders.”
“The Han territory?”
Hoseok nodded once, Jungkook’s brow furrowed.
The neighboring Han Kingdom had maintained an uneasy relationship with the Park Kingdom for years. Not outright enemies. Not allies either. Trade disputes, border disagreements, political posturing — the usual tensions between kingdoms sharing too much land too closely.
Still. It had never escalated beyond uncomfortable diplomacy before.
“Problems how?” Jungkook asked quietly.
Hoseok folded his arms loosely across his chest. “Rumors mostly. Increased military movement near the border villages. Delayed trade caravans.” His voice lowered further. “A few scouts never returned.”
Jungkook’s stomach tightened slightly. “And the palace knows?”
“The king knows everything.”
Above them, the king continued speaking sharply with the advisors while one of them pointed toward the parchment map spread between them.
For the first time all evening, a subtle unease slipped beneath the warmth of the festival. Jungkook looked instinctively toward Jimin across the gardens. The prince stood near the lantern pools smiling at something Taehyung said, entirely unaware of the tension unfolding overhead. Soft light reflected gold against his robes while laughter carried easily from him across the courtyard.
Peaceful.
Jungkook suddenly understood with startling clarity why men willingly died protecting royal families. Not for crowns or for power. For moments like this. For kingdoms that still laughed beneath lanternlight.
Hoseok nudged his shoulder lightly. “Don’t start looking heroic. I can literally see it happening.”
Jungkook blinked. “What?”
“You got that look.”
Jungkook opened his mouth to argue. Then froze. Because across the crowded gardens, Jimin had glanced up. And somehow Despite the dozens of people surrounding him— His eyes found Jungkook immediately.
For one brief moment, neither looked away. Then Jimin smiled. Small, Private almost, Before turning back toward Taehyung again.
Jungkook genuinely thought his heart might stop.
——-
Jimin loved nights like this. Not because of the luxury. That part had long since stopped impressing him. But because evenings like these made the palace feel less like a monument and more like a home.
“Absolutely not.”
Jimin looked up just in time to see Seokjin slap Taehyung’s hand away from a tray of desserts with practiced precision.
Taehyung recoiled like he’d been personally betrayed. “You wound me.”
“You already had three earlier,” Seokjin said without looking up.
“I was sampling.”
“You were stealing.”
“I was evaluating quality.”
“You are not royalty.”
“I’m emotionally royal.”
That earned him a flat look.
Seokjin finally glanced up, exhaling through his nose before turning slightly toward Jimin instead. “My prince, please tell your companion to stop raiding my stand before I lose my entire inventory.”
Jimin accepted the pastry Seokjin handed him with an easy smile. “I would, but I support his crimes.”
“Of course you do.”
Taehyung looked far too pleased with himself. Seokjin shook his head, though there was no real heat in it, only resignation as Taehyung leaned comfortably against the edge of the serving counter like he belonged there.
Jimin watched them while eating, amusement settling in his expression. “You two are actually unbearable,” he said.
“We don’t know what you mean,” Taehyung replied immediately.
“Yes you do,” Jimin said.
“No we don’t.”
“You literally look at each other like characters in tragic poetry.”
Seokjin made a strangled sound, nearly dropping a serving spoon. Taehyung burst into laughter, loud and unrestrained.
Jimin laughed softly, already stepping back as if avoiding consequences that weren’t actually coming. “Carry on,” he said, waving them off with the pastry still in hand. “Try not to corrupt each other too much.”
Taehyung called something after him, but Jimin was already drifting away through the garden paths, laughter fading behind him.
The warmth of the food pavilion softened into cooler air as he moved deeper into the grounds. Lanternlight stretched across the stone walkways in long gold reflections, and flowering branches dipped low enough that pale petals occasionally brushed his shoulders as he passed.
People bowed as he passed, Nobles smiled too politely. Young daughters of wealthy houses lowered their eyes shyly. Sons of council families straightened immediately whenever Jimin so much as glanced in their direction.
He was used to it. That didn’t make it less exhausting.
“My prince.”
Jimin turned toward the voice automatically. Lady Choi approached with her husband and two elegantly dressed sons trailing behind her. Both young men looked suddenly far too aware of their posture the moment Jimin’s attention landed on them.
‘There it is,’ Jimin thought tiredly. “Lady Choi,” he greeted warmly anyway.
“You look radiant tonight.”
“Thank you.”
The older woman smiled carefully. “My youngest son has recently returned from studying abroad in the southern territories. He’s become quite interested in diplomacy.”
One of the sons bowed immediately. Jimin resisted the urge to throw himself directly into the nearest fountain. Instead he smiled politely because years of royal training unfortunately worked. “That’s wonderful.”
The son began speaking almost instantly about trade systems and foreign relations while Jimin nodded in all the correct places despite retaining absolutely none of the information.
Across the courtyard, he spotted Taehyung watching the interaction. The bastard looked delighted.
Jimin narrowed his eyes threateningly. Taehyung grinned and raised his wine cup in salute before disappearing conveniently into the crowd.
Coward.
The conversation dragged on another several unbearable minutes before Lady Choi finally excused herself toward another noble gathering. The second they disappeared, Jimin exhaled heavily beneath his breath.
“You look one conversation away from dying,” a familiar voice said nearby.
Jimin turned to find Yoongi balancing folded table linens against one arm while adjusting one of the lantern arrangements near the garden walkway.
Relief crossed Jimin’s face instantly. “Save me.”
Yoongi snorted softly. “I’m a servant, not a miracle worker.”
“You’re both.”
Yoongi glanced around quickly at the nearby nobles before lowering his voice. “You shouldn’t say things like that so casually.”
“Why?”
“Because one day someone important is going to hear you talking to staff like we’re people.”
Jimin stared at him flatly. “You are people.”
“You know what I mean.”
Jimin smiled faintly and stole one of the extra candied fruits off Yoongi’s serving tray before the older man could stop him.
Yoongi sighed quietly, though his expression softened almost immediately afterward. “Have you eaten enough tonight?”
“Yes.”
“You’re lying.”
