#bangtan

Taglist (open, don't hesitate to ask me): @calmyourtitts7 @toskaesuriennt @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken

Gentle reminder that all rights are reserved, so please do not copy, translate or repost my stories. Also I do not own BTS or their actions, the stories are entirely fictionnal and does not depict real-life events or involve any actual member of BTS.

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Scriiitt.

Slowly, my nail drags against the small, flower-shaped stone.

Scriiitt.

Slowly, my gaze drifts toward the vast forest, its treetops so high they swallow the sky whole when you stand too close.

Scriiitt.

Slowly, I let the absence of sound around me seep in —until there’s nothing left to feel. Nothing but the dull, splitting pressure of my nail cracking open against the stubborn stone, biting deep enough to tear skin.

I don’t even react. My mind is too clouded —drowned, maybe, in the deafening noise of emptiness pressing in from all sides.

There is nothing around me. Nothing but dirt, wind, and a silence so thick it roars in my ears. Nothing where, only days ago, this very ground trembled under hurried footsteps and careless laughter —where voices rose into the air, bright and alive; where not even the strongest wind could have kept those hazel eyes from finding mine.

Nothing.

Nothing except, slowly, the sound of my nail scraping against the small, flower-shaped stone.

Scriiitt.

Another sound, eventually, fractures the silence. Footsteps. Soft. Careful —like they’re trying not to exist.

I don’t need to turn to know who it is. Don’t need to lift my head, not in this near-unnatural stillness, to picture that mess of blond hair with perfect clarity.

I expect him to say something. Anything. Break the silence.

He doesn’t.

Scriiitt. Ploc.

A drop of blood slips free, trailing down my finger —over each joint, each hollow and ridge— before sinking into the dry earth below.

I don’t have the strength to wipe it away. Or to turn and face him, though I know he’s still standing there behind me. I don’t even have the strength to move —to step outside this strange, suffocating bubble I’ve been sealed into.

Only enough strength —just enough— as my eyes fall, slowly, to the small green flower-shaped stone… to make a decision. Just one.

Then, slowly, I press my thumb forward, and my nail drags across the stone again.

The footsteps echo. Fade. He’s gone.

Scriiitt.

Of all my memories, the ones filled with cold and silence are the ones that linger the most. The gentlest ones, too —strangely enough.

Music, deemed far too joyful for the Kingdom’s fate, had been forbidden. Even during celebrations, those unlucky enough to play it risked death. Then again, those who celebrated at all risked death.

Yes —noise was always something to fear. Every one of my nightmares begins the same way: with the distant call of a hunting horn… or music. Even the smallest sound breaking the silence —like the scrape of a blade against stone— meant something was wrong.

And above all, the cold. A biting, relentless cold. In all my childhood, I never once saw the sun truly shine —only pale, lifeless glimmers that gave light, but never warmth.

It isn’t cold here.

Not even the brutal climate of the Plains of Fire —said to rival a desert by day and a snowstorm by night— comes close to the hell I grew up in. My entire childhood, I learned never to leave my bed without at least three layers of thick wool beneath my dresses. I had never seen a single wall that wasn’t buried beneath heavy tapestries.

In Hestidia, they told me countless times how harsh the Plains of Fire were. How freezing the nights could be. And I’ll admit, they are colder than the rest of the continent —but to call them freezing…

Even without the heavy tapestries Eosu had brought from Bruria, it would be bearable. In fact, he may have done it on purpose. The room they lock me in every night is so small the tapestries turn suffocating. And despite the cold outside, I burn alive in there, trapped.

And every night, that silver-eyed fox watches me without fail.

Despite myself, I’ve come to prefer the nights. If I’ve counted right —if Eosu hasn’t poisoned me or locked me away in one of his dark rooms long enough to erase time from my memory, the way he so easily could— it’s only been two days. Two days spent searching, every second, for a way out.

Two days that were enough to understand one thing: nights are better.

If the tapestries make the nights suffocating, it’s three times worse during the day —and Eosu looks so pleased about it that I can’t help but wonder if it’s part of the punishment he’s chosen for me.

I grew up in the cold. I endure biting frost, blizzards, torrential rain better than most. But heat has never been my strength. Nor his, once. Though, watching those golden eyes day after day, I’m starting to wonder if there’s anything normal left in him at all.

Probably not.

Eosu must remember that I could never sit still as a child. Or maybe he learned I became a soldier and decided I needed constant occupation. Which would be a fair conclusion —because each day is worse than the last.

I do nothing.

They come for me at sunrise, drag me out of that cramped room, and bring me to the large hall with that ridiculous throne. Sometimes I’m ordered to stand. Rarely, I’m allowed to sit. After a while, they may bring food. And when the sun sets, I’m taken back to the room.

That’s it. It’s calm. Silent. Still —terribly repetitive. And it reminds me far too much of Bruria, where every day was exactly the same.

Sometimes, Eosu speaks to me —no, that’s not quite right. Eosu is always speaking. But he speaks without saying anything.

Most of the time, he makes no sense. And yet, every time, he watches me with that predatory smile that makes me feel like a mouse caught beneath a cat’s paw. His voice fills the room without pause —and I couldn’t say whether he was already like this when I was a child, but if he was, then Hoseok must have hated him.

Hoseok.

Eosu never speaks of him. Never even brushes the subject. And yet, ever since I promised to help him, his name lingers in the air —unspoken, but ever-present.

As if my uncle is waiting for something. Something I can’t yet understand.

My chest tightens at the thought.

Hoseok. I lied when I said I could find him. Yoongi and I tried so many times over the years —I don’t see why I would suddenly succeed now. Not with dozens of Borenars shadowing me.

I said he would come to me. And maybe… maybe that isn’t impossible. But if he does, I will never hand him over to Eosu.

Maybe once I find him, we could lose the Borenars together. Maybe he could help me get rid of Eosu. Maybe there’s still a chance.

Or maybe he’s already dead.

“Isn’t it magnificent?” my uncle suddenly exclaims, enraptured by the view outside the window where he stands. “Look at it —shining earth, trees, and that sun.”

He closes his eyes, drawing in a deep breath, delighted. I don’t bother pointing out that the soil of the Plains of Fire is barren and nothing more.

“If someone had told me I’d one day feel such a sun on my skin…” he continues, almost reverent. “Though I must admit, I do miss our good old cold sun. Don’t you?”

