#so the older sibling conceives the younger sibling as belonging to them and being kind of a hm extension of them vs their own person

[scintillyyy]

can you really talk about tim's tendency to idolize and place dick on a pedestal and his semi-entitlement to understanding dick without also talking about dick's tendency to project his own feelings and insecurities onto tim and also his semi-entitlement to his right to try and micromanage how tim should feel and react about things. i, personally, cannot.

#dick and tim #anyways trust me when i say that none of this is meant in a negative way because this is what i Like about them lmao #forever thinking of the M/F fight where dick expects that tim will go alone with his line of thinking just because he says so #and is shocked when tim doesn't and instead has his own thoughts and feelings abt the matter #and babs has to tell him that tim isn't him & had a fundamentally different experience to him #it's like hmmm very realistic to me #the way they do this to each other in a way that almost is depersonalizing but like isn't actually #it's more just that they understand each other so well most of the time that it's easy to forget that they're their own person #with their own thoughts and feelings #like hm. there is something very realistically siblings about it in that #older siblings do tend to try and dominate the relationship with their thoughts and feelings because #their first memories are of being expected to lead their sibling and the sibling usually comes at a time when the older sib is v possessive #so the older sibling conceives the younger sibling as belonging to them and being kind of a hm extension of them vs their own person #meanwhile the younger sibling has no knowledge of a life where the older sibling doesn't exist #and the younger sibling's experience is that of observation of the older sibling from basically the very first day of life #so the younger sibling will often see and perceive the older sibling in very interesting ways #they're always learning something with thay observation good or bad #and thus probably develop more instrinsic understanding than even the parents do #and conflict comes because each is their own person but it's hard to see them that way sometimes #anyways there's also another thread where for dick it's hard to conceptualize tim's family of origin as real compared to them #but that's like mainly headcanon just know i'm right and it's interesting

[jimlingss]

Dynasty

➜ Words: 17.4k

➜ Genres: 50% Angst, 35% Smut, 15% Fluff, Historical!AU

➜ Summary: It’s no secret that the Emperor is infertile. But even so, a girl is selected every three months and brought to become his concubine in hopes of conceiving the next heir. This time, it’s you. And in order to prevent execution, Jeon Jungkook might just aid you in conception.

➜ Notes: Inspired by the movie the Treacherous (2015)

➜ Warnings: Brief depictions of reluctant sexual intercourse, dubious consent, emphasis on impregnation, sloppy seconds, creampies, pregnancy. Reader discretion is advised.

“Absolutely not!” 

You stand at once, chair knocked back to the ground in a clatter, unable to believe what you were hearing. Perhaps it was a mistake. Perhaps your ears hear wrongly. But by the way your older brother’s brows are drawn together, marring his usually good-natured features, you know you’re not mistaken.    He had worn the same expression as the day of your parents' massacre.   Your voice is shrill as you protest and cry, “I won’t! I can’t! T-This— this is ridiculous! How could you even….how could you even….”   You are Seokjin’s younger sister — his blood, flesh, bones. Family. And you were about to be traded in like you were no one to him. A chess piece. A part of his bigger plan that you wanted nothing to do with.   Jungkook looks at you with an impassive expression, one you cannot read, but you pay him no mind. Seokjin, however, looks to him and nods his head. They are silent in their communication, and then Jungkook takes his leave until there it is only your shadow and Seokjin’s that flickers against the wall with every movement of the dim candlelight.   He begins with a soft voice. A soothing one as if you were a child.    “There’s no choice, Y/N.”   “There is always choice,” you emphasize as tears start to stream down your cheeks. “Do you really want to send me off to that...that disgusting monster? Do you really want me to be used? If you care about me as a younger sister, if you care about me at all, you wouldn’t be doing this.”   His dark eyes meet yours. “The decision has been made, Y/N. You have been chosen. But this is the way we can make our parents happy. This is the only way for them to reach peace.”   You sob, collapsing onto the ground. Seokjin does little to comfort you. He knows there’s nothing he can do after this betrayal.   You hold your face in your hands, catching the tears that rack through your frame. It is silent except for the noises of your wails muffled through your sleeves.    After minutes of devastation and grief that stutters out of you, your hands drop to look at him. And your voice swoops into a murmur, one that is private, kept between the two of you. You beg for his honesty from sibling to sibling, without duties or titles. “Is...is t-there no other way?”   Your brother deflates, refusing to look at you. You notice the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, how he swallows hard to answer. “There must always be sacrifices made in times of a revolution and this is ours.”   “No.” You shake your head. “This is mine.”