“I had two pastries.”
“That is not a meal.”
Jimin groaned dramatically. “You sound exactly like my mother.”
“Your mother is intelligent.”
“You’re both conspiring against me.”
Yoongi reached over automatically to straighten one of the crooked gold clasps near Jimin’s outer robes. The movement was small and absentminded, something caring and familiar rather than formal.
Jimin noticed immediately. “So you can fuss over people,” he teased softly.
Yoongi immediately stepped back slightly. “I don’t fuss.”
“You absolutely fuss.”
“I maintain order.”
Jimin leaned closer with obvious mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Maybe you should focus all this attention on Namjoon instead.”
Yoongi nearly dropped the tray. “My prince,” he hissed quietly, horrified. Jimin burst into helpless laughter. “You’re impossible,” Yoongi muttered, ears visibly pink.
“And yet you didn’t say it was a bad idea.”
“Stop talking.”
Jimin grinned triumphantly around another stolen fruit. Before Yoongi could continue threatening him, movement across the garden Jimin’s attention.
His father stood partially removed from the festivities again, several advisors gathered around him beneath the lantern glow. Even from this distance, Jimin could tell the conversation carried weight. The king’s posture had changed. Stiffer, More guarded. One of the advisors handed him parchment while another spoke low near his shoulder. Jimin’s smile faded slightly.
Yoongi followed his gaze briefly before looking away again. “You should enjoy tonight,” Yoongi said carefully.
Jimin glanced sideways at him. “That sounded suspicious.”
“It wasn’t.”
“Yes it was.”
Yoongi adjusted another lantern ribbon unnecessarily. “Your father’s been under pressure lately.”
“Because of the eastern borders?”
The hesitation answered enough already. Jimin’s stomach tightened slightly. For months now, rumors had drifted quietly through the palace regarding increasing tension with the neighboring Han Kingdom. Delayed trade caravans. Border disputes. Missing scouts. Nothing officially alarming yet, but enough to put the palace subtly on edge.
Still, this was the first time Jimin had actually seen it reflected openly on his father’s face. As though sensing the attention on him, the king suddenly glanced across the gardens. Their eyes met immediately.
For a brief moment, the king’s serious expression softened. He excused himself from the advisors and descended the terrace steps toward Jimin instead.
“father,” Jimin greeted once he approached.
The king smiled faintly. “You look troubled.”
“You look busy.”
A knowing look passed briefly across his father’s face before he waved the concern away almost instantly. “Politics never rest.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be.” The king reached over to straighten the edge of Jimin’s outer collar gently, a familiar gesture from childhood that still somehow survived despite all the years between them now. “Tonight is supposed to be joyful.”
Jimin studied him carefully. “Is something wrong?”
The king paused only briefly. Then smiled again. “Nothing you need to carry tonight.”
Jimin hated answers like that. His father clearly knew it too because his expression softened further.
“You spend too much time worrying already,” the king said quietly. “Go enjoy the festival. Laugh with your friends. Let yourself be young for one evening.”
Jimin’s chest tightened unexpectedly at that. Because underneath the warmth sat something else. Fatigue. His father looked tired. Not physically, but Worn in the way rulers became worn.
Jimin nodded slowly anyway. “Alright.”
The king squeezed his shoulder once before stepping away again toward the waiting advisors above. Jimin watched him leave with lingering unease twisting low in his stomach.
“You inherited that from him, you know,” Yoongi murmured nearby.
Jimin blinked. “What?”
“The worrying.”
Jimin huffed softly. “Great. A curse.”
Yoongi smiled faintly before finally shooing him away toward the lower gardens. “Go before another noble family tries to marry you off.”
“Too late,” Jimin muttered.
Unfortunately, Yoongi turned out to be correct.
Over the next hour, Jimin endured two painfully obvious marriage proposals disguised as “casual conversation”, one nobleman complimenting his “excellent breeding”, and a duke’s daughter asking if he planned on having heirs soon so she could “prepare accordingly.”
By the end of it, Jimin was spiritually exhausted. He escaped the final conversation by pretending to notice something important across the courtyard and immediately disappearing into the crowd before anyone could stop him.
Music echoed warmly through the gardens as he wandered farther from the center festivities.
Near one of the lantern pools, he spotted Taehyung laughing loudly beside Seokjin while Seokjin attempted unsuccessfully to maintain any form of professional dignity. The sight softened something in Jimin immediately.
Jimin lingered there for a moment watching them before eventually continuing toward the quieter outer pathways lining the gardens. Several guards remained stationed throughout the palace grounds despite the celebrations. As he passed one of the ivy-covered archways, Jimin’s gaze caught briefly on Jungkook again.
Standing watch near the eastern walkway. The lanternlight did unfair things to him. Jimin slowed only slightly as he passed, mostly because after the hallway interaction earlier, Jungkook no longer felt like a faceless palace guard lingering in the background.
He was simply… Jungkook now. Still nervous, Still kind of cute, Still visibly trying very hard not to implode whenever Jimin spoke to him. Jimin found himself mildly amused by that. Their eyes met briefly.
Jungkook bowed immediately. “My prince.”
Jimin smiled lightly. “You surviving out here?”
Jungkook blinked once, clearly startled by the casual question. “Yes.” A pause. Then, awkwardly honest— “Barely.”
Jimin laughed softly. “There’s food near the southern terrace,” Jimin told him. “You should steal some before Seokjin notices.”
Jungkook looked horrified. “I can’t steal from the royal kitchens.”
“Oh, so you do have morals.”
Jungkook looked helplessly caught between panic and laughter again. Jimin smiled once more before continuing down the garden path without another thought, lanternlight brushing softly across his robes as he disappeared back toward the palace halls.
And somewhere behind him, Jungkook probably stopped functioning for at least several minutes.
Long after midnight, the festival finally began fading into quiet. The palace corridors had emptied considerably by the time Jimin returned to his chambers. Exhaustion settled heavily through his limbs while distant music still drifted faintly through the open balcony doors from the final lingering celebrations below.