I don’t need to turn to feel his serpent-like gaze settle on me.

Today, they’ve allowed me to sit. The raw stone seat bites cold against my skin, but I won’t complain after being forced to stand all day yesterday.

I don’t look at him. I can’t tear my eyes away from the tapestry in front of me. “I don’t remember,” I answer. My voice comes out weaker than I intended —but it doesn’t shake.

The tapestry looms over me, swallowing my entire field of vision. My father’s crowned face is woven into it.

“Oh, really?” His voice reaches me again, closer this time. When he clicks his tongue, I know he doesn’t like my answer. “You don’t remember the mountains disappearing beneath the fog? The ground harder than stone, always white beneath endless snow?”

I do remember.

But I refuse to step back into those memories.

He doesn’t appreciate my silence. When he speaks again, his voice is thick with anger —and his fist slams against the table.

“In that case, Princess,” he growls, leaning so close I feel his breath against my skin, “you must not remember the lakes and rivers freezing one by one until they became unbreakable ice. You must not remember the few prey our hunters once brought back with pride, vanishing one after another. You must not remember a people starving in lands so ravaged by cold and snow they became unlivable…”

His voice twists, sharp and venomous.

“No, of course —you can’t remember. You abandoned us before you could ever see it.”

The words hit like blows. My fists clench beneath the table to keep from reacting —but it does nothing to stop the cold spreading through my veins.

Bruria was already harsh when I was a child. If it’s grown worse… I don’t dare imagine it.

“No —you’d rather protect those two kingdoms you cherish so dearly, the same ones that ignored us like rats when we begged for their help!” he roars, his voice echoing through the hall where the Borenars stand motionless along the walls. “You’d rather protect your precious prince while your people—”

“What do you want from me?!”

The words leave me before I can stop them.

I bite my tongue immediately after, eyes squeezing shut. I’m too warm. Too hungry. Too thirsty. And the mere mention of Taehyung sends panic spiraling through me far too easily in my exhausted state.

Eosu promised he wouldn’t harm him. Him or Jimin. I made him swear it.

But I know my family. I always have. And the hatred in his voice was anything but empty. I won’t let him hurt them. Even if it costs me my life.

“What do you want from me?” I ask again, quieter this time.

I turn to face him at last, meeting his golden gaze. His eyes almost seem to smoke, they burn so brightly. “I thought you wanted to find Hoseok. I said I’d help you —so what are we still doing here?”

His fury slowly ebbs as he studies me in silence.

Every muscle in my body tightens as I fight the urge to shift under his gaze. It feels like he’s peeling me apart, searching every corner of my mind with nothing but his eyes.

But I hold. Perfectly still. Back straight. Chin lifted. He’ll get nothing from me. Not even a reaction.

He isn’t waiting for one.

Slowly —so slowly it feels like an eternity— his lips curl into a thin smile. The skin of his cheeks is stretched so tight, so thin, it looks ready to split at any moment.

“You seem eager, Ina,” he says, his voice sharp with delight. A shiver runs through me despite myself. “Unfortunately, as impatient as I am to find him, our dear Prince will have to wait… Our guest should be arriving any moment now.”

I grit my teeth at the mention of Hoseok —but his last words make me frown. He simply smiles, satisfied, and turns back toward the window, leaning there just as before.

The silence falls again. My confusion doesn’t.

Several long seconds pass without a sound —without an answer— before I break.

“Our guest?” I ask despite myself. This time, my voice is nothing more than a trembling whisper.

When Eosu finally turns back to me, his smile is no longer merely predatory —it’s terrifying. His golden eyes gleam brighter than ever.

“Yes, Ina. Our guest.”

His gaze drags over me, measuring. And I would swear his teeth look sharper now —almost pointed.

“It’s about time Bruria opened its doors, don’t you think?”

The Plains of Fire have nothing of fire about them. Like, nothing.

I don’t go there often, I’ll admit it. They’re not part of my kingdom —and even if they were, I’d avoid the place as much as possible. Dead trees and dust that rises with every step aren’t exactly my idea of a pleasant outing.

Still, I don’t need to visit every week to know that even if it’s slightly warmer than the rest of the Lands, there’s nothing remotely fiery about it.

Except, perhaps, the one I’m about to start if people don’t leave me alone soon.

“Your Highness, far be it from me to offend you, but I truly think this is not wis—”

“I’m touched by your concern, Kingsley,” I mutter through clenched teeth, not bothering to listen.

“Your Highness, this is madness!” he snaps, abandoning politeness just as I have. “You have only a handful of men with you, and the political climate is already unstable enough —you can’t—”

“Are you suggesting that royal soldiers are incapable of taking an abandoned tower in the middle of nowhere?” I cut him off, turning just enough to pin him with a glare.

He pales instantly, mouth opening and closing as he searches for something —anything— to say. He stammers for a moment, until a hand broader than his head lands heavily on his shoulder.

“And what if you gave His Highness a minute, hmm?” Saer’s rough voice makes Kingsley jump despite the easy grin that comes with it. “I think everyone could do with calming down before tomorrow…”

Kingsley hesitates, eyes darting between us, but eventually nods and swallows hard before retreating into one of the camp’s tents.

Saer waits until he’s gone before turning to me, a disapproving look settling over his rugged features. “Country air hasn’t made you any more pleasant, has it?”

My fists tighten. If only he knew. The one thing that ever made me pleasant drove a knife straight through my back.

“And it still hasn’t killed you.”

A smile slowly softens his face. “Oh, me, your Highness? I won’t be dying for another hundred years at least.” He chuckles, pulling out the pipe he never parts with and taking a couple of slow draws. As he exhales perfect rings of smoke, his gaze settles on me —and something twists, faint and unwelcome, in my chest.

Even after months apart —after he spent most of my life at my side— he still looks at me the same way.

He’s seen me at my worst. The first to endure my temper, my moods, my sharp tongue —and still, the moment I sent word to the border, he came running. Loyal as ever.

It took traveling all the way there with Jimin, with the few men I had left in Ebonwick after the special guard’s sudden departure, for me to realize how much I’d missed them. I’ve never been so glad to be surrounded by soldiers in red and brown armor.

“It’s good to see you again, Your Highness,” he says suddenly, catching me off guard. “If it didn’t make me sound like a sentimental old fool, I’d say I missed you.”

