#taehyung draft

It’s not like the two of you were strangers. It was the opposite in fact. Taehyung knew you. Like, knew you knew you. At one point it had even been you who asked for Taehyung’s hand in marriage. Something about never having a chance at your own throne, what with being 13th in line and all, lit a fire under your ass and made you inherently more competitive and willing to marry into power than the rest of your siblings. But alas, you were nothing if not the youngest (and weakest) of your lineage, and had little to offer Taehyung in your patronage and he made no effort in hiding the fact when rejecting you.

“I might as well set my country on fire myself,” he snorted. “Besides, doesn’t your kind eat their husband after childbirth?” 

It was an outdated and forgotten (almost) custom. You were a matriarch and the men were nothing short of disposable. It wasn’t something you’d ever thought twice of, but also, not something you had prepared to discern to the opposite sex, especially to the one you were trying to convince to hold your hand in marriage.

“It’s not like we do it for sport. It’s to ensure the bloodline...” You catch yourself. “You know what, you wouldn’t have to worry about me killing you if just don’t die.” 

Taehyung rolls his eyes. There was nothing dainty about you. Despite your small stature you were bold--and he hated it. You were nothing like the dragons back home who waited for his return with gifts they made from hand, clothes to warm him all and ornaments he couldn’t wear because they were spun so heavy with gold. 

No, you were of a different breed. If he could blame your heretic bloodline, he would, but not even any of the dragons he met from the east held a flame as flamboyant and rambunctious as yours.

“Or you could have Odette. Sure, she’s a little older, divorced with kids, but at least you know she’s fertile! A little poke in the right hole and she’ll pop out babies left and right. They might even be yours! That’s what this is about, isn’t it? An heir? Solidifying your bloodline to the thrown? Nothing like a little insurance policy for your wedding gift, eh? Should I wrap the baby with a bow? Signed, sealed, and delivered.”

“___,” the prince breathes.  

“Okay, fine,” you shrug. “Bastard kids aren’t your thing. I get it. Illegitimate claims to the throne, plans to overthrow you, plotting, bloodshed, death, god, child support. I get it. But how about Jessi? She’s nice!” 

“__, if you don’t shut up, so help me God, I’ll have the guard sew your mouth shut until it’s your turn to say ‘I do.’“

“Well I don’t. So don’t bother,” you say begrudgingly and through your teeth. You try to shove past him but since when has Taehyung been so... sturdy? You could have sworn in the last few months since you’ve seen him, you’ve grown your own three inches in height and that was before putting on the ridiculous set of heels your mother laid out. Still, Taehyung towers over you, both metaphorically and physically.

Taehyung’s kingdom lies to the west, the land of Vassallus. It’s the only kingdom in the east accessible by sea so his people are the first to receive all the goods and medicine off the ships, which in all fairness, sounds delightful on the surface, but they’re also the first to get attacked so there’s that.

You guess that’s why Taehyung here now. To find prospects of allies for Vassallus’ next war. Yes, prospects. You use the plural term, because there’s no way in hell Taehyung is shacking up with just one dragon for the rest of his life. You caught him just last night, dick deep in one of his own guardswomen. Didn’t even phase him when you accidentally dropped a bucket of ice over his head because you thought she was getting attacked by a wild animal (oops). 

“I don’t think you understand the situation here.” He speaks and you have to crane your neck up to look at him he’s so close. “You don’t have a choice.”

“Well kick me back into the 16th century and call me a dog, Taehyung. The hell you mean I don’t have a choice? You’ve come to Dawn for safety, remember? You need me.” You enunciate on the last bit not because you’re bitter, but because you’re better.

“Like I’ve never done you a solid?”

“Lighting my ass on fire in gym class when I bled through my pad is not doing me a solid Taehyung. Besides, I already paid you back for that one. Without me, you would have never learned you could survive a 100 story drop out the window.”

“It is when Kim Namjoon, subject of all your frivolous affections, is the one who found the bloody pad on floor after dodgeball.”

“So you burn my pants to a crisp? The good old jacket around the waist wouldn't have done the trick?”

“What can I say,” he shrugs. “I’m innovative.” 

“Are you shitting me? My ass cheeks were the lock screen of every guy’s phone for an entire semester. AND I DIDN’T EVEN HAVE A CHANCE TO GROW THEM YET!” 

“Please, like that was actually your ass. You’re the one who had it professionally digitally altered and forwarded to every guy within a three kingdom radius so they wouldn’t see what your real ass looked like because,” he pauses because he’s a dramatic little shit. “Oh yeah, it doesn’t exist!”

“AGAIN, NO I DIDN’T KNOW WHAT A SQUAT WAS CIRCA 10th GRADE.”

“What about that time -”

“Enough!” The queen commands. You had all but forgotten who’s presence you were parading your top 10 proudest moments in, a mistake you were all but certain to make again. You knew a matriarch when you heard one. 