He loosened several layers of suffocating formal robes immediately upon entering. “Never again,” he muttered to himself while tugging jewelry from his fingers.
The silence of his chambers settled around him slowly after hours of noise.
Peaceful.
Jimin crossed toward the wash basin near the windows, splashing cool water against his face before exhaling deeply. Tonight had been beautiful, And exhausting.
Too many eyes, Too many expectations, Too many people looking at him and seeing only:
future king,
future husband,
future alliance,
future power.
Not Jimin. Just Prince Park Jimin.
A soft sound interrupted the quiet. The familiar scrape of parchment sliding beneath the door. Jimin froze instantly. His heart leapt before he could stop it. Quickly, he crossed the room and dropped to one knee beside the entrance, fingers already reaching for the folded letter waiting against the floorboards.
Another one.
Warmth bloomed immediately through his chest. Then frustration followed right behind it. Because once again Whoever this person was had vanished before Jimin could catch them. He opened the door sharply anyway to an Empty hallway.
“Seriously?” he called softly into the silence.
Nothing answered. Jimin sighed heavily before shutting the door again and carrying the letter toward his bed. The room glowed softly beneath low candlelight as he unfolded the parchment carefully between his fingers. Immediately, the familiar handwriting settled something deep inside him.
Tonight the palace looked beautiful, but I think you outshined most of it.
Jimin rolled his eyes fondly despite the heat rising faintly into his face.
You smiled at nearly every person who approached you, even when you looked exhausted.
I wonder if anyone notices how hard you try to make others comfortable before yourself.
I think it must become lonely sometimes being loved more for your title than for your heart.
That one hit directly. Painfully.
Jimin swallowed hard. Because after tonight’s endless conversations and polite proposals and calculated smiles—
God.
This person understood him somehow. More than anyone else seemed to. He stared down at the parchment for a long moment before falling backward against the mattress with a frustrated groan.
“I want to meet you,” he whispered toward the ceiling. The candles flickered softly around him. No answer came.
Only the quiet rustle of spring wind drifting through the balcony curtains while Jimin held the letter carefully against his chest and wondered, once again, who in this enormous palace saw him so clearly.
———————————————
Morning arrived far too quickly after the festival.
Sunlight spilled through the tall balcony windows in soft golden bands, warming the tangled blankets across Jimin’s bed and illuminating abandoned pieces of formal attire scattered carelessly throughout the room. One jeweled sleeve lay half hanging from the armchair near the fireplace while several loosened gold clasps glittered forgotten beside the wash basin.
Jimin remained aggressively unconscious through all of it.
Outside, the palace had already begun waking fully. Distant footsteps echoed through the halls while servants resumed their endless routines below. Somewhere farther down the eastern wing, someone dropped an entire tray of metal utensils loud enough to nearly wake the dead.
Jimin only groaned and buried himself deeper beneath the blankets.
A second later Something hit him directly in the face. Jimin jolted violently upright with a strangled sound before grabbing the offending object from his chest.
A dinner roll.
“What the hell?”
Across the room, Taehyung sat comfortably near the balcony doors eating from an absolutely enormous tray of stolen festival leftovers balanced across his lap. “You ignored me three times.”
Jimin blinked slowly, hair completely disheveled around his face. “So your solution was assault.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“You threw bread at royalty.”
Taehyung took another casual bite of pastry. “You survived.”
Jimin narrowed his eyes before collapsing backward against the pillows again with a miserable groan. Every muscle in his body felt heavy from the previous night. Hours of smiling and entertaining nobles always exhausted him more than sword training ever had.
The memory of the letter waiting beneath his pillow softened him slightly despite himself. Without even thinking about it, his hand slipped beneath the blankets toward the folded parchment hidden there.
Taehyung noticed immediately. “Oh no,” he sighed. “Not this again.” Jimin pulled the letter free anyway. Taehyung pointed accusingly with a pastry. “You are becoming emotionally attached to mystery parchment.”
“They understand me.”
“They’re hiding in your walls.”
Jimin ignored him completely as he unfolded the letter again. Morning sunlight washed softly across the familiar handwriting.
'I think it must become lonely sometimes being loved more for your title than for your heart.'
Jimin stared at the line quietly for a moment before falling back against the headboard with a frustrated sigh. “I just want to know who they are.”
Taehyung studied him carefully over the rim of his cup. “You really like these letters.”
Jimin laughed softly beneath his breath. “I know it sounds ridiculous.”
“No,” Taehyung admitted after a moment. “Actually… not really.”
Jimin looked over at him.
Taehyung shrugged one shoulder lightly. “You spend your entire life surrounded by people trying to gain something from you. Power. Status. Marriage alliances.” His mouth twisted slightly. “At least whoever this is seems to actually notice you.”
Warmth flickered briefly through Jimin’s chest. Then immediately frustration followed it again. “But who are they?” Jimin groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “They clearly know the palace. They’ve seen me during events. They somehow keep getting all the way to my room without anyone noticing.”
Taehyung squinted thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s a ghost.”
Jimin threw the dinner roll back at him. Taehyung barely dodged it while laughing loudly. A sharp knock interrupted them before Jimin could continue threatening violence. Both glanced toward the door.
The knock came again.
Jimin sat up straighter automatically. “Come in.”
The door opened to reveal one of the senior palace attendants standing rigidly in the doorway. “My prince,” the man greeted with a bow. “His Majesty requests your presence in council immediately.”
The atmosphere in the room changed instantly.
Jimin frowned. “Now?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Taehyung lowered the pastry slowly from his mouth. Because everyone in the palace understood one thing. The morning after a major festival was never meant for urgent council meetings.
Jimin exchanged a quick glance with Taehyung before nodding once. “I’ll come shortly.”
The attendant bowed again before disappearing back into the hall. Silence settled briefly afterward.
Then Taehyung spoke quietly. “That’s not normal.”
“No,” Jimin agreed.
The warmth of the morning suddenly felt thinner somehow. Jimin climbed from bed quickly, exhaustion shoved aside by unease creeping steadily into his chest. Unlike the chaos and laughter filling the palace the night before, something about the atmosphere now felt restrained.