There is a knock at your door.   “Go away, Seokjin,” you shout at him without regard for sibling hierarchy. In your anger, he has long lost the respect that goes along with the status of being your older brother. “I said I wasn’t hungry!”   But in spite of your bitterness, the door opens anyhow.   It’s Jungkook who has appeared in place of Seokjin, doe eyes and dark hair tied into a high ponytail by a black ribbon that matches his robbed attire and the scabbard by his side.   “I saw the light in your room,” he says simply.   You lift your eyes away from the book you were copying, the last task that you wanted to finish, and your gaze remains cold on the man.    You detest Jungkook.    He is Seokjin’s friend, not yours and not a childhood one. Your brother had met him shortly after arriving in this town years ago. But you do not know him well. You resent him merely because he represents every manner that Seokjin has changed in the ways you hate most.   Before they met, Seokjin was still the brother you knew. Kind-hearted. Mischievous. Protective. There was no rebellion group, talk of treason, risk of harm. The Seokjin you knew would’ve never thrown you away like this.   “Are you ready for tomorrow’s journey,” he asks.   “There’s no reason not to be.” Jungkook is quiet and conniving. You know the only reason he has come out of his way to check on your well-being in the middle of the night is for his assumption that you are a flight risk. You suppose it might be natural to have those suspicions. Any girl in your position would run. But you quickly dissipate his worries if it means he’ll leave. “You don’t need to worry that I’m going to run. I wouldn’t do that to Jin.”   He makes no changes in his expression. Always blank. Always emotionless.   “The journey will be long. You should get some rest.”   “I can take care of myself.”   He remains silent for a moment. But you return to your work and when you look up again, he’s gone, having finally left you in your own misery.   //   When the first blush of dawn arrives, you get dressed in your best attire and gather the little belongings you have. They’re already waiting for you in front of the house, not allowing you a moment to yourself to relish in freedom any longer. There is a horse, a carriage, and four members of the group you don’t recognize along with Jungkook to journey with you.   Seokjin waits there too, but you can’t look him in the eye.   He knows you're upset, you can tell. Neither of you say much to each other, but you mutter a half-hearted farewell.   You can hear the way the corner of his mouth gently quirks by the sound of his voice. “I’ll see you soon enough, Y/N.”   You turn away, walking to your carriage where the horse is already neighing and becoming fussy. But then your steps slow. You hesitate getting in and Jungkook stares at you, waiting patiently, never once pushing you on.   At once, you turn around. “Jin!”   You call out to your brother and he turns around before stumbling. A giggle streams out of his chest after you’ve thrown yourself at him in an embrace as if you were still children. He hugs you back, arms around your body, frame overtaking yours, and he squeezes you tight.   You shut your eyes to savour the fleeting moment.   He leans down, murmuring, “I’m sorry.”   But you shake your head, unable to utter a word for fear of crying again.   “We should get a move on before it gets any later,” one of the members calls out and it’s your reminder of where you’re headed.   You pull apart from Seokjin. He smiles tenderly and brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face.   The carriage ride is shaky. Every bump and crack of the dirt road is felt by you ten folds, the wheels wobbling and the horse’s disregard makes it difficult for you to rest easy. But you don’t dare utter a complaint, not when you’re in the company of unfamiliar people. You do, however, pull back the curtain of the square window to look at the land and let in fresh air.   Eventually, there’s a break called. The tiny carriage comes to a halt and Jungkook is the one who brushes open the large curtain. He catches you off guard, peering in with his large eyes that seemingly sparkle naturally.   “We’re going to take a small rest.”   “Okay.”   He helps guide you out and you notice the other people are either on the ground resting their feet or by the stream, taking a drink of water.   “Are you alright?”   You nod. There’s a moment of serene quietness, the birds chirping around the trees, the rustling of leaves. Jungkook drinks from his leather pouch and then hands it to you to quench your thirst.   You sip it, soothing your throat and gather the courage to utter his name— “Jungkook.” He turns to you. “Do you know what’s going to happen to me?”   “You’ll be introduced as one of the minister’s nieces. He’s been aligned with us for years. You’ll be inspected and bathed, and then there will be a ceremony and then….”   “I’ll be bedded,” you complete his sentence for him.   Jungkook remains silent.   The Emperor is infertile. It’s a truth no one dares to utter, but it’s been fifteen years since he began his reign and he has yet to produce a child no matter how many consorts and concubines has entered the palace. The Empress has not bore a child either.   And nine years ago, there was an official decree. Every three months since, a girl is selected and brought in. If she doesn’t get pregnant within the time frame, she is executed for failing to fulfill her duty, for treason.   You are the next one.   The one who has to preoccupy the Emperor to the best of your abilities.   “You don’t need to worry,” Jungkook says, perhaps reading the expression on your face, but you slap his hand away when he reaches out.   “Of course I’ll worry,” you spit at him in animosity. “I’m going to die.”   The man’s brows draw tightly together, his lips lopsided. “It’ll be over before they can get to you.”   You say nothing more, returning to the small carriage before you can start to sob like a child and further be humiliated.   //   Night falls and camp is set up with little hardships. By the afternoon of tomorrow, you would have already arrived at the palace, perhaps straight to the Emperor’s bed. The thought makes you nauseated, wanting to crawl out of your own skin and hide from your body.   You know you’re being selfish. In the bigger picture, your desires don’t matter. If anything, you should be happy to give yourself up for the rebellion. For the common good. But you can’t.    “Are you not going to eat?” one of the female guards asks you with a smile and you lift your eyes away from the blazing fire whose heat has pressed against your cheeks.    You look around to the four members of the group that has been commissioned to protect you, their faces illuminated by the glow of the flames. You wonder what sacrifices they had made to be here, what led them here in the first place.   “I-I can’t.” You stand up and all of their heads, including Jungkook’s, turn to you. “I’m sorry. I….I need a moment to myself.”   You quicken your pace towards the forest, trying to escape their prying gazes, the burden that has been placed upon your shoulders. It’s hard to breathe. It’s as if the smog of the fire has bloomed inside of your lungs, constricting your chest, forming a thick lump in your throat.   The darkness of the forest envelopes you and it’s almost comforting.   That is until there’s a branch snapping behind you, and you quickly spin around.   “I knew you weren’t okay.”   “Go away, Jungkook.”   He remains silent, but you can see the outline of him coming closer towards you. He is not dissuaded no matter how much you have pushed him away from you, no matter how rude you’ve been to him from the start. You’re not sure if he pities you or he—   “Can I comfort you in place of Seokjin?” Jungkook requests in an earnest murmur, humble and cautious. “You wish he was here instead of me, don’t you?”   You’re taken aback, brought to speechlessness.   The two of you end up seated by the creek on a wooden log. The horizon is full of stars, allowing you to see enough to watch the water that rushes past in a calm hum, soothing your turmoil.   “I’m afraid.”   “Of what?”   “I don’t know what to do. How to capture the Emperor’s attention. How to be...bedded.”   “You need to be strong.”   You rise to your feet at once, biting back angrily, “I’ve never even been touched by a man! How am I supposed to be strong?!” It’s easy for him to say. It always is to the outsider.   He doesn’t know what this means to you. You’ll never be able to find a husband after this. The peaceful life you dreamt of will be gone.    You will forever be stained as the Emperor’s previous consort, his whore or you will end up dead.    You’re not sure which is worse.   “How am I supposed to know what to do?” Your voice is shrill, desperate and full of pain as if you are asking Jungkook for an actual answer to your predicament.   Jungkook stands and places his firm hand on your shoulder. “There,” he says after a moment when you’ve calmed down, “you’ve been touched by a man.”   Irritation surges through you again at how lightly he’s taken your strife. “You know that’s not what I meant—”   Then you’re suddenly spun to face him, a strong grip at your waist. Your words become muted through the soft press of Jungkook’s lips. Your whimper is muffled by his mouth. It’s chaste. Careful. He allows you room to breathe, to feel the velvet texture of his lips or to pull away if you so choose to.    But you don’t move. Your eyes become half-lidded, gazing into his doe eyes that seem to be full of stars. Your hands come to grip his broad shoulder, his placed on the dips of your body so gently as if he were afraid to break you. And your heart swells dangerously inside your chest.   After a moment of his mouth moving against yours in a sweet kiss, Jungkook pulls apart.   Almost immediately, you tug him back to you again, not wanting the moment to end. You kiss him fervently and he lowly hums inside his chest, tongue peeking at the seam of your mouth, urging you to grant him access. It’s unsightly, the two of you unmarried and holding one another so intimately in the dark during this time of night. If anyone knew, it would be shameful.    But it’s only you and Jungkook in this small space.   Your lips part, allowing his hot tongue to lick into your mouth. And he angles his head, happily deepening the kiss. It makes you gasp for air, becoming breathless, but he doesn’t relent. Jungkook presses forward eagerly like he can’t help himself anymore. His hands come to feel up your body, the softness of your flesh through your clothing, the curves of your hips, the swell of your breasts. Your arms loop around his neck, back arching into his firm body. You relish in the sound of soft smacking filling the forest, feeling your face heat as his scent surrounds you.   And when you moan his name again in a desperate whine — “J-Jungkook.” — his lips start to trail down your jaw to your neck. He holds you as you lean into him. You pant, chest rising and falling, and you have half a mind to realize that your clothes have loosened.   The man begins to suck a spot at the juncture of your neck by your exposed collarbone, claiming you possessively. Your entire body heats for him, your stomach fluttering. His name befalls your lips again in a whine and this time, it seems to snap him from his trance.   Jungkook pulls away from you.    Enough distance that if your arms stretched, it would barely be able to reach him.   He wipes his sweat off his forehead with his sleeve. “We...we should go back,” he says, winded.   You merely nod, not uttering a single word. The two of you don’t need to speak to know that this can’t be continued further. It wouldn’t be good for either of you.   But you’re still stunned as you follow him back to where the others are. Your eyes trace Jungkook’s backside and you nibble into your swollen lips. The taste of cinnamon lingers.   //   The capital is close — you can tell by the way travelers aren’t as sparse and the rich attire that adorns their body. Their expressions are bright and friendly, innocent from the fear of theft or strangers stealing their food. There are no hollowed eyes and cheeks peering at you blankly, no hands clasped together to silently beg for some grains to satisfy the shriveling stomachs.   By afternoon, the carriage is brought to a halt again.   “I’ll be going ahead first,” Jungkook announces as he sits on top of his horse. “It’ll seem less suspicious.”   The other seem to take little issue, but before Jungkook rides off into the distance, his gaze lingers on you. The two of you stare at one another for a moment, one where you’re not sure if you should bid farewell to him or not, one where you wonder when the next time is going to be.   But before you can utter a single syllable, he turns and whips the reins. The horse gallops off, hooves marked in the dirt. You stare at his backside diminishing before you’re called back into the carriage to carry on.   You arrive no later.   The palace is grander than anything you’ve ever witnessed, stretching across the horizon. The red roof and golden trim are vivid against the town even from the distance. Once the guards at the stone wall are briefly spoken to, the magnificent gates creak open and you’re brought into a different world, one protected from outside life. There are hundreds of servants with downcast heads and folded hands scattering across the vast courtyard, winding pavilion paths bordering each structure. Even from peering out the tiny window, your neck aches with how much you have to crane your neck to see it all.    But you quickly snap out of your awe.   This isn't paradise. It’s your prison.   The gates close behind you, trapping you in its walls and after a minute, the carriage halts the final time.   “Consort Y/N, from the Park family.” Your title is declared and the curtain is roughly pulled back. You brace yourself as you’re guided out and you come face to face with two men, both middle-aged, and two women, the younger one keeping her head down and her hands folded.   Instantly, you lower your eyes with a polite smile and dip down. “It is a pleasure to be here. I am grateful to serve my duty.”    You maintain a soft-spoken voice, barely above a timid whisper. It feels foreign to act this way, but not completely unfamiliar. Even if your title has been stripped away and your family name has been wiped, you still are of aristocratic blood.   “Oh my! I haven’t seen you in so long!” One of the middle-aged men approaches you with half-moon eyes and a plump face. You’ve been spoken to enough that you know the minister’s name is Park Jimin and he’s supposed to be your uncle. “You’ve grown so much!”   “You look as healthy as I remember, uncle.” You offer a brighter smile and he chuckles heartily.   “Do I? I’m glad then. I think I’ve packed on a few pounds since your mother last saw me, but don’t tell her that or she may send me some more medication.”   In the midst of the lighthearted conversation, you realize that you’re being scrutinized by the other man. His hair is as dark as his eyes, gruff around his mouth and chin but his features are sharp. He stands with his chin high, his spine straightened, his arms behind his back. His robes are a deep violet, silks luxurious and commanding attention. You’ve seen him before.   Jung Hoseok. The man who has stood in your family’s courtyard with the same posture as each member was brought out and executed. You had witnessed it from the gaps of the weaved basket that you were hidden in until Seokjin covered your eyes with his small hands. It was fifteen years ago, when you were merely five. But you still remember the iron stench of blood well.    The memory and his boring gaze makes you break into a sweat. It’s as if he’s tearing you apart limb by limb, trying to read your intentions and consider if you’re a threat. Fear drains blood from your face. And perhaps he notices because a moment later, he hums and smirks.   “Let’s not waste all day here.” Hoseok turns away. “Minister Park, there are many matters to attend to. Your greetings can continue later.”   “O-Of course.”   Hoseok glances at the older woman standing beside him and she nods, addressing you, “Come with me.”   “From now on, you are to serve the Emperor. I am going to assume that the Park family has taught you proper etiquette.” The head servant lady continues walking and you struggle to keep up with her and the servant. You don’t glance at the members who took you here as they retreat appropriately. From now on, you’re on your own. “If you step out of line, there is little anyone will be able to do for you. The Empress is difficult to please, but as long as you do what you’re told and say nothing more, then your time will be more pleasant.”   You’re brought into a room with two more female servants and the door is quickly slid shut.    “Strip.”   “P-Pardon me?”   The lady huffs in annoyance and steps forward. Her hands reach out and she begins to tug the ribbons of your clothes. You’re startled, immediately stumbling back out of her grasp. “I-I can do it.”   “You should get used to it,” she says as you shed your outer and inner coat. “There’s no point in being embarrassed anymore.”   Still, your fingers are slow to remove your clothing. After a moment, you’ve rid of your clothes, only keeping your modesty by the last thin white layer that hides your breasts and naked torso from plain view.   It seems to be enough and the woman begins to inspect your skin. She rounds you, examining you from head to toe. Then she holds your arm, lifting them at every angle, making sure there are no wounds or rashes that could infect the Emperor. Her eyes, however, eventually fall to your neck. Right at the spot where you remember Jungkook kissed you hard enough to bruise and your face heats at the memory.    “I was accidentally bitten by a bug yesterday on my way here,” you murmur to explain the subtle lilac stain. “I apologize for being so careless.”   “Nothing that won’t fade then,” she states and you breathe a silent sigh of relief. But then the woman suddenly grabs a hold of your cheeks in one hand. She tilts your head to look up into her eyes and she studies your face carefully. She hums after a moment and lets you go.   You blink at her. “Is there something wrong?”   “You’re one of the prettier ones, that’s all.” The woman speaks softly as if it’s a shame — a shame that you’ve been brought here as the Emperor’s consort and that you couldn’t be wedded properly. You’re unable to dwell on her pity when the other girls take you by the arms and guide you to follow the woman when she walks off. The door slides open into an adjacent bedroom. “You’re going to be washed, cleaned, thoroughly. There’s not much time. You must be prepared for tonight.”   Your feet stop, blood running cold. “Tonight?”   The lady turns around, her gaze more sympathetic than before. “There’s no time to be wasted.”   You’re taken roughly, bathed in milky water with flowers plucked from the royal garden and rigorously scrubbed by two other servant girls until your own skin feels raw. Your nails are trimmed, hair combed before being looped and braided into a half-updo, holding golden hairpins that you would’ve never dreamed of ever having. The robes that are slid on you are soft silks, a light blush pink that matches the peony flowers your mother once had in her own garden. And your lips are pressed with red pigment, eyes lined, cheeks dusted with a rosy shade.   When they’re finished, you don’t recognize the person you see in the mirror.   “The Emperor isn’t difficult to please, but one must know not to step out of line.”   “I understand.”   “All hail Empress Soojin!” There’s a clamour outside and the doors abruptly open. Instantly, the servants, including the head servant woman, sweep back and fold their hands together, bowing their heads. You also look to the ground, dipping down in the presence of the Empress.   “You must be the new girl. Lift your head,” she says and you come to meet cat-eyes narrowed in on you. The Empress is dressed in crimson robes with golden swirls, her dark hair in an updo with pins and luxurious decorations. But she is not worthy of her title from her clothing alone. Her aura is intimidating, her expression unyielding to anyone in the room. She carries herself like she knows she was born of importance, that the mandate of Heaven resides on her shoulders.   Empress Soojin looks at you with a scrutinizing eye that makes you fearful. But then she smiles.   “What’s your name?”   “Park Y/N, Your Majesty.”   “What do your parents do?”   “They are nobles. They have some land in the East. We grow wheat for Your Majesty.” The lies are easy, all part of a narrative that isn’t yours.   Her smiles eases even more. “Do a good job.”   “Yes.”   Empress Soojin is kind — more than what you expected someone in her position to be. You would not know how to feel if you were meeting yet another girl your husband was trying to conceive with. But you’re not foolish enough to be put off guard. You know far better than to fall for her facade.   At the end of the day, she is your enemy. She might poison you or kill you if she so chooses. And you know that your child will also be her child. If you do fall pregnant by some miracle, the baby would be taken away from you and given to her. To grow with her. To call her mother.   But you don’t dwell on these thoughts or let it be known.    Empress Soojin leaves once she’s satisfied with your appearance and a veil is put over you as the sun starts to dip over the horizon. The ceremony is about to begin, the jovial music already playing in the distance and muffled through the walls.    “It’s time.”   You’re led out of the room, lugging your heavy robes with you. But as you look up, your breath hitches in your throat.    Doe eyes stare into yours past the translucent veil.    Jungkook is dressed in navy robes with the royal emblem on it, his hair brought into a ponytail with a sheathed sword by his side. Something lodges into your throat. But you try not to let your eyes linger too long on him. After all, here he isn’t your brother’s friend or the companion on your journey. Jungkook is the Emperor’s guard. You are merely the Emperor’s new consort.   “I’m here to escort you by the Emperor’s orders.”   You don’t speak a word as you walk alongside him. Neither does he.   But when no one’s watching, you steal a glance at Jungkook from the corner of your eye and find that he’s peeking at you too.   The moment is too short.   The throne room is grandiose, golden pillars spiraling upwards to hold the high ceilings. The room is full of ministers sitting by and eating, young girls dancing to the deafening beat of the drums and the melody of the flutes. But even from the distance, you can see the Emperor seated at the throne beside the Empress and Jung Hoseok who stands to his right.    Your hand tightens into a fist until your nails have sunk into your palm.   “All hail Consort Y/N!”   You come to the bottom of the steps where Jungkook leaves you, resuming to the side of the stairs, and you lower yourself on your knees. “It is my honour to serve you, Your Majesty.”   Your expression remains impassive, demure perhaps. But inside you, the rage ignites.   Emperor Minseok who stood by and did nothing as the Kim Family, your family, was massacred. Left behind two children on accident to fend for themselves. Left the nation to soil as he was kept inside ravishing young girls and indulging in pleasures.    He isn’t an Emperor. He does not have the Mandate of Heaven.    He is a puppet.   Emperor Minseok’s eyes light. He scrambles upwards and pushes Empress Soojin aside, making her wince. But he still moves past her to sprint down the stairs and comes to you like a child getting a new toy.   Instantaneously, your veil is thrown off.   The child-like man gasps in excitement. “You’re pretty!”   Hoseok, the person you know well as the mastermind orchestrating the entire court and country, the king’s personal advisor, approaches with a smile. “I am glad you are satisfied with the new girl, Your Majesty. But you must show restraint.”   The Emperor enthusiastically nods, but still takes your hand. He pulls you up the stairs and leads you to sit on the other side of him, something the Empress is visibly mortified at in spite of staying quiet.    “Continue the celebration,” he announces and the music commences once more with the pleasant laughter of the ministers. Minister Park has a twinkle in his smile and slightly raises his cup towards you before taking a sip. Jungkook, on the other hand, faces forward with a blank expression as if he were a statue. “What’s your name?”   Your eyes tear away from the doe-eyed man. “My name is Y/N. I am Park Minister’s niece, sire.”   There’s no reason to hide your first given name. It’s not like they would know who you and Seokjin are.   The ceremony and dancing continues, held as an excuse to welcome you and give fortune to tonight’s conception. In reality, it’s for those in the court to indulge themselves. The Emperor fawns over you the entire time, asking many questions and trying to get you to eat to which you force yourself to swallow down the food. You’re nauseated, especially with the times he touches you, when he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you into his chest, but you retain a shy disposition to not arouse suspicion of your true feelings.   It ends much too soon.   “His Majesty will be here shortly,” the servant informs you as you’re brought into the bedroom and before you can get in another word, the doors shut.   They’re listening — you know they are. Maybe other girls have run before you, tried to flee while they still had the chance. But no matter how strong the urge is, your feet stay rooted into the ground.    The bed is revolting to look at. The golden sheets that seem to reek of a luxury that you have never known and now imprison you. You feel sick, like you might throw up, but you hold it in.   Your eyes shut tight, trying to regain control of your breath, trying to dispel away your worries.   It will be quick. It will be over. It won’t change anything about who you are. You will survive.   This is something you must do.   The doors open with Emperor Minseok drunkenly stumbling inside after grabbing a hold of the door frame. He haphazardly slides it shuts and giggles once his gaze has set upon you. You swallow hard, moving back on instinct. He grins and bumbles forward.   “You’re so pretty, huh?” He strips off his overcoat and you fall to the bed, silently seated and gripping the edge. “C’mon, you can say something. Won’t scare you away, kitty cat.”   Emperor Minseok pushes you back and climbs over you with the carelessness of an eager but intoxicated man. He stinks of alcohol and you hold your breath, looking away. He snickers and then frantically pushes the many layers of your dress up as if he doesn’t want to waste any more time.   Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, but you comply, like a dead fish against the sheets. Your eyes shut tight and you think about what it means to make sacrifices...   The Emperor tugs his drawers down in one swoop and aligns his cock against your folds. His hips at once jut forward without warning and your teeth grit, holding in your pained whimper as he enters into you. It burns, aching to the point where your eyes are stinging. He groans above you, withdraws, thrusts into you once and then he’s coming.   As quick as five seconds.    The Emperor groans, eyes shut tight, and then he collapses on top of you.   It takes a moment, for you to gasp for air, to come back to your senses and then you’re shoving the sweaty man off of your body, freeing yourself of his heavy weight. Emperor Minseok snores, already worn himself out, and you curse at him silently while you pull the layers of your dress down.   It’s tempting.   You want to kill him — and it would be easy to do so. But it would mean your death, Seokjin’s everlasting grief over it and the likelihood that someone else will become Jung Hoseok’s puppet.   So you gather your wits and slide off the bed until you’re seated on the floor.   //   In the middle of the night, there’s a shadow at the doorway and a soft murmur of your name.   You grab a loose silk cover to wrap your body and open the door. The candle has long been blown out but you haven’t slept, stayed on the ground while the Emperor snorts in his slumber. You hadn’t expected to see anyone, not until morning at least, but it’s surprising to see Jungkook.   Although you’re not sure if that surprise is pleasant or not.   “What are you doing here?” you ask in a hushed tone, shutting the door behind you and wrapping your arms around your torso, away from the cold wind that brushes through.   If anyone saw him here, it could ruin everything.    You don’t know why someone like Jungkook would take that risk.   “I know. I just…” The more you allow your eyes to adjust to the darkness, the better you are at being able to discern the furrow of his brows and the way it mars his expression. “How...how was it?”   “How was it?” you spit at him. “What do you think?”   There’s a held silence. Neither of you speak.    But the moment anger surges through you, the upheaval follows.    Against your will, sobs begin to break through your frame. As intense as the day Seokjin delivered the news that you would have to do this. And the memories burst through, catching up to you.   It would have been fine if you were alone.   If you could pretend that it wasn’t bad, that it meant nothing. But the earnestly spoken question from Jungkook has brought forth the truth that you had so desperately tried to push away.   You cry, tears shedding down your face as you hold your face in your hands. You are oblivious to the way Jungkook’s fingers twitch, how his hands reach out, how he hesitates. But then he embraces you, pressing your face against his shoulder, his arms around your waist.   You grab onto him, latching on as if he is the only thing that grounds you to this insanity. You muffle your sobs, trying to keep them quiet before you’re found. You wish this was Seokjin.   But it’s Jungkook.   “I had a younger sister,” he tells you suddenly, calming your hiccups as he cradles you against him. “Her name was Jieun. She was brought in, just like you. Five years ago. She was taken in by force. All because she caught the eye of the Emperor.”   You pull away from him and he wipes a tear off your cheek, holding your face within his hands.   You didn’t know. Frankly, you don’t know anything about Jungkook, but to hear him tell you, for him to openly share is something you don’t take lightly. “W-What happened to her?”   “She was always weak and they mistook her sickness for pregnancy. When they found out she wasn’t, they hung her for supposedly losing the baby.” His whispers are quiet, but they carry a grief that you can barely understand. Jungkook’s eyes connect within yours.    Finally, you begin to understand. Why he started this, why he’s come here.    “I don’t want something like that to happen again. I’ll do everything in my power to keep it from happening to you.”   You nod.   He didn’t need to come see you tonight. But you’re thankful he did.   //   “All hail Empress Soojin!”   The doors open with a parade of servants following the female who holds up her dress, entering through the doorway. You meet her halfway, head dipped and hands folded with a demure smile. Her eyes are narrowed in on you and you pay no mind when her servants begin to inspect the place, examining the bed sheets and any other evidence of last night’s affair.   “Good morning, Your Majesty.”   “How are you?” Her gaze sweeps across your body, lingering on your stomach.   “It was fine.”   The Empress lifts her hand and two more servants enter with a tray of food. They start to arrange the breakfast on the table. “You might be carrying a child, so it will be important to nourish yourself.”   You look at the dishes with a sense of queasiness. The last thing you want is food — you don’t think you could contain it in your stomach if you tried. And there’s a fear in your mind that she’s going to take this opportunity to poison you. You wouldn’t be surprised if she did.   So you dip your head. “If you may pardon me, Your Majesty, I am not feeling hungry.”   “Don’t be foolish.”   “I—”   Your words are choked the moment your head is whipped to the side. Your cheek burns. The Empress’ hand print is embedded into your skin, her arm still raised in the air. Your eyes sting.   Even in your worst moments, you’ve never been slapped. Not by Seokjin. Not even by your parents.   “Her Majesty was kind enough to come here and offer you food but you dare deny her and talk back?” The servant beside her shakes her head in disapproval. “The Park Family has no manners.”   Immediately, you fall to your knees. Your head meets the carpet, right by her feet but she doesn’t see the way your teeth grit. “I apologize for my disrespect.”   Empress Soojin huffs in frustration and there’s a clamour as feet stomp out, making the room silent once more. It’s then that you lift yourself back onto your feet and pour the tonic she gave you into the plant.    You spend the rest of your day in your room after taking a bath, staying out of anyone’s way as you were told to do. But after nightfall, there’s news of Emperor Minseok planning to come see you. So you suppose you must’ve done something right for him to willingly reach out to you.   His body weight is heavy against you, your back molded against the bed.    “You’re very pretty,” he says for the millionth time.   You try to muster a smile, but keep your head tilted to stare at the wall, acting like you are much too shy. “Thank you.”   The Emperor is easily worked up, the very antithesis of control. He enters you and you bare through it, getting used to the action. But Emperor Minseok finishes in a mere three pumps, gripping at your thighs with a groan. He rolls over to sleep and you shove down your skirt.   If you could count the little fortune you have, you’re relieved he’s been too impatient to undress you properly. He’s neither kissed you nor laid a hand to the softest parts of your body.   Not like Jungkook.   //   The palace is unfamiliar. It’s a vast space that stretches across the plane and numerous structures gives room for ministers and servants you will never know the name of. The only person you truly know in these walls is Jungkook. He’s the only person to confide in, but there is little opportunity to see him, even if you long to.   But he comes to you, enough times to make you reassured that he is always there, following in your shadow. Though it’s never enough to fulfill your desires or relieve your yearning.   “What is this?”   You open the envelope he’s passed to you, pulling out the folded parchment. The two of you are hidden in an empty warehouse where supplies and weapons are kept in wooden crates. Grime lays in thick layers, cobwebs collected at the corners, but some specks of dust float in the air, seen by the sunbeams that pierce through the gaps of the planks covering the windows.   Your eyes widen at the familiar writing of the letter and your eyes skim the page to see Seokjin’s signature at the bottom.   The corner of Jungkook’s mouth quirks to see your wide grin.   “H-How did you get it here?”   “We have servants working for us and a communication line coming in and out of the palace. It’s the way we exchange news.”   You nod, reading the letter and the kind words that are so much like Seokjin, encapsulating his personality with every ‘dear sister’. But the sentences are short and the content makes the blood drain from your face. There’s been delays of Seokjin getting into the palace.   They need more time. More than three months.   “There won’t be enough time.” Your hands drop, the letter put at your side. Your eyes lock with Jungkook’s, but he doesn’t seem surprised, as if he already knew. “I’m going to die.”   He doesn’t flinch, expression solemn, unyielding to this devastating news. “I will help you.”    “How?!”   “We’ll give them what they want. You won’t be executed if you’re carrying a child.”   “The Emperor is infertile—!”    But Jungkook isn’t.    And once the implications of his words sinks into you, you turn away to hide from his gaze, your voice shrill. “How could you….how could you even think of that? You’re as cruel as Jin. No one...no one has any regard for me whatsoever. It’s all about the country, the revolution.”   In the midst of your hysteria, he calls you. “Y/N.”   “You want to use me. You want to use my body,” you sob.   “I don’t want you to die,” Jungkook emphasizes and grabs you, spinning you around to look at him again. His hand wraps around your wrist, doe eyes staring into yours. Your breath hitches and it goes silent. “If there’s anything I can do within my control to help you, I will. I don’t want to feel powerless.” Jungkook’s grasp on you tightens, as if he is afraid to let go. “Not anymore.”   You recognize the pain in his eyes. It’s tangible. Earnest.   On instinct, you lean in, pressing your lips against his to console his worries. It’s a soft kiss, one where Jungkook’s nose brushes against yours and his hands lift to cradle your face. You succumb to the itch of having him close to you, giving into your carnal desires and the lust that has lingered in you after the kisses you two shared in the darkness of the forest that one night.   And Jungkook doesn’t hesitate either.    He touches you, fingers gently tugging the ribbons of your attire to slip off the inner coat and many layers they’ve cloaked you in. It’s freeing to be out of the silks. You can finally breathe again, but not for long when Jungkook kisses you until you’re gasping for air and your breath is stained with his.   You grasp at his own clothes, ridding them and his sword clanks to the ground.   His mouth moves from your jaw to the juncture of your neck, traveling down your collarbone and the valley of your breasts. He sucks at your flesh, greedy to mark every inch of it. Even if he doesn’t say it aloud, you can tell through his touches. He doesn’t want to use your body. He wants you.   “Jungkook.” The whine only spurs him on and you hold his head against you, fingers tangling to his hair.   It’s silent, except for the sounds of him kissing against your skin. Heat rises on your face, warming your cheeks. You don’t know how Jungkook can stay so careful and controlled. He never once rushes, giving plenty of opportunities for you to push him away if you so choose to.   But you don’t and he lays you on the soft hay collected in the corner of the warehouse.   You shy away from his attention, your naked body laid in front of him. But then he strips from the rest of his clothes, not letting you be the only one bare. Immediately, Jungkook reaches down to kiss you again, mouth pressed against yours like he has become dependent on your taste.   Jungkook readjusts you, getting you to sit on his lap facing him.   “Is this okay?”   You nod, gripping at his shoulders for leverage. His doe eyes lock into yours.   “Tell me if it hurts.”   “Okay.” Tears fog your vision. You’ve never been treated so gently before, not from a man or woman. While the circumstances are undesirable, bliss still blooms in your chest.    Jungkook licks his thumb and lowers his hand to continue to warm your center. You keen against him with a moan as he plays with your bud, rubbing your clit in circles and watching your expression carefully. Your slick begins to leak to his thighs, but he doesn’t seem to mind.   “J-Jungkook…”   Your eyes are teary, nose reddened from the cold. Jungkook presses his forehead to yours, your breaths laboured together. His cock lays thick in his hand, slit weeping with precum and the two of you look down, watching him align it to your folds.   His hips push up at the same time as you guide yourself down.    Jungkook groans. The pair of you are finally connected.    Strangely enough, it doesn’t hurt. Far from it and the realization makes your cheeks hot to the touch. You’re snug around him, able to feel his head nudging against your cervix.   “A-Are you okay?” he asks and you nod several times fervently.    Instead of answering in words, you close the distance with another searing kiss.    Soft smacking fills the room with his tongue licking into your mouth. Jungkook’s arms wrap around your waist, guiding you up and down your length while he meets you halfway. Your moans are muffled, his chest pressed against yours and you begin to sweat at your hairline.   You break apart.   “Jung—ko...ok.”   “Hmm?” He brushes a strand of hair away from your face.   “Harder,” you whisper so quietly that you can't hear yourself. He blinks at you, not understanding and you throw away your pride, knowing that there’s no reason to be ashamed when you’re with him. “H-Harder, please. I’m not fragile.”   The corner of his mouth quirks into a small smile, “Okay.”   Soon, indecent noises of pounding fills the room. You hug one another, keeping each other grounded with your bodies. Your arms are wrapped around his shoulders, your whines stifled against his warm skin. Jungkook tries to catch his breath, a cold cloud emitting from his parted lips.   It feels good. To have your warm and wet heat filled by Jungkook. To be stretched by him and feel him all the way to your throat. To have him so close to you. The pleasure is overwhelming.   Your slick coats his length, dripping down and making it messy where his thighs hits against your behind. It feels like you’re scratching an itch as you ride him, your cunt being bruised against his force. Pleasure thrums through you, thoughts turned to slush, surrounded in his scent. Your eyes are hazy and you feel feverish. All that befalls from your lips are broken and pitched whines of Jungkook’s name.   It gets sloppy and his strokes start to become short and frenzied in a staccato rhythm.   “J-Jungkook!”   He licks his thumb and rubs against your clit, making you sob out. Then, you come undone. You seize, squeezing around him. Light pierces through your eyelids and your toes curl. Pleasure overwhelms you until you’re spineless. At the same time, Jungkook pants heavily and his hips thrust upwards. A moment later, he’s cumming deep into your sopping cunt. His head is lodged right against the opening of your womb. Thick ropes painting your velvet walls. Hopefully to conceive.   “—Soojin visited the consort the morning after the ceremony.”   “Is that so?”   There are voices from outside and your eyes widen, lips stealing a gasp.   Immediately, Jungkook’s palm raises and cups your mouth. His brows furrow, eyes staying locked into yours and the both of you sit still, staying silent. You turn your heads and through the gaps of the wooden planks covering the window, you can see Hoseok and a minister brushing past.   “She’s never shown favour to any of the consorts.” They stop, right where you and Jungkook are naked, merely separated by a brick wall.   “Perhaps she sees something different from this girl than the others,” Hoseok hums. “Keep an eye on Empress Soojin and tell me if she does anything else out of the ordinary.”   Jungkook’s cum leaks from your center, dripping down his length.   “Yes.”   They finally pass and Jungkook’s hand falls from your mouth, finally taking a sigh of relief. Jungkook removes himself from you but only after he pushes his milky fluid back into you with his brows furrowed in concentration. He tucks his cum past your used fold into your heat.   Once satisfied, he gets up and puts back on his clothes.   You’re still reeling, not sure what to say or if you can even look him in the eye anymore. Part of you feels used. You’ve been passed from one man to the next, always with a purpose, a greater reason that your own desires. But then—   “Are you alright?”   Jungkook is tender, helping you up and brushing a strand of hair away from your face. He helps you get dressed again while you feel his cum drip down your thigh. It’s a reminder of the sins you have just committed together, something worthy of treason.   But it’s something you find yourself not minding doing again.   “I’m fine,” you murmur after you’re dressed again.   Jungkook stares at you silently, his eyes unable to be torn away from you. Then he leans forward as if driven on by sheer instinct. Jungkook’s mouth presses against yours in a sweet kiss. It catches you off guard. And then he parts with downcast eyes. “I’m sorry for doing something unnecessary.”   “It’s okay.” You meet his gaze. “I don’t...mind.”   He nods and you turn before he can see your smile. Your hand press gently against your stomach as hope blossoms through you.