I glance up at him, my vision slightly blurred. I missed him too.

“But you’re not a sentimental old fool.”

“No,” he replies immediately, smiling. His good humor is contagious. “So… it’s true? The young lady —your bodyguard —she…?”

His words hit like a bucket of ice water. My smile vanishes. I’d almost forgotten he’d met Harin —Ina.

And yet I remember it perfectly: the ease with which she’d brought down my best man —the towering Saer— the night we arrived in Ebonwick. He already thought the special guard were something close to superhuman, even if he never said it out loud. That night, he’d looked at the lieutenant with such open admiration she might as well have been a goddess. No one imagined what lay behind that porcelain mask.

Slowly, I nod. “Her, and the other lieutenant. The man,” I add, recalling Cat-Eyes had been there too. “We need to stop them before it’s too late. According to Jimin, they have considerable numbers, and their soldiers…”

My voice trails off as the memory hits —skeletal figures draped in purple, the stench of death clinging to them as they nearly tore through us.

I still carry the mark of that encounter on my left arm. The wound is nothing more than a thin red line now —but it still hurts like hell, as if it refuses to close.

“Their soldiers?” Saer prompts after a moment, pulling me back.

Suddenly short of breath, I shake my head. “They’re dangerous. Best to deal with them as quickly as possible.”

I look away. I don’t have the heart to tell him that three of them nearly wiped out the special guard —or that my bodyguard almost died just to drive a single one back.

I can feel his eyes on my profile, trying to read what I won’t say. I give him nothing.

Instead, I fix my gaze on Jimin, standing near one of the tents, calmly issuing orders for tomorrow.

Tomorrow. At sunrise, we attack. As planned.

Tomorrow, we put an end to all of this.

“And you believe we’re up to the task?” My brows lift, surprised. Doubt doesn’t suit Saer.

“Of course. I still know what my personal guard is capable of. And there are nearly two hundred men gathered at the border —that’s more than enough to take a crumbling tower lost in the middle of nowhere.”

I gesture vaguely at the soldiers scattered across the hastily assembled camp. Temporary. Just until the attack. Once it’s over, I’ll assign others to hold the border —and return to the Capital with my guard.

Though I’m not even sure posting men there will make a difference.

When I asked, Saer assured me no one had crossed in months. No purple monsters. No lone rider. No soldiers in black. As if they’d never existed at all.

“I don’t doubt it, Your Highness,” he concedes, following my gesture. “It’s just… knowing you, I would have expected a bit more… enthusiasm at the thought of such an easy victory.”

Again, I avoid his gaze. He leans slightly closer, as if trying to bridge the distance I keep forcing between us. “I can’t help but wonder if something’s troubling you, Your Highness. Are you well?”

I don’t answer. What could I possibly say?

There was a time when a battle like this would have thrilled me —when I would have boasted, already certain of victory before it even began.

Now, I don’t even see the point in pretending. Saer would see right through it anyway. And then he’d ask questions —questions I don’t have answers to. Because I can’t find them.

Slowly, I lift a hand, brushing my fingers against the faint shape of the medallion beneath my clothes. The half-flower is still there, cold against my chest.

It does nothing to fill the hollow inside me. If anything, it makes it worse.

I just want this to be over.

Across the camp, as if he’s heard the thought, Jimin suddenly turns toward me, brows drawn tight. Even from a distance, our eyes meet —and he stills.

Maybe he feels it. The vast, endless emptiness inside me. I’m not sure I care.

He keeps staring when I look away. The same concern etched into his face as on Saer’s. He keeps staring —even as my cracked lips part, without conviction.

“Everything is perfectly fine.”

“Where’s Saer?”

Eyes fixed on the steaming soup, I shrug. “Probably giving the final orders for tomorrow.”

Lazily, I stir my spoon through the broth, watching the ripples form. They look like waves breaking on the shore —if the ocean happened to be the color of muddy water.

Jimin, showing just as little interest in his own bowl, nods faintly. “He must’ve gone back to his tent. Maybe we should do the same.”

I don’t need to look up to know he’s scanning the nearly empty camp around us, shivering beneath the fur coat I had to lend him. Apparently, His Majesty is far too used to his comfortable little kingdom to handle a mildly cool night. Pathetic, really.

I keep scraping my spoon against the sides of the bowl, watching the small whirlpool forming at the center. “Be my guest. I think I’ll stay here a bit longer.”

My tone is flat. Detached —too much so, even for me.

He notices immediately. I can feel his eyes on me, and he doesn’t need to say a word for me to follow his train of thought.

I look… empty.

Carefully, he sets his bowl down on the small table between us, with the same caution one might use approaching a feral cat. He wets his lips, hesitates, then says quietly, “I think you should get some rest before tomorrow’s battle.”

Even his voice is cautious. Too cautious. Jimin has always been one of the few people who could say things to my face —the only one, really, who could do it without me snapping. The fact that he feels the need to tread carefully now is… irritating.

I don’t say it though. I just clench my teeth —something I’ve done so often these past few days I’m surprised they’re still intact— and shrug without meeting his eyes. “Don’t feel like it.”

After a pause, I add, “I doubt I’d sleep anyway.”

He doesn’t hesitate to take the opening.

“Why? Worried about tomorrow?”

Silence. Whether it’s my jaw tightening further or the sudden lack of words, I can’t answer.

For a moment, I think of the purple shadows. Those things —those monsters— that nearly got me more than once. I think of Jimin, the look on his face when he came back alone from the Plains of Fire.

Then I think of Harin —who waited until I let my guard down to step closer— and I let out a quiet breath.

I could’ve made sense of all of this so much sooner, if I had just—

I drag a hand over my eyes, letting the bowl slip from my fingers. It hits the table, tipping over —half the contents spilling onto the ground. Whatever. I wasn’t planning on drinking it anyway. Tastes awful.

When I finally look up, Jimin is watching me in silence. His eyes are patient —but soft, too.

Something tightens painfully in my chest. I’ve gotten used to being looked at like that. By someone else.

“I don’t know,” I sigh at last, looking away —letting my gaze drift toward the horizon, where, if night hadn’t already swallowed everything, I might’ve seen the outline of the distant forest. “I really don’t. Everything is… complicated.” A beat. “In my head, mostly.”