Tighter.
Even while dressing, he noticed it.
Servants moved more quietly through the corridors outside his chambers. Guards stationed along the eastern wing stood straighter than usual. Palace officials crossed the halls carrying armfuls of parchment with hurried expressions and lowered voices.
The festival glow had vanished entirely. By the time Jimin and Taehyung reached the central palace corridors, even Taehyung looked unsettled. “No one’s talking,” he muttered quietly.
Jimin noticed that too.
Normally palace mornings buzzed with conversation and movement, but today every exchange seemed hushed the second royalty passed nearby. As they approached the council wing, the change became impossible to ignore. Additional guards lined the outer halls. Jimin slowed slightly, And then he spotted Jungkook among them.
The guard stood near the carved doors leading into the royal council chambers dressed in darker formal armor than usual, gold detailing catching faintly beneath the corridor light. Unlike during the festival, there was no visible nervousness lingering around him now. His posture remained perfectly straight, expression calm and focused alongside the other stationed guards.
Still, when his eyes briefly lifted and landed on Jimin approaching Something softened there instantly. “My prince,” Jungkook greeted with a bow.
Jimin smiled faintly despite the tension weighing on the hallway. “Good morning.”
Jungkook straightened again almost immediately. Taehyung looked between them once with mild interest but wisely kept quiet. Before Jimin could say anything else, raised voices echoed faintly through the partially opened council doors.
“…already crossed the eastern river twice this month—”
“They claim it was accidental—”
“Accidental military movement?”
Jimin’s stomach tightened. Taehyung glanced toward the doors uneasily. Inside, another voice spoke sharply enough for Jimin to recognize immediately. His father.
“We are not escalating this situation blindly.”
The hallway fell silent again afterward. Jimin barely had time to process the tension in his father’s tone before one of the attendants opened the doors wider.
“His Royal Highness, Prince Park Jimin.”
The council chamber beyond looked far different than it had during ordinary political meetings.
Maps covered nearly the entire central table. Advisors stood gathered in tense clusters while military officials lined portions of the outer walls. Several candles still burned low despite the daylight pouring through tall windows overlooking the sea cliffs.
And at the center His father. The king looked up immediately upon Jimin entering. Fatigue lingered beneath his eyes today. “Sit,” the king instructed gently.
Jimin obeyed without argument this time. Taehyung remained behind near the chamber entrance while Jimin crossed toward the central table. As he approached, he caught glimpses of the maps spread across the wood.
Eastern borders.
Trade routes.
Military positioning.
Something cold settled quietly in his chest. The council resumed almost immediately.
Reports blurred together at first.
Missing scouts near the eastern forests. Merchant caravans arriving days late without explanation. Increased military movement reported dangerously close to the river dividing Park territory from Han land. Villagers claiming unfamiliar riders had been seen watching roads at night before disappearing back into the trees by morning.
Jimin sat quietly through most of it at first, trying to piece together the shape of the problem from fragments that never seemed to fully connect. The massive council table stretched before him beneath layers of maps and parchment, candlelight flickering softly across inked borders and marked trade routes. Advisors spoke over one another in careful political language while military officials argued strategy in clipped, restrained tones.
Yet the more Jimin listened, the more he realized nobody was actually explaining anything.
Only consequences.
Only reactions.
Never the reason.
“…their patrols have crossed the eastern river twice in the last month,” one commander was saying sharply as he pointed toward a marked section of map. “That alone warrants immediate concern.”
“They continue insisting the crossings were accidental,” another advisor countered.
“Military patrols do not accidentally cross borders armed.”
Several voices overlapped again after that. Jimin listened, fingers slowly tightening against the carved wooden armrest beneath his sleeve.
Trade delays.
Missing shipments.
Border pressure.
Increased scouts.
More guards.
More patrols.
But why?
The question sat heavier and heavier in his chest the longer the meeting continued.
At the head of the table, his father remained composed despite the tension thickening steadily throughout the chamber. The king’s expression gave little away, though exhaustion lingered faintly beneath his eyes today.
“We cannot mobilize entire divisions over rumors,” one councilman argued carefully.
“And we cannot ignore repeated violations,” another snapped back immediately.
Jimin’s gaze drifted toward the maps again. Several eastern villages had already been marked with fresh ink. Supply routes too. Military positioning.
Finally, his father’s voice cut cleanly through the overlapping arguments. “Enough.” Silence dropped across the chamber instantly. The king exhaled once before turning his attention toward Jimin for the first time since the meeting began. Around the table, several advisors visibly straightened. “What do you think?” the king asked calmly.
The sudden shift in attention startled Jimin slightly. He sat up straighter automatically, pulse quickening beneath the weight of the room settling onto him all at once. Several council members looked mildly surprised his father had asked him directly.
Jimin noticed that too. He hesitated briefly before speaking. “I think I’m struggling to understand how I’m supposed to answer when no one has actually explained what’s happening.”
The room quieted further. His father’s expression did not change, though several advisors exchanged subtle glances.
Jimin looked between them, frustration beginning to creep slowly beneath his skin. “You’re all discussing responses without discussing the cause. You keep saying the Han territory is escalating tensions, but why?” He frowned slightly. “What changed?”
Nobody answered immediately.
That alone irritated him more.
“We are handling the situation carefully,” one advisor said at last.
“That didn’t answer my question.”
Another brief silence followed.
Jimin looked toward his father directly this time. “If I’m being included in these discussions, then I should understand what I’m being asked to weigh in on.”
The king studied him for a long moment before finally speaking. “Certain aspects of this matter are not necessary for you to carry yet.”
Jimin blinked once. “Then why am I here?”
Several council members visibly stiffened at the bluntness of the question.
His father, however, remained calm. “Because eventually this kingdom will be yours,” he said evenly. “You need to begin learning how these discussions function.”
“But I can’t make informed decisions without information.”
“You have the information relevant to the decision itself.”
“No,” Jimin replied before he could stop himself. “I have consequences. Not reasons.”
The words landed sharper than he intended.