Nora, founder of Dawn, queen of abandoned dragons, and more excitably, your mother, though you did your best to remind her that the title could be more than a little misleading when read aloud. You were her daughter. Her birth daughter. The only dragon bled from her womb and yet, the youngest of your sisters. Not to mention, the ugliest. 

“We’re honored, young Prince of Vassallus,” and you chuckle because you’re sure that your mother can’t even remember his name. “That you would even consider Dawn as an ally." Because were they really? The last time Vassallus sent over a marriage proposal in the name of union and asylum, your mother sent the messenger back with a open case of swine flu and blamed it on his hygiene. The closest thing the two countries have in common are offspring that share a mutual distaste in each other. "Your presence in Dawn has certainly,” Nora pauses as she eyes the guardswoman from last night, “boosted morale.” Another burst of giggles from the back and awkward shifting on guardswoman’s end. “But I implore you. If you must marry from Dawn, choose another. I’m sure you’ll find any one of them more to your liking.” Your sisters shift in their seats. “___ is unarmed. She hasn’t even found her true form yet. She’d be of no use to you in Vassallus.”

“Exhibit A.” You point to yourself. "Ugly as can be. Tiny too! Is it really my fault I can’t transfigure into something ten times my size? Not for my lack of trying. I do try to fit in around here. Been giving it my bestest.” You hold to thumbs up and a flashy gummy smile. Taehyung swears the air just got lighter and coughs to regain his breath.

Your sisters are big, like the entire size of a Boeing 777 aircraft big. Which makes it even worse because if there are two things a dragon should be it’s big and beautiful, like a good set of tits, but you’re lacking in both departments. 

“You speak out of turn my child,” she says that part motherly but the latter not so much. “Now sit.” You will yourself to resist her command but your body betrays you. Not even you are immune to the command of a matriarch. 

“I implore you to reconsider,” she clears her throat which is also code for ‘let’s get this shit over with because I’m done with the formalities.’ “___ is not yet ready to be wed. There are other options.”

“None like her.” 

You choke on your own spit and your sisters hold back their giggles. If Taehyung wasn’t so hellbent on making your entire childhood his own personal curated version of hell, what with tying your piggytails into knots around the merry go round and pushing you off the highest slide before cockblocking you from, oh I don’t know any other dragon ever, you’d perhaps find it endearing, heroic, heart-warming even, but nonetheless Taehyung is nothing short of Satan’s incarnate and Hell would have to freeze over twice before you ever willingly stepped foot in Vassallus.

“If your concern is of the now, then Vassallus is willing to wait. Three winters time. In the meanwhile, she will return with me to Vassallus where she will be learn the Vassallus way. There are,” the prince pauses to find the right words. “Customs that must be adhered to. Things she must learn.”

“Before I off myself the day of my wedding? Yeah, no thanks. Hard pass. Here, take Irene.” You shove Irene to the front and she makes a face at you. “She breathes two colors of fire. It’s a great party trick. Your counsel will love it.”

You hear Taehyung’s patience wear thin. “The King asks for the youngest. Makes for longer terms of agreement, don’t you think?”

“What are we dominos? And I’m last in line? I had a cheeseburger for lunch! My arteries are practically all plaque! I’m sure I’ll croak before Yeri. Look at her! She skips out on carbs for fun!”

Yeri doesn’t look up from filing her claws. “I’d rather chew off my own wings.”

“See? That’s not a no.”

“It’s implied,” she blows of the dust of her newly pointed claws, sharp enough to kill. “Besides, I’m 300 summers older than you. That’s like  3.15 x 10 ^ 9 more grains of rice consumed than you by default. I’d say my arteries are shot to shit.”

You make it through the entirely of your 12 siblings, arguing as to why she deserved an adorned life of being locked away in celibacy and iron tower before exhausting yourself. A feat in of itself because before today you had to make it a point to talk to at least four different sisters a day when you realized there were just too many of you to sit through an enjoyable Sunday dinner. 

“Well,” you gulp, now rightfully ten times more nervous than you began. “So much for 750 more years of sisterhood. I guess I’ll just die.” The chair topples over as you fall back into your seat. Not even the furniture of this country has you back.

You can hear rather than see your mother’s eyes hitting the back of her head, she rolls them so hard. 

“Wonderful,” Taehyung breathes out, loosing his collar shirt. He’s unphased by the rejections and subtle jabs to his ego. What does bother him, however, is the fact that in exactly three winters he has to wed the dramatic potato fried fuck currently playing dead on the floor.

You’re fresh out of options and not above begging for your life. You’re just about to change tactics because even if Taehyung was genuine in his search, which he’s not, the last thing you want is to be some prize bride used as collateral against your mother or to keep Dawn on a leash. You aren’t your mother’s favorite, that much you know and have come to terms with. Really. But she was she really going to pawn you off for the sake of getting rid of you? Were you really the most expendable? 

