he is king -- whether or not he wants to be.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: drama words: 750 contains: historical au, the dreaded, the inevitable, the unexpected.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 17. start from the beginning?

A bundle of incense clutched in a tight fist, Yoongi stands in front of the funeral chamber with trepidation trickling in his chest.

He doesn’t know how long he has been standing here, only that the ministers are undoubtedly staring at him, waiting for his next command. It’s a feeling he still has yet to fully get accustomed to, but he must learn to take it. He must.

  you were a child with a lot to say , and not the words to say it. tore your dress and picked the sword first and formost, walked out in the garden to come back with muddy dress and ignored the nanny calling a name that did not belong to you. ‘  ⬛ ⬛ ⬛ ⬛ is such a little tomboy ! ’ the maids would chatter, about how you’d make such a fine knight one day, like your brother. 

 glenn followed you out into the garden one day, watched you swing your sword for a few moments, corrected your posture, and watched you frown. he always knew when something was wrong. he always knew. barely seven years old, legs bare and frown creased, you had the intention, but not the words.

 ‘ what’s wrong? ‘ hushed and gentle, he asked. you had not the words until that moment.

 ‘ i think i’m a boy. i don’t want... to be a girl. ‘ seven years old, and you didn’t know what the world had to throw at you, but you knew enough to be scared. glenn had never turned you away before, but something in you still feared ... something.

 ‘ sure. what should i call you, then? ‘ the relief you felt was heavy, not light. not anything like that. 

 ‘ felix. ‘ you’d read in a book that it meant lucky in some language long dead, and you’d like a name that brought you good things. maybe... it would bring glenn good things too. and it was as simple as that. no questions asked ( not from glenn, anyway. ) ; and if there was one thing you learned on that day, it was that life goes on.

 the fear you had felt had been so aching, so absolute, so terrible, and yet your brother had just taken your new name and replaced the rotting one your parents had pressed on your forehead at birth. and, well... if glenn said something, the whole household had to as well.

 there were no more dresses. the word tomboy didn’t rest like a shackle on your ankles anymore. dimitri and sylvain and ingrid accepted it as easily as anything. your father slipped up a lot, but... you could forgive him. glenn would always correct him , anyway. ( years later, and your father didn’t slip up anymore. in the absence of glenn, he needed a son. you just happened to be the closest in reach. ) 

 life went on. life went on. life went on. 

 felix: noun ( name. ) from a roman cognomen meaning ‘lucky, successful’ in latin. now here’s the truth : luck doesn’t exist. fate doesn’t exist. words don’t mean anything, and names certainly don’t either. your name had no bearing on how happy your brother was. did your name save him in duscur ? did your choice of sylables matter beyond your childish wishes ?

 ( you were born with something wild and angry in your blood that glenn did not have, something an ancestor or cruel god decided to give you instead of him : if he had had it, would have he survived ? you asked yourself that over and over and over, thirteen years old and so deep in grief that you could feel that disgusting thing in your blood burning and your eyes glowing and and and and and and )

( you learned that day, thirteen years old, suddenly heir of a mourning house that had never expected to have a son like you at its head, that fate doesn’t exist, and if god does, then she doesn’t care. the only thing that can change anything is the force of human will and the strength with which they persue their goals. )

one word starters / accepting.

 you always thought the stars were beautiful. it was one of your first real memories outside of the lab: looking up at the stars and thinking: they are beautiful.

 you didn’t really have a concept of beauty. it was just the first word that came to mind, in that one moment. later, you were shown things that humans would describe as beautiful in the ego development section of the lab: pictures of waterfalls, flowers, statues, women in long dresses. they were all very pleasant on the eyes, you supposed. you liked looking at them. the colours were bright, and the shapes interesting. but none of them had inspired the same kind of... awe, you supposed, as the stars. 

 you liked the feeling of being small, of being able to look upwards and know that you hardly mattered at all. this became more and more of a feeling as time went on, as they told you that you were the last one, that your sisters had been failures, and you would be too, if you didn’t summon your persona, soon.

 the ego development got more violent. they didn’t show you beautiful things anymore. just... sad things. ugly things. violent things. they watched you with beady eyes, like they wanted something. you didn’t know what it was, so you gave no reaction. 

 you heard them one day, talking in hushed tones: it isn’t responding. maybe labrys was just a fluke? but man, it’s the last one we can make! if it doesn’t summon a persona soon, we’ll have to end the project.

 you knew what they meant. you had thought you had known, anyway. death was foreign, but you’d known the concept of not being. you didn’t want to. not be, that is. 

 and they’d end the project if you failed - all those sisters who’d never come after you if you failed. you had a lot riding on your shoulders. 

 ( years later, you’ll consider if you were supposed to hear that conversation because - )

 palladium burst round you in a wild spinning light, pale, and bright, like the stars. and then they gave you a name.

 aigis.

 the shield. 

 with a name, and not just a number, the world began to make sense, and they began to be kind to you again. it was nice, to be needed, in that small way. it lasted all of two weeks, though, before it all fell apart.

 ( bridge, dark, heavy wings beating, a child’s grieving empty eyes, your empty heart, and then - silence. ) 

 the stars look the same as they did ten years ago. so much has changed, but the stars remain bright and distant and cold. and beautiful. 

 now you have a true concept of beauty, and you can truly appreciate how the stars are just that. 

 all of S.E.E.S are gathered outside in the air, breath misting in great clouds. it’s good to take a night off tartarus, you think. it’s good to get a rest. yukari and junpei and akihiko-senpai stand with minako and minato, ken trying not to yawn behind them, as koromaru barks at their feet. mitsuru-san will be here soon, fuuka’s taking the night off to nap. it feels... nice. to be part of this.

 you’re standing off to the side, watching them from the side, and minako’s face does something like scrunch up as she laughs, and something... happens. steam flies out of your headphones, and your heart clenches. 

 it’s... weird. you wanted to be near her, because it was your mission. you’re not sure what your mission is anymore, but you want to be by her side. it’s not an order, and there’s no logical sense to it, but... it’s still a desire. 

 you’ve been drawn to beauty all your life, you think. your first look at the stars. the brightness of the sea. the streetlights in the dark hour. minako.

 things start to make sense, a little. you’re at least a little self aware, after all, as well as aware of human pop culture. you’ve watched enough of those cheesy romcoms on the dorm tv to understand what’s going on here. it seems so illogical that it could happen to you, that you had the capacity to feel this. but... well, minako is beautiful, and you were made to appreciate beauty. it’s stupid, and you don’t deserve it, but being near her makes you wonderfully, painfully happy.