He doesn’t respond. Barely moves. If I didn’t know him well enough to recognize that this is how he lets me sort through my thoughts, I’d think he hadn’t even listened.

“I can’t believe things got this bad,” I murmur. My voice is so faint a passing breeze could’ve swallowed it whole.

If he notices the slight tremor, he doesn’t mention it —but I can see his shoulders drop without even looking.

“Yeah. Me neither.”

His voice is just as quiet a few seconds later.

Surprised, I glance at him —and meet a pair of brown eyes filled with such raw grief that something twists hard in my chest. Because I recognize it instantly.

Jimin was close to his lieutenant too.

Our gazes lock, as if we could somehow hold each other up by sheer force of will —before a bitter laugh slips from him. “Feels like all of this is just some bad dr—”

“Your Highness! Your Highness, you need to come see, it’s your — OUMPH—”

We’re on our feet in an instant, heads snapping toward the sound.

The voice cuts off as abruptly as it started, replaced by what unmistakably sounds like a fist connecting with someone’s face. But when I scan the darkness, there’s nothing.

Jimin turns to me, frowning —but whatever’s on my face must mirror his confusion, because he grabs the torch at our feet and lifts it. The flame flickers, casting jagged shadows —before illuminating Saer’s broad figure, his expression deeply annoyed… and Gallien, held by the back of the neck so tightly his feet don’t even touch the ground, one cheek flushed red, a hand clamped over his mouth.

We both relax instantly. Gallien, on the other hand, goes pale.

“Saer? What’s going on?”

The soldier shoots the boy a glare, tightening his grip just enough to make him squeak.

“Nothing at all, Your Highness. This idiot’s just trying to get attention, as usual.” His eyes flick briefly between me and Jimin —who has already sat back down to resume his soup— before he gives a small bow. “My apologies. I’ll go tie him to a tree somewhere—”

“No! Please! It’s important!” Gallien blurts out, his red curls looking like wildfire in the torchlight. “Your Highness, I swear —please, listen to me! Your Highnesses!” he adds, glancing desperately at Jimin.

Jimin barely reacts, brushing hair from his eyes as he lifts his bowl, while I arch a brow, annoyed. “What’s he doing here? I thought he’d been sent back to the Capital.”

Gallien opens his mouth —but Saer’s grip tightens again, cutting him off. “That was the plan,” Saer mutters, irritation clear on his face. “But he managed to follow us anyway. And now he’s causing a scene across the entire camp because he claims he—”

“I’m not claiming anything! I really saw it!” Gallien protests, wriggling until his feet finally hit the ground —only to collapse in front of us. Saer doesn’t even try to catch him.

“Your Highnesses, you have to believe me!” Gallien insists, scrambling back up, covered in dust. “I saw it —it’s coming— it just came out of the forest, and I heard horses, and—”

“The forest?” I cut in, incredulous, rubbing my temples. Saer gives me an apologetic look. “Gallien, it’s pitch black —even in broad daylight you wouldn’t spot an elephant in the middle of the royal palace.”

He just blinks at me, confused.

I forget sometimes that for all his pretending to be a royal stable boy, he’s just a kid who got left behind. “An elephant?” he asks softly.

I’m too irritated to answer. I just click my tongue and look away.

Jimin sighs and mutters, “Large grey creatures. Like oversized horses, with enormous ears. They’re common in Usuryn —but my father keeps three in his menagerie, I believe.”

At that, Gallien lights up so suddenly it almost makes me flinch. “Yes! Exactly! Your father!”

He bounces in place, pointing at Jimin —something that would’ve cost him his head in public— but Jimin just blinks. “My father? Well ? What about him?”

“I saw him! With yours!” Gallien blurts, pointing at me now. “With a whole convoy —coming out of the forest! And heading this way!”

He’s practically vibrating with excitement —but the smile fades quickly when silence answers him. He pales as he notices how still we’ve gone.

I blink, frowning. Jimin does the same. Slowly, he turns toward me, as if to confirm he heard right. My father? And Jimin’s? Together? A few miles from here?

That makes no sense. King Jigeun was supposed to be in Rosehand after the attacks, and the last I heard, my father was still in Hestidian territory helping him. That was a week ago.

There’s no way they could’ve made it here this fast. Not with the chaos still tearing through the neighboring kingdom.

Gallien swallows hard, as if reading the doubt in my eyes —just before Saer clicks his tongue sharply. “That’s enough. Leave Their Highnesses alone—”

Gallien jerks back, nearly tripping over himself to avoid his hand. “No! I swear I’m telling the truth, I—”

“Gallien, stop embarrassing yourself or I swear I’ll tie you to a tree and leave you there!” Saer snaps, grabbing his arm this time. “And I won’t need orders to—”

“No, wait. Let him go.”

We all turn at once. Jimin’s small gesture is enough for Saer to release Gallien and step back. The blond prince frowns, clearly thinking —but I recognize that look. The one he gets when his mind starts racing far ahead of mine.

I stay quiet. Experience has taught me that’s the best option in such a moment.

He steps closer. Gallien looks like he might faint. Saer retreats a few more steps, perfectly respectful. “You said you saw my father. The King?” Jimin’s voice cuts through the night —cold, steady.

Gallien swallows again, clutching at his clothes like he’s trying not to bolt. His eyes flick toward me, searching for something —permission, maybe. With a sigh, I nod.

He’s younger than my brother —practically grew up in the stables. Being interrogated by a foreign prince isn’t exactly his comfort zone.

But my nod steadies him. “Yes, Your Highness,” he says softly. His voice is quiet —but it doesn’t shake.

Jimin raises a brow. “Here?” Gallien nods vigorously.

A second later, Jimin turns toward me —and the look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine. It’s the same one he had when he came back from that cursed tower.

“What?” I ask, unable to help myself. I hate it when he understands things before I do —which happens far more often than I’d like.

“I can’t say for sure,” he mutters, licking his lips, “but I think we’re in trouble.”

“Well, Your Highness, I must admit —you’ve handled this rather well. I’m almost impressed.”

“Why, thank you. The pleasure was entirely mine,” Jimin replies proudly —perhaps a little too proudly, because he barely finishes speaking before a sharp crack of a cane lands squarely on his forehead.

He winces, groaning as he rubs the sore spot, shooting an irritated look at his attacker —but the man barely spares him a glance, too busy rolling his eyes.

