@ladyelocin: “Roses & Rubies” 🥀— a yoonmin...

“Roses & Rubies” 🥀
— a yoonmin au

Jimin is a notorious thief who likes pretty and shiny things. Hearsays about an old and abandoned castle harboring mountains of precious jewels and a golden crown filled with the highest grade of diamonds and rubies steer his path to a small town in the western port. He was told the castle was cursed—that anyone who had attempted to enter the place never returned to tell the tale. Jimin refuses to believe in such ridiculous superstitions until he meets an enigmatic, handsome man who has lived in the mystical castle for hundreds of years.

cover art by the amazing @mminymo 🫶

tags:
• thief jimin, vampire yoongi
• fantasy, romance, royalty, mythical creatures
• kinda has a dark theme but there's more fluff i swear
• mentions of violence, blood sucking/drinking
• angst, enemies to lovers, misunderstandings, happy ending
• smut 🔞 top!yg x bott!jm

• This fic is inspired by "Beauty and the Beast" but darker 🥀
• This is a commissioned AU. The commissioner gave me a prompt and asked me to finish writing the story.

🥀

"Have you heard the news?"

"What, another storm coming this way soon?"

"No." One of the babblers, a man with a faded scar on the left side of his face, lowers his head to whisper, "A band of thieves from the east attempted to break into the castle."

"And?" the other asks, his full attention caught by his companion's rumor. "Have they found it?"

"Of course not." Scarface shrugs, taking a swig of his ale. "Like the others, they never returned."

Jimin turns his gaze back to the ale in front of him, looking down at his blurry reflection on the bitter liquor. A light snort makes its way through his nose, and he downs a gulp of his drink before placing the tankard on the bar.

"You're a new face."

The raven-haired boy lifts his gaze to the old man wiping plates behind the counter. "Where are you from?" he asks, eyeing Jimin curiously.

"It depends." Jimin shrugs. "I came from anywhere."

"Are you a traveler?"

"You could say that."

"A wandering rogue, then."

The old man's words elicit a chuckle from him. "Is that how you see every new face around here?"

"No new face around here ever wants something good." The barkeeper scoffs. "I've been living in this small town for more than fifty years, +

+ and each newcomer like you was either a fugitive or a fraud." He cocks an eyebrow at the younger. "Which one are you?"

Jimin smiles in amusement, taking a sip of his ale and then licking the bitter aftertaste off his lips. "The latter one, perhaps."

"A thief."

Jimin nods.

Something in the old man's eyes glint, something akin to disapproval and caution. "I have lost count of the number of crooks who traveled from all parts of the kingdom just to meet the end of their fate here in the western port."

"I do not know you, but I wish no harm for you, boy. Turn around and forget your purpose here while you still can."

But instead of heeding the barkeeper's warning, Jimin pushes on, "What do you know about the old and abandoned castle?"

"Are you soft in the head?" the barkeeper grunts. "Take my advice and leave. Forget that castle ever existed."

"I shall not leave until I get what I want." Jimin throws a pouch on the counter, its contents thumping against the hard wood, sounding dull and full.

The barkeeper looks at it for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Do you think a bag of silver coins can persuade me to utter a word?"

"No." Jimin reaches out to loosen the strap of the bag, smirking in triumph when he sees the man's eyes blow wide in shock. "But gold can."

Then, the young thief fishes out something from the inner pocket of his dark coat. "And this might persuade you more," he says, sliding an artifact of a golden cross filled with diamonds across the counter.

"Is that..." The man gasps. "The missing relic from the basilica?"

To this, Jimin nods. "I am the thief the bishop has been looking for." He grins, tucking the relic back into safety. "Say a word if you want. But no one will ever catch me. Even if you know my face, I can easily outrun all the guards sent after me."

Stroking the rim of his tankard with a finger, Jimin looks at the old man under a canopy of thick, dark lashes as a mischievous smile curves the corners of his lips. "I'm not a simple thief or like any other thief you met before."

"I have no interest in small rewards. I focus my attention on the highest benefit that I can reap. I do not rob simply anyone or anything. I take the highest grade of jewels and artifacts worth far more than a couple of bags of gold."

He tilts his head. "A few moons ago, I heard of this 'cursed castle' lying in the heart of the western port. They said within the castle walls lies a treasure unbeknownst to man, a treasure so great it remains hidden from the rest of the world. Is it true?"

The barkeeper's eyes wander around the tavern, keeping a cautious gaze at each person eating and drinking at the establishment before he takes a jar of ale and pours himself a drink. "No one knows," he answers, offering Jimin another round of the bitter liquid.

"I heard stories as I grew up—disturbing and grotesque ones. There are many versions of the same tale, but in the end, no one knows about the castle's curse or what the truth is."

Jimin doesn't believe in magic, curses, or any of the sort that is unperceived by the human senses.

He doesn't believe in things that he cannot see. Believing in such superstitions is a waste of time for him. "What kind of tale?" asks he.

As the warm flames of the torches and candlelights chase away the shadows of the night, the barkeeper narrates,

"They said mountains of gold and precious jewels, as well as a golden crown filled with diamonds and rubies, are hidden within the castle. The abandoned fortress was believed to have belonged to a royal family hundreds of years ago, but no one could say for certain."

"So the castle has been harboring nothing but gold and jewels?" Jimin asks, a wave of disappointment seeping into his bones.

"No." The old man shakes his head. "It was rumored that one of the chambers in the castle holds a vial that is worth far more than any gold in the world."

Jimin narrows his eyes. "What vial?" What kind of hidden treasure is worth more than all the gold in the world?

"A vial for immortality," the barkeeper says in a serious and solemn voice as Jimin parts his lips in surprise.

"Nonsense."

"Perhaps." The old man nods in his direction. "But then again, no one knows for certain, for any person who attempted to enter the castle never returned to tell the tale. It was rumored that the vial was guarded by a hideous beast that would devour your flesh and bones."

"A beast. Right." Jimin lets out a mocking snort. "A piece of imagery crafted by elders and wet nurses to frighten stubborn children at night." Drinking the rest of the ale, Jimin wipes his lips with his sleeve and frowns.

"The only beasts I know of are the selfish nobles who prey on the poor and those in the seat of power who use their privilege to act in their interest at the cost of other people's lives."

Sliding off the stool, Jimin pushes the bag of silver coins towards the old man and says, "Thank you for the company and warning. But such nonsensical and whimsical tales of beasts and vials of immortality won't deter me from entering the castle."

Pulling up the hood over his head, Jimin nods at the old man one more time before making his way out of the tavern, walking in the cold and salty breeze wafting from the nearby port, shivering slightly under the dark, starless sky.

Jimin shall enter the castle on the morrow at the dead of the night.

🥀

A distant howl seeps into the dark night as Jimin alights his horse several yards from the castle. Roping his stallion around a sturdy tree, Jimin lifts his eyes to the old castle standing tall and proud atop the cliff.

He can hear the wild waters hitting the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, bringing salty air into the land as the moon shines from above, behind the tall towers that cast creeping shadows onto the ground below, creating an eerie glow around the abandoned fortress.

Jimin got a piece of disturbing information from a town resident, saying that candlelights had been sighted burning behind the glass windows on multiple occasions, bright and warm in the dead of night. But no one had ever confirmed the truth of it. No one.

And yet, a few residents believe that there are inhabitants in the castle, folktale or not, and have managed to shun away from the peering eyes of the townspeople for years.

"There must be an underground tunnel of sorts," one told him. "Otherwise, how could one enter and leave the castle without being seen by anyone?"

"I told you. No one lives in that abandoned castle. Not for hundreds of years," another countered.

"That's absurd. Who else would have lighted those candles? The thieves who didn't manage to get back?" A mocking snort.

"No. The candlelights you spoke of were nothing but a figment of your imagination or a mere trick of light from the sea or moon above."

Jimin lets out an amused huff through his nose before pulling the hood over his head, checking his bag and the tools strapped on his belt one last time. Inhabitants or not, Jimin will steal the infamous vial from that creepy place.

Jimin enters the castle's perimeter through the east side, shooting a climbing spike toward the parapet with a crossbow until the metal hooks over the brick walls. He has been climbing walls as high as this for years.

He knows how to maneuver himself in the air like the back of his hand and where to step and support his weight to avoid slipping and falling down to his death. It comes from years of experience, of broken bones and bruises, that he can do this task now without breaking a sweat.

Hopping over the wall, Jimin stays low as he stealthily walks across the battlements, blending in the darkness of the night to avoid any watchers from the guard towers, if there are any. With deft hands, Jimin picks the lock of one of the guard towers and slips into the door.

Guard towers are oftentimes connected to the courtyard, at least from what he experienced before. Hence, with practised ease, Jimin quietly descends the stairs and opens the door leading to an open inner yard.

Finally, his vision finds what he's searching for: the highest keep where treasures are frequently hidden, the most guarded and secured place in any fortress. Without wasting another second, Jimin hides behind the pillars as he traverses the place, swift and lightfooted.

He slips into dark hallways like a feline, making no noise with every step. Castles almost always have the same layout, especially something as old and ancient as this one. Hence, it doesn't take him long to find the connecting bridge to the highest keep.

Cautiously looking around, Jimin opens the oak door to let himself into the keep. The halls are dark and eerie, with sinister shadows lurking in every corner as the moonlight passing through the windows guides Jimin's footsteps across the place.

"No one lives here," he muses as he ascends a spiral staircase leading to the mezzanine overlooking a huge and spacious room below, probably the great hall. "If not, this place would not be as deathly still as it is."

On the contrary, the castle is cleaner than he thought, no dust accumulating on surfaces nor broken splinters of overturned furniture like what one would expect in an abandoned stronghold where traces of a battle or conflict took place.

It's almost as if someone has been watching over the place. A housekeeper, perhaps. But the tales he heard from the townsfolk prove the theory otherwise. However, how can an old, forsaken castle be as preserved as this if not for the efforts of a helping hand?

Jimin jolts upon a sudden, rattling sound coming behind him. Halting his footsteps in the middle of the hallway, he reaches for the hilt of his dagger and narrows his eyes at the long stretch of corridor, keenly watching for any movement or fluctuation of shadows.

None.

"It must be a rat or a little critter," he thinks before removing his hand from the dagger and continuing on his way. He turns at the end of the hallway, mildly reeling back in surprise at the portraits hanging on the wall.

The moon peeking through the glass windows casts its soft, blue glow upon them, giving Jimin a clear view of the noblemen and women painted delicately on the canvas, each wearing the finest gowns and tunics that their deep coffers could afford.

"Of course," Jimin whispers with a humorless chuckle. "This castle once belonged to a noble family. Maybe, a royal one."

And yet, why does no one in town know anything about such prominent information no matter how many hundred years have passed?

"It's none of my business," the raven-haired thinks. He's not here to learn about the castle's history anyway. Veering away from the portraits, Jimin continues to walk until he reaches the lone door at the end of the hallway.

