Rain was a welcome sight in the land of the Hittites. The drought had brought this once-feared empire to the brink of collapse. Yes, the rain was a blessing, even if it meant that no work could be done outside. The storms here were merciless, unforgiving to those who dared challenge their fury. All but one.

Taehyung never rested. Not even when the sky wept. He had to remain vigilant, his body and mind honed for the moment he would be called—or when he would need to disappear. He did not belong to the empire. No, he belonged to the land itself.

Empires craved warriors like him, and kings paid handsomely for his skill, but he never stayed. He refused to be shackled by empty promises and fleeting desires.

Even in the storm, his movements were precise—silent, fluid, unyielding. Death did not wait for the skies to clear, and neither did he. His blade sliced through the rain, the steel an extension of his arm. He moved like a phantom, his steps weightless as he spun, crouched, and struck at invisible foes. His dance of steel was hypnotic to those who watched.

And there were always those who watched.

Some with longing, desperate to claim him, to bind him in gold and call him theirs. Others with envy, wishing they could move as effortlessly as he did.

Then there was the general.

Taehyung had only met General Min once—the day he was contracted to serve the crown. The man was a warlord, a strategist, a force that made even Taehyung hesitate. His presence was a quiet storm, his eyes cold calculations behind a mask of discipline.

General Min did not tolerate weakness. The barracks were not for the faint of heart; only the strongest emerged as warriors of the empire. But even the general had his limits. He would not allow his men to train in the rain, to risk illness or injury that could weaken his forces.

And yet, here Taehyung was.

Perhaps that was why the general's gaze was locked onto him now, watching as he moved through the downpour. There was no mistaking the tension in his stance, the silent disapproval burning in his eyes.

Taehyung exhaled, rolling his shoulders. He already knew.

He was in trouble.

___________

The rain had not stopped.

Taehyung could hear the heavy droplets drumming against the stone walls of the training grounds as he sheathed his sword. He did not turn immediately when he sensed another's presence behind him—he already knew who it was. The silence was its own kind of warning.

Then, finally, a voice.

"You do not take orders well, do you?"

General Min's tone was calm, but the weight behind his words was impossible to ignore.

Taehyung straightened, slowly turning to face him. Even through the curtain of rain, the general’s expression was unreadable—his dark eyes locked onto Taehyung with the same sharp intensity as a drawn blade.

"I take orders when they make sense," Taehyung replied smoothly, though he knew the response would not please the man before him.

A flicker of something—irritation? Amusement?—crossed General Min’s face, gone before Taehyung could place it.

"And does defying me in the rain make sense to you?"

Taehyung only smirked. “I suppose not. But it does seem to piss you off well enough.”

General Min sneered. He was holding back—why, Taehyung didn’t know. A narrow, dimly lit hallway wasn’t exactly ideal for a sparring match, but he wouldn’t mind testing the general’s skill. The man had a reputation, after all.

"The crown contracted you for a reason. Don’t make me end your pathetic existence before your purpose has been met."

Taehyung chuckled. “If my existence is so pathetic, why can none of your so-called ‘best’ stand against me for more than five minutes? I may be from this land, but I do not answer to you.” He tilted his head slightly, watching for a reaction. “I know how men like you work. You desire, and you take, without ever thinking about the consequences you leave behind.”

A flicker of something crossed General Min’s face—irritation? Amusement? It vanished too quickly to tell.

Most men withered under his command. He had broken warlords and shattered seasoned warriors with a single order. But Taehyung—Taehyung did not yield.

And that infuriated him.

But it also intrigued him.

_________

The hall was packed with nobles and warriors from every corner of the kingdom. Taehyung, the so-called honored guest, kept to the shadows. He had been to too many of these.

They never ended well.

Someone always tried to lure him into their cause, whispering of gold and glory. Others sought to seduce him, desperate for the prestige of bedding a warrior of his caliber.

This was no different.

Taehyung wasn’t surprised when a man approached him—only that it was the prince and not the King himself.

"The whispers must be altered. They forgot to mention how pleasing you are to the eye."

Taehyung’s expression remained unreadable . "Your Highness, your flattery is unnecessary. I have already agreed to settle your father’s dispute. But I do not see the King. I was hoping to discuss the duration of my stay."

He bowed, his gaze flickering to the figure standing just behind the prince. Dressed in simpler, more subdued clothing, the man was watching him intently.

A bad feeling settled in Taehyung’s gut.

Prince Seokjin smiled easily, his voice smooth as silk.