With his long, perfectly braided blond beard and his stern gaze, Counselor Llamkom has always struck me as unsettling. More so than my father’s advisor, at least.

Though, to be fair, that might have something to do with the cane. It’s practically an extension of his arm —and he doesn’t hesitate to use it.

Behind him, lounging in armchairs that servants must have dragged in from nowhere, our fathers watch us while eating grapes.

Grapes. While everyone here is preparing for battle before sunrise. The sheer contempt of it, seriously.

My father looks more irritated than I’ve ever seen him —and I’m fairly certain he would’ve beaten me senseless by now if he could. Jimin’s father —Jigeun— looks calmer. Tired, too. Thinner on top than the last time I saw him.

But very much alive. Far too alive for a king everyone thought was dead.

Neither of them has said a word since declaring my tent their own —but judging by the glare my dear father refuses to take off me, this is not going to be pleasant.

I knew it had been too long since he last came to make my life miserable. As if I needed that right now.

“The second that idiot puts his cane down, I swear I’m killing you,” I mutter through clenched teeth, glaring right back at him.

Jimin sighs, clicking his tongue —a very clear shut up. “Give me two minutes to deal with this and I’m all yours.”

“Our apologies —are we disturbing you, Your Highnesses?”

Jigeun smiles at our perfectly synchronized scowls. Unlike my father —who looks ready to explode— he seems to be enjoying himself.

“Your Majesty never disturbs,” Jimin replies with a tight smile. “We’re merely concerned with the… obstacles we are already facing. We wouldn’t want Your Majesty subjected to them as well.”

“Oh, spare me the honeyed nonsense, Prince Jimin,” my father grumbles, grape in hand —only to be cut off immediately.

“On the contrary, go on, my son,” Jigeun beams, then adds with a wink toward my father, “I must say, I’ve missed his little speeches!”

My father sighs, rubbing his eyes, while Jimin smiles faintly beside me. He knows exactly how to handle his old man. “You can’t imagine our surprise upon learning of your presence here, Your Majesty,” Jimin continues smoothly, slipping into that polished tone he uses to charm nobles. He nudges me when I roll my eyes. “You see, the prince and I have done everything in our power to maintain order in your absence, and we are so—”

“Efforts that have clearly paid off,” my father cuts in, venom dripping from every word. “I return to my kingdom only to learn that Irinian’s direct heir has survived multiple assassination attempts…”

“All unsuccessful, if I may—”

“…that Hestidia’s heir fared little better,” my father thunders, sitting up sharply.

“Flattered, Your Majesty, but it’ll take more than that to kill me—”

“And that the affairs of the realm are in complete disarray because you’ve all but abandoned council proceedings—”

“I’ve always said those pointless meetings were useless—” I mutter, quickly silenced by Jimin’s glare.

“And on top of that, uprisings have tripled in the neighboring kingdom and are spreading into ours! Is this how you intend to rule, you reckless children?!”

Silence. Even Jigeun says nothing, blinking as he waits for an answer.

Jimin swallows, his chin lowering slightly. The look he shoots me makes it obvious —the question is meant for me. I sigh.

“If ruling means having two dogs snapping at my heels and criticizing my every move, then yes, perhaps I should reconsider my methods.”

My father’s jaw tightens. Jigeun, meanwhile, smiles faintly. “And how do you plan to do that, kid?”

“Simple.” I shrug. “I’ll buy a leash.”

My father lunges forward before I can react, grabbing me by the collar and hauling me to my feet.

I could’ve dodged —easily— if not for Llamkom and his ridiculous cane pointed straight at me. Instead, I end up standing there like an idiot, facing a man I’ve clearly —and quite deliberately— provoked.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jimin sigh.

My father opens his mouth, ready to spit whatever threat he’s been saving —but Jigeun’s hand lands on his shoulder first.

“I think we should all calm down, hmm? Why don’t you tell us about these problems of yours instead, my son?”

A muscle ticks in my father’s cheek. He studies me like he’s debating something.

I raise a brow, unimpressed. The muscle twitches again.

“I wouldn’t know where to begin, Father,” Jimin murmurs, completely unconcerned with my current situation.

“At the start, my child,” Jigeun replies, gesturing for him to sit.

Only then does my father release me, sending me stumbling back a few steps before I regain my balance. Annoyed, I fix my collar, running a hand through my hair.

One day, I swear, I’ll kill that old man.

It takes me a moment to realize everyone is looking at me —Jimin most of all. There’s something almost pleading in his eyes. As if, for once, he doesn’t have the right words. And he expects me to.

Me. The one who never does.

I clear my throat, suddenly uncomfortable.

“The trouble started with the Hestidian attack, I suppose,” I mutter, dropping into the seat Jimin pulls out for me.

He nods, offering me a cluster of grapes I don’t take. “The attack… But that was over a year ago?” Jigeun frowns.

Jimin nods, absently plucking a grape. “It makes sense, when you think about it. No one really saw what our attackers looked like. They moved fast —with terrifying precision. Without the secret passages, I doubt any of us would’ve survived. And the state of the victims…”

He exhales slowly.

“It could only have been them.”

He turns to me. I nod, my expression darkening. I wasn’t there for the attack, but I saw the aftermath of the Spring Ball.

My sister’s birthday, and Harin —her body, covered in wounds… My jaw tightens.

“The purple shadows.”

I don’t need to look up to feel the tension shift between the two kings. Their crowns seem duller now. Less gold —more metal. “Who?”

“Their soldiers,” Jimin answers, shivering slightly. “Monsters. Massive. Like living stone. They’re unstoppable, Father —and they’re everywhere. We need to stop them before they impose Bruria’s rule—”

“Wait —Bruria?” my father cuts in sharply. “Where did you hear that name?”

A bitter laugh slips from me. Poor timing, I know.

“The Allied Kingdoms are in danger, and that’s what concerns you? That we uncovered one of your little secrets?”

“Chancellor Rolf mentioned it,” Jimin adds calmly. “The rest, we discovered ourselves. In fact… we met them.”

“Met them?” Jigeun laughs. “Now I’d like to see that.”

When Jimin answers, he’s pale as death. “Trust me. You wouldn’t.”

My father studies him, frowning deeper by the second. “I don’t understand.”