A wave of excitement unfurls in his chest at the prospect of finding what he is searching for and finally seeing the vial of immortality the barkeeper told him about. But, to his surprise, he notices that the door appears to be ajar as if someone is deliberately inviting him in.

Jimin feels a fleeting moment of hesitation before he remembers that the last person who walked on the castle grounds must have left the door in that state, or possibly a product of natural causes as the castle crumbles throughout the years.

Hence, steeling himself, Jimin carefully pushes the door to avoid any creak that might sound an alarm if ever there is someone, possibly, another thief like him, lurking around and searching for the same vial that Jimin yearns to get a hold of.

A bedroom. This place is a spacious bedroom with the most mundane things in it. No mountains of gold, a golden crown, or a vial of immortality. None of those things. Averting his eyes from the bed, Jimin takes in the long, heavy red curtains obscuring the windows,

almost drenching the place in darkness if it weren't for the open glass doors leading to the balcony outside. But what catches Jimin's attention is the crystal rose floating on a red cushion placed atop the end table.

It serves as the centerpiece of the room, luring Jimin in with its clear petals reflecting off the blue glows of the night. "What's this?" he mutters, stepping closer to the alluring crystal bloom. "I have never seen such an artifact before."

Pulling off the hood of his cloak to take a better look at the artifact, Jimin gazes at the crystal with curious eyes, astonished by its luminescent glow. And then, as a human seduced by temptation, Jimin reaches out for the crystal rose.

"Ow," he reels his hand back in pain, looking down at the blood slowly oozing from the finger that made contact with the thorn. It felt like a needle piercing through his skin, as strange as it was, for it was merely a crystal and not an actual rose.

Then, to his shock, he sees the smear of blood he left on the thorn slowly seep back into the stem, flowing up like a languid stream toward the petals, coloring the once clear crystal with the lightest shade of pink. "What the...?" he whispers, frowning. What is happening?

"Who are you?"

Jimin flinches back from the crystal rose and spins around at the sound of that low and deep voice, uttered like a ghostly breath at the back of his neck.

He sees a figure standing amidst the dark shadows.

Adrenaline fires through Jimin's veins, and he seizes the dagger from his belt strap, placing the weapon before him in defense and setting his feet apart in a fighting stance. Why didn't he hear a sound coming from the opposite corner of the room?

"Who are you?" Jimin counters, scowling.

"An intruder does not have the right to ask questions." The figure takes a step out of the shadows, directing Jimin's attention to a pair of polished boots peeking under the moonlight.

"It was rumored that the vial was guarded by a hideous beast that would devour your flesh and bones."

The barkeeper's words echo in the young thief's mind like a warning, heightening his senses and putting him on guard as he glares at the shadowy figure in the dark.

"Are you the beast they spoke of?" asks Jimin. The cold night breeze coming through the open balcony door blows across the room, chilling Jimin's skin and sending light shivers down his spine as he stands there with a dagger in hand.

Then, the deep voice answers, "What if I am?"

Jimin could fight him; that much is certain. He had faced more intimidating opponents before and came out triumphant. However, he is not here to spill blood; his purpose is to steal the castle's most prized possession, and said jewel is right there on the table behind him.

Hence, with an arrogant uptilt of his lips, the young thief tells the stranger, "You can't scare me." Then, he spins around to grab the crystal rose from the table, resolved to forget the prick of imminent pain as his mind calculates the shortest and quickest route for escape.

But before his hand can touch the rose, Jimin feels himself freeze as a pair of arms renders his entire body motionless. A shocked gasp falls from his mouth when he feels a body pressed to his back, an arm wrapped tightly around his torso, and a hand gripping his wrist,

knocking the dagger from his hand. With his eyes blown wide in shock and confusion, Jimin shivers at the ghostly touch of lips on the right side of his neck, tickling his skin with the soft and warm breath blowing through the stranger's nose. "You shall not take the rose."

Everything happened quickly, faster than the blink of an eye that Jimin didn't see or feel any movement behind him before a pair of arms caged him, perplexed by the thought of the stranger moving in a blur and managing to reach Jimin in a split second from across the room.

"And you should be scared of me," the stranger tells him, his deep voice as dark as a starless night, holding a mystery that evades Jimin's perception.

"No," he manages to say through the initial shock. "Because you're a person." He lets out a ragged breath. "Not a beast."

Jimin hears a faint hitch of breath near his ear, the sound so quiet and light that he thinks he had imagined it, like an illusion playing with his mind. And when he feels the arm around him loosening, Jimin takes that opportunity +

+ to slip away from the stranger's hold, crouching down before lifting a leg to swipe across the man's torso to hit him on his side. When the other staggers back, Jimin hastily runs toward the open balcony and steps onto the marble railing.

Jimin removes his cloak, letting the fabric float with the night breeze before looking back at the stranger. A fleeting moment of surprise passes across Jimin's face when he finally sees a murky glimpse of the man's features in the dark.

He's wearing a fine, white tunic tucked neatly under his dark trousers, the deep cut of the pristine fabric showing a generous expanse of a pale, broad chest, the palest skin that Jimin has ever seen in his life, and a sharp pair of jaws that angles perfectly at the corners.

But before Jimin can catch a peek of the man's face, he lets himself fall down the balcony, feeling the rush of wind against him as he pulls the double strap on his back, spreading his arms wide like angel wings. The glider catches air and takes Jimin off in a boundless flight.

He maneuvers himself in the air with practised ease, deftly sliding to the east wall where he left his stallion. Landing on his feet like a feline, Jimin runs across the battlements and shrugs off the glider as he grabs another climbing spike from his belt.

Hastily knotting the end of the rope around one of the low brick walls, Jimin hops over the parapet and descends down the wall with his heart pounding hard in his chest. With adrenaline surging through every vessel in his body, Jimin sprints across the yard +

+ and hopes that the stranger who caught him a while ago got lost while chasing him. It's easy to lose sight of him in the night, especially in an unlit and unguarded castle like this one.

But then, when Jimin's booted sole steps on a fallen tree branch, with the sound echoing into the night louder than a gust of wind, he reels back in profound shock as he is thrown back to the ground by an invisible force.

"Ngh," he groans in slight pain as his rear hits the dirt. Hauling himself up to his feet, Jimin reaches out in front of him and almost chokes on a breath when his palm flattens on nothing as if touching an invisible wall.

"What?" he mutters under his breath and feels the rush of blood in his ears. He bangs his fist in the air repeatedly, panic rising in his system with every failed attempt for an escape. "Fuck."

He is trapped.

"You can't leave."

The short hair on the back of Jimin's neck rises at that low, familiar voice. Recognition flashes across the young thief's face as he flips around to stare up at the lone figure standing on the parapets.

The luminescent glow of the moon shining down upon him outlines the majestic ebony of his hair, perhaps the most beautiful charcoal tresses that Jimin has ever seen in his life. The stranger's face is obscured by the shadows, but something in it robs the air off of Jimin's lungs.

His voice gets stuck in his throat as the shock settles heavily in his bones. And before he can turn around to run away—anywhere far from here—he feels another presence beside him and opens his mouth to scream.

Another young man, with skin bluer than the deepest ocean and eyes blacker than a bottomless void, blows a breath out to him. Azure stardust hits Jimin's face, and he feels his consciousness quickly slipping away.

"It wasn't a young man," the last strings of Jimin's consciousness tells him as he falls down to the dirt, blinking through the haziness in his vision. "It was a creature."

As his lashes flutter shut and strength leaves his limbs, the last thought that crosses Jimin's mind before slumber swallows him whole is the pair of red eyes staring down at him from the parapets, fierce and shining like rubies in the dark night.

🥀

Jimin is lost.

He has been roaming through the forest for hours, but the endless lines of trees and the tall canopies obscuring the night sky make it hard to see the path he's walking on.

The dirt grips his soles with every step, and the giant tree roots and branches around him feel like they're moving, creeping slowly amongst the shadows. "Anyone here?" he yells but is answered with an echo of his own voice.

He hears rustling behind the foliage—perhaps, a critter or a hare. The faint, distant howl from the mountains makes the hair on Jimin's neck rise. But he brushes off the unsettling feeling and resolves to find a stream or a cliff—anything that will lead him out of here.

As the night deepens, Jimin sees a steep ravine leading to the other side of the mountain. Perhaps, if he passes through, he will end up seeing a path leading out of the forest. Hence, putting all his luck into this gamble of fate, Jimin ventures into the unknown.

Then, merely a few steps along the ravine, Jimin hears a loud noise to his right, sounding like a tree branch snapping in half, but before he can formulate another thought, he yelps in shock as black ravens fly toward him, cawing with their wings fluttering in a frenzy.

Jimin's rear falls to the dirt as his arms cover his face protectively, squinting through the flurry of dark wings flying around him. He wants to cry for help, but the silence that bounces back to him when he did before deters him.

As if dispelled by some kind of force, the ravens fly away from him and into the night sky. Panting, Jimin raises his eyes and feels something heavy settle in his chest upon seeing the red glow in the dark sky.

A blood moon.

The crimson color reminds him of a certain pair of eyes, of rubies gleaming in the dark. He inhales a deep breath as his lashes flutter in recognition. 'That can't be,' he thinks. He escaped from the castle, right? He's alive.

"Jimin."

A sharp gasp comes out of Jimin's mouth as he turns to the beckoning voice uttered behind him. There is no one. "Hello?" he calls out with panicked eyes. "Who's there?"

"I warned you," the deep, eerie voice answers, "You can't leave."

It smells thickly of lilac.

🥀

Jimin opens his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. He can feel the sweat beading on his forehead and gliding down his neck, dampening his tunic. Tunic? The young thief shoots up in alarm and feels his head throb horribly at the sudden movement.

"Ugh," he groans, clamping a hand on his forehead. He is sitting on a foreign bed, definitely not the shabby one he had at the town inn, for the mattress beneath him feels softer than feathers and the silk covers appear to be one of the most ornate fabrics that Jimin has seen.

He's still in the castle; he knows that much. But the room differs from the one he had been where he encountered the red-eyed stranger. The curtains are all slid open, as opposed to the latter, allowing the moonlight to pass through the glass windows and illuminate the floor.

"You can't leave."

Jimin shakes the voice out of his head. It was a dream, but at the same time, it wasn't. There were no giant trees or ravens, but the voice sounded real, like a resonating echo in his mind. Sighing, Jimin dangles his legs over the side of the bed.

He needs to get out of here.

"I would not do that if I were you."

Whipping his head to that voice, Jimin notices a figure standing by the door, holding a basin of warm water soaked with a clean washcloth. At the moment, Jimin doesn't know if he should stay still or scream.

Because there, merely a few feet away from him, is a person—a curious creature—staring back at him with black eyes, full and bottomless. The tips of his ears are pointed, and there are strange markings painted all over his azure skin.

It was the same creature who robbed him of his consciousness.

"Who are you?" Jimin asks, frowning, his voice laced with hostility. "What do you want from me?"