"Forgive me for being the one to tell you, but my father was feeling rather… tired from his hunt. He has requested that I entertain you tonight while he finds his own entertainment elsewhere."

The man behind him made a sound—a soft, restrained grunt, as if barely holding back laughter. It did its job. Seokjin exhaled as if suddenly remembering something.

"Ah, I nearly forgot to introduce you. This is my brother, Namjoon."

Taehyung stilled.

Brother?

The King had only one legitimate son—Prince Seokjin. The others had vanished, removed from the line of succession.

So how had this one survived?

A test, then.

"Excuse my older brother’s lack of awareness," Namjoon said smoothly. His voice was rich, composed. " I am an illegitimate son of the crown. My mother was one of our King’s favored subjects, which made him… tolerant of me. I proved myself useful, and so I was allowed to live."

He smiled a slow, knowing smile. “At least, for now.”

Taehyung didn’t miss the implication. For now.

And just like that, the seed was planted.

“My father sure has a way of discarding his tools once they have served their purpose. Especially ones who are so easy to lose to another, better handler. Perhaps someone who doesn’t even look like a treat.”

Taehyung studied the two brothers before him, their words rolling off him like rain against armor. Their insistence that he was merely a tool, that the King would discard him when he was no longer useful, was nothing he hadn’t heard before.

"Focus. Focus. It's all nonsense." He had heard these words from his own lips, when he fought for kings and warlords alike—too many times to count. But something in the way they said it now… It felt different. Something about the weight of their words… it was unsettling.

"Your highness," he said with a smirk, swirling the untouched wine in his goblet. "I know better than to listen to those who speak in riddles. If you have something useful to say, say it plainly."

Seokjin chuckled, but there was something knowing in his eyes. "We only wish to warn you."

"Warn me? About what?"

Namjoon leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something softer, more dangerous. "That you are not the first warrior our father has praised." He glanced around the room, lowering his voice to a whisper. "And yet, do you see any of them here tonight?"

A flicker of annoyance passed through Taehyung’s features, but he refused to let their words take root. I’ve heard this before…

He downed his wine in one go, setting the cup aside with an air of finality.

"I have fought for kings and warlords alike," he said. "And I am still here."

Seokjin hummed. "For now."

T he words hung in the air between them. Taehyung scoffed, pushing off the wall. "If you’ll excuse me, your highnesses, I have had enough of politics for one night."

He turned on his heel, leaving the brothers behind.

But even as he walked through the grand hall, the distant sound of music and laughter fading behind him, their words lingered.

The rain had not let up.

By the time Taehyung reached the training grounds, the steady downpour had driven nearly everyone inside. The torches flickered against the wind, the scent of wet earth filling the air.

Good. He needed the silence.

Removing his cloak, he unsheathed his blade, rolling his shoulders before falling into practiced movements. The rhythmic swing of his sword, the sharp sound of steel slicing through the air—this was where his mind found peace.

And yet, peace did not come so easily tonight.

"You are not the first."

"Do you see any of them here tonight?"

With a frustrated breath, Taehyung swung harder, faster—only stopping when he caught movement in his periphery. He turned, blade still in hand.

He stopped, not seeing anyone. He chalked it up to a play in the light. Perhaps he had had enough training for one day. He was tired and needed to rest. The barracks were nearly silent at this hour, save for the sound of rain against the wooden beams. Taehyung sat on the edge of a training platform, sharpening his blade. The steady motion of the whetstone against steel was soothing, grounding. The words of the prince and his bastard brother were nothing but noise—easily discarded.

"The King discards those who outlive their usefulness."

"You are just another tool in his collection."

Their warnings had no weight. Taehyung was no fool; he had worked under kings, warlords, and self-proclaimed gods. He knew how the game was played. But something about their insistence lingered in the back of his mind, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Was I really just a tool? A mercenary bought and paid for until I was no longer needed?

A sudden shift in the air made him still. Someone was near.

“I wouldn’t put too much faith in the King’s favor, if I were you.”

The voice was quiet, lilting, almost amused. Taehyung didn’t have to look up to know who it was. Vizier Hoseok.

Taehyung sighed, continuing his work. “You too?”

A soft chuckle. “Not at all. I’m merely passing on wisdom.” The vizier stepped into view, dressed in his signature robes, hands folded neatly behind his back. “You remind me of someone, you know.”

Taehyung said nothing, but his grip on the hilt of his sword tightened.