Across the table, one older councilman shifted slightly in visible discomfort while another lowered his eyes toward the maps entirely. Taehyung, still stationed quietly near the chamber entrance, looked like he was trying very hard not to react at all.
The king’s gaze remained fixed steadily on Jimin. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then his father leaned back slightly in his chair and spoke in a quieter tone. “You know enough to understand people near the eastern border may be at risk. So I’m asking what you believe should be done about that.”
Jimin’s jaw tightened faintly. It frustrated him how carefully his father sidestepped every direct question without technically refusing him outright. Still… the question remained.
Villages.
Families.
Civilians caught in uncertainty while powerful men argued around tables.
Jimin looked back down toward the marked eastern territories spread across the parchment. When he finally spoke again, his voice came quieter, though no less firm.
“If there’s even a chance those villages could become unsafe, they deserve additional protection now. Not after something worse happens.”
A few military officials nodded faintly.
Others looked less convinced. “The treasury cannot support widespread relocation or reinforcement efforts indefinitely without confirmed escalation,” one councilman argued cautiously.
Jimin’s irritation flared immediately again. “People shouldn’t have to become casualties before we decide they matter enough to protect.”
“We’re discussing realistic resource management, Your Highness.”
“We’re discussing human lives.”
The councilman fell silent beneath the sharpness in Jimin’s voice. Jimin realized a second too late how much emotion had slipped into his tone. The chamber had gone completely still again. Heat crawled faintly up the back of his neck. He looked away briefly, forcing himself to unclench his hands beneath the table.
Across from him, however, his father’s expression had softened almost imperceptibly.
Not disappointment.
Something quieter.
Something almost proud.
After several seconds, the king nodded once. “Prepare additional military support near the eastern villages,” he ordered calmly. “Discreetly.”
The councilman lowered his head reluctantly. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Jimin looked down at the table afterward, frustration still buzzing beneath his ribs despite the decision going through. Because even now, sitting inside the center of the kingdom’s highest council, he still felt like everyone around him knew something he didn’t.
And worse, they had decided he shouldn’t know it yet.
The meeting carried on after that, though Jimin barely absorbed most of it anymore. Advisors resumed discussing supply routes and border reports while military officials argued over positioning and timing, but his focus had already drifted somewhere farther away. Every answer continued circling around the center of the issue without ever touching it directly.
The Han territory was doing something.
Something significant enough to tighten palace security, shift military placement, and drag council members into emergency meetings immediately after royal festivals.
Yet no one would tell him why.
Across the table, his father spoke calmly with one of the commanders while reviewing another report handed across the maps. Even now, composed authority seemed to settle naturally around him. Jimin knew his father loved him deeply. He never doubted that.
Which almost made the secrecy worse.
Eventually the king glanced up again, noticing the way Jimin had gone quieter beside him. His expression softened faintly. “That will be enough for today.”
Several advisors immediately straightened.
The king turned slightly toward Jimin. “You should rest.”
Jimin blinked once, pulled back into the room properly again. “You’re dismissing me?”
A small hint of amusement touched his father’s mouth at that. “Would you rather stay for the treasury portion of the discussion?”
Taehyung, still lingering near the chamber entrance, made a visible face of horror.
Jimin let out a tired breath through his nose despite himself. “Absolutely not.”
A few quieter chuckles moved around portions of the table, briefly easing some of the tension that had weighed over the room all morning.
His father gestured lightly toward the doors. “Go.”
Jimin pushed back from his chair slowly, exhaustion settling heavier into his body now that the adrenaline from arguing had faded. He bowed his head respectfully toward the table before stepping away from his seat. Taehyung immediately fell into step beside him the second he approached the outer edge of the chamber.
“You survived,” Taehyung murmured quietly.
“Barely.”
“You only offended three councilmen. That might be a new record.”
Jimin shot him a look while fighting back the urge to smile.
By now most of the room had partially emptied. Several advisors remained clustered near the maps while military officials continued quieter discussions near the far end of the chamber. Guards still lined portions of the walls.
Including Jungkook.
The moment Jimin approached the entrance, Jungkook stepped forward automatically and pulled one of the massive carved doors open for him. The dark formal armor suited him far too well beneath the chamber candlelight, gold detailing catching softly along the edges of his uniform.
“Thank you,” Jimin said softly, distracted exhaustion lingering heavily in his voice.
Jungkook looked at him carefully for half a second, concern flickering briefly beneath the professionalism. “You alright, Your Highness?”
Jimin managed a small tired smile as he stepped closer to the doorway. “Ask me again after I survive another six hours of politics.”
Something faintly amused flickered across Jungkook’s expression before he dipped his head slightly. “I’ll pray for you.”
Taehyung snorted quietly beside Jimin.
Jimin huffed out a small laugh of his own, the sound softer now after the strain of the meeting. Then he stepped out into the corridor with Taehyung beside him.
The heavy council doors began closing slowly at their backs, muffling the chamber noise once more. Just before the doors shut completely, Jimin heard his father’s voice again from inside the room.
“Right,” the king said evenly. “Let’s continue.”
—————
Jungkook resumed his position automatically near the entrance while several remaining officials gathered closer around the central table again.
One of the military commanders stepped forward beside the king and quietly handed over another document. The king scanned it briefly before looking up. “…Jungkook,” he said after a second, slight confusion crossing his features as though attaching the name to the correct face.
Jungkook immediately stepped forward and bowed deeply. “My king.”
“The commander speaks highly of you.”
Jungkook blinked once in surprise but remained lowered respectfully.
The king set the parchment aside. “Your records note strong combat performance, leadership discipline, and exceptional conduct during royal assignments.”
Jungkook’s pulse quickened slightly.
Beside the king, one of the military officials nodded once. “He’s one of the strongest guards in the younger ranks.”
The king studied Jungkook for another moment before speaking again. “With tensions increasing near the eastern borders, security surrounding the royal family will become more concentrated moving forward.”
Realization began unfolding slowly in Jungkook’s chest.
The king continued calmly, “Effective immediately, you’ll be reassigned to the Crown Detail.”