The creature blinks and calmly steps forward to place the basin on the end table by the bed. "I want nothing from you."

"You didn't answer my first question."

After a short moment of silence, the creature says, "I'm Taehyung, a servant in this castle."

Jimin narrows his gaze. "What are you?"

"I'm a Child of the Forest."

"Pardon?"

At his confusion, the creature, Taehyung, chuckles. "I suppose in human language, you call me a 'fae.'"

"What?" Jimin almost laughs at the sheer absurdity of everything. "Faes aren't real, as all other mythical creatures; that's why they are mythical. You are jesting me."

"I am not." A small crease appears between his brows as the fae tilts his head to the side, seemingly baffled. "I tended to you, washed your body, and changed your clothes. How could I have done so if I weren't real?"

"I don't know!" Jimin answers, frustrated. "Maybe, you are a human hiding behind a mask. Is this some kind of stunt? Are you from the Royal Guards and sent my way to capture me?"

"I know nothing of the sort." Taehyung reaches down to flatten out the creases on the bed. "His Highness tasked me to take care of you, and that is what I shall do."

"His—what?" Jimin huffs out a disbelieving sound. "This is getting more preposterous by the second."

"His Highness, Prince Yoongi." After patting down on the pillows, Taehyung stands properly and offers their confused guest a cordial smile. "He asked me to see to your needs. If you are feeling hungry, I can accompany you to the kitchens, or do you prefer to eat in your room?"

His room?

"Wait. I'm confused." Jimin stands to his feet and raises his hands in surrender. "What is all this? Where am I? Are there other people here? Because I want to talk to them and leave at once."

Upon hearing Jimin's words and seeing the desperation in his eyes, Taehyung's face falls as his shoulders sag slightly. "No, you are the only human in this castle. The ones who attempted to break into this place never lasted long."

Jimin presses his lips together, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat. "Did your prince have them killed?" Will he take Jimin's life as well?

"No." Taehyung shakes his head. "His Highness never desired such cruelty towards intruders. They brought that fate upon themselves."

"....Any person who attempted to enter the castle never returned to tell the tale."

The warnings he heard from the townspeople, the folly in them, the utter nonsense, now dangled before Jimin to sneer at him. He should have listened to that barkeeper.

"The rose." Jimin lifts his gaze to the fae. "The thieves who entered the castle attempted to steal it like I did."

To this, the fae nods. "They were lured in by the crystal rose, but they were not the destined one. And so, they vanished into stardusts."

"Destined one?"

Taehyung casts his eyes down and twines his fingers on his lap, fidgeting. "It was said that any human who has succumbed to greed and touches the rose shall crumble to dust until the destined one comes and makes the flower bloom."

Despite the slight fog in his memory, Jimin vividly remembers the way the crystal rose stains the lightest shade of crimson when he pricked his finger on the thorn. He didn't crumble to dust like what the fae claimed. Instead, a man emerged from the shadows and talked to him.

"Your prince," Jimin begins, licking his slightly chapped lips. "No human eyes glow red as his. What is he?"

Taehyung grows more restless at the query, lightly shifting his weight between his feet, as he bows his head to Jimin in apology.

"Forgive me, but I am not in the position to speak on that matter."

"You don't speak on your prince's behalf?"

"No!" Taehyung's void-like eyes widen. "I have never dared speak for His Highness's intentions."

"Then, bring me to him."

Jimin wants to learn the truth from the prince's mouth.

"I-I apologize." Taehyung looks troubled. "But you can't see nor speak to the prince."

At this, the young thief raises a questioning brow. "Why?"

"I cannot say." The fae seals his lips shut.

Jimin lets out a disdainful laugh. "What kind of monarch is he? A coward one? Frightened by a little thief like myself?"

Despite the barrage of insults, the fae keeps his mouth shut. Frustrated, Jimin lets out a harsh breath.

"Fine, then." He raises his chin in indignation. "I refuse to see or speak to him in return. I shall find my own way out of this wretched place."

"Wait!" Taehyung calls after him when Jimin stomps his way out of the room.

Jimin escaped more heavily guarded places than this one without breaking a sweat. He can do this. He refuses to stay a second longer in this suffocating room. But when he reaches out to open the door, a yelp erupts from his mouth when a floating figure suddenly flies through him.

"Ah!" Jimin yells in shock as he staggers a step back, his knees losing their strength as he falls to his backside on the carpet. What in the heavens is that?

"Oh, sorry!" the floating figure of a man says, and he's grinning. Floating above Jimin's head like an apparition.

Taehyung steps beside Jimin and helps him up to his feet, throwing an accusing glare at the spirit-like creature. "Hoseok, I thought I told you not to startle our guest."

The other snickers. "My bad."

"What are you?" Jimin asks, a shudder running down his spine.

"I'm a human. Well, was." He tilts his head briefly as if to indicate his point. "I'm 476 years old today. Not that it matters, but I'm happy I can spend my name day with a new face apart from this lot. It can get pretty dull around here."

The fae sighs, shaking his head. "If only I could touch you, I would have definitely kicked you in the stomach."

"Hey!" The ghost flies away with his arms wrapped around his 'body' protectively. "I'm your friend! Friends don't fight!"

"Can you knock me out again?" Jimin asks Taehyung. "Because I think I can't stand any more of this nonsense."

The spirit barks out a laugh. "You're hilarious! When Jungkook and I were tailing you at the keep, we thought you were a serious person."

Tailing him? Was he the cause of the rattling noise that Jimin heard behind him when he was walking along the hallway leading to the room where the crystal rose was?

"Who is Jungkook?" asks the young thief.

"He's a spirit like me."

"So... he was a human?"

"Yes." Hoseok crosses his legs and rests his cheek on a closed fist. "You were staring at the royal family's portrait with a funny look on your face. I know His Highness appeared like a snotty little kid in the painting wearing his princely robe, +

+ but he grew up to be a fine, brave, and handsome man! I assure you that—"

"Hoseok," Taehyung warns him with a glare. "We can't interfere."

At this, the spirit falls silent.

"Right." The spirit clears his throat and scratches his neck. "You're right."

When an awkward silence settles in the air, Taehyung turns to Jimin with a faint smile and asks, "As I told you a while ago, if you would like to, Hoseok and I could accompany you to the kitchens."

And when Jimin doesn't answer, the fae offers, "Perhaps, I can answer some of your questions. Provided that I will not step beyond what is expected of my station."

"I suppose you would love apple pies." Hoseok grins. "Seokjin makes the best apple pies in the kingdom."

Jimin tries not to mind the pang of hunger digging into his empty stomach or ask who 'Seokjin' is or if the apple pie tastes better than the ones he had in a tropical country from the eastern seas. He's exhausted. And hungry.

Hence, without another word, Jimin follows Taehyung and Hoseok out of the room and into a series of foreign hallways that Jimin tries to remember lest he attempts one of his escape plans any second now.

'Heavens,' he thinks with a weary sigh. What has he gotten himself into?

🥀

Of course, the one called “Seokjin” is a fae.

“You’re not as pretty as they say.”

And a rude one at that.

“Come on now,” Taehyung chuckles, elbowing the chef lightly. “You wouldn’t want His Highness hearing you say that.”

“Oh, please!” Seokjin throws his hands in the air defeatedly. “The prince is used to this sharp tongue of mine.” Then, his eyes scrutinize Jimin from head to foot before turning back to the freshly baked apple pie with a nonchalant shrug. “Well, I guess, you 𝘢𝘳𝘦 a bit pretty.”

With a light snort, Jimin hops on top of the table and crosses his leg over the other, folding his arms over his chest. “So,” he begins, “Taehyung and Hoseok said you make the best apple pies in the realm.”

“I do, and I’m flattered.” The chef places the pie on the table, bumping Jimin’s thigh. “Ass off the table, dummy.”

Hoseok snickers as Jimin gracefully hops off the table to sit on the chair, thanking the fae chef when the latter places a slice of apple pie before him.

It’s a burst of sweetness and mild bitterness on his tongue when he takes a bite; spices explode in his mouth in a harmonious fashion, something that he hasn’t tasted even after traveling in the far eastern seas.

“What did you put in this?” asks Jimin.

“Curious now, are we?” Seokjin raises a brow, his dark eyes seemingly glinting with delight as the faint, silvery patches on his azure skin light up momentarily.

“Delicious, isn’t it?” Taehyung utters, chewing a mouthful. “You won’t find this kind of apple pie anywhere in the world—”

“—For no ingredients used in this pie could be found anywhere apart from the Fae Village,” interrupts Hoseok, +

floating above the table with his legs folded together and resting his chin on a palm. “I swear, I could still remember the taste of the last apple pie Seokjin made for me.” He sighs wistfully.

Alright. There are two things that Jimin must ask.

One, “What is a Fae Village?”

“Ah, well, you see,” Taehyung scratches his cheek, uncertain how to proceed, “the Children of the Forest have been serving the royal family since the castle was erected. +

The first king granted us protection from being hunted down by werewolves, and in return, our village chief swore a blood oath to the Min Family to serve them until the last human of their royal bloodline dies.”

“Wait—” Jimin raises a hand, frowning in disbelief. “Did you say werewolves?”

“Yes!” Hoseok grimaces. “Nasty creatures—” he immediately adds, “—apart from Namjoon, that is!”

Jimin feels a throbbing headache coming.

“Okay, I’m getting more confused.” He lets out a slow breath, digesting everything. “Who is Namjoon?”

“Seokjin’s lover.” Taehyung grins, his dark eyes curving into small crescents. “He’s a werewolf; he was banished from his pack when their chief learned about Seokjin. +

His Highness, Prince Yoongi, took him under his wing when he had no place to go. He’s a good man!”

“Hence, to answer your question,” Seokjin interrupts, blushing as he directs the subject back to Jimin’s inquiry.

“The Fae Village is located in the heart of the forest where no human eyes can see. We grow and harvest our produce there and raise our own livestock.”

Licking his lips, Jimin opens his mouth to ask his second question, “What happened here?” He flicks his hand in the air. “When I was at the tavern, no one knew what lay inside this place apart from the talks about hidden treasures and lost souls who never found their way back. +

It is impossible for the townsfolk to forget this castle’s history, let alone the monarch who governs it.”

Silence dawns in the kitchen after Jimin’s question. Taehyung’s expression turns solemn while Hoseok floats lower on the table, his eyes downcast.

“There is a curse put upon the castle.” It was Seokjin who spoke.

“What curse?”

“The darkest of the like.” The chef’s expression turns grim. “One that was conjured up by a hateful witch.”

Jimin huffs out a disbelieving noise. “Witches don’t exist.”

“And yet, here we are. Faes, werewolves, and ghosts,” contradicts Seokjin, rendering his guest silent. “Creatures you have only heard in stories when you were a babe.”

“It was a dreadful war,” Taehyung tells him, a flicker of blue lighting up his dark irises. “The king’s enemies hired a witch to win the war and usurp the throne. +

A curse was cast upon the castle, in which all its servants shall walk the earth in eternal servitude until the crystal rose blooms.”