“A warrior. Fearless, skilled beyond compare. The King adored him—promised him riches, land, a future.” Hoseok tilted his head slightly. “I’m sure you can imagine how that ended.”

Taehyung set the whetstone down . “What happened?”

Hoseok’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “He was too good. Too strong. The King began to wonder... what would happen if his precious mercenary decided he wanted something more?” He exhaled as if in pity. “A poisoned cup, an unfortunate accident on the battlefield—who can say? He disappeared before anyone could ask too many questions.”

Taehyung knew a half-truth when he heard one. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Believe what you want,” Hoseok said easily, already turning to leave. “But I wonder… when your contract is fulfilled, will the King let you walk away?”

He paused at the threshold. “Or will you disappear, just like the others?”

The silence left behind was deafening.

For the first time, Taehyung wasn’t sure if he could brush this off so easily.

________

Taehyung had a horrible night. His dreams were plagued by scenes of betrayal that felt all too familiar to him. He could still see his parents' eyes when they realized their manipulation of their precious son had gone too far. The day they lost their heir because of their own greed for power.

Perhaps he should see someone to help him sleep or to get rid of these dreams that haunted him in the silence of the night. It didn’t help that the whispers had gotten worse. The servants had been talking about how they wondered if Taehyung would be like the past mercenaries that mysteriously disappeared or if he was special and not threatening enough for the King to keep him around.

The two brothers had approached him again, stating that they felt he was far too valuable to lose and that if he gave them the word, they could help keep him alive. In their words, “We have survived so far, we could help you too.”

He, obviously, denied them. He had no interest in betraying the contract he had. That would 

lead to certain death for him, and no one else would ever trust him again. But the whispers didn’t stop.

“Taehyung! Focus, we can’t lose the king's new favorite! Where are those moves you so proudly displayed in the rain a few days ago? Again!”

General Min surely woke up on the wrong side of his bed. He was ruthless today in their training. He had changed Taehyung's sparring partner three times already, not giving the latter any breaks in between.

“Hey man, you okay? You have to focus, the King is watching, and he only keeps those who can be controlled. At this moment, you look like a bad investment.”

The kid was nice, strong, and decent in sparring, but he was also kind of annoying. That was enough to get Taehyung going, and he did not hold back against the poor kid. Hit after hit, he backed the poor boy into a corner. If they were using real weapons, he would long be dead. He was ripped away by a furious-looking General, only then did he come back to himself and see the poor boy, who could not be any older than nineteen, in a heap on the floor.

“Stay in line. Take a walk and meet me in my office. Now!”

As he left the courtyard, he didn’t even dare to look back at the mess he left behind. He knew the King had watched his little outburst and he just hoped he didn’t fuck up his own contract. The whispers were getting to him. He needed to explain himself to the King. He had to look submissive in a way to save his own ass.

“I wish to have an audience with the king.”

“That would not be possible at this stage. His Majesty is not available anytime soon.”

“Well, when will he be available? I have much to discuss with him.”

“That I do not know. Perhaps talking to the High Priest or even the prince would help? Even the Seer would be a good option.”

“Why would they be options over the King? I don’t understand why he doesn’t even have five minutes to talk. He paid for me, and yet he has yet to talk to me.”

Just then, the General walked in and dismissed the other occupants of the room. Hoseok soon followed and silently made his way to the corner of the room. Almost as if he wanted to be but a shadow to the impending conversation .

“What the hell is wrong with you? You come in here and show off your amazing techniques, and then you go out and nearly kill one of my men? What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Now, Yoongi, you know we were warned about this.”

“I honestly do not care, Hoseok, so shut the hell up. He clearly has no control over himself. He is reckless and a ticking time bomb that could explode at any moment and take all of us with him.”

The general, or Yoongi, was nearly out of breath by the time he stopped talking. For the first time since he stepped foot in this kingdom, Taehyung saw emotions other than disappointment on the general's face. It was quietly comforting to know the man was capable of feelings.

“I apologize for my behavior, and I would apologize personally to the King as well, but he has yet to hold an audience with me. My mind has been plagued by whispers, and I have not been sleeping well.”

Hoseok nearly scoffed at Taehyung's words.

“Forget about an audience. The King will probably not see you. You are a tool, not one of his subjects. Not even the general gets to speak to the King. He only speaks to the prince, like most of us do. You can trust Seokjin and Namjoon. They are good people.”

Yeah, Taehyung didn’t know if he could believe that.