Jungkook’s breath nearly caught. The Crown Detail. The guards assigned closest to the royal family themselves. Closest to—
“You’ll assist directly in the protection of my son” the king finished.
For one terrifying second, Jungkook genuinely forgot how to function.
Guard the prince.
Closely.
Regularly.
Constantly.
The commander beside the king spoke again. “It’s a significant promotion. Don’t make us regret it.”
Jungkook immediately lowered himself deeper into the bow. “Never, my king.”
Inside his chest, however, his heartbeat had become absolute chaos. Because somehow Against all logic The universe had just placed him directly beside the person he’d spent years loving from afar.
———
By the time Jimin left the council wing, the palace no longer felt like the same place it had the night before.
The lanterns from the festival had been taken down from the outer halls already. Servants moved quickly through the corridors carrying folded fabrics and extinguished candle trays while guards rotated shifts with unusual sharpness in their posture. Even the air itself seemed quieter somehow, the lingering warmth of celebration replaced with something tighter wound beneath the surface.
Taehyung walked beside him in silence for nearly half the corridor before finally glancing over.
“You’re thinking too loud again.”
Jimin exhaled softly through his nose. “Apparently that’s hereditary.”
Taehyung snorted faintly at that, though his expression remained thoughtful. “Your father asking your opinion in there wasn’t small.”
“No,” Jimin admitted quietly.
Because it hadn’t been.
His father involved him in council meetings often enough. Jimin had been raised for leadership his entire life. He understood policy, trade systems, diplomacy, military structure. But there was a difference between being present and being asked to speak with authority in front of the full council itself.
And the fact his father had listened afterward, Actually listened, Still sat strangely in Jimin’s chest.
Before Taehyung could continue the conversation, another attendant approached from the opposite hallway and bowed.
“Her Majesty requests luncheon with the prince.”
Jimin blinked once. “Now?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Taehyung immediately looked relieved. “Good. Maybe your mother can convince you not to spiral dramatically for the next six hours.”
“I do not spiral dramatically.”
“You absolutely do.”
Jimin ignored him with dignity.
Still, some of the tension in his shoulders eased at the mention of his mother. Lunches with the queen were rarely formal unless required publicly. Usually they consisted of quieter conversation, tea, and his mother gently steering discussions away from politics whenever possible.
At the very least, it would give him answers.
Hopefully.
The queen’s private dining chambers overlooked the western gardens, where climbing ivy curled around pale stone balconies and flowering trees bent softly in the breeze beyond the windows. Unlike the grand royal banquet halls used for public affairs, this room felt smaller. Warmer. Sunlight pooled across polished floors while silver dishes rested neatly along the center of the table already prepared for the afternoon meal.
Jimin arrived to find his mother seated near the open balcony doors, one elegant hand resting around a porcelain teacup while Yeonjun stood quietly nearby adjusting the placement of freshly cut flowers.
The queen looked up immediately when Jimin entered. “There you are.” Warmth softened her features instantly.
Jimin smiled despite the heaviness still lingering in him and crossed the room toward her. “You summoned me.”
“You sound suspicious of me already.”
“You usually send for me when you either miss me or intend to interrogate me.”
“And today?”
Jimin bent slightly so she could press a kiss briefly against his cheek. “I haven’t decided yet.”
His mother laughed softly beneath her breath before motioning for him to sit beside her.
Unlike Jimin, the queen carried royalty differently.
Where Jimin softened spaces simply by entering them, the queen refined them. Every movement from her felt practiced without seeming artificial, graceful in a way that made people instinctively straighten when she looked at them. She was kind, deeply so, but there remained a distance between herself and others that Jimin had never quite mastered.
Or perhaps never wanted to.
As Jimin settled into his chair, Yoongi appeared quietly beside him carrying fresh tea while Yeonjun adjusted the queen’s place setting across the table with near silent efficiency.
“Thank you,” Jimin murmured automatically as Yoongi filled his cup.
Yoongi bowed his head slightly. “Of course, my prince.”
Across from them, the queen continued speaking to Yeonjun without pause as he placed another tray beside her elbow. “No, the blue seal letters first this afternoon,” she instructed calmly. “The trade responses can wait until evening.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
The difference wasn’t cruel, Just noticeable. Yeonjun stepped back once finished while Yoongi moved toward the side serving table nearby. Both servants faded almost seamlessly into the rhythm of the room, present without being included within it.
His mother lifted her teacup again. “You look tired.”
“I was dragged into military panic before noon.”
“You survived.”
“Barely.”
That earned another soft laugh from her.
For a moment the conversation remained easy as servants brought forward lunch in quiet stages—warm rice, roasted vegetables glazed lightly with honey, delicate sliced fruit, fresh bread still warm from the kitchens.
Jimin waited until Yeonjun stepped farther back toward the windows before speaking again. “So,” he said carefully, “how worried should I actually be?”
His mother glanced at him over the rim of her cup. “There’s your real reason for coming?”
Jimin leaned slightly against one hand. “Mother.”
The queen sighed quietly, setting her tea down with measured calm. “There are tensions near the eastern territories.”
“I gathered that much from the room full of military maps.”
“It’s being handled.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I’m giving you during lunch.”
Jimin frowned slightly.
His mother reached for another piece of fruit without looking particularly concerned herself. “Your father doesn’t want unnecessary panic spreading through the palace before there’s certainty.”
Jimin picked absently at the edge of his bread. “Why did he ask for my opinion today?”
His mother smiled faintly at that. “Because one day the council will look to you instead.”
Jimin studied her carefully. “You both know more than you’re telling me.”
“We always will.”
“That’s comforting.” He said dripping with sarcasm.
The queen ignored that entirely with years of royal expertise and instead tilted her head slightly. “How is Taehyung lately?”
Jimin blinked at the abrupt shift in conversation. “What?”
“You spend nearly every waking hour together. I assume if he’d become intolerable by now you would’ve said something.”
A reluctant smile tugged briefly at Jimin’s mouth. “He’s fine.”
“Still keeping you happy?”