“That is why I am still here.” Hoseok shrugs. “I was a soldier killed in a fearsome battle within the castle grounds. The curse rose me from the dead; imagine that?” He scoffs.

"𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮."

“About the crystal rose,” Jimin says, remembering the beautiful transparent petals of the alluring bloom, “was I the only one who didn’t vanish when I touched it?”

“You were,” Seokjin tells him.

“Am I the Destined One, then?”

“Yes!” Hoseok confirms, smiling.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Oh, you just have to—”

Taehyung suddenly stands from his chair. “Hoseok!” he half-screams. “I believe Jungkook is waiting for you in the east wing.”

“Eh?” Hoseok tilts his head in confusion. “But I don’t remember—” He pauses when the fae throws a knowing glare at him. “Oh. Oh! Right.” He slaps his forehead. “How could I forget? Well, I’d better meet Jungkook before he throws a fit. See you in the morning, Jimin!”

Bewildered, Jimin watches the ghost disappear through the wall, blinking a few times before returning his gaze to Taehyung. “What was that?”

With a nervous chuckle, Taehyung tells him. “Nothing. Hoseok can be quite forgetful sometimes.” A brief pause. “His Highness asked me to escort you around the castle. Is there anything you wish to see?”

“Ah—”

“Just not the keep,” Seokjin reminds him. “The prince doesn’t like it when someone steps into his chamber unannounced.”

“I-I see.” Jimin internally winces at that. In his defense, what kind of thief announces his arrival? “Well, I wish to return to my inn.”

“Oh.” Taehyung deflates, his pointed ears drooping a little. “Anything but that, I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Frustration starts to seep into Jimin’s tone. “Am I a hostage?”

“Heavens, no!” The fae shakes his head harshly.

“You cannot leave,” Seokjin utters. “The curse won’t let you.”

“What?” the thief scowls.

“When you attempted to escape, you were thrown back by an invisible force, am I correct?” Taehyung says, and Jimin’s protest dies on his tongue.

“It was the barrier that the witch cast around the castle. Once a human steps foot into these unholy grounds, one cannot turn back.”

“That is nonsense.” Jimin half-laughs, half-cries at the revelation. “There must be something I can do! I 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 stay here forever! I have oceans to cross, lands to travel, treasures to steal.” He slumps back against his chair and runs a hand down his face.

“You must tell your prince to let me go.”

After sharing a glance, the faes give the miserable thief a sympathetic look. “If you must plead your case, seek an audience with the prince,” Seokjin tells him.

“I shall,” Jimin says. “Please, help me.”

“I shall speak with His Highness about your request,” Taehyung finally relents, and the young thief lets out a relieved sigh.

“Thank you.”

“In the meantime, let me know if there is anything you need.”

“Well, I—” A certain memory flashes across Jimin’s mind, a memory of a tattered book sitting on his lap, the worn pages seemingly shining under the warm candlelight flickering beside his childhood bed.

It was an old book about a pirate’s greatest voyage, one that he secretly took from the orphanage’s meager library.

It was then that his fondness for books was born.

“If it’s not too much of a bother,” Jimin utters with a slight upturn of his lips, “will you accompany me to the library in the morning?”

🥀

The castle is bustling with servants the following day.

It is the first time that Jimin has appreciated the magnificent design of the castle in broad daylight. It is a beautiful castle, albeit quite old and gloomy.

The curtains are all thick and permit only the slightest ray of light to pass between the gap. Walking along the hallway, Jimin nods at a pair of Fae carrying laundry baskets in their arms before turning to Taehyung, asking, “Why do you keep all the curtains closed? +

It is a bright and beautiful day.”

“Ah,” the servant hesitates, “His Highness, the Prince, dislikes too much sunlight.”

At this, Jimin snorts. “Why am I not surprised?”

“And 𝘸𝘩𝘺 are you not surprised?” Hoseok asks, floating beside him with his brows raised curiously.

“They say a place reflects its owner’s mood,” Jimin tells him, jerking his head towards the joyless, heavy curtains. “You can tell pretty much about the prince’s personality.”

“Which is?”

The thief opens his mouth and exaggerates each syllable to prove his point. “Gloomy.”

Boisterous laughter fills the hallway, and Jimin staggers in his steps when another ghost suddenly appears in front of him. “You’re funny!” says the young man. “I can’t wait for you to meet our dear prince again!”

“Jungkook!” Taehyung groans. “Do not suddenly appear in front of anyone; you startled our guest.”

“My apologies.” The ghost, Jungkook, bows his head to Jimin. “I was merely excited to see the Destined One. It seems rumors are true about you.”

“What rumors?” Jimin asks with one brow raised. Why are rumors about him already spreading around the castle when he merely got into this place last night?

“That you are pretty!” Jungkook grins widely, floating toward Hoseok’s side to drape his arm over the other’s shoulders. “His Highness loves pretty things!”

“Jungkook!” Hoseok hisses, his eyes nervously flicking in Taehyung’s direction.

“I get that a lot,” Jimin utters confidently despite the heat dusting his cheeks. “But I’m not a ‘thing,’ so your prince can forget about me.” He huffs.

He’s still irked by the fact that the prince won’t even try to help Jimin get out of the castle without a formal request from him. Does His Highness want him to beg? Well, one thing is for certain: Jimin will never beg anything from a noble.

“Alright, we are here.” Once Taehyung opens the double doors, Jimin fails to contain his excitement and glee upon seeing the towering shelves in the castle library, each row filled with volumes of books and scrolls that hold priceless history and knowledge.

He once stole a map from a citadel, one that was rumored to contain the enormous, hidden treasure of the greatest pirate that ever lived, Leenok, the same man illustrated in the children’s book he snuck out of the orphanage’s library, +

and the first book that sparked his interest in literature. However, the stolen map was a fraud. One crafted by a no-name cartographer commissioned by the priests of the citadel to gain unconditional protection and favor from their king.

‘𝘍𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘴,’ Jimin thought. And now, the citadel was nothing but ashes on the ground.

Jimin’s fingertips brush along the spines, appreciating the sturdy leather covering the books as he counts volume after volume of subjects he has never read about before.

“If you need books from the higher shelves, let Jungkook and I know,” Hoseok offers with a friendly smile. “We can get them for you.”

“Thank you,” Jimin says, returning the gesture.

Then, shifting his gaze to the long, red curtains hanging over the window, he inquires, “Will it be fine to open these curtains?” When he sees the hesitation in his companions’ faces, he quickly adds, “Just this one. I would love to read under the sunlight.”

Clearing his throat, Taehyung relents, “Well, if it’s just this one…”

Hoseok and Jungkook share a smile before flying towards the curtain rod, positioning themselves on either side before disappearing into the thick fabric.

“Oh.” Jimin watches with wide eyes as the curtains slide open, the bright morning light momentarily blinding him as one portion of the colossal library warms up with sunlight.

Flying out of the curtains, Jungkook says, “The curtains are so dusty!” He coughs.

“Well, it 𝘩𝘢𝘴 been a while since we opened them,” answers Hoseok.

“Beautiful.”

Jimin turns his gaze to the fae beside him, observing the almost melancholic smile playing across his lips as the young man stares through the glass window, appreciating the rustling leaves swaying with the breeze. “His Highness would have loved this view,” he utters.

“Then, he should open all the windows in the castle,” Jimin suggests, but instead of a positive response, the fae lets out a dismal sigh.

“One day, perhaps.”

Sensing the fae’s downcast mood, Jimin attempts to change the subject. “I believe I’ll spend the entire day here at the library.”

At that, Taehyung raises his head. “I’ll serve your meals here, then.”

“Ah, no. I can’t possibly ask you to carry my meals for me.”

“Nonsense.” The fae waves a dismissive hand, chuckling. “You are our guest.”

“And His Highness told us to look out for you!” Jungkook adds, grinning.

“Is that so?” Jimin leans back against the shelf. “Then, why won’t he share a meal with me? Any generous host would do that for their guest.”

“Uh…” Jungkook and Hoseok share a look.

“He will,” Taehyung assures him with a smile, “one day.”

One day. It is that line again.

The day passes quickly with Jimin’s nose buried in piles of books. He cannot fathom how deeply he missed sitting down like this without worrying about a bunch of guards tailing after him or a bounty hunter aiming for his head.

The life of an infamous thief is fast and full of caution. It gives Jimin the adrenaline he craves for, but sometimes, it exhausts him in ways that cannot be relieved by sleep.

When he stands up from the carpet to walk toward the ladder, Jungkook says, “Do you need anything from the second floor?”

“Nothing in particular.” Jimin begins his ascent and gracefully lands on the balcony with stealthy feet. “Well, I guess I do have something in mind.”

“Really? How can I help?” Jungkook thumps his fist against his chest.

Chuckling at the ghost’s enthusiasm, the young thief says, “Do you have a book about this castle’s history?”

“Of course!” Jungkook snaps his fingers and flies toward the shelf at the end of the aisle. “It’s right here.”

Following his companion, Jimin’s footsteps halt on the carpet when his eyes suddenly capture a curious view through the window.

“What is that?” he asks, sliding the curtain open to stare down at the dome built behind the castle.

“Oh, that.” Jungkook smiles. “It is His Highness’s observatory. He always spends his evenings there.”

“Not in his bedchamber?”

The young ghost shakes his head. “Taehyung said the prince was always busy charting stars.”

Oddly, a sudden thrill and curiosity crawl down Jimin’s spine. “Alone?”

“Mhn.” Nodding, Jungkook informs him, “Prince Yoongi does not enjoy other’s company so much.” Then, pointing at the history book he found, he says, “Are you not reading this one?”

“Hm, no. I am done reading for tonight.” Jimin licks his lips, keeping his gaze on the observatory.

Perhaps, it is time to pay another visit to their mysterious prince.

🥀

The night breeze chills Jimin’s bones as he ascends the steps leading to the observatory’s entrance. He can’t remember the last time he entered a building through the front doors.

it’s always through the roof, windows, back doors, or hidden passages he learned from maps he stole from secret vaults or by bribing the right people. Such is the life of a notorious thief who alarmed even the pious army of a powerful church.

Breathing deeply, Jimin opens the double doors slowly and slips inside as quietly as he can. It’s not like he’s hiding, but he refuses to bother the prince in any way, not when he’s already on his unfavorable side after intruding into his home.

Once inside, the young thief cannot help staring in awe at the magnificent glass roof, permitting a vast and clear view of the stars in the night sky and letting the blue glow of the moon shine down upon the marble floors and columns supporting the ceiling.

A copious amount of bookshelves and maps surround him, with several parchments and scrolls scattered atop and around the wooden desk lit by a golden candelabrum. It is undeniably a chamber owned by a man of learning, one who values knowledge and is plagued by curiosity.