“We believe—” “We know,” Jimin corrects quietly, “—that the purple creatures devastating the kingdoms come from Bruria. And they intend to take control of our lands.”

“What? Those monsters are Borenars? Impossible.”

At our confusion, my father mutters, “The Borenars were Bruria’s elite warriors. They fit your description.”

“I’m telling you, it’s impossible!”

“Allow me to disagree, Father.”

“Listen,” Jigeun snaps, more irritated than I’ve ever seen him. “The Borenars no longer exist. Neither does Bruria. My father’s armies wiped them out —and if I recall correctly, Irinian and Leohan’s soldiers made sure nothing living remained on those frozen lands!”

My father nods —but Jimin doesn’t waver. “Oh, really? Then how do you explain what I saw? How do you explain this ?”

He grabs my sleeve, yanking it up to reveal the wound along my bicep, still seeping faintly through the bandage, as if it refuses to heal. “They’re real, Father. And believe me —this Eosu had no intention of—”

“Eosu?”

Both kings go pale.

“You mean Jung Eosu?” my father presses.

Jimin nods slowly. “Yes, Your Majesty. He was the one who… received me.”

My father starts pacing, shaking his head. “That’s impossible. I saw that man die. With my own eyes.”

“Then you might want your vision checked,” I shoot back. “Because the entire family is alive.”

Silence.

“What do you mean?”

Jimin hesitates, looking at me. It takes me a few seconds to force the words out. “The heirs were here. In our lands. In my manor, actually.” My throat tightens. “A man and a woman. The special guard is with them.”

Jigeun collapses back into his chair, staring into nothing.

“Then we are finished…”

“No!” Jimin snaps before my father can respond. “We won’t go down that easily!”

“And what exactly do you intend to do?” my father asks flatly. “I may not have fought them myself, but I’ve heard the stories. These aren’t enemies you kill with a bullet to the head. The Borenars —and the royal family— possess a power we never understood. That’s what made them unstoppable. Why do you think past kings chose to eliminate them?”

“I thought Bruria betrayed the other kingdoms?” I frown.

Llamkom answers from behind me. “You’ll learn soon enough, Your Highness —being more powerful than one ought to be is the greatest betrayal of all.”

“We know where they are,” Jimin says, hope rising in his voice. “We’ll attack —and end this. After that, you have my word, Father —Taehyung and I will restore order.”

I raise a brow, annoyed he didn’t even ask me first —but no one notices.

The kings are already deep in discussion. Jimin glances at me, uncertain. I just shrug. This is out of our hands now.

At some point, Llamkom joins them. I can’t help thinking Kingsley would’ve loved this —finally surrounded by reasonable people.

“Very well,” Jigeun finally declares, turning back to us. “Congratulations, my children. It seems you’ve made an acceptable decision. However, we cannot take any risks against such enemies. Our armies will accompany you tomorrow.”

We both freeze.

And here I was, already picturing myself sent back to the Capital.

“Your armies?” Jimin blinks. “You… have armies?” The two kings exchange a confused look.

“Last I checked, I’m still king,” they reply in unison.

“I thought you were hiding in Rosehand,” I mutter.

“And I thought you were dead in Rosehand,” Jimin adds, rubbing his head.

A beat— then Jigeun bursts out laughing.

No one else moves. My father just shakes his head, faintly amused. “Rosehand? What would I be doing there —fleeing by sea?”

Jimin shoots me a look. None of us dare mutter that yes, we thought exactly that.

“I’d rather die!” Jigeun grins. “No, no —the inns of Fayhelm suit me much better!”

“Fayhelm?!” I choke. “You mean that miserable village, in the south of Irinian?!”

“The very one! Excellent stews, plus your father joined me soon enough!” They laugh. Jimin and I just stare.

While we thought them dead or fleeing, the two most powerful kings in the realm were eating stew.

This has to be a fucking joke.

I turn to Saer —whom avoids my gaze, which only makes it worse. “Seriously?” I snap, turning to Llamkom. “You allowed this? The King just—”

“His Majesty deemed it wise to withdraw for a time,” Llamkom cuts in coldly. “And I agreed. I will not have his decisions questioned.”

“This is absurd,” Jimin mutters.

“And yet, it seems to have benefited you,” Llamkom replies evenly, making him flush.

Then he gestures sharply toward the exit. “Now, Your Highnesses, I suggest you get some rest. You have a kingdom risen from the dead to defeat. And if you wish to play the hero, you’ll need more than clever words.”

Jimin answers something —I barely hear it. My fists clench. My shoulders tighten.

I try to close my eyes. Useless. Those hazel eyes are there again, and no matter what I do, they won’t leave. Won’t stop staring at me like they hold my whole world. 

“I don’t care about being the hero,” I mutter.

“All I want is answers.” A beat. “And my revenge.”

The wind cuts cold against my cheeks. Strong enough to make me squint, not quite enough to make me shiver.

The cracked stone of the wall bites into my wrists, icy and sharp —too sharp, probably— but it’s not as if I have a choice. It’s the only “window” I’ve found in this damned room. Not even a real window, really —just a hole in the stone. But in a place this vast and sealed, you learn to make do with scraps of sky.

Earlier, Eosu ordered the Borenars to drag me out of the grand hall where he spends his days rotting on that ridiculous throne of his. I don’t know why. But I’m not naïve enough to think it means nothing.

Turns out, my instincts were right. The heat of the day has long since faded, swallowed by the cold of night —but this isn’t the kind of cold I know. In Hestidia, in Irinian, the night wind is cool but gentle, damp with morning dew, promising fertile days to come. This one is dry. Too dry.

Like it carries dust. Invisible, but heavy —kicked up by hurried hooves tearing across the ground. And beneath it, the faintest trace of smoke. Subtle. Almost nothing. Most wouldn’t notice.

But I would. I’ve been trained for this.

Someone’s set up camp nearby. Not far —ten kilometers at most, judging by the scent. Close enough that they can’t be seen from the tower, but near enough to matter. And if that dust means what I think it does, then there are a lot of them.

I don’t know whether that should comfort me or terrify me.

A sound breaks through the wind. Faint. Barely more than a whisper —but there. Every hair on my neck rises. I straighten, stepping away from my makeshift window just as the door slams open.

It crashes against the wall with a deafening bang, and I flinch despite myself. I’m so exhausted it takes a lot of effort not to show it. My uncle doesn’t seem to care. He walks in wearing that same twisted smile, a half-dozen Borenars trailing behind him.