Time passes and maybe the Empress notices that you’ve been smiling more because she asks— “Are you feeling any differences?” — with a careful eye and something akin to anticipation.   “Not yet,” you answer with your head dipped. “But I’m sure it may happen soon.”   The Emperor has been seeing you two times a week. But you’ve been seeing Jungkook every other day.   If the two of you are lucky, one of these days a baby will stick to your womb and neither of you will have to be worried about how doom is impending. You have a feeling though; it’s going to work.   “Empress Soojin has personally ordered a tonic for you,” the head servant says as she enters with a tray and porcelain bowl filled with an amber liquid. “It will increase your fertility.”   Your eyes flicker from her face to the bowl and the servant softens. “Don’t worry. She won’t harm you if there’s a chance you could be carrying her child.”   You trust the woman and you ease your instincts, taking the tonic. And no later are you and Jungkook’s limbs tangled in the old warehouse again, away from prying eyes and ears.   But it’s taking too long.   There isn’t any news of Seokjin’s arrival, no movement from the rebellion group whatsoever and you can tell that Emperor Minseok is losing interest in you.   As you’re passing by the pavilion, you take a brief pause.   The servant behind you also stops, aware that you are watching the way Empress Minseok is drinking and laughing with other women, being served wine as he lies on giggling girls trying to catch his attention. You aren’t jealous, far from it. But you know nothing good will come out of his boredom with you, that it will only speed up your execution date if you are still without child. His favour would prove not only advantageous to you, but to Seokjin and Jungkook.   You’re supposed to preoccupy him after all, keep him distracted.   “All hail Consort Y/N.”   The doors to the Emperor’s chambers open right as the evening sun begins to dip below the horizon. Emperor Minseok is having drinks and some dishes while there are two concubines looped around his arms.   “My beautiful consort!” He calls out to you with a grin, surprise evident on his features.   You muster a smile and dip down. “May I speak to you privately, Your Majesty?”   “Sure, sure.” He bats at the concubines, motioning at them to leave. They bow their heads and scatter out. Once alone, you lift your eyes to lock it into his. “Is there something wrong?”   “I just…” Your smile becomes shy. “...wanted to see you.”   Emperor Minseok bursts out laughing, hearty in his chest and grating to your ears. “You were lonely? Come sit.” He pats at tiny chicken thighs and you hold your breath, complying. You nearly slip off his leg, but his sticky hands are placed on your waist.   His nose digs into your neck and you accidentally flinch.    He notices, brows raising and you swiftly cover up your mistake with a smile. “It’s still...hard for me to have so much attention from you.” You fiddle with your fingers. “I’m not used to it.”   The man grins. “But you still came here.”   “Because I was lonely,” you confirm in a quiet whisper. “The palace is so grand, I don’t really know what to do…”   “It’s magnificent, isn’t it?” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth, clearly not caring about the topic of conversation anymore with the way he stares at you. It’s almost as if he’s entranced by your features and his hand reaches down to slink up your leg.   You abruptly stand and grab his collar, making him rise to his feet too. “The palace is beautiful, especially the gardens. But it’s lonely to go flower viewing by yourself.”   Emperor Minseok cups your cheek. “Then I’ll come with you next time.”   You turn away, out of his grasp. “I could never ask that of Your Majesty. I can’t be selfish and you are always so busy. Actually...I…”   “What is it?”   You duck your head, playing a bashful act. “I try to look at your painting to satisfy my loneliness.”    Emperor Minseok chortles again and you spin around with a tiny pout. You step forward until he’s fallen onto his bed, amused at your boldness. “But it’s hard,” you say as you begin to climb on top of him. “There’s not many paintings of you.”   You position yourself so he’s underneath you. You straddle his hips, a coy smile at your features. “For a grand palace like this, one would think there would be more.”   “You’re right.” The Emperor is breathless, already excited after barely ten seconds. His greedy hands come up to grab your bottom, but you push him off so he doesn’t touch you.   “My father once commissioned a painter,” you murmur as you slowly tug his trousers down. “He was quite immature and eccentric, but his skills are unrivaled with.”   “W-What is his name?” His eyes watch you, pathetically salivating. You wonder if he’s going to cum in his pants already.   “I...think his name was Kang Seokjin,” you lie, quirking your head to the side. You grab his tiny, red cock that looks like it’s about to burst and he groans. “Have you never heard of him? He’s quite infamous in the East.”   “I-I’ve never.”   You hum, tugging your many skirts up and his eyes pin to your exposed skin. “Well, he’s a free-spirit and rarely does paintings, even for people who pay for it. Gold doesn’t buy him. My father had to beg him for weeks and even then he was reluctant.”   He scoffs. “He would never deny the Emperor.”   “Of course.” You align him up to your pink folds. Yet, you linger, putting the crumbling man under you in great suspense. “But…”   Emperor Minseok blinks at you, becoming impatient. “But?”   “You never know till you try, right?”    You drop down like the way Jungkook taught you to. You know better now how to satisfy a man, how to satisfy yourself, what kind of rhythm works best. But it only takes two swivels of your hips and one groan from him until he’s done and finishes. Emperor Minseok has tired himself out and succumbs to the seduction of sleep almost immediately with a smile on his face.    You roll off of him as he starts to snore.   You feel disgusted — skin grimy and crawling, the pit in your stomach growing with queasiness, revolted at what you had to do. But you know bathing and scrubbing your skin until it’s raw won’t be enough to satisfy you. It won’t be enough to cleanse yourself from him. So you leave the Emperor’s chambers as quickly as you came, abandoning the greasy man on the bed and shutting the doors behind you.   In the dark, you hurry as fast as your feet can take you.    You’re out of breath by the time you’ve twisted through the structures and pavilions. But relief comes in the form of a doe-eyed, dark-haired individual. The person you’ve been wanting to run to.   The person you’ve been yearning for.   “What are you doing here?” he scolds sharply, standing as you slide the doors behind you. The candlelight flickers, providing a dim glow on the profile of his face. “What if someone saw you?”   “They didn’t and they won’t.”    The bedroom Jungkook’s stationed in is tiny, a round table and two stools with a large opening for where his bed fits into the wall as if it were built in. But none of it matters to you. You don’t care that he has nothing but a sword and some folded clothes. All you care about is that he’s here.   “And what if you were caught?”   “Every time we do this, we risk getting caught.” You quiet his worries by closing the distance. You cradle his cheeks in your palm and kiss him frantically, sealing your mouth against his.   Jungkook hums to the sweet taste of your lips, licking into your hot mouth, but then he pulls away. “Wait.” His hands secure around your shoulders and he searches your expression after noticing the way your eyes have become teary. “Is there something wrong?”   You shake your head. “I just want you. Is...is that so bad?”   The candle is blown out, flooding the room in a comfortable, intimate darkness. But close up, you can still see Jungkook with the faded moonlight coming through the paper walls.    His back falls against the bed, but Jungkook doesn’t give you a long opportunity to climb and sit above him. He whirls you around until it’s your body that molds against the soft surface of his bed, preferring to take care of you than vice versa. And when he undresses you and sees the sopping mess between your legs, he understands what this is all about.    Why you’re so desperate for his touch.   “Let’s get rid of this,” he murmurs tenderly, not at once hesitating and you nod.    Jungkook kisses you again, deep and earnestly until you’re panting against him and he’s swallowing your exhales. Then his mouth travels downwards, careful this time not to leave a bruising mark against your skin where others could see in spite of longing to mark you. The man’s tongue ends up wrapping around your soft breast, allowing the bud to pebble underneath the warm muscle. You keen into him with a sob, arms wrapped around his neck and he continues mercilessly.   His lips travel down to your stomach and once your skin has gotten warm to the touch, your body writhing against the sheets stained with his scent, he positions you upwards. On his lap. Facing him.   Jungkook brushes away the strands of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and he gently holds your chin, turning your head so your eyes can lock into his. “Look at me,” he pleads in a husky timbre.   You nod and he positions himself at your dripping center, allowing you to drop down when you choose to. And when you do, the two of you groan while keeping your gazes connected.   It feels like he’s filled a void that you didn’t know was there. He’s a snug fit around your velvet heat, stretching just enough that pleasure thrums through you. “J-Jungkook.”   He makes a noise at the back of his throat, understanding what you’re feeling and he leans in for another kiss, his tongue wrapping around yours and drawing more sounds out of you.   The two of you work with each other. Your hips swivel as he pounds upwards into you, pelvises rubbed against one another to clear away Emperor Minseok’s fluids. Jungkook works hard while you squeeze and the cum drips out of you in clumps. It sticks to your thighs and his thick length, drying unpleasantly, but soon it’s only your wetness that comes out from your center.   Jungkook’s hands hold your body, touching you anywhere you guide him to. And you lean onto his sturdy frame, holding onto his built shoulders. Finally, you feel clean. You feel loved.   You kiss him again and his thrusts stutter.   It’s intimate, the sounds of gasping breaths and skin slapping on skin filling the darkness.   Jungkook can tell you’re close and rubs against your clit mercilessly and you cry, quickening your own pace to chase after your pleasure. But before you can finish, he turns your head again.   “Look at me, Y/N,” he says and you nod, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.   You cum while looking into Jungkook’s doe eyes, trying your best to keep them open. And as you squeeze around him, hugging against his cock, he cums. Deep into your heat, right at your cervix. Claiming you as his. Ropes of milky white spurting in then leaking down out of your folds.    All while keeping his tender gaze trained on yours.   You kiss Jungkook again, letting him soften within you, keeping him here just a moment longer.   You love Jungkook. It’s a fact that you don’t want to face in light of the situation — one that you had tried to deny for the sake of your own sanity, but it’s all too true. You love him. And every time he holds you, it feels like you’re making love together. If only things were different, maybe you could’ve had a future together. Maybe you could’ve gotten Seokjin’s blessing and married Jungkook, started a family together and lived a humble life for the rest of your days.   But that desperate and simple wish seems so far out of reach.   Overwhelmed with emotion, you try to keep your tears at bay. Yet, they shed down your cheeks and in the intimate darkness, Jungkook holds you close to him.