He would have grabbed a book or two from the shelves if not for the grand telescope standing on the raised platform at the center of the room, its lens hoisted up to the stars to search beyond what human eyes can’t see.

“You have a habit of coming to a place uninvited.”

Jimin, fortunately, manages to keep the flinch in his arms when his eyes catch the figure of a man standing in front of the shelves, holding a book in his hands, the page mid-turn +

as he looks at Jimin with an indiscernible expression in his dark eyes. He’s wearing a simple white tunic, no gilded patterns or fancy robes to indicate his royal status. His black trousers hug his waist and thighs in a way that distracts Jimin more than he wants to admit.

He cannot think about such improper thoughts toward the man he attempted to steal from.

“I’m a thief,” Jimin utters, shrugging. “I loathe invitations.”

The prince regards him for a moment before walking back to his desk. “What brings you here?”

“Can I not enjoy the company of my generous host?” Jimin smirks, moving closer to the man.

“You are not a guest,” Prince Yoongi tells him, focusing on writing something on a piece of parchment.

“Yet your kind servants had never failed to remind me that I was an esteemed guest and that you ordered them to attend to my needs.” The young thief crosses his arms, tilting his head slightly. “Did they lie?”

When silence answers his question, Jimin lets out a mildly frustrated sigh. “Look, prince, I need you to let me out of here. I can’t stay.”

“I remember telling you before,” Prince Yoongi dips the quill into the ink, “that you cannot leave.”

“Cannot or because you will not?” Jimin frowns. “You cannot fool me. I know only 𝘺𝘰𝘶 can break this curse or whatever sorcery this is.”

“What makes you say that?” the prince inquires, finally glancing at Jimin.

“I do not know! Because you are the monarch of this castle? Are you not the one who has the power to command your army or whoever can help you?”

The slight upturn of the prince’s lips would have made Jimin’s chest squeeze if not for the mockery of his words. “I believe you have a twisted belief about monarchs. Is this what you have learned throughout your fleeting life?”

“What?” Jimin breathes out in disbelief.

“If I had such power, you and I would have never met.” The prince returns his attention to his task.

“Can you at least answer one question?” the young thief says, restraining his anger as much as he can because nothing good will come out of strangling this man to death.

When the prince doesn’t utter any protest, Jimin continues to say, “Last night before I lost consciousness, I saw you standing on the parapets.”

The prince’s quill freezes on the parchment.

“You had this… eerie look in your eyes,” he utters, remembering the chill he felt in his bones when their gazes connected before slumber swallowed him whole, “the most peculiar color. Like rubies shining in the dark.”

He lifts his eyes to the prince, who appears deathly still behind his desk.

“But now, your eyes share the same color as mine.” When the monarch remains speechless, Jimin finally asks, “What are you?”

The young thief waits patiently for the prince to answer, but instead of responding to his question, Prince Yoongi clenches his jaw and continues writing on the parchment. “Have a good evening.”

Jimin raises an affronted brow at the monarch's rudeness. “Are you dismissing me?”

“Yes, if it is not clear enough for you,” the prince tells him. “Since you fancy calling yourself a ‘guest,’ why don’t you tour the castle and leave your 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 alone?”

Jimin lets out an incredulous scoff. “How could you treat your guest like this—”

“You are not a guest,” the monarch repeats, but this time, in a firmer tone that makes Jimin’s mouth clack shut. “No thief has ever been a guest in this castle. You are a prisoner; you are fortunate you are not spending your days locked away in the dungeons.”

Jimin wants to respond and ask a multitude of questions, but the tension surrounding the prince robs the words from his mouth. Hence, without uttering a word, Jimin turns around and kicks a stack of books in his path in retaliation.

Jungkook warned him that the prince was not too fond of another person’s company, but Jimin didn’t expect speaking to him would be this difficult. Once outside the observatory, Jimin closes his eyes with a sigh and mumbles, “So much for a friendly visit.”

As the night deepens, Jimin moves quietly through his chamber, his footsteps barely a whisper on the cold floor as he approaches his bed. He reaches out to snuff the flickering candle, allowing its final wisp of smoke to fade and let the room sink entirely into shadow.

Lying down, he pulls the blankets around himself, seeking comfort in the solitude of the dark as he closes his eyes, willing the thought of the prince’s image away from his mind +

and forcing himself to forget the subtle, lingering scent of lilac that had filled his senses the moment he stepped inside the observatory. Yet, the memory clings to him, delicate and haunting, leaving him restless as he tosses and turns through the night.

🥀

“He’s the worst.” Jimin huffs with a nasty scowl, chin resting on folded arms atop the kitchen table. “Utterly insufferable. Beyond the pale.”

“I heard you say that ten times in five minutes,” Seokjin tells him as he stirs a large pot of broth hanging on the open hearth.

“And for three days, might I add.”

Sighing, the young thief asks, “How could the lot of you ever stand the prince’s irksome attitude? Well, perhaps, you would have to learn how to because you are servants of this castle.”

“I know the prince can be tough, but he’s not loathsome to warrant ire from his staff.” Seokjin turns to cut the loaf of bread on the table. “He has always been a man of few words. When he was a child, if he wasn’t in the library studying lessons with his mentor, +

he was often seen riding to the docks to sail with the anglers.” A chuckle escapes the cook’s mouth as if recalling a fond memory. “When His Majesty, the former king, heard about his son’s exploits, he ordered the captain of the royal fleet to teach the prince about navigation.”

Curiously, Jimin lifts his head and utters, “So the prince takes interest in sailing ships?”

“That, he does.”

“Then why is he here cooped up in this dark, suffocating castle?” Jimin purses his lips, thinking. “He should be out there in the open sea, living a life of freedom.”

At that, the fae’s expression turns sullen. “It is not my place to utter a word, but perhaps you can ask the prince about it?”

Jimin scoffs. “It would be easier to receive a generous response from a cat than him.”

“Jimin?”

The young thief turns his attention to the fae entering the kitchen. “What is it?”

A bright smile adorns the young fae’s face as he approaches him, pinching the corners of his black eyes. “His Highness has requested you to dine with him.”

🥀

As presumed, supper unfolds without much affair.

Seated on the opposite side of the unnecessarily long table, Jimin can barely swallow the slab of meat on his plate because of the thick silence hanging from the ceiling of the spacious dining room.

The burning hearth and the cutlery in their hands are the only sources of noise in the room; he hasn’t spoken a word since he greeted the monarch a good evening ten minutes ago, and neither does the other man.

Prince Yoongi seems content with the silence, eating his meal without much regard for Jimin’s presence, even though he was the one who requested his company. His crimson tunic clings to his form with effortless grace, the fabric tailored to highlight the sharp lines of his frame.

Intricate gilded embroidery weaves across the rich material, delicate blooms and curling vines unfurling in exquisite detail. The golden threads catch the firelight, glimmering like sunlight on a field of blossoms.

Halfway through his meal, Jimin has lost his appetite and passes the time by slowly sipping the wine in his goblet. After what seems like an eternity, the prince finally puts his cutlery down and reaches for his wine goblet.

Taking that as his cue, Jimin pushes his chair back as quietly as he can and stands up.

“I am grateful for your invitation, Your Highness. The meal was impeccable.” He bows politely. “Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

As he prepares to leave, a low, firm voice halts him with a single word: “Wait.”

His gaze lifts to meet Prince Yoongi's calm but unreadable expression. The prince has risen from his seat, his posture poised yet unhurried, as if every movement is deliberate.

“Come with me,” Yoongi says, his deep voice softer now but carrying an undeniable authority. Without waiting for a response, the prince strides toward the archway leading out of the dining hall carrying his goblet, his steps echoing faintly on the polished stone floor.

Jimin hesitates for a fraction of a second, his curiosity sparking like embers in the quiet air. Throughout supper, Prince Yoongi had barely acknowledged his presence, content to eat in silence as though Jimin were little more than part of the decor.

And now, he has invited him once more. What could the monarch possibly want?

Jimin falls into step a few paces behind the prince, his footsteps nearly soundless as they pass through the grand corridors of the castle. The hallways are dimly lit, +

the golden glow of wall sconces illuminating tapestries that depicted battles, harvests, and celestial scenes. The faint chill of the stone walls presses against Jimin’s skin as they arrive at an oak door bound in iron, standing sentinel at the end of the corridor.

Prince Yoongi opens it with a fluid motion, revealing a space that is both austere and captivating. Shelves filled with tomes line the walls, their spines in muted tones of leather and gold.

A large mahogany desk sits at the center of the drawing room, an inkpot, scattered parchments, and a single quill gleaming in the light of a nearby furnace.
The monarch strides to the nearest couch and sinks into it with ease, his posture languid yet impossibly regal.

He gestures wordlessly to the other couch, the flicker of firelight casting shadows across his sharp features.

“Sit,” he utters, his voice low and steady.

Jimin hesitates, his gaze darting briefly to the fire before obeying the prince’s command. The heat of the flames warms his skin as he lowers himself onto the couch, his movements measured, his back straight despite the yielding cushions.

The silence that settles between them is heavy, filled only by the faint crackle of burning logs and the distant howl of wind against the castle’s stone walls.

For a moment, Yoongi says nothing, his dark eyes studying Jimin with an intensity that is as unsettling as it is magnetic. Then, leaning back with the silver goblet gleaming in his hand, he finally speaks.

“You must have a lot of questions.” His tone is calm, almost disarming, yet it carries a weight that is difficult to ignore. “I’ll answer what I can.”

Jimin regards him carefully, his face composed though his thoughts roil beneath the surface.

‘𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘳,’ he thinks, though he keeps the words locked behind his teeth. The room is silent save for the soft crackling of the hearth, the flames casting golden light onto the two figures seated on opposite couches.

Jimin sits stiffly, his hands clasped in his lap, his gaze flickering between the fire and the prince lounging across from him. Then, the young thief finally breaks the unbearable silence. “What are you?”

The question hangs in the air, weighted and familiar. It is the same question Jimin had asked in the conservatory, the same question Prince Yoongi had avoided answering. But this time, the prince finally responds.

He shifts slightly, the golden embroidery of his tunic catching the light as he begins, “This castle, this land, and my family’s name—everything you see here—is a relic of a forgotten history. A story erased from memory for it was too grotesque to be told.”

Jimin frowns, leaning forward. “What do you mean?”
Prince Yoongi’s gaze fixes on the flames as though looking into the past. “Nearly five centuries ago, the Min family ruled this land. We were powerful, feared. But we were also ruthless. +

Blood followed wherever we went. The Duke of Keld, a bitter rival, sought to end our reign. He hired a witch to tip the scales of war in his favor.”

“A witch?” Jimin asks, skepticism mingling with curiosity.

The prince nods. “She was no ordinary sorceress. While I was leading our army on the battlefield, she infiltrated the castle. I returned to find my family slaughtered—my parents, my little brother, my sister.”

His voice falters for the briefest moment, a crack in the otherwise impenetrable mask. “She stood amidst their bodies,” he continues, his tone hardening, “an old woman with eyes as black as the abyss. She cursed me.”