His grin widens the moment he sees me. Instinctively, I step back. That look never means anything good.

“Princess, princess…” Eosu sighs, shaking his head, arms open as if expecting applause. Then, drawing his hands to his chest—“The moment has finally come.”

I barely have time to frown before he snaps his fingers. The giants behind him stir, stepping forward into the light.

My breath catches. “What is this supposed to mean?” I snarl, teeth clenched.

Eosu only bares his teeth. “We must look our best to greet our guest.”

I hate the way the Borenars stand still as they escort me into the great hall.

It feels too much like Bruria. The clothes they force onto me. The dark tapestries. The Borenars lining the walls like they’re part of the stone itself—

…and my uncle’s gaze, heavy with judgment the second it lands on me.

“Hmm,” he mutters, gnawing on what looks like a chicken bone, sprawled on his grotesque throne. “Ina… did you really have to play the disobedient child on a day like this?”

I grit my teeth. “Don’t call me that.”

The Borenar behind me shoves me forward until I stand before the throne. Strangely careful not to step on the long train of the dress —a thin, delicate strip of purple fabric that would tear at the slightest pull.

My shoulders are bare. My arms too. Only an amethyst at my throat and a sheer dark veil on my shoulders keep me from feeling completely exposed. Eosu, of course, looks delighted.

My fists clench again. I would’ve rather died than wear Brurian garments again —but I wasn’t given a choice. The diadem, at least, I refused. It’s still in the creature’s hand behind me.

Eosu notices.

Slowly, he rises, approaching me like a predator. His gaze drips with contempt as he reaches toward the diadem. The Borenar places it in his palm without hesitation.

“You’ve forgotten your most important attribute, Princess…”

Something in me snaps.

Before I even think, I grab the dagger at his belt and press it to his throat. My other hand shoves him back hard enough that he stumbles into the throne, the blade biting just enough to draw blood.

“Listen to me carefully,” I hiss, voice shaking with fury. “I am not —and will never— be your princess. Not yours. Not this kingdom’s.”

He swallows against the blade. The cut widens.

“The next time you force me into one of your ridiculous dresses,” I breathe, “I’ll slit your throat.”

A slow smile spreads across his face. His golden eyes flicker. Behind me, the Borenars shift. A cold hand lands on my shoulder —and then heat surges through me. Sudden. Violent. The creature is thrown backward, crashing into the wall.

Silence.

All of them freeze. Eosu stares at me like I’ve grown another head. And in that moment—

We both understand.

The Borenars obey me.

“It’s impossible…” he whispers, terror cracking through his voice. Of course it’s possible. They obey the royal bloodline —and I outrank him, I always have.

A smile spreads across my lips. The first in days. “I think this is where it ends for you,” I murmur, tightening my grip as the blade sinks deeper into his skin.

Hope rises —sharp, blinding. If he dies… I can command them. Send them back north. End this. All I have to do is—

“Well, that’s rather improper.”

A stranger’s voice comes from behind me. Calm —almost disappointed. I freeze.

I know that voice.

My grip falters —just enough as I turn to look —a very big mistake.

Eosu seizes control again. Before I can react, the butt of a spear slams into my temple. Pain explodes through my skull. I hit the ground hard. The world tilts, my ears ringing, vision dimming into black. For a few seconds, my body won’t respond.

When I finally manage to push myself up, I’m sprawled on the floor, brown hair and purple fabric tangled around me. Nearly every Borenar now has a spear pointed at me —this time, the sharp end forward.

Eosu stands tall again, smoothing his jacket like nothing happened. “Took you some time,” he complains.

I turn my head toward the entrance. Torches cast flickering light over the newcomers —blinding after the darkness. I can barely make out the silhouette of a man walking forward.

His heels echo across the stone, and each step drills painfully into my skull.

He shrugs off his cloak with theatrical ease, letting human soldiers —humans, not Borenars— retrieve it. “I had to be careful,” he sighs.

And then I remember. That voice. “The old kings have set camp to the east. I couldn’t risk being seen.”

My blood runs cold. So I was right. They came.

And Eosu expected them, he’s prepared for them. This is going to be a massacre.

My head throbs, the ground sways beneath me, black spots dancing in my vision —but I force myself upright. I won’t stay down. I won’t look weak, not right now.

Even if everything in me screams that I am. No sleep. No strength. No weapon. And now, not even the slightest bit of control over my enemies.

I can barely see straight when he finally turns toward me. Smiling. The same sadistic smile as my uncle.

And suddenly, I remember everything. Where I’ve seen that face. Why I can’t even breathe.

“Well then… the famed Princess of Bruria.” He steps closer. Slow. Almost gentle. “Do you remember me?”

His brown eyes gleam —brighter than I’ve ever seen them. “It’s an honor to finally meet you properly.”

Prince Taehui stops in front of me —dressed in purple, a fox-shaped brooch pinned to his chest. “I must say… this color suits you far better than black, Princess.”

If you live in Irinian, you will inevitably hear about the royal children.

The people never tire of recounting the Crown Prince’s feats, or cooing over the little princess’s sweetness. All across the capital, their portraits hang —dressed in their finest, painted to perfection. And sooner or later, whether someone tells you outright or you notice it yourself, you’ll see the resemblance between Taehyung, the eldest, and Taehui, the younger. Their faces are so similar, so much it’s outright ridiculous. Like they’re clones of each other. Almost identical. Almost.

Taehyung’s features are sharper —stronger, like they were carved from stone— with a  gaze that cuts straight through you. Taehui’s, on the other hand, is softer, finer, and his eyes always seem lost in some distant dream.

If you live in Irinian, you’ll also hear stories about the second prince. His kindness. His gentleness. His devotion to the people —how he would rather help than rule.

…What they won’t tell you, though, is how hard he hits when he doesn’t get his way.

“Are you going to talk, you filthy little rat?!”

The slap cracks through the room. My head snaps to the side, my cheek burning where his hand struck. I grit my teeth, refusing to bite my tongue. My silence only makes him worse.

A furious growl tears out of him as he grabs me by the straps of my dress, yanking me upright. The fabric tears under his grip, ripping the veil from one of my arms. He pulls me close —too close. Until there’s just a few centimeters between us.

That face.