It’s one afternoon while you’re walking in the gardens with the poor servant assigned to you following closely behind that you recognize a dark-haired, mischievous individual that you had missed. But you don’t call out to your brother, no matter how much you want to. You keep yourself poised, distant.   “Oh, Consort Y/N. Glad to see you wandering,” the head eunuch, a man you’ve spoken to little, says with a smile.   You keep your head lowered, a tiny smile that is all too genuine on your features. “Empress Soojin said it would be good for my health, so I have followed her instructions.”   “Well yes. Indeed it is.” He grins and then seems to remember the taller, younger man beside him. The head eunuch steps aside and motions towards your older brother. “This is Kang Seokjin. He is a painter from the East that Emperor Minseok has commissioned. Seokjin, this is the Emperor’s most recent consort, Consort Y/N. But I believe you have met before.”   “Only briefly.” You lift your eyes towards your sibling who smiles. “It is nice to see you again.”   “Yes, nice to see you again.” Seokjin’s eyes speak more than his words do and the two of you look at one another for a long moment, exchanging meaningful expressions and taking in the differences that two months have done.   “Well, I must head off now.” You break away the stare, keeping yourself unsuspicious. “It was pleasant to meet your acquaintance again.”   You pass Seokjin, but the two of you look at one another from the corner of your eyes.   He’s finally in the court and a sense of relief fills you. If a few more ministers agree to turn against the Emperor, everything will be complete. It’s Seokjin’s turn to act and now only time will tell.