Jimin snorted softly. “That sounds threatening.”
His mother lifted one elegant shoulder. “Royal companions are replaceable positions.”
Jimin’s expression changed immediately. Not dramatic. Just firm. “Taehyung isn’t.”
The queen watched him for a moment before smiling faintly to herself and reaching for her tea again. “There’s that Park stubbornness.”
“He’s my best friend.”
“And very good at his role.”
“He’s not a role.” The words left Jimin before he could soften them. Silence settled briefly across the table afterward, though not uncomfortable exactly. Just thoughtful.
Nearby, Yoongi stepped forward quietly to refill Jimin’s cup before he could ask.
“Thank you,” Jimin said again automatically.
Yoongi bowed once and stepped back. Across the table, Yeonjun replaced the queen’s emptied plate with practiced silence. The queen never acknowledged it. Not because she disliked him, Not because she was cruel, It simply never occurred to her to..
The conversation drifted after that into safer territory almost entirely because his mother guided it there deliberately. She asked about the festival. About which nobles had attempted to marry him off this time.
Jimin answered, but only halfway. Part of him remained stuck back inside the council chamber listening to advisors debate villages like pieces on a board. Eventually, after another failed attempt to steer the conversation back toward the eastern borders, Jimin gave up entirely.
His mother noticed immediately. “You’ve become quiet.”
“You’ve become evasive.”
The queen smiled into her tea. “I’ve always been evasive.”
“That’s true.”
“See? We’re bonding.”
Jimin huffed a small laugh despite himself and leaned back in his chair. Outside the balcony windows, the gardens swayed gently beneath the afternoon wind. Somewhere below, distant palace bells echoed faintly across the grounds while servants continued dismantling the last remnants of festival decorations from the previous night.
Everything looked peaceful.
——————————————
The southern palace gardens had always belonged more to Jimin and Taehyung than anyone else.
Not officially, of course.
The grounds stretched across enormous portions of the cliffside behind the palace. layered stone paths winding through flowering trees, shallow koi ponds, trimmed hedges, and open fields of pale grass that swayed softly beneath the sea breeze rolling inland from the coast. Gardeners and servants moved through them daily. Nobles wandered through during social gatherings. Royal meetings occasionally took place beneath the shaded pavilions overlooking the water.
But in quieter hours like this, when the afternoon had settled warm and slow over the palace and most officials remained buried inside meetings, the gardens became theirs.
Jimin lay stretched across one of the larger blankets beneath a flowering tree near the lower fountains, his head resting comfortably in Taehyung’s lap while sunlight flickered gently through the branches overhead. One of Taehyung’s hands moved lazily through his hair, absentmindedly scratching lightly against his scalp while the other held a half-eaten peach he’d stolen from lunch earlier.
Normally the combination would’ve put Jimin to sleep. Today it wasn’t working.
“You’re thinking loud again,” Taehyung muttered after several minutes of silence.
Jimin stared upward through the branches. “Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because your face looks personally offended by life.”
“It usually is.”
Taehyung snorted softly.
The palace gardens hummed quietly around them instead—distant fountain water trickling against stone, birds hidden somewhere deeper in the trees, the occasional faint sound of servants moving along upper pathways nearby.
Taehyung’s fingers continued moving through Jimin’s hair slowly enough it almost distracted him from the thoughts circling endlessly through his head.
Almost.
Finally Jimin sighed heavily and dragged one arm across his eyes. “My mother said you’re replaceable.”
Taehyung blinked once. Then once more. “…That’s what has you spiraling?”
“She didn’t say it exactly like that.”
“But that’s what you heard.”
Jimin lowered his arm just enough to glare upward at him. “You’re supposed to be supporting me emotionally right now.”
“I am supporting you emotionally. I’m also clarifying the dramatics.”
Jimin huffed quietly and dropped his arm back over his face. Above him, Taehyung’s expression softened slightly. Because truthfully, he understood immediately why the comment had unsettled Jimin so badly.
Royal companions were technically positions. Carefully selected children raised alongside royal heirs so future rulers would have trusted social equals near them at all times. The role came with education, privileges, expectations.
And replacement. If one companion proved unsuitable, another could be chosen. The palace viewed it practically. Jimin never had.
Taehyung brushed his fingers more carefully through Jimin’s hair now. “Jimin.” No response. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, Jimin moved his arm aside again.
Taehyung looked down at him with quiet fondness. “Do you genuinely think I’ve spent the last fifteen years following you around because somebody told me to?”
“You had to.”
“I was six.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It actually feels exactly like the point.”
Jimin groaned softly.
Taehyung smiled faintly to himself before continuing more gently, “You’re my best friend. You being a prince is honestly just an inconvenience sometimes.”
That finally pulled a reluctant laugh from Jimin. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You already knew that.”
Jimin’s expression softened slightly after that, some of the tension finally easing from his shoulders as he looked back up through the flowering branches overhead.
Because Taehyung was the only person in Jimin’s life who had never treated him carefully.
Not disrespectfully.
Just normally.
Taehyung fought with him. Teased him. Mocked him openly. Stole from his plate. Complained when Jimin was being difficult. Never once acted frightened of his title. And in a world where nearly everyone filtered themselves around royalty, that normalcy mattered more than Taehyung probably realized.
Jimin closed his eyes briefly beneath the feeling of Taehyung’s fingers moving through his hair again.
Then Taehyung’s hand stopped. “…Why is that guard staring at us?”
Jimin frowned slightly. “What?”
Taehyung nodded subtly toward the upper garden path. Jimin sat up enough to follow his line of sight.
And immediately blinked.
Jungkook stood several yards away near the stone arch leading back toward the palace itself, posture straight and formal beneath dark uniform armor, hands folded neatly behind his back like he’d been stationed there intentionally.
Watching them.
Well— Watching him.
Jimin stared for a second in visible confusion. Because guards existed around him constantly. That part wasn’t unusual. But this was strange. The palace gardens were private interior grounds. He wasn’t traveling. Wasn’t attending an event. Wasn’t outside palace walls. And Jungkook wasn’t even one of the higher royal guards usually assigned directly to him.