“She said: ‘You shall pay for all the blood spilled under your command. For every drop that spoiled the lush earth. You shall prey on the flesh of your enemies and suffer from eternal thirst.’”

Jimin’s breath hitches. “She… turned you into—”

“A vampire,” Prince Yoongi finishes bluntly. “It might sound absurd, and you may laugh if you wish to, but the myths are real. The stories you’ve heard, the ones uttered to children to frighten them at night—they are all real.”

The young thief presses his lips together as he swallows the hard truth.

“That night, as the curse took hold,” the prince says, his expression holding a complex emotion that Jimin fails to decipher, +

“I fed on the corpses of our enemies. Their blood was the only thing that could quench the unbearable thirst. That was how it began.”

A heavy silence follows his words.

Jimin glances down at the goblet in the prince's hand, his mind racing with suspicion when a deep voice interrupts his thoughts. “You’re thinking it’s blood,” the prince utters dryly, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “I’m afraid I must disappoint you.”

Jimin’s fingers tighten on his lap. “When I was a child, I heard stories from monks and wet nurses about vampires. They said your kind solely drinks human blood. Yet tonight, you shared a cooked meal with me.”

The prince lowers his gaze for a moment, seemingly pondering on a thought, before raising it once more. “Tales have a way of distorting as they pass through time, though their essence often endures. Yes, I did drink human blood. +

And for quite some time, I couldn’t stomach anything else—not even the sight of human food. But I learned to control my urges, to eat like a human again when I want to.”

As though attuned to Jimin’s unease, Prince Yoongi states, “I have not consumed human blood in 450 years.”

Despite the assurance, Jimin still feels a cold prickle along his spine. Not once in his life as a thief had he felt so unnerved—not even with guards chasing him through narrow streets. “What do you drink now?”

“Animal blood,” the prince answers. “Seokjin prepares it for me.”

He studies the monarch’s calm demeanor, wondering how someone could speak so easily about such a thing. About how such a thing could even exist.

“The curse didn’t end with me,” Prince Yoongi confesses, his gaze growing distant.

“The staff in this castle—the people who once served my family—were trapped here, turned into ghosts bound to eternal servitude. And the memories of this place were wiped from the minds of everyone who once knew it.”

‘𝘈𝘩,’ the young thief muses. That explains why townsfolk are unaware of the castle’s true history, relying only on rumors and hearsay.

And it sheds light on why the prince’s eyes gleamed crimson during their first meeting, as if rubies had melted beneath the blood moon. “Is there a way to break the curse?” he asks the prince.

Prince Yoongi’s eyes flicker with something unreadable—hope, perhaps, or resignation. “The witch told me, as she stood over my family’s bodies: ‘The barrier shall fall when the rose blooms rubies, born out of sacrifice from a bewitched heart.’”

Jimin frowns. “What does that mean?”

“That,” Yoongi pauses briefly, his gaze turning to the burning hearth, “is a question I cannot answer.” The fire crackles, filling the space between them as Jimin swallows the weight of the story.

The drawing room feels colder now despite the warmth coming from the hearth, as if the shadows of the past linger in every corner of this chamber. Prince Yoongi remains composed, his expression guarded, his posture relaxed yet distant.

Yet the silence now feels different—no longer weighed with tension but suffused with a quiet heaviness, as if the air itself is laden with thoughts too complex to be spoken aloud. Jimin shifts uncomfortably in his seat, +

his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve as his mind replays the conversation they’d just had. The prince had shared more with him than Jimin had expected. And yet, there were so many pieces left unspoken, fragments of a history too painful to reveal in full.

Seokjin’s words echo in Jimin’s mind, clearer now than ever: “I know the prince can be tough, but he’s not loathsome to warrant ire from his staff. He has always been a man of few words.”

Jimin stared at the other man, his mind racing. The prince’s aloofness, his sharp words, his endless distance—it was all starting to make sense.

What Jimin had once thought of as pride, arrogance, even cruelty, now seems like a shield, a barrier that keeps the world from prying too deeply into the darkness he carries.

Yoongi had told him about the curse, about the bloodshed, about how his family had fallen, and the witch who had condemned him to this existence. And yet, it is clear to Jimin that there’s more—so much more. The prince hadn’t told him how the curse could be broken. Not really.

He had only spoken of the witch’s cryptic words, the riddle about the rose blooming rubies, born out of sacrifice from a bewitched heart. But what did that mean? What did sacrifice truly entail? Whose heart was she speaking of?

🥀

Prince Yoongi has been requesting his company at dinner each night. It's not that Jimin doesn't want to, but he finds eating in silence with the prince quite awkward and peculiar. After sharing a meal, they would go to the drawing room to spend the rest of the evening together—

Jimin reading a book with him perched on the windowsill while the prince draws something on his sketchbook.

"What are you drawing?" Jimin has asked once, curious.

"Something," the monarch answered without lifting his eyes, and Jimin left it at that.

About a week into their arrangement, Jimin finally receives no invitation or request for supper. Instead, Taehyung comes to his chamber bearing a tray of warm-cooked meal for him. "Where's the prince?" he asks before he can hold his tongue.

"Oh," the fae remarks, hiding a knowing smile. "He's at the observatory. He told me to extend his apologies to you for he could not accompany you to dinner tonight."

"I see." Jimin puts down the book he's reading. "Thank you for fetching my meal, Tae."

As the fae arranges the table for him, Jimin can't help but feel a strange weight settling in his chest upon knowing that he would not see the prince tonight. After being in Prince Yoongi's presence each night, it feels odd to eat alone again.

Has Jimin grown fond of him?

The following evening, whilst in the middle of eating his supper alone for the second time, Jimin suddenly receives word from the prince.

"Prince Yoongi is requesting your presence in the gardens!" Hoseok tells him, smiling as he floats in front of him.

If Jimin ate faster than he should have after that, then no one should know. Except, maybe, Hoseok who laughed once when the young thief choked on a piece of meat while trying to finish up his meal.

Jimin has never been too attached to nature; he enjoys walking in meadows and basking in the sun, but he has never felt the need to have an evening stroll in the gardens, especially when flowers bloom best in the morning.

In the middle of the garden stands a glass dome. A greenhouse, it's called. He remembers it from an eastern country he visited years ago. "Prince?" he calls at the figure perched on a tree branch near the angel statue.

Prince Yoongi drops his gaze on him.

Up there, with the prince's right arm draped over his knee as the other leg dangles beside him, his raven hair glistening beneath the night’s embrace, the moonlight weaving a halo around him—Jimin cannot help but think that the monarch's beauty is almost unearthly.

Something flashes across the man's eyes when his gaze meets Jimin's, an emotion too fleeting to name. With a swift, seamless leap, the prince abandons his perch, touching the earth as softly as a phantom, his movements as silent and deliberate as a prowling feline.

"Jimin," he utters, his voice deeper than the night. "I apologize if I couldn't accompany you to dinner these past two nights."

"Did you grow tired of my presence already?" the young thief jests, smirking.

"Of course not." The prince chuckles, and the low sound sends shivers down Jimin's spine. "I asked you to come here because I wanted to show you something."

Intrigue flickers in Jimin’s eyes as his head tilts ever so slightly. "Oh?"

They walk past the angel statue, the white marble weathered by age and embraced with dust and crawling vines. At the back of the greenhouse, they stand on a stony path lined by white buds of flowers.

"I'm not certain if you're fond of flowers. I should have asked first, but I really wanted to show you this," Prince Yoongi utters, looking down at the small blooms.

"Ah." The young thief follows his gaze, letting silence permeate the small distance between them.

"They're quite... beautiful?" he says, finding no particular interest in the tiny white blooms.

At that, the prince chuckles again. "You'll find out soon."

As the clouds pass over the moon, submerging them and their surroundings in darkness for a moment, Jimin hears his own breath catch in his throat when he sees the tiny white buds beginning to bloom. And as the moonlight shines upon them once again,

the buds open slowly to full bloom, their white petals turning into translucent glass like fairy wings, the center sparkling as if holding hundreds of crushed diamonds. "I—" Jimin's tongue betrays him as he finds himself stunned at the flowers' majestic beauty.

"They're called 'moonglows,'" Prince Yoongi says, crouching to touch a petal with his right hand. "They bloom once each year. It is fortunate you are here to see them with—" He holds off his next words, but Jimin knows precisely what he's trying to say.

"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦."

For a moment, Jimin wonders if the prince has seen these flowers bloom alone for hundreds of years, with the buds withering and decaying before him, then sprouting new ones to capture the moon's light once every year. Again and again. Like a beautifully cruel torture.

"My prince," he utters, crouching beside the noble, hugging his knees. Surprise fleets across the prince's handsome features. It was the first time that Jimin addressed him in a more intimate manner. "Do you feel lonely?"

Prince Yoongi stares into his eyes for a while, seemingly searching for something that Jimin doesn't know, but he finds that returning the man's gaze doesn't feel odd and awkward like how it used to be.

"When I was a human, I saw people venture into the sea in search of immortality, hoping to find the chalice of life. There was a time when I believed that conquering death was the highest pursuit of mankind. That immortality was a power to challenge the gods."

Prince Yoongi lets out a wry smile. "Yet, having attained it unbidden, I have come to realize that eternal life is not a mercy, but a quiet, unrelenting agony. My body remains untouched by time, yet my soul withers. For centuries, loneliness has been my only companion."

At the heartbreaking confession, Jimin feels the back of his eyes burning with unshed tears, but he blinks them away before they even dare to fall. "That is... quite sad," he murmurs.

"Do not grieve for me." Prince Yoongi smiles. "I'm not dead. I will live for centuries more."

"The dead aren't the only ones that people grieve for," Jimin counters with a light huff. Though the prince’s words are meant in jest, the truth nestled within them seeps into the young thief’s chest, leaving behind a dull, lingering ache.

A gentle night breeze drifts through the air, and before Jimin can stop himself, he closes the fragile space between them and presses a kiss to the prince’s forehead—his lips soft and featherlight like a warm whisper against cold skin.

Jimin hears a quiet breath escape from the man's lips. And when he pulls back to look at the prince in the eye, he sees a flicker of crimson before him, like a spark in the other's dark irises. "My prince—" he begins, but Prince Yoongi rises abruptly to his feet.

"It is quite late," the prince utters, looking anywhere but Jimin. "You should head back to the castle."

The young thief stands up. "But, I—"

"Good night, Jimin." The prince offers a nod, his farewell brief and final, before he turns sharply on his heel to leave the gardens.

And so, Jimin remains standing amidst the ethereal beauty of the moonglows, his gaze lingering on the path the prince walked long after he has vanished from sight. With a weary sigh, he shuts his eyes, dropping his head on his palm. "Fuck," he whispers. Has he gone too far?

🥀

Jimin hasn't seen the prince since that night at the greenhouse. There had been no invitations for supper, yet the meals kept coming to his chamber. He tried going to the dining hall and drawing room, even the observatory. Yet, there was no sign of him.