In the middle of the night when the palace has gone asleep, you sneak from your quarters.   The dirty warehouse has become your sanctuary with Jungkook, a place you’ve grown fond of because it holds your most precious memories. It was this place that you looked forward to the most. That kept you sane. That always promised that your favourite person was waiting inside.    It’s tonight with the full moon out that you get to savour the moment. After the deed has been done, you’re slumped in Jungkook’s arms, naked with just his outer coat around your shoulders.   You take his right hand, uncurling his fingers. Carefully, you trace letters against his warm palm.   “Kim?” Jungkook questions after a moment of concentration.   “Kim means gold,” you murmur and trace more letters against his skin. With your head leaning against his chest, you can hear his soothing heartbeat in your ear. “Seok means great. Jin means precious. Together, it means great gift or big treasure.”   If things were different, you would’ve liked to be a scholar. Transcribing books all day long or writing your own, perhaps creating poetry about nature. As a child, you hated studying and preferred to play like Seokjin did. But it was now that you yearned for those simple times again.   You know Jungkook’s name too and you trace each letter against his palm with your index finger carefully. “Jeon means rice. Jung spindle tree. Kook is country. Together, it means to have a beautiful country.”   “Pillars of the nation,” he clarifies quietly. “Or at least that’s what I think my grandfather intended when he named me.”   “They’re such great names. I hope….the name of our child will be meaningful too,” you hum drowsily while dreaming of the possibilities. “If it’s a boy, Minkook, the country of the people. If it’s a girl, Yujin, meaning full of stars…”    The both of you know you won’t be able to name your child. Not if it’s born within these stone walls. Not when everyone believes it is the Emperor’s. The baby will be taken away from you the moment it’s out, raised while calling the Empress their mother and you would be a nobody.    But then Jungkook dispels away your anguish, even if it’s just for a second. “They’re beautiful names.”   The corner of your lips quirk and you blink sleepily. You tell him about your dream, a memory of the future you have conjured to comfort you, “They would be raised in a quiet home on top of a hill. Where we could see the sunset and sunrise every day. There would be grass where the children could play. A river nearby to wash the clothes too…”   Jungkook’s arms tighten around you and you feel the press of his lips against your temple. “That would be perfect.”   You hum again silently with a smile, falling asleep with Jungkook right beside you. And it’s all you know you can have.   //   Empress Soojin enters your chambers the moment you are doubled over in a copper bowl, the contents of last night’s dinner squeezed painfully from your stomach. The world is on an axis, your head dizzy since you had awoken. But when you realize she’s standing there and taking in your crumpled form, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and try to stand.   “Your Majesty…”    The Empress rushes over to steady you, her eyes wide and full of surprise. “You feel nauseous?” Your expression meets hers, your face drained of all blood. The silence speaks for itself. Empress Soojin immediately whirls around to her parade of servants, anticipation etched on her features. “Call the physician!”   No sooner are you laid in the bed with the physician pressing two fingers on your wrist, quiet as he listens to your heartbeat. The Empress is crowding around, her hands gathered together but still trembling. Then the old man lifts his head with brightened eyes.   “She has been with child for two months now. It’s extraordinarily healthy and strong.”   Empress Soojin stumbles back. Her palm is pressed against her chest, her breath staggering out of her parted lips. And you lift yourself, your hand laid on your stomach that has yet to swell.   It’s your child and Jungkook’s.   “From now on, only consume cold foods and make sure it is properly cut or mashed,” he says as he wobbles to his feet. “Avoid shellfish and pineapple too. I will prescribe a herbal tonic that you can take daily.”   “Thank you.” Empress Soojin is grinning and comes to your side to envelop you in a warm embrace that you aren’t used to. “Are you still feeling unwell? Are you hungry? It is important to nourish yourself for this baby.”    When you shake your head, having no appetite, she nods and looks around. “This place is so rancid and dusty.” The Empress spits several servant’s names and they step forth with bowed heads. “Clean this room immediately! We will go on a walk in the meanwhile and get fresh air.”    There is little you can do to deny the whims of the Empress who’s more alive than you’ve ever seen her before. So while your room is cleaned and redecorated with luxurious sheets and golden vases, you’re guided by her on a walk around the garden.   The news spreads like wildfire, passing from servant to servant to official declarations.   Within a few minutes, Emperor Minseok is bounding over. There’s a grin plastered on his sweaty face, the strands of his hair sticking together. He’s out of breath, still in horseback riding gear like he had gotten off a few seconds ago and you recognize Seokjin behind him in the same attire.   “You’re expecting a child?!” Emperor Minseok exclaims loudly, startling you. He’s jumping and you muster a stiff smile, not sure what you should say. But he doesn’t give you an opportunity to. He immediately reaches out to your stomach with his greasy and soot filled hands. “Is it moving?”   But he never lays a hand on you.   Empress Soojin slaps his hand away and her brows furrow sternly. “The child is at a delicate stage. These are not trivial matters.” She pinches her nose. “And the horses’ stench that you’ve brought here is defeating the purpose of coming out here for fresh air.”   “Of course, of course.” Emperor Minseok smiles, retracting his arm.   Your eyes meet Seokjin’s and the corner of his mouth quirks warmly into a familiar smile. “Congratulations, Your Highness. May your child have great blessings as you do.”   You bow your head, trying to not prolong your gaze and arouse suspicion. “Thank you.”   “But…” Emperor Minseok’s eyes flicker between you and the Empress. “Does this mean I will get another concubine soon since I can’t play with Y/N anymore?”   Immediately, Empress Soojin is distraught. Hurt comes across her features as if she’s been slapped and for once, you sympathize with her. She never answers, merely turning around. “We should get you back inside for some rest. It’s not good to be in the cold wind for too long.”   You nod, glancing at your brother behind your shoulder and after a moment, you follow her.   But as you’re making your way back, your path is intercepted by Jungkook on his way to the courtyard. He’s dressed in black robes that match his long hair tied back, holding a sheathed sword as always. Yet what’s different from before is the tenderness of his eyes.   Jungkook doesn’t need to speak for you to understand. You’ve come to learn all the ways he communicates through silence.   “I heard about the news,” he says and you slow to a complete stop. “Congratulations, Your Highness.”   “Thank you.” You savour the moment, looking at him with a soft smile.    To the Empress who turns around to see the delay, the exchange is simply between a guard and consort without connection. She doesn’t know that the meaningful gaze is shared between a mother and father to be, two secret lovers separated by circumstance.   //   There’s many good wishes and felicitations given to you. Even Minister Park, your supposed uncle, makes an extravagant gesture by personally delivering a basket of fresh fruits and vegetables that makes Empress Soojin command the servants to re-wash. But the person you least expect to receive praise and blessings from is Jung Hoseok. In spite of that, he is here in your room, having shown up suddenly.   It’s a surprise and you struggle to get up from your bed.   “Are you alright?” he asks, concerned. “You don’t really need to stand—”   You muster a smile and manage to sit up. “It’s quite alright. I was always taught that the least I can do is greet a guest properly.”   The thin, middle-aged man rubs the gray scruff on his chin and you can feel his sharp eyes that probe into you. The way he studies you carefully would cause sweat to bead along your forehead if not for how safe you feel. It’s not from Empress’ insinuated promise of protection or that you’re abstained from execution or knowing Jungkook would defend you at any cost either.    Ever since you’ve found out that there was life budding within you, you’ve felt safe.   You’re no longer alone. No matter where you go, you carry someone else with you.   And now there’s never been a stronger reason for you to fight, to be strong and unafraid.   “I heard the physician was called this morning,” Hoseok says.   “It was just morning sickness.”   The man hums, arms shifting to place behind his back. “Well, the Empress made quite an uproar.”   “She often worries about me and the child,” you state plainly and it almost sounds like a threat, one Hoseok visibly acknowledges with a cocked brow. But you don’t dwell, clearing your throat and putting a pleasant expression on your face. “May I ask for what reason you’ve graced me with your presence?”    “I just wanted to visit the future emperor.” Hoseok’s eyes linger on your stomach and his smile becomes wry. “It’s quite a miracle, isn’t it? It’s no secret that there has been….some difficulty for a child to be produced. And for it to last this long too. The physician said it was exceptionally strong.”   Your smile stretches, but mirth never reaches your eyes. “The Mandate of Heaven grants miracles. It must be a divine wish and I am honoured to be the one fulfilling it.”   “Yes.” He nods and then notes, “well, you’ve gotten close to the Emperor’s guard, haven’t you?”   “I have no idea what you mean.”   Hoseok eyes you and it goes silent.   Then, you sit back down with the back of your hand pressed to your forehead. You gasp for breath and bat at yourself. “I’m beginning to feel faint. I think I need to lay down. It would be best if you were to leave, minister. God forbid...something happens to this child otherwise.”   Hoseok scoffs, but turns to exit.   Your fist clench, wrinkling the sheets underneath your hold. You’ll do whatever it takes to protect Jungkook’s child.   //   The fourth month milestone of your pregnancy is eventually reached without many qualms or complications. You’re less nauseous than you were before, but the queasiness has been replaced with hunger that often strikes in the middle of the night. You’re given teas and tonics, tested to make sure there is no poison — something Empress Soojin obsesses over and screams if there’s even a hair in the liquid which you’re still not sure if it’s worth laughing about or being scared of. Your breathing has become laboured too, even after short walks.   But most importantly, you’ve begun to feel strange sensations. Flutters in your stomach that the physician says is the movement of the child and when they happen, you can’t help caressing the bump that’s not so tiny anymore.   While things have been going smoothly, you’ve been put under strict monitoring for a whole month.   You’re protected, out of harm’s way. The only people who visit you are the physician, the head servant, a few other servants, and Empress Soojin who constantly and excessively frets over you — her incubator to her supposed baby. Her kindness and concern is meant for the child, not for you and you’re fully aware. It’s not that it matters to you, but it’s something you keep in mind.   You’ve heard the Emperor has found himself new concubines to preoccupy his time with too. Ever the same as he disregards matters of the nation to have innocent girls and conniving concubines lay underneath him. At least you’re untouchable to him now, out of reach and far away.   But it comes at a price.   You can’t see Seokjin. And you can’t see Jungkook either.   Your only connection to him is the swelling of your stomach, a sizable bulge that you can rest your hands against.   You miss Jungkook — so much that it hurts to think about. And it’s yearning for him constantly that makes you question your ears when you hear his voice whispering your name one night.   But it isn’t your imagination.   “J-Jungkook?”   “Don’t get up,” he says, shadow laid against the paper walls of your room. Your eyes trace against the black outline, lump forming in your throat at how this is the closest you can get to him. “I just wanted to come by and tell you that in three days, it’s happening. The ministers and other government officials have agreed to turn against the Emperor and Jung Hoseok. They’re going to force him to abdicate.”   He did it. Seokjin did it. The realization has tears flooding your vision.   “I’ll come for you,” he promises.   The tall shadow moves away, but you call out to him before he leaves—   “Jungkook.” He stops at the soft enunciation of his name, a beck and call made with emotion. And your heart stutters, knowing that the day your yearning will cease is coming close. “The physician thinks it’s a boy. I do too.”   He lingers.   If you could see him, you’d find an affectionate smile stretching into his cheeks.   Jungkook murmurs, “I hope Minkook will be as handsome as his father and as strong as his mother.”   Tears stream down your face. The corner of your lip lifts as Jungkook’s shadow fades.   //   You count down the hours, the minutes, the seconds. They pass by tediously, but excitement swells in your chest as you consider that in three days time, you will have freedom. A life with Jungkook. Seokjin by your side. Your child in your arms, never to be taken away from you.   It’s all you wished for since you stepped foot into the palace. But perhaps even before then.   You might’ve never loved Jungkook the way you do now or yearned to hold your healthy baby close to you, yet it has always been clear that doing anything and being anywhere would’ve been better than here. Even with the careful treatment you receive, this isn’t what you want.   So you wait. Patiently. For the promised day to arrive.   But it’s the day before the expected overthrow that there’s chaos in the middle of the night.    “Y/N!” You’re shaken away by Empress Soojin. Her sudden appearance shocks you out of your peaceful slumber and you’re left gasping for breath. But she’s frantic, eyes nearly falling out of their sockets. She’s still in her nightgown, hair in a disarray. The woman holds you by your shoulders, making you rise. “There’s something going on. I—I n-need to bring you to safety.”   The Empress guides you upwards, shouldering your weight. Once you’re on your feet again, she grabs a silk overcoat and secures it around your shoulders. “Quickly. There’s no time to waste.”   “Your Majesty.” You try to shake the sleepiness away, wondering if it was all a dream. “What’s going on?”   One of your hands is held in hers while the other rests underneath your swollen stomach, supporting the heaviness of the baby. “There’s a carriage waiting for you.”   There’s yelling from the distance, footsteps on the roof that make your head tilt. But you’re unable to discern what they’re saying, what’s occurring. All you know is that you’re about to be sent away. Without Seokjin — without Jungkook.    “Wait.” You struggle to catch up to her pace, confusion inhibiting your movements. Yet she still pulls you along, past the structures and paths shrouded in darkness. “I can’t leave.”   “It doesn’t matter,” Empress Soojin says, more serious than you’ve ever had the chance of witnessing. “You have to protect the baby at all costs.”   She’s desperate to protect you, to protect your child. She came to you first when she could’ve run on her own and left you asleep. She chose to keep you from harm over her own well-being.   Time and time again, Empress Soojin has made sure you were watched over.   And the realization makes guilt well up your throat.   Your steps slow and your arm tugs her back.   “This baby,” you whisper, “it doesn’t belong to who you think it does.”   But Empress Soojin’s hand tightens on yours and she turns around. Her brows are drawn together, the corners of her mouth tilted in a sorrowful smile. “Don’t you think I know that? But it doesn’t matter,” she spits in the midst of your shock and continues pulling you. “The child is supposed to be mine. It will be mine. It’s the only way I can be a mother.”   Before you can get a single word out, she turns the corner and there are deafening shouts. A clamour of feet stomping against the wooden floorboards, the clinking of heavy armour following grunts— “Stop right there!”   “Stand down!” Her voice is unwavering, strong as she pushes you behind her. “I am your Empress—!”   But they are Hoseok’s guards.    You recognize them from having followed the man around, from standing by during the ceremony and other celebrations you’ve been a spectator to. They have sworn their allegiance to him. Not to Emperor Minseok and most certainly not to Empress Soojin.   But she doesn’t seem to understand she’s been caught, that she’s a mouse cornered by two felines. She is naive and continues to scream at them for their disobedience. You try to tug her away, to get her to run, yet her pride is much too strong and you’re yanked away.    Sideways. The collar of your coat is taken by the bloodied knuckles of the guard. Stumbling. He clicks his tongue in annoyance at the ear-piercing Empress and in an effort to silence the ordeal, his weapon raises against you. His sword is high in the air, prepared to slash and end this nightmare.   Except, his blade never hits you.   Even when you shut your eyes, wrap your arms around your stomach to protect your child, hitch your breath, bracing yourself for the cut…..   “NO!”    Empress Soojin throws herself in front of you, her arms outstretched, allowing herself to take the blow as she is ripped from across her right shoulder to the left hip. She spits blood, warm crimson spewing out and splattering onto your cheeks. The world seems to come to a stop.   Your breathing ceases. The guard’s eyes shake for having hacked the Empress herself.   Yet she does not yield in spite of the wound that drips blood to the floor in droplets with a steady rhythm, that soaks into her white nightgown, marring the clean colour. She lurches forward, grabbing a torch attached to the wall and shouts, “Stay back!”   Her yell is howled out from her throat, jarring to the ears, full of wrath and will. And she throws the torch, allowing searing flames to engulf the corridor.   The guards stagger backwards with widened eyes and after a delayed moment, they retreat with profanities before the smoke can engulf their form.   Empress Soojin collapses.   You drop down to her as sobs wreck through your frame. As calculating and thoughtless as she has been, she has never once been insincere to you. She has never abandoned you. You cradle Soojin’s head into your lap, trying to wipe at her mouth with the sleeve of your silk overcoat. But she bats your arm away. Her hazy eyes remain connected with yours.   “P-protect the child…..prom...ise me…”   You nod, tears staining your cheeks forevermore. But you stand, finding leverage against the wall that was slowly being consumed by the sweltering fire and you run. As fast as your weak knees allow you to.   You leave Soojin behind — laying on the floor — staring up at the ceiling.    She dies before being taken by the fire bleeding through the palace.   You run, unsure of where to go but away from the uproar of people, the bloodshed and clashing of swords, away from the blazing inferno, collapsing ceilings and smog that chases your shadow. And it’s when you begin to lose breath and come to a four-way path that you nearly collide with another body.   A scream tears out of your chest until you find warm, familiar eyes.   “Jin?!”   Your brother’s hands secure around your shoulders and he lowers himself for your gazes to meet. “Are you alright?” His chest rises and falls, steadying his breathing as well and you notice the sword dangling by his side, unsuitable and much too lanky. Seokjin has always suited brushes and books more than weapons — something you wish you had told him sooner.   “I—I’m fine, but Empress Soojin. I...I left her behind and she’s wounded. There’s fire….fire!”   “Y/N,” Seokjin calls you calmly and sternly. “Are you okay?”    You nod and he sighs, pulling away. “Then that’s all that matters.”   “What’s going on, Jin?! I thought the abdication was going to be tomorrow.”   “Some of the ministers changed their minds last minute. They decided they wanted to remain loyalists to the Emperor for fear of their families being punished. The revolt has been moved up.”   “Revolt?! I thought….I thought they were just going to force him to abdicate!” You didn’t know that there would be such violence. That all of this was planned prior. It makes you queasy.   “Sometimes sacrifice is needed,” Seokjin merely states. “But you don’t have to worry. We still have the majority of the ministers’ support. They would’ve still voted in favour of abdicating the Emperor from his throne.”    Your brows are drawn tightly together and you shake your head. “What does that mean?”   “It means we’re going to win.” Your older brother smiles, his eyes crinkling, a sense of elation evidently filling his features. But you wonder what the cost of the rebellion coming to fruition is. “I know you’re not carrying the Emperor's child. It’s Jungkook’s, isn’t it?”   Seokjin searches your expression for any confirmation, but unlike how you thought he would be wary of your relationship with his close friend and the dangers that came along with it, he appears more relieved.   “Jungkook told me,” he explains, “and I told him to come find you. Stay here, alright?”   “What?” You grab a hold of your older brother before he can run off, before he can disappear with your worry for him being abandoned with you yet again. “Where are you going?”   “I’m going to find Hoseok before he can run away. I’m going to give him what he deserves.”   Every syllable is spoken with malice, a sharpness and anticipation flooded between each pause.    But you hang onto Seokjin, refusing to let go. You gaze at your sibling, his eyes and hair that appear darker in this lack of lighting, the downturn of his mouth, his shoulders and frame that seem to have gotten thinner in the months you haven’t seen him. You’ve missed Jin so much.   And at this moment, you don’t care that the fire is spreading through the palace. That there was smoke already spread at the ceiling. Bloodshed and pitched screams not far from where you stand. You turn deaf to those noises, to the crackling of the flames, the uprising’s cry.   “Do you really need to do this? Isn’t this enough already?”   “No. It’s not. I won’t be satisfied until I know that bastard hasn’t run away.”   “Please, Seokjin,” you beg with your entire frame, fingers tightening on his sleeve until your knuckles have turned white. You do all that you can to reach him, begging him, pleading with him as his younger sister. “D-Don’t go. I miss you. We’re….we’re family. I only have you left and I...I don’t want you to go anymore. Stay with me, please. Please, please, that's all I ask.”   You remember. Days under the sun where you would follow him. Days he would take dull sticks and poke you incessantly. Days he would piggyback you and tell you stories he made up off the top of his head. That day the two of you hid in the woven baskets and witnessed the massacre of your family until he covered your eyes with his small hands still dirty from picking flowers.   “Don’t go.”   But Seokjin’s has already made up his mind. All by himself.   You can tell with the way his eyes become saddened, how he merely leans in to plant a kiss at your forehead, how he pulls out of your grasps. Seokjin runs off and you try to chase him as if you were still children playing games in the forest. But just like then, he’s faster than you are.   “Seokjin!”   He runs, disappearing into the darkness.   “Jin!” And you’re left alone. Abandoned. Sobbing heart wrenchingly until your whole being aches. “Kim Seokjin!”   You call out to him to no avail, watching the backside of your only brother fading away.