________

The six of them gathered in the dimly lit chamber, far from the prying eyes of the kingdom. The air was thick with the weight of ambition, each of them craving something different but equally powerful. Around a circular table, they sat in silence, all waiting for one to speak first.

Seokjin and Namjoon sat side by side, their fingers subtly brushing beneath the table in a quiet show of unity. They were more than just allies in this scheme—lovers, bound not by blood, but by their shared ambition and devotion to each other. Together, they knew they could accomplish anything. Their bond was their strength.

Hoseok was the first to break the silence, his voice low and steady, filled with the experience of a man who had orchestrated more than his share of schemes. “We all know what’s at stake here. Taehyung is no fool, and he will not be manipulated easily. We need to earn his trust, little by little, if we are to succeed.”

Yoongi, who had been pacing the room, stopped abruptly and turned to face Hoseok. His sharp gaze flickered to the others as he spoke, the tension in his voice palpable. “ I’m not here just to earn his trust. I need him under my control. His strength, his raw power—it’s unlike anything I’ve seen before. I can’t let that slip away.”

Jimin, who had been quiet up until now, spoke with a soft yet ominous tone. “ You’re right. His potential is limitless. The prophecies speak of him as a key to unlocking power beyond any of us. He doesn’t know it yet, but he is destined for greatness. We will guide him, make him believe that fate has chosen him for something extraordinary.”

Namjoon’s voice interrupted, calm but with an underlying certainty. “We need to show him that he can have everything. That’s how we get him to trust us. Power, a kingdom at his side. I can offer him that. I can show him that he belongs with me, that we can take what’s ours together.”

Jungkook, always the one to see things from a different perspective, spoke last. “And once he’s by our side, we will need to give him something greater. The gods are watching us, and they demand more than power. We will make him divine. He will become more than just a man. He will be worshipped. ”

The room fell silent for a moment as each of them thought about the future they would build with Taehyung at its center.

Seokjin’s voice cut through the stillness, soft but unwavering. “We all want him, in our own way. But we need him to want us in return. We need him to trust us, to choose us. Only then will we truly have him as our protector, our consort, the one who can help us secure everything.”

Namjoon nodded in agreement, his gaze steady on Seokjin. “ We will show him that we are the only ones who truly care for him. We will make sure he never feels abandoned. Together, we’ll ensure that he sees us as his path to everything he could ever want.”

Hoseok smiled slyly from his corner of the room. “And I will make sure that every whisper he hears, every rumor that reaches him, brings him closer to us. No one will be able to sway him away from our side. Not when I’m in control of the story.”

They shared a look, their individual desires intertwined in a web of manipulation, each of them knowing they would stop at nothing to gain Taehyung’s loyalty.

Seokjin leaned in slightly toward Namjoon, their hands brushing once more. “He’ll be ours. Together.”

Namjoon met his gaze, their bond unbreakable. “Together. Always.”

With those final words, the pact was made. The six of them would stop at nothing to make Taehyung theirs. Each of them would use their own talents to mold him, to manipulate him until he was firmly in their grasp.

As they all sat around the table, strategizing, Hoseok’s gaze flickered over to Namjoon and Seokjin. He knew more than anyone about Taehyung’s past, and that made him dangerous in ways they still didn’t fully understand.

“ We know Taehyung’s strength is unmatched,” Hoseok began, his voice low, “but it’s more than just his skills with a blade. His blood runs deeper than he realizes. The King may think he’s simply a mercenary, but there’s more to him. His parents... they tried to mold him into a weapon, one that could bring entire empires to their knees. But he ran from them before they could finish what they started.”

Jimin nodded, his eyes flickering with a strange knowing. “He may not remember it, but the mark he bears on his skin, the power that blooms in his veins when he fights—those are the remnants of his bloodline. We can unlock that power and make him believe it’s his destiny. But only if he trusts us.”

Seokjin, who had been silent for the longest, leaned forward, eyes narrowing with focus. “He doesn’t know what he is. But we will show him. He will be the key to my rule. To all of our ambitions.”

Namjoon, his tone calm yet calculated, added, “Once we have him, once he believes in us, his hidden potential will be ours to wield. His bloodline, his abilities—they’re a path to everything we’ve ever dreamed of. Power. Control. A kingdom. All of it.”

Hoseok glanced at Jimin and then back at the group, a wicked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “ We’ll make him want us. We’ll make him believe he needs us. Then, we unlock the potential buried deep within him. He won’t even know what hit him.”

The others nodded in agreement, each of them fully aware of the power they could wield with Taehyung at their side. They were one step closer to making him theirs.