He asked Taehyung, Jungkook, and Seokjin where the prince might be, yet all of them seemed to be in agreement, suggesting the same familiar spots that the prince often visited.

On the seventh day, as Jimin gazes upon a fresh pot of ink and a half-completed sketch of the constellations resting on the prince’s desk in the observatory, the truth finally dawns on him—Prince Yoongi has been deliberately avoiding him.

"What has gotten your trousers in a knot?" Namjoon, Seokjin's werewolf lover, inquires, his voice light as he hefts animal carcasses into the wagon.

"What?" Jimin answers, his tone biting.

"You've had that perpetual frown on your face. Right here." The werewolf points at the spot between his brows. "Seokjin mentioned to me that you’ve been in a particularly foul mood recently."

The young thief snorts. "That's not true."

"Uh-huh." Namjoon raises a brow, refusing to believe his obvious lie.

"That's an awful amount of meat," Jimin says, looking at the carcasses and changing the subject.

"Well, Seokjin has requested for more stock to be delivered." The man shrugs. "You can ask him yourself."

And so Jimin does. Because what else can he do in this gloomy castle?

"It's not for us. Somehow," Seokjin tells him as he stirs a pot of broth hanging on the hearth.

"Somehow?" Jimin asks, perched on the table with his arms folded over his chest.

"Well, the surplus meat would be dried for later use, naturally. But we haven’t had this much carcass to deal with in centuries. It was when—" The cook’s words trail off.

"When?" Jimin presses, his curiosity piqued.

"It’s not for me to say," the cook mutters, eyes avoiding Jimin's. "But I'll tell you this—Prince Yoongi asked for this many carcasses hundreds of years ago. Yet, this may very well be more than that."

"Why? He takes no pleasure in human food," Jimin says, his confusion evident.

"What else could there be apart from flesh and bones?"

It takes a moment for Jimin to realize the meaning behind the cook's words. 𝘈𝘩, he thinks. "Blood."

"Hm," Seokjin hums. "The prince has been consuming more than a goblet these past few days. A whole bottle at most."

At that, Jimin feels a wave of concern lodge in his chest. "Is he ill?"

"I’m afraid I don't know," Seokjin replies, a tired sigh escaping his lips. "The prince keeps such matters to himself."

A surge of frustration pulses through him, and in that moment, his resolve hardens. Whatever it takes, he will track down the prince tonight.

🥀

Jimin has a good memory. He has memorized maps of castles and catacombs before; hence, finding the prince's chamber again despite the labyrinthine halls of this place is as effortless as a gust of wind.

His footfalls are light and almost soundless on the carpet, moving through the halls like a shadow. When he arrives at the prince’s chamber, he eases the door open with delicate care, peering inside to glimpse the solid figure of the one he’s been searching for.

Perhaps something is truly amiss. For on any other night, the prince would have sensed Jimin’s approach long before he arrived. Yet, there the man is, standing on the balcony with a goblet of blood in his right hand and a half-empty bottle in his other.

The prince spins around swiftly, his instincts kicking in as he finally perceives Jimin’s presence in the otherwise silent chamber. "Jimin?" he utters, his eyes growing wide in surprise.

"I finally found you." Jimin scowls. "Had your little game of hiding been entertaining?"

The crystal rose remains floating atop the table, its petals bathed in the muted light spilling from the open balcony, the barely perceptible flush of red almost invisible to the naked eye. "I do not know what you speak of," Prince Yoongi says, returning inside the chamber.

"Do not take me for a fool," Jimin retorts, a familiar surge of irritation flooding his veins. "Is this all because of a single kiss? If I’ve crossed a line, Your Highness, I apologize. It won’t happen again."

Instead of responding, the prince silently turns away, setting the goblet and bottle down beside the empty ones. So, Seokjin was right—the prince had been drinking his fill an awful lot these days. "You must go," he says.

"Not until I get an answer from you, 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘎𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘏𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴," Jimin says, the title dripping with mockery. "Are you ill?"

"No."

"I don't believe you," Jimin says, his voice steady as he approaches the prince, who stands with his back turned, his head bent low over the side table. "If you're ill, you must tell Taehyung or anyone."

"I told you, I am not," the prince repeats, his body stiffening suddenly with a sharp tension.

"My prince," Jimin lifts his hand to reach for the monarch's shoulder, "let me look at you—"

Just before his fingers graze the soft fabric of the prince's white tunic, Jimin’s vision blurs as though he’s plummeting from a great height. But the pain that steals the air from his lungs when his back crashes against the wall pulls him back to reality.

"I told you to leave," the prince snarls, his voice raw and menacing, eyes blazing crimson as his hand wraps around Jimin's neck, his fingers pressing dangerously on his pulse. "You can't be here."

Grabbing the man's wrist, Jimin says, "I told you. You can't frighten me."

He knows all too well that if the prince wishes to, he could snap Jimin's neck, and his life would end in a heartbeat. Yet, despite the hand around his throat, the prince’s grip remains loose, a silent reminder that killing Jimin is not his intention.

The furrow between the prince’s brows deepens as he shuts his eyes, his head bowing slightly as though struggling against an unseen force within. After what seems like an eternity, he finally speaks in a low voice, "I am thirsty."

Jimin’s heart falters.

"My throat burns for your blood, Jimin."

The young thief’s stomach tightens at the prince’s words, a rush of heat flooding through his veins. Perhaps it’s the madness creeping into his mind or the lack of breath in his lungs, but Jimin finds himself saying, "Then, take it."

The hand around his neck tightens a bit more.

"If it quenches your unbearable thirst, have a drop of my blood, Your Highness."

When a flicker of hesitation crosses the prince's face as his hand around his throat falters, Jimin is the one to close the gap, drawing the man into a fierce and searing kiss.

He feels the prince's hands on his waist, pinning him back against the wall as the man's persistent lips chase his. With a ragged breath, Jimin pulls back slightly to bite the inside of his cheek, wincing at the pain and the taste of metal in his mouth.

With his arms locked around the other's neck, Jimin parts his lips as Prince Yoongi's tongue seeks entry, a gasp escaping the prince's lips as he tastes the blood he craves, his tongue claiming Jimin's mouth with savage and unspeakable hunger. "Jimin," the prince groans.

The pain and metallic taste in Jimin's mouth gets drowned by the sound of the prince sucking his tongue, drinking every drop of blood like a starving man, as if tasting the first drop of water after walking on a vast, scorching desert.

Jimin's back hits the soft linens of the bed, confusion crossing his mind for a fleeting moment for the sudden change of position, but all his thoughts vanish in an instant when he feels the prince's hand gripping the back of his knee to push his legs wider.

When the man's narrow hips settle between his thighs, Jimin lets out a low moan as the pair of lips on his mouth travels down to his jaw, smearing spit and crimson on his warm skin, kissing his neck with a hunger that desires to devour his flesh.

"Good," Yoongi rasps. "You taste so good, Jimin."

"Do I?" The young thief bares his neck more, offering the beautiful expanse of sun-kissed skin to the prince. Instead of getting a response, Jimin gasps when he feels someting sharp graze lighty against his neck.

Fangs.

Jimin's stomach clenches, arousal shooting through his veins.

Gods, he can feel Prince Yoongi's fangs scratching against his skin.

But before they breach Jimin's flesh, the prince pulls away and returns to the young thief's mouth, kissing him with the same fervor when he first tasted Jimin's blood. "You're so warm," the man breathes against his lips. "Warmer than fire."

He knows it's impossible, yet Jimin can't feel anything but the prince's weight pinning him down the cushion, kissing him, marking him, devouring him in ways that Jimin never thought he'd crave for so much.

As arousal stirs deep within his gut, the young thief slides his hands under the prince's tunic, feeling the cold, firm muscles beneath his palm and the peculiar beating of the other's heart—steady yet erratic, brimming with life. Alive.

Jimin whispers, "Can I?"

🔞

The prince appears confused for a moment, but when understanding dawns on him, he nods and lets Jimin flip them over the bed to straddle his hips. Pleased by their position, a smirk tugs at the corners of the young thief's mouth +

as he slowly slides his palms from the prince's chest down to the taut muscles of his stomach. "You’re not alone in your thirst," he whispers, pressing forward to steal another searing kiss, his tongue tracing the coppery smear of blood at the edge of his lips.

After sucking a bruise on the man's neck, Jimin’s hands trail downward, fingers deftly tugging at the laces of Prince Yoongi's trousers before settling himself between his parted legs. "You're excited," he teases, tapping the visible bulge with a finger. "And big."

Prince Yoongi narrows his eyes. "You've got quite the tongue."

Jimin tilts his head, unrepentant. “Forgive my words, Your Highness,” he murmurs, though the glint in his eyes betrays any sincerity.

With steady hands, he works the prince’s trousers down, freeing him from their constraint. He drags his tongue over his lower lip at the delectable sight of the monarch's veiny shaft. “Spare a starving man his indulgence.”

Then, without further ado, Jimin licks the round head and moans at the taste of the prince's lust for him. It's intoxicating—the way Prince Yoongi draws a breath each time his cock hits the back of his throat,

the way the man bucks his hips ever so slightly with each hard suck of the younger's mouth, hollowing his cheeks against the shaft as his head bobs up and down. "Jimin," Prince Yoongi utters breathily, his fingers curling in Jimin's dark brown locks. "I'm close."

With a satisfied hum, the young thief pulls away, his tongue tracing a slow path down the slick length, lapping up the mingled taste of his own spit and the prince’s essence. "Let me drink you in, my prince," he murmurs, his tone frayed from the way he had swallowed him whole.

With steady strokes, Jimin works the length in his hand, his lips trailing downward to press warm, lingering kisses against the prince’s most sensitive part. He takes one into his mouth, swirling his tongue, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks.

The sound of pleasure above him coils hot and tight in Jimin’s stomach, a delicious ache that leaves him breathless. “Come now, Your Highness,” he coaxes, his tongue pressing flush against the pulsing vein. “You’ve savored my blood. Now, let me have my fill."

With a firm, deliberate suck at the glistening tip, Prince Yoongi’s dark brows draw together tightly as his release spills forth in hot, pulsing ropes, filling the young thief’s mouth, thick and seemingly endless, some escaping to trail down his chin in slick rivulets.

Jimin swallows thickly, feeling the thick glide of the man's arousal down his throat, the warmth pooling deep in his belly as he hums around the lingering taste.

He licks away the remnants clinging to his lips before moving up to hover over the prince, his gaze smoldering. “Your skin is like ice,” he murmurs, fingers ghosting over his cheek. “And yet, inside, you burn.”

If warmth could stain the prince’s pallid skin, Jimin is certain he would be flushed from head to toe. “It has been a long time since I’ve had this.”

Intrigued, the younger cocks a brow, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “And just how long are we speaking of, Your Highness?”

Prince Yoongi’s gaze shifts away, something unspoken flickering in his dark eyes before he murmurs, “A few hundred years.”