Seokjin hears you, loud and clear. But he doesn’t turn around.    He twists around the corner, sword slashing anyone who comes in his way. After years of training, it’s no longer difficult to drive his blade into bodies and let their blood splatter on his hands. It’s rather easy when he consumes himself in his hatred and anger.   Seokjin kills any guards still wearing the royal emblem or those who have sworn their allegiance to Jung Hoseok, and any ministers who have decided to stay as loyalists. He spares servants, letting them run past him as they cry, begging for mercy. And he persists, even when he has to lurch forward, the gash of his shoulder dripping of his blood and the nicks on his face sting painfully.   He makes it to the grand throne room. The red carpet is rolled in front of him, golden candle lights providing piercing luminescence but making his own shadow darker. This is the place that once held extravagant celebrations to welcome the Emperor’s consorts that were disposed of months later, that held dancers and musicians for the entertainment of the ministers, that failed to save the nation from poverty and famine.   And now, Seokjin finds Hoseok seated on the throne.    The man is alone. Pouring his last cup of wine to drink.   “Jung Hoseok!” Seokjin’s voice booms across the hall, his steps finding vigor as they close the distance. “You can’t run anymore!”   “I know,” the middle-aged man says after he sips and smacks his lips, savouring the taste of wine. “I know I’ve lost. It must feel good to undermine my position, huh? I should’ve known better than to underestimate you, but those are things of the past. I can’t change them now.”   His calmness exasperates Seokjin to his core.   And Hoseok rises to his feet, brushing his robes behind him. His arms are placed behind his back as he walks down the steps of the throne, finally facing the younger man. But he isn’t surrendering, far from it when he takes the sword from the stand and points it at Jin.   There’s shouting, an ear-splitting clash of metal against the crackle of the flames becoming louder as they seep through the back wall. Hoseok is stiff, age having slowed his movements. He isn’t as agile as Seokjin is, doesn’t have his fervour, but it’s clear to Jin that he’s not going without a fight. That he will never give up out of his own will. Hoseok would rather burn here.   “You killed my family!” Seokjin spits when their blades crash against each other again, the older barely able to deflect.   The corner of Hoseok’s mouth tugs. “I ended many families.”   Seokjin never tells him about the Kim family, about how his father and mother were both executed when knelt on the dirty ground, how his uncles and aunts were brutalized before being murdered, that the servants’ sobs only stopped once their breathing ceases.    Seokjin doesn’t tell, just because he has an inkling, a fear that Hoseok won’t even remember.   So he lets his grief speak for itself— “You will pay for what you’ve done.”   There’s a swing, another clatter. Hoseok stumbles back before lifting his sword again.   There’s a chance. An opportunity. Seokjin could deflect, could move away swiftly without a blink to waste, but his eyes instead pinpoint to Hoseok’s open abdomen. A perfect spot and he seizes the moment.   He drives the sword forward.   Until he can hear the breath in the older man hitch, see the way his pupils tremble. Even when the cost is that Hoseok’s own blade digs into his shoulder and tears it down into his chest.   Blood pours like rain on an April afternoon. It drips in a rhythmic beat, coating the empty throne room until the iron stench overwhelms the smoke of the burning, golden walls.   Seokjin uses the remaining of his strength to step back, pulling the sword out of Hoseok. The blood-soaked blade crashes to the ground at the same time as Hoseok’s own body collapses.   And Jin falls back a moment later. The pool of his blood is warm, the fire enveloping the room sweltering. He stares at the magnificently painted ceiling before shutting his eyes for the final time.    The corners of Seokjin’s mouth tugs upwards into a smile.   We’ve won, Y/N.