“What the hell?” Jimin muttered.
Taehyung looked equally confused. “Did he get lost?”
Jimin pushed himself upright fully now, brushing grass from his sleeves before standing. “Stay here.”
Taehyung immediately looked interested. “Oh, this seems promising.”
Ignoring him, Jimin crossed the garden toward Jungkook, who visibly straightened further the closer he got. Up close, Jungkook looked almost painfully composed.
Almost.
But Jimin noticed the slight tension in his jaw immediately.
“My prince,” Jungkook greeted with a bow.
Jimin stopped directly in front of him, arms folding loosely across his chest. “What are you doing?” Jungkook blinked once. “You’re standing in the garden staring at me like a suspicious statue.”
A flicker of panic crossed Jungkook’s face before he recovered quickly. “I apologize if I disturbed you.”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
Jimin wasn’t being cruel. If anything, his tone sounded more genuinely confused than upset. He simply stood there waiting patiently, eyes fixed expectantly on Jungkook’s face. Unfortunately for Jungkook, patient attention from Prince Park Jimin was significantly more nerve-wracking than anger probably would’ve been.
After a brief hesitation, Jungkook answered carefully, “His Majesty reassigned me this morning To your protection detail.”
“…What?” Jimin frowned slightly.
Jungkook’s posture remained rigidly formal. “I’ve been instructed to remain nearby you at all points of the day”
Jimin stared at him. Then glanced briefly around the garden as though checking whether this was somehow a joke. “In the palace gardens?”
“The king requested increased security precautions.”
“That’s ridiculous.” The words left Jimin before he could soften them.
Not because he was angry at Jungkook specifically. He wasn’t. But because suddenly the already suffocating tension hanging over the palace felt even tighter. People whispering in hallways.
Extra guards.
Military councils.
And now apparently he couldn’t even sit in the gardens with Taehyung without armed supervision. Nobody had even warned him.
Jimin dragged a hand back through his hair in frustration before turning sharply toward the palace. “Unbelievable.”
Behind him, Taehyung hurried upright from the blanket. “Jimin?”
But Jimin was already storming back toward the palace doors. Not graceful storming, either. Fast enough his robes snapped sharply behind him while servants along the corridors immediately flattened themselves respectfully against walls to avoid being directly in his path.
Taehyung caught up first. “Okay, what’s happening?”
“They assigned me personal security without telling me.”
“…You already have personal security.”
“You know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, Jungkook followed too. Mostly because he clearly had no idea whether he was now allowed to let Jimin walk away alone. Which only irritated Jimin further. As they crossed into the central palace halls, nearby servants looked increasingly alarmed by the expression on the prince’s face.
“Where’s my father?” Jimin asked sharply the moment a passing attendant bowed nearby.
The servant startled slightly. “His Majesty is in the western study, Your Highness.”
“Thank you.”
Then Jimin immediately changed direction. Taehyung exchanged one deeply entertained look with Jungkook before following after him again. The western study doors opened hard enough to slam lightly against the inner wall.
Inside, the king looked up instantly from the desk covered in open reports and parchment. “Jimin?”
Several advisors near the windows visibly startled. Jimin barely noticed them.
His father stood immediately, concern appearing faster than irritation. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Jimin said quickly. “Why is security suddenly following me around like I’m under attack?”
Behind him, Taehyung slowed near the doorway while Jungkook stopped several respectful steps farther back.
The king’s eyes flicked briefly toward Jungkook before returning to Jimin. “It’s precautionary.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“It’s the one you’re getting currently.”
Jimin let out a disbelieving breath. “I was sitting in the gardens.”
“And?”
“And why do I suddenly need a guard hovering over me inside palace walls?”
His father sighed quietly now, setting aside the document he’d been holding. “Jimin—”
“No, because nobody is actually telling me anything. Everyone keeps dancing around whatever’s happening while guards triple overnight.”
“Your safety is not a punishment.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“But it is what you’re reacting to.”
Jimin’s frustration sharpened immediately at how calm his father remained through all of it. “You’re hiding things from me.”
His father’s expression shifted slightly then. “If further explanation becomes necessary,” the king said evenly, “you’ll receive it.”
Jimin crossed his arms tightly. “That’s not fair.”
“No,” his father agreed softly. “But it’s currently necessary.”
The answer only frustrated Jimin more because it sounded genuine.
The king looked past him slightly. “As far as you know right now, this is simply an adjustment in staffing. Your new guard assignment—” He paused. Very briefly.
Jimin immediately cut in. “Jungkook.”
The king blinked once. “…Right. Jungkook.”
Behind them, Jungkook looked like he wanted the floor to open and consume him alive.
The king continued smoothly, “He’s received excellent evaluations in training and field performance. He’s closer to your age than many senior guards, and I believed he would suit the position well.”
Then his attention shifted fully toward Jungkook. The room quieted slightly.
“If he becomes a problem,” the king said calmly, “you’re welcome to inform me immediately and he’ll be replaced.” The statement wasn’t cruel. But it landed with unmistakable authority.
Jungkook bowed at once. “Understood, my king.”
Jimin noticed the way tension immediately tightened through Jungkook’s shoulders afterward and exhaled sharply through his nose. Because again, This wasn’t really about Jungkook. It was about everyone deciding things around him without explanation.
Eventually Jimin threw both hands upward slightly in surrender. “Fine. Whatever.”
His father looked unconvinced by the word. Jimin turned immediately toward the doorway instead. “Come on, Taehyung.” Taehyung pushed off the wall obediently, though amusement still lingered dangerously around the corners of his mouth. Jimin pointed at him without slowing down. “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was emotionally preparing to.”
Jimin groaned loudly as he grabbed Taehyung by the sleeve and dragged him back into the corridor with him. “I’m sick of everyone,” he declared dramatically while continuing down the hall.
Behind them, Taehyung’s laughter echoed through the corridor while Jungkook remained standing silently inside the study, pulse still refusing to settle after hearing the king casually discuss replacing him directly in front of the prince he was hopelessly in love with.