“Three winters,” she says to the barely pubescent dragon in front of her. “I’ll give you three winters to convince __ into a civil marriage. But if you should fail -”

“I won’t,” Taehyung deadpans. 

“Yes, well I suppose patience is a virtue and the king and queen have raised you to take what you want when you want without repercussions but when you fail,” your mother’s words have you at the edge of your seat. “You will return her to Dawn in one piece. Do you understand?”

“I think you have mistaken my proposal for your daughter’s hand in marriage as something I have control over.” Taehyung’s words linger in the air. “There is a war coming,” the prince reminds the people in room the reason of his visit. “And while Dawn chooses to sit on the sidelines, Vassallus will take the first hit from the west. We can’t be bothered to watch our backs and line our other borders when the humans bring swords carved to kill us.”

“Lies!” Shouts someone in the crowd, probably one of your mother’s male advisors that needed to release some testosterone to prove his existence. “Kill a dragon?” A gasp of disbelief. “That’s impossible!”

Chatter disperses among the Queen Room. It was illegal to kill a dragon. More so, it was nearly impossible. Only dragons could kill dragons.

“Tell that to my brother who has seen it,” the young prince announces. “Fought it.” He grabs something from inside that hideous royal cape he’s wearing and flings it to the floor. “Forged from one of our own. Dragon’s blood.”

The black sword doesn’t look like much. There’s nothing outstanding in it’s grip or blade. Even the tip seemed dull. Compared to the sheer thickness of a dragons scale coat, it was unremarkable at best--but if there were ever times where you doubted yourself as a dragon in your failure to shift, it has been to rest now.

A terrifying shriek emits from the sword. A pitch high enough to burst your eardrums if it weren’t for the hands that come to cover your ears and turn you into her dress as you collapse onto your knees. It’s Jisoo. It smells like Jisoo, strawberries and dew.

The room erupts in an uproar, cries barely audible over the sword’s incessant squealing. There are at least four unconscious guard dragons and a dozen more brought to their knees. Your mother flinches and looks away from the metal, her own ears bleeding.

“Make it stop! Make it stop!” You can’t quite recognize which one of your sisters cries out, but in your heart you knows it’s one of them. They’re hurting.

Irene sends an anguished long blaze to it, one white hot in flame, but the vibrating squeal does not cease. Even when it does, you can still hear reminiscence of its shrill in your ear. The earth feels off it’s axis. And it takes more than a second for you to grasp the hand of the situation.

“So we have an understanding now do we?” Taehyung returns the cursed, screaming weapon into its sheath. “I’m not here to take a bride. I’m here to take a prisoner. Vassallus will not have its borders attacked while protecting yours.”

Taehyung leaves the courtroom. He thinks he’s won. “Pack. We leave at dawn.”

-

You lied. There are three things a dragon should be: big, beautiful and a raging bitch, because that’s apparently what gets you to matriarch. 

“I can’t believe mom would sell me like cattle.” You’re ranting. “And not even her favorite cattle because what am I worth, really? I can’t cook!” As if it’s a sudden realization. “Or clean!” As least not in the way that it makes that anyone would certainly approve of. “I can’t even breathe fire to keep myself warm at night. Sana still comes in my room and does it for me!”

“Sis,” Rose remarks. “I feel for you, really, I do. But if there’s one of us who would be able to get through three years in Vassallus without ripping off one of their heads and causing an all out Eastern War, I’d put my gold on you too.”

“Cheap shot, Rose,” you cry and your eyes widen because why didn’t they get it? You didn’t want to get married, least of all to Taehyung, Prince of the All Things Bad. You’re 99.99% sure he hates you still and 100% sure he’d kill you on sight if it came down to his country or your freedom. All you wanted was to stay here, in Dawn, and  maybe if you weren’t ever going to be able to shift into a dragon, at least you could live out the rest of your days with the strongest of them. 

“Because I’m puny? The runt? Or is it because you don’t think I’ll ever be able to shift like the rest of you?”

“She didn’t mean it like that,” your sister implores, leveling with you and wrapping her arms around your thin shoulder. No one ever said it out loud, but you were ugly. Dragons of Dawn were regarded as the strongest because of their large wings and scales that shined so bright they reflected the sky at take off. And yet, you were nearly half a century old and had yet to manifest a single scale. The closest things to protection you beared were the ten nails on your toes and fingers.

“Lisa, are you... are those tears?” You feel a wetness on your sleeve. “I’m the one betrothed so I can’t imagine as to why you’re the one crying.” You murmur under your breath. “It’s not like you didn’t have a chance to fix it.” 

The spring dragon takes a quick wipe to her tears and gets up, make up still perfectly intact.

“And suddenly I’m reminded as to why I’m not bothered you’re leaving. Could have been me,” she shrugs and returns to her side of the room, far from your bratty attitude.