At the same time, you stumble.

  The wind knocks out of your lungs as your knees buckle. You’re grabbed by one of Hoseok’s guards, pulled back until your arm feels like it’s being yanked out of its socket. You cry out as agony overwhelms you and the guard wheezes over the exhaust of the fire engulfing the palace and paints the wooden structures into bright scarlet.    “She’s here!” he shouts while you struggle.    But before you can be taken, dragged towards the center of the palace, there’s a low grunt from the guard. A short shout is made and he suddenly drops, revealing your saviour. Doe eyes and dark hair, his hands splattered in carmine and his brows knitted closely together.   “J-Jungkook!”   He embraces you in an instant, arms wrapping around your frame for the first time in ages. His nose digs into your hair, your face into his shoulder as you shake. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here now,” he soothes you in a murmur that you desperately hang on to.   But the intimate moment doesn’t last for long.   Jungkook pulls away. “We have to go. There’s an open entrance in the back by the stables.”   “Wait—wait, Jungkook! Jin. I couldn’t stop him. He—he went to find...he went to find Jung Hoseok and he went towards the fire. I can’t leave him behind. He’s my only brother. Please go look for him, please,” you beg him, hands tightening on his. “I can’t go without him.”   “I know,” Jungkook tells you with lips lopsided. “But I need to make sure you’re safe first. I need to fulfill my promise to him. This is what he wanted, okay?”   You nod, putting your trust in him and quicken your pace. The faster you go, the more time they’ll be for Jungkook to return and search for Jin before it’s too late. But as the two of you interlace your hands, running alongside one another, you’re stopped meters away from the circular opening of the wall.   “Stop!” Emperor Minseok shouts pathetically. He’s obviously shaken, his hair in a disarray, his once magnificent robes dirtied and fluttering open. He is with two other guards wielding weapons, but without his clothes and servants, it is clear that he is undeserving of his title.   He is not an Emperor.   “Y-You can’t leave! That child is mine!” Minseok points to your stomach.   “This isn’t your child!” you shout back at him and the man seemingly pales, eyes horrified as his mouth drops open. “It has never been.”   “You….You!”   There’s a clamour above the roar of the fire consuming the entire palace. The last of his guards were coming from the corridor and your hand squeezes Jungkook’s.   If you die here, then so be it. But you will do so protecting your child until your very last breath.   Yet, Jungkook has other plans and it doesn’t encompass your death.    “Run,” he whispers sharply into your ear and you whirl around to look at him. “I’ll hold them off. Run and don’t look back.”   “But—”   “I love you.” Jungkook smiles. His doe eyes crinkle, shining in the flames bleeding to your feet. “I’ll see you again.”   He pushes you forward and your feet move on instinct. You run with your arms wrapped around your swollen center, breaths stolen from your parted lips and your eyes shut tight. The guards swing their swords around, but their blades never touch you. There’s a clatter of metal, blades striking one another.   Minseok reaches out to seize you, not letting you get away. But his fingertips merely skim the tips of your hair. You hear his grunt, a smothered sound coming from his mouth, the drop of a body.   You run. Out through the entrance. Up the dirt incline until your feet begin to slip. Until the darkness has completely covered your form from sight. Until sheer exhaustion forces you to stop.   Against Jungkook’s will, you turn around.   You watch as the raging fire engulfs the palace, eating away at the structure that stretches across the horizon, as blazing as the sunlight at dawn itself. And you fall to your knees, sobbing for the people you love.

[Epilogue]   The dynasty has fallen.   New people have taken over old places and you wonder if it was all futile — if history will repeat itself once more — if Seokjin’s sacrifice has been made in vain. For his sake, you hope not.   After the rebellion and riots on the streets by the common people, the loyalists of the old empire have been driven away from the country. But you know there’s few of them that are still after you because of your ties to the rebels. There are those on the uprising’s side that are seeking to kill you too. They believe that your child belongs to the deceased Emperor and many would rather be safe than sorry, not wanting to risk his bloodline being in existence at all.   But one look at the babbling baby trying to stand in front of you and his striking doe eyes and dark hair, you know for certain that he is of Jungkook’s blood and bones.   “Minkook, what are you doing?”   You pick up your mischievous, chubby toddler to place on your hip.   His grabby hands take your hair and his mouth circles, trying to sound out syllables and string them together. “M-Mum..mum..mama…”   You smile, nuzzling into him. “Are you hungry?”   Those who believe you, the ones closest to Seokjin, have chosen to protect you from the threats. After the birth, you were brought to a safe house far from the capital where no one knows your name or your child’s. It’s a modest home on top of a green hill, close to the riverbend and where you can see the sunrise and sunset. It’s peaceful and every morning and evening, you’re able to sit on the steps. Waiting.   They told you about Seokjin. You heard that several of them saw his body before the entire palace went up into flames, but there’s been no news of Jungkook. No sighting of him.   It’s been eleven months since that time. Six from when Minkook was born.   You don’t know Jungkook’s whereabouts, don’t know if he can even find you with where you’re hidden now, how he will manage to get himself here. But you believe in his promise. You trust that you will see him again.   “Goodnight, Min.”   Your sleepy toddler is unable to keep his eyes open for any longer and succumbs to the seduction of sleep. You plant a tender kiss on the top of his round head and set down on the bed, still softly humming a lullaby that Seokjin had taught you so long ago — a way you keep his memory alive. Once Minkook is secure and safe, your footsteps pad quietly across the floor.    You come outside, shutting the door behind you, sitting on the wooden steps.   The last light of the sun is fading from the sky. The horizon is painted in murky shades of tangerine and rose, the clouds wispy and floating in shapes that you and your brother once tried to discern as children. Someday, your own children will lay in the grass staring at the sky because of his sacrifice and yours. But for now, you watch the sun fall.    You watch as night takes over the evening, how another day has passed.   But as you turn to head inside as the sky starts to be filled with stars, your breath hitches in your throat.   You blink hard to ensure that it's not a dream. That the illusion has not imprinted into your mind after so much desperation and time. But the sight is all too real when you open your eyes again.   Over the horizon at a distance and in the last dwindling light of the evening, there is a man with doe eyes and dark hair approaching. His gaze meets yours and a tender smile stretches into his cheeks. His features are tired as if he has been traveling for days, clothes ragged and ripped.   But none of it matters.   Jungkook comes closer and closer towards you. And you run, meeting him halfway as tears flood your vision. You leap forward and he laughs, arms catching you in a tight embrace.   The two of you are finally reunited at last.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts scenario #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #I know this is pretty wild and different from my other stories #but it's a concept I've been meaning to write for a while #hope y'all can still find it entertaining :D #even if it's on the heavier side

[latristereina]

Ferdinand the Catholic was born on March 10th in 1452, on Friday at 2 p.m. in small Aragonese town, Sos. We know it thanks to original letter that is stored at the municipality of Alcira and which had been discovered by M. Gual Camarena. (I have no idea if the said letter is stored there at this point; the book I am using as a reference for that information was published in 1962) 

His father John II of Aragon as a deputy of Valencia delivered such news to the Parliament of this city and his mother, Juana Enriquez, addressed directly the Cortes of Cataluña and the Cortes of the city of Barcelona for the same reason. Both messages arrived into respective places on March 27th. The Parliament of Valencia sent congratulations to John due to the birth of his second legitimate son, and decided to grant the messenger, Alfonso Pujalt, the gatekeeper of the king, the amount of 15 timbres of gold. The counselors of Barcelona, on the other hand, were more reluctant. The birth of Ferdinand wasn’t particularly celebrated there, given some problems the Parliament had to resolve at the moment. 

It’s said his birth was surrounded by different legends. According to one of them, the arrival of the Aragonese prince into this world was announced by Carmelite monk who had appeared in front of Alfonso V of Aragon at Castillo Nuevo in Naples, and who told him that there, in Spain, an infante of his lineage had been born, the one who would be called the greatest of the Christian Princes. This symbolism clearly fit in with the Islamic triumph over Christianity, hence the belief the future ruler would hold back the intrusion of Muslims with the strength of his arm. According to other legend Ferdinand’s birth was announced by comets that had been circulating over the sky, moving from the lands of Aragon towards the lands of Castile and forward, towards the West. We can notice a reference to the later union between Aragon and Castile, and to the overseas expansion of The Catholic Monarchs. Such legends, clearly created by Ferdinand’s panegyrists, were rendered useless as historical sources.

But as a matter of fact, the fate of Ferdinand had been tied to warlike atmosphere since his birth. The place where he was born was in northern Aragon, close to the border with Navarre, where his father, John „the Great” was the king. Despite that, Ferdinand’s mother feeling she was about to give birth, left Navarre in a hurry, so the child could be born in Aragon. The prince’s birth coincided with the civil war in Navarre between John and his son by his first wife, Charles, The Prince of Viana. 

John in 1420 married Blanca, the younger daughter of the king of Navarre, Charles III. Blanca became the heir apparent to the Navarrese throne after childless death of her older sister, Joan in 1413, and assumed the title of the Queen of Navarre in 1425, making John her consort. Meanwhile in 1421 John and Blanca had a son, the infante Charles, for whom, his grandfather Charles III created the duchy of Viana, located in the southwestern zone of the kingdom of Navarre, at the Castilian border. 

A few years later, in 1433, Alfonso V passed the governorship of Aragon and Valencia over to his younger brother John, making him the regent of The Crown of Aragon and unofficial successor of his brother - who after settling himself in Naples once and for all, officially had entrusted his wife Maria with the policy of the Iberian Peninsula.

Blanca passed away in 1441, in her last will leaving the title of the King of Navarre to her husband, John, even though the said title lawfully belonged to their firstborn son, Charles. In 1447, John married Juana Enríquez the daughter of Fadrique, the Admiral of Castile. This way John had in his grasp the titles of the King of Navarre, the governor of Aragon and ensured his position in Castile. Ferdinand was the fruit of his marriage to Juana Enríquez. Even though the prince was born in Aragon, Castilian blood did flow through his veins; after his mother from the famous Enríquez family, and after his father who was the son of Ferdinand I from The House of Trastámara.