The one painted so soft, so angelic in every royal portrait —twisted now with rage, a vein pulsing at his temple like it might burst.

I remember that night. Months ago. The spring festival —no, maybe it was the princess’s birthday? I can’t seem to recall. I stopped a Borenar from killing him.

Looks like he never needed saving.

“Tell me,” he growls, the words heavy as a threat, “where Eoso is.”

One second passes. His command hangs in the dust-thick air. Two seconds. Three seconds. 

Slowly, I turn my head and spit the blood pooling in my mouth. Some of it clings to my lips, but I leave it there, not moving to rub it off. No, instead, I lift my chin and meet his gaze, one brow slightly raised.

They made sure I wouldn’t have the strength to fight —I don’t see why I’d have the strength to speak.

Behind him, Eosu sighs. “You won’t get anything out of her, Your Highness.” His glare burns into me over Taehui’s shoulder —heavy, loaded with something I can’t quite grasp. “Neither she nor her brother will speak. It was to be expected. She’s barely said a word since we captured her.”

I frown despite myself, but my uncle offers no explanation —only that same dark look. Taehui explodes.

With a shout of pure rage, he shoves me back down like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. I hit the ground hard. As he paces the room, his heels striking the floor in a rhythm that drills into my skull, I catch Eosu’s expression —and it’s clear he’s thinking the same thing I am about the prince’s petulant reaction, but he says nothing.

“You’re useless!” Taehui snaps. “You were supposed to make her talk!”

“I’m certain we can persuade her with a bit more effort,” Eosu replies calmly, his composure clashing sharply with the prince’s fury.

“I don’t have the time anymore !” Taehui snarls, panic bleeding through the anger. “My father will attack this tower any moment now, and when he does, our cover is gone!”

“The King can do nothing against us. Trust me.”

“Maybe, but I can’t do anything against them!” Taehui shoots back. “You promised me both kingdoms, Jung. Don’t break that promise. You can’t do anything either without the head Borenar!”

…What?

“What?”

The word slips out of me, hoarse and broken.

I push myself up, staring at them both. None of this makes sense. Eosu wants the kingdoms to revive Bruria —so why promise them to Taehui? And the head Borenar… That was the royal family’s most guarded secret. Even I barely knew anything about it.

So how does he— “Oh? Wondering how I know all this, Princess?”

Taehui turns back to me, some of his rage replaced by a mocking kind of amusement. Eosu’s face darkens instantly, and this sight’s enough for me to understand that Taehui was never supposed to know about this.

“You can thank my dear father for that,” Taehui sneers, hands on his hips. “He gave me access to the royal library when I was sixteen, after all. He should’ve removed the books about the old kingdoms.”

My blood runs cold.

So that’s it. The dreamer prince no one took seriously. The one allowed to drift away from power. Maybe someone should’ve looked at him from a little closer.

For a kingdom no one is supposed to know exists, the kings certainly left behind plenty of evidence.

“I need your warriors to end my father’s reign…” Taehui murmurs, stepping closer before crouching in front of me. “And I need the head Borenar to command them. So you’re going to tell me where he is.”

He grabs my chin, forcing my head up. I let my gaze drop instead —to his wrist. My chest tightens. The same warm golden skin as his brother.

I hope Taehyung knew. Or at least expected it. Anything, as long as he doesn’t have to face two betrayals at once.

“Where. Is. Hoseok ?” he demands, trembling with rage.

In this moment, there’s nothing left of Taehyung in him. Not even the eyes. Taehyung’s eyes are always soft. Endlessly so. Taehyung’s grasp on things is always the gentler it can be. Taehyung would chat with clovers all day if he could, not yell at people that way.

When I finally look back up, it’s with a smile that never reaches my lips. He can go to hell if he thinks I’ll say a word. If Eosu doesn’t trust him enough to share our deal, that’s his problem.

Taehui sees it —my refusal. And it drives him mad.

“You know what, Jung?” he mutters suddenly, releasing me with a sharp shove, his tone turning bored. “You’re right. Maybe she just needs a little push. Get to work, I don’t have all day.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eosu about to respond —just as a sharp, piercing sound cuts through the air.

A horn. Long. Sustained.

My body locks up instantly. I know that signal. I still have nightmares about it every night.

Eosu freezes too, head tilted toward the windows. Taehui, on the other hand, looks lost.

“What is that? What’s going on?”

Eosu takes his time before answering, eyes closed as if savoring the sound. “That, Prince… is the sign that our guests have finally arrived.”

I can’t move. Fear coils in my stomach, freezing me from the inside out.

Taehui understands, pointing at me. “Already? That’s impossible —she hasn’t talked!”

“She will,” Eosu says simply. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.” With a flick of his hand, the Borenars seize me, hauling me to my feet. “If I were you, Your Highness,” he adds, almost pleasantly, “I would go hide. They’re coming fast —and I doubt they’ll be pleased to see you here.”

The night air shifts. The wind rises, slipping through cracks in the stone, brushing against us —carrying dust this time. Thick. Visible.

No more smoke. The camp has moved.

They’re coming. And with nothing but open land between them and this tower, they’ll be here in minutes.

Panic surges up my throat, making my legs tremble as I struggle against the grip holding me. More Borenars emerge from the walls, called by Eosu —dozens of them, filling the room, multiplying like a nightmare. Taehui disappears from view, swallowed by them.

The horn sounds again. And beneath it —The thunder of hundreds of horses. Closer.

And closer, more with every second.

Eosu gestures dismissively, and the Borenars drag me away. I scream, I fight —but I have nothing left. My voice breaks. My strength is gone. It doesn’t matter. They won’t even slow down.

Eosu doesn’t look at me. He stands by the window, smiling dreamily. “I must admit… I’m quite eager to finally meet your dear prince, Ina.”

“YOU SWORE!” I scream. “You promised you wouldn’t hurt them!”

Taehyung flashes through my mind —his grief when Jimin disappeared, that last smile he gave me. I realize with horror I can’t remember his last words to me.

Tears burn my eyes. I struggle, hit, scream —useless.

Please. Anyone but him.

At the last second, just before the doors close, my uncle turns to me. His serpent eyes gleam gold —and whatever hope I had left dies.

“Our agreement was that I wouldn’t harm them, Princess,” he says softly. “They are the ones attacking me. I’m merely defending myself.”

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