There is a tradition according to which the newborn baby was christened at the parish church of San Vicente and the ceremony was celebrated by the Bishop of Tarazona, Jorge de Bardaxí. The basin that allegedly the Catholic King was plunged into during his baptism is still being showed off as a kind of exhibit in Sos del Rey Católico. (It certainly was the case in 1962 when the book that I am using as a reference was published) However there is no documentation that would confirm this anecdote. On the other hand, a bunch of other circumstances refute it. The bishop of Tarazona would not have a chance to intervene in the alleged baptism in Sos; the prince was born in rather dramatic circumstances, given that at the time Villarroya and Villaluenga were taken by Gastón de la Cerda, the count of Medinaceli, on March 21th, in 1452. This resulted in a threat that he would reach Calatayud and the valley of Jalón; also a special committee had been appointed in order to face the Castilian invasion, the said committee consisted of forty members, including the said Jorge de Bardaxí, bishop of Tarazona. Also the febrile measures that had been taken by king John in order to destroy the plans of his enemies: the relocation of the prince of Vianna (Ferdinand’s half-brother) to the fortress of Mallén, in Aragon (April 13th) and his (John’s) departure for Tudela and then for Calatayud (May/June) in order to reconquer Villarroya; and finally, his disagreements with the Aragonese over the war efforts which made that campaign sterile. We can be sure that in those circumstances John didn’t think about great religious ceremony.

The family tradition rules out the village of Sos as a place of Ferdinand’s baptism. Ferdinand himself on one occasion claimed it was Saragossa where he had been baptised. Even though it may be surprising that he had had to wait almost eleven months before he was christened, his own words confirm that it was the case. 

According to Zurita, who is the only source of the information at the moment, little Ferdinand was christened at the metropolitan church of San Salvador - on Sunday, February 11th in 1453. The baptism was conducted by Jorge de Bardaxí, bishop of Tarazona. Ramón de Castellón and Ciprés de Paternoy acted as his godfathers.

According to one of Ferdinand’s biographers, Jaime Vicens Vives, Ferdinand took more after his mother, both in looks and impulsive emotionality, however tenacious vigilance of his cold-tempered and calculative father, made him repress his emotions and passions under the responsibility of kingship.  

About Ferdinand the Catholic:

Subsequent descriptions of Ferdinand verify that the prince was a vigorous and charming young man, who, if not exactly handsome by twentieth-century standards, was nevertheless quite attractive. An anonymous court historian later noted that Ferdinand had “marvelously beautiful, large slightly slanted eyes, thin eyebrows, a sharp nose that fit the shape and size of his face,” a slightly full, sensual mouth and lips that were “often laughing.” Although Ferdinand seems to have had a slight cast in his left eye, he had an attractive face framed by a high forehead. His well-shaped legs and an average height body were “most appropriate to elegant suits and the finest clothes.” Ferdinand was also an athlete, “a great rider of the bridle and the jennet, and a great lance thrower and other activities which he performed with a great skill and a grace.” The future king, Pulgar later observed, was also an excellent horseman who “jousted with ease and with so much skill that no one in his kingdom did it better…an avid sportsman and a man of good effort and much activity in war.” Ferdinand, like Isabella, was a compassionate individual who "felt sympathy for miserable people in unfortunate situations.” Naturally affable and gregarious, he had a “singular grace, to wit, that all who spoke with him at once loved him and wished to serve him.” Yet, despite his charm, Ferdinand was seemingly unflappable, a man in whom “neither anger nor pleasure could alter…very much.” His personal habits were similarly conservative and he exercised moderation in food and drink.

- Nancy Rubin Stuart. „Isabella of Castile: The First Renaissance Queen”

On the same day in 1503 Joanna I of Castile gave birth to her second son at the palace in Alcalá de Henares. The boy was named in honor of his maternal grandfather and became Ferdinand the Catholic’s favorite grandchild. 

Ferdinand Habsburg arrived into this world in unpleasant circumstances. He was conceived during his parents stay in Spain, who had come to be sworn as the new heirs to the both kingdoms, since Juana’s older siblings and their respective offspring had passed away. 

It seems that Juana and Philip had never been on good terms despite all the love she had for her husband. He had a great influence over her and didn’t show her any respect or tenderness, she basically suffered abuse at his hands, despite all this, they managed to produce children on regular basis. 

Philip clearly didn’t like Spanish culture, cuisine and didn’t speak the language, and it seems like he was waiting for the occasion to run away and such occurred in October 1502, when he and his wife travelled to Saragossa to be sworn as the heirs to the kingdoms of Aragon, on October 27. On the same day when the ceremony was to take place, king Ferdinand received the news from Madrid that his wife had fallen gravely ill - in such circumstances he didn’t hesitate to leave everything and hurry to be by Isabella’s side. He named his son-in-law the deputy of the kingdom and abandoned his patrimonial realms, going to Castile. Philip was sworn as the general deputy on November 2, but the next day abandoned Saragossa, worsening the situation. 

He left pregnant Juana behind, who a couple of days later decided to follow into his footsteps, most likely asking her paternal aunt Joanna (the younger sister of Ferdinand the Catholic) for taking care of everything. Despite of Isabella and Juana’s pleas Philip abandoned Spain, whereas Juana stayed with her parents.

It was a hard time for Juana who missed her beloved husband. After giving birth to her fourth child on March 10th, 1503 in Alcalá de Henares, where the princess and her parents had spent Christmas of 1502, her depression and frustration got even worse. She didn’t hesitate to do anything in her power to come back to Flanders, not taking little prince’s tender age into consideration. 

Little Ferdinand was christened at San Justo (today known as Catedral de los Santos Niños Justo y Pastor de Alcalá de Henares), his grandmother Isabella donated 3.750 maravedies on this occasion.  

Juana’s determination to leave Spain to be with Philip and three of their children whom she had left behind, worsened her relations with Isabella. The Queen would rather have her grandchildren brought to Spain, so they could be raised alongside their mother and their newborn brother. Juana kept crying and moaning, speaking gruffly to her beloved ones, and Isabella fell ill again due to those divergences with the heiress. The physicians of the Queen wrote a letter to king Ferdinand, who at the time was in Rosellón, on June 20th of the same year, to inform him that his wife was gravely ill once more, suffering from high fevers and they also touched upon the matter of Juana’s grave emotional state which, according to them, was the cause of deterioration in her mother’s health. Juana didn’t want to eat, couldn’t sleep and was showing signs of deep depression, being sad and gloomy, all the time missing her husband. 

Isabella was afraid Juana would decide to act on her own and for her own safety had her placed at La Mota Castle in Medina del Campo. Juana couldn’t stand this fact and when she noticed the gate was closed, she refused to come back to her chambers despite the fact it all occurred in November, staying outside, even though the weather was cold. Isabella despite her poor health travelled from Segovia to Medina del Campo to comfort her daughter, who, it seems, had wanted to force her mother to pay attention to her demands. Isabella and Juana fell out during this meeting, given Juana’s behavior and the scandalous tone she used while speaking with her mother, which caused Isabella’s indignation. 

Under such pressure the Queen eventually let her heiress go - the princess left Spain in spring of 1504, however given little Ferdinand was still a baby who shouldn’t participate in such voyage, it was agreed for him to be raised in Spain by his maternal grandparents.

About Ferdinand I in his youth:

In all aspects, such as nature, expression, and bearing, and all other things, he resembled the king, don Fernando, his grandfather. By nature he was predisposed to artistic things, such as painting and sculpting, and above all, to sculpting things from metal and doing gunpowder shots and throwing them. He enjoyed listening to chronicles and tales, and remembered everything (…) some of the things he said, when he was a five year old child, till nine or ten years of age, were so clever, so discreet, that everyone was amazed.

- Fray Álvaro de Osorio (x)

Sources:

“Historia Critica de La Vida y Reinado de Fernando II de Aragon”, Jaime Vicens Vives

“Między wojną a dyplomacją. Ferdynand Katolicki i polityka zagraniczna Hiszpanii w latach 1492-1516″, Filip Kubiaczyk

“Isabel la Católica: vida y reinado“, Tarsicio de Azcona

“Isabel the Queen: Life and Times”, Peggy K. Liss

“Isabella of Castile: The First Renaissance Queen”, Nancy Rubin Stuart

#perioddramaedit #historyedit #ferdinand ii of aragon #ferdinand the catholic #ferdinand i holy roman emperor #ferdinand i of habsburg

[aragonitesputnick]

Tomorrow is another day

In the last year the young mother and her family had been through so much. Good and bad. It's been a bumpy year for then. More hospital visits, the family car breaking down, getting a new car, promotions at work, and watching their son growing up. Vacations to old friends and family reunions. So much has been going on. And finally it seems like things are setting down. Until recently. The mother lays on the air mattress at her brother's house because the family car is in the shop again and instead of trying to get a ride back home her family decides to take a "vacation" by staying in town. Her husband is still sound asleep next to her. In a few hours the family is going bowling. Acting like nothing is wrong. But something is wrong she just can't figure it out. The last few weeks have been full of a lot of bad days for her husband. He's been angrier then normal, lashing out at the smallest things. Even how their child plays in the living room. When probed for information on what's up, she gets the same damn answer. "I'm fine, just hurting a little bit." Hurting a little bit never before made him so angry. Hurtful words with no realization of what was said comes from his mouth. She is a very understanding wife, she know his illness give him these mood swings but it's worse when plans get canceled and vacations from work get canceled. Vacations she had to fight tooth and nail to get those specific days off and now canceled the days off begging to have her days back so she can work. Maybe he just needs a break. and not the "family trip" kind more of let him go stay with a friend away from the family kind. Do they have marital problems? No they have 'he's in a funk and can't get out of it and she's done all she can physically and emotionally to help and has reached a high level of stress that's making her physically sick' kinda problems. If she confides in anyone they always assume their marriage is done and she should move on. But it's not like that, and no she's not in denial, she knows he just needs a break from being around their kid and her sometimes. That's why she works so much, it's her break from the day in and day out listening to him talk about being sick and being completely helpless to do anything to make him feel better. As she lays in bed, she thinks about a more recent even that took place that most likely is the reason he's in such and funk. For the last 3 years she has been wanting a 2nd child, and her husband has always been onboard with it. A lot of "when we have another child" talk. But never have they been actively trying to conceive, more never preventing. Another downfall of his illness. Being intimate is very hard and very once in a while for them. And she's is very understanding and sensitive to him about it. Only recently has their 4 year old been physically asking for a baby in the house and sending prayers every night to Jesus asking for a baby sister or brother. He won't even let the mother donate his old clothes and shoes because he wants to give them to his new baby. Breaking the mother's heart every time he asks when Jesus will answer his prayers. All she can saddly tell her child is that we have to wait on God. She can't exactly tell him the reason it taking to so long, that's a discussion for when he's a lot older. Their child had mostly directed his questions about babies and wanting a sibling to the mother rarely to his dad. However, recently he's asked his dad for a baby. And perhaps that was what sparked a very small fire in him because the last intimate encounter between her and her husband was different and amazing. Then shit hit the fan and extinguished anything that was starting. It was a week ago when the young mother's younger sister and her family came for a visit. Not to visit their parents as most normal children do when they haven't seen them for a year, but to just to drop off her kids and husband so she could go party for a few days with their step-sister. The young mother's brother-in-law was sick so he wasn't even able to really watch his own child. The young mother and her mom both had to work so it was the dads watching the nice and nephews. Four children all very close in age. While she was at work her husband sent her a lot of text messages that started with, "I'm sorry but we have to buy our son new..." Why? Because when she returned from work she saw that her son's cousins wrecked havock on their house, breaking and ruining toys, books, furniture and completely trashed the entire living room. Paint on furniture that had belonged to her grandparents, every tub of playdough was smashed together and ruined, a lot was smeared in to the carpet. Her husband was not doing good at all. The kid's dad didn't watch them left the job on her husband and the cousins did not listen to him at all. The young mother took over, she deals with children all the time at work. She's a preschool teacher, and the mess her niece and nephews made in one afternoon was 100 times worse then any mess her class if 20 two and three year olds do in a week. Her sister finally came back and took her kids, she didn't find what they did a problem she actually thought it was kinda funny. They came and left. And good riddens to that but the side effect... Her husband hasn't wanted anything to do with her. No trying for another child. and he's become angry. The young mother wonders if he blames her a little since it was her sister's kids that destroyed their house. He'd never admit to it because even he knows how petty that would sound if said out loud. What can she do? Suggest a time away from them? Keep probing for the problem? As she lays in bed she come up with the only solution... Give it to God and just be there for him because that is what a good and caring wife does. Tomorrow is another day and hopefully tomorrow will be better.

#children #destructive children #TTC #kidney disease #family #tomorrow is another day