Jimin stills, blinking. “Not even by your own hand?”

Silence stretches before the prince breathes out a single word. “...No.”

“Fuck.” The word slips from Jimin’s lips without thought, blunt and unfiltered. The prince barely conceals a wince. “No wonder you came like a damn flood—you’ve been holding it in for centuries. I’m honestly surprised your cock didn’t turn to dust.”

Prince Yoongi’s frown deepens at the thief’s crude remark, his hand darting down to deliver a firm squeeze to his backside in silent reprimand. Jimin yelps, momentarily losing his balance and bracing himself against the bed.

“Words, Jimin,” the prince warns, his voice low and commanding. And gods, if that doesn’t make Jimin’s pulse quicken.

The moment Yoongi feels the insistent press of Jimin’s arousal against his thigh, he exhales, his voice deceptively soft as he asks, “Shall I repay the favor?”

Suppressing a chuckle at the prince’s unexpected thoughtfulness, Jimin leans in, pressing his nose against the man’s cheek. “I’m fine,” he purrs. “I’ll handle it myself once I’m back in my chambers.”

Prince Yoongi’s grip lingers at his hips. “But I am here.”

“That you are.” Jimin pulls back just enough to let his teasing smirk dance between them, his eyes glinting with mischief. “But I want you to hunger for me more. One taste is enough for tonight.”

His fingertip ghosts over the curve of Yoongi’s upper lip. “Tomorrow, perhaps, we can share a bath. What do you say, my prince?”

A quiet hum rumbles from the prince’s throat as he squeezes Jimin’s waist. “I’ll have Taehyung prepare it for us.”

Pleased by the prince’s approval, Jimin leans in one last time, sinking his teeth lightly into the man’s lower lip before pulling away entirely. Stepping back, he tilts his head, smirking. “Tomorrow, then,” he purrs. “Your Highness.”

🥀

🚿

"You're smiling."

Taehyung casts a sidelong glance at Jimin in response to his remark, his lips curling into an unmistakably knowing smile as he delicately drapes the nearly translucent robe over him. "Am I?" the fae replies, mischief dancing in his tone.

"Out with it," Jimin commands, though he is already well aware of the reason behind the fae’s taunting smile.

"No." Taehyung, ever audacious, sticks out his tongue. "Oh, and I added lavender oil to the water. His Highness is already in the bathing chamber as we speak."

Jimin’s cheeks flush with warmth.

"Alright." The fae’s knowing smile lingers. "Let’s get you inside."

He isn’t sure what to expect—he’s experienced luxury before, bathed in opulent chambers—but never within the walls of an ancient, mythical castle.

As Taehyung pushes open the double doors, Jimin steps inside and is immediately greeted by the fragrant smell of lavender, interwoven with delicate floral undertones. The scent drifts from the softly flickering candles encircling the vast marble tub at the chamber’s heart.

The parted curtains invite the moonlight through the towering windows, draping the intricate floor patterns in a soft, ethereal blue. But it isn’t the haunting beauty of the scene that steals Jimin’s breath—it is the man in the water who stills his heart.

Droplets of water trail down his face and neck, gathering briefly in the hollow of his collarbones before continuing their descent. His sculpted chest is bared without a tunic to conceal it this time, the explicit sight inviting Jimin's eyes to linger.

Water drips from the prince’s fingers as he lifts his hand, a silent yet unmistakable summons. "Come," he murmurs, his voice spreading across the vast tub in soft, rippling echoes.

Jimin’s heart hammers in his chest as he steps forward, fingers loosening the robe’s delicate hold on his frame. Slowly, inch by tantalizing inch, he unveils his bare skin to the dimly lit chamber.

The robe slips from his body, forgotten as Jimin eases a leg into the water, its heat wrapping around him. Scarlet rose petals drift lazily along the surface, curling around his skin as he lowers himself, never breaking the prince’s gaze. Wordlessly, he kneels before him.

"Closer," Prince Yoongi murmurs, his tone laced with quiet authority. Jimin exhales softly, a tremor racing through him. Emboldened by the palpable desire in the other's eyes, the younger closes the distance, straddling the prince’s lap in a slow, deliberate motion.

"Is this close enough?" Jimin breathes, his lips a whisper away from the prince’s mouth. His hands press gently against the noble’s chest, the unexpected chill of his skin a contrast to the bath’s enveloping warmth. "Your Highness."

A low, satisfied hum rumbles from deep within Prince Yoongi’s throat, sending a shiver down Jimin’s spine. He barely swallows down a moan as strong hands seize the flesh of his backside beneath the water’s surface. "You're being unusually obedient tonight," the prince muses.

"Perhaps because I’m expecting a reward," the young thief says, his voice laced with playful mischief as he brushes a stray lock of long, dark hair from the prince’s striking eyes.

"Are you?" the noble murmurs, lifting a brow. "And what kind of reward do you seek?"

"Hmm, I’m not sure. Gold? Jewels? A castle, perhaps?" Jimin muses, tilting his head in mock contemplation before flashing a teasing smile. "Or maybe… a kiss?"

Prince Yoongi chuckles at the thief’s antics, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Is that all?"

Jimin arches a brow, playful yet daring. "Are you saying you could grant me all of them—including the castle?"

"Perhaps." The prince leans in, his lips brushing against the younger's wet neck. "But would a mere kiss be enough for you?"

The insinuation beneath the prince’s words stirs a wave of arousal in Jimin's gut. "If it’s you, then no," he whispers, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He tilts the prince’s chin upward. "I want to feel your hands. Or perhaps… your tongue."

The prince’s eyes flash a burning crimson, and in the next heartbeat, Jimin finds his lips claimed in a fervent kiss. A soft moan spills from him as he instinctively wraps his arms around Prince Yoongi’s neck, drawing him in, chasing the intoxicating press of his mouth.

The delicate scent of lilac weaves into the lingering smell of lavender, a fragrance Jimin has long associated with the prince—one he cannot forget, no matter how he tries.

Then, amidst the soft splashes of water, a startled gasp leaves his lips as the prince's fingers find his entrance, pressing with quiet intent. "Oh," he breathes, his fingers digging instinctively into the firm muscle of Prince Yoongi’s shoulders.

"You shall have your reward," the prince murmurs as the tips of his fingers ease their way inside. Jimin shudders at the sensation—the warmth, the pressure of heated water filling him.

Trembling, he pleads, voice barely above a whisper. "Now, Your Highness. Please."

Prince Yoongi leans in, his breath hot against Jimin’s ear as he murmurs, low and commanding, "Bend over the edge of the tub for me." Anticipation licks up Jimin’s spine, setting his skin alight as he lifts himself from the prince’s lap without question.

Jimin braces his elbows against the cool edge of the tub, and with deliberate slowness, he lifts his hips to offer the prince an unrestrained view of his backside, swaying them ever so slightly as a playful smirk tugs his lips. "Does this please your royal eyes, my prince?"

Hunger flares in the prince’s gaze as he takes in the sight before him, his expression dark with unspoken desire. "In all my hundred years of existence, even before the curse," he says, his palm gliding down the younger's glistening back, "never has anyone tempted me like this."

"Never?" Jimin asks, his fingers twitching slightly as he fights against the arousal curling in his gut. "Or could it be that you’ve simply never known temptation until now?"

The prince offers no reply. Instead, he leans down, pressing a kiss to Jimin's nape, tracing down the delicate curve of his back until they find the dimples at the bottom of his spine.

There, he pauses—his tongue flicking out, dragging a heated path downward until he reaches the younger’s hole. A choked moan escapes Jimin’s lips, muffled against his arm as the prince’s tongue presses insistently against his entrance—soft yet relentless.

"Ngh." Jimin bites down on his lower lip, his breath hitching as Prince Yoongi’s tongue finally breaches him, delving into the molten heat of his clenching walls. The slick, obscene sounds of the prince’s mouth working him open reverberate through the dimly lit chamber.

He devours him with an insatiable hunger that makes Jimin's head spin with heavy arousal, causing his neglected shaft to spill streaks of white on the wet, marbled tub. "M-My prince," he gasps, glancing back with hooded eyes. "Your fingers... Please."

Answering his plea, Prince Yoongi withdraws with a lewd, wet sound, his tongue lazily sweeping over his slick lips before grasping Jimin’s right leg. With deliberate ease, he lifts it over the edge of the tub, spreading him open.

A flush of heat blooms across Jimin’s cheeks at the sheer depravity of the position. The moment Prince Yoongi’s fingers sink effortlessly into him, gliding past his entrance with little resistance, a blissful moan escapes Jimin’s throat.

His body melts into the sensation, his head lolling between his shoulders as pleasure crashes over him. "Fuck."

Without warning, the prince’s fingers thrust deeper, tearing another gasp from his lips. "Words, Jimin," the prince chides, his tone edged with quiet dominance.

If this is how the prince intends to punish him, then Jimin will gladly provoke him, again and again.

"There—just like that, Your Highness," Jimin breathes, shifting his hips to chase that intoxicating pressure against the prince’s fingertips. "Keep going. Take me like this."

Without a word, the prince obeys and plunges into Jimin with unrelenting purpose. Three fingers stretch him wide, pressing insistently against that wickedly sensitive spot, coaxing a cascade of moans from the younger’s trembling lips. "Oh, gods," Jimin cries. "S-Shit. Ah!"

Just when the younger thinks the pleasure has reached its peak, a sudden flicker of warmth joins the prince’s fingers—his tongue, wet and insistent, tracing the ring of muscle before slipping inside to savor him. Jimin's stomach clenches tightly with pleasure.

"More," Jimin gasps, his voice thick with need, barely coherent through the haze of arousal. "Please—fuck me harder, Your Highness. Ngh!" Instead of reprimanding him, the prince answers with a sharp thrust of his fingers, increasing their pace until Jimin's leg buckles under him.

The obscene slap of wet skin fills the air, each thrust driving him closer to the edge. Jimin’s moan falters, breaking into a desperate gasp as heat floods his core. “Ah—close,” he whimpers, his voice cracking. “I’m c-close, my prince.”

The prince’s tongue withdraws from his rim to sink his fangs into the soft flesh of Jimin’s rear—deep enough to draw blood. The sharp sting melts into pleasure, and with a choked gasp, Jimin arches his back as his release finally breaks over him in crashing waves.

"Haa..." Jimin moans as his strength leaves him, his trembling body collapsing onto his chest as aftershocks of pleasure ripple through him, his release spilling down his thighs and spoiling the cooling bathwater under him.

When his pulse finally slows, Jimin shifts, resting on one elbow as his hand reaches back, fingertips grazing the tender bite. A soft hiss escapes him at the sting. “Are you planning to leave me in pieces, Your Highness?” he says, frowning.

The prince exhales a soft chuckle as he wipes the remnants of blood from his lips. Then, without hesitation, he brings his fingers to his mouth, his tongue sweeping over them to savour the taste of Jimin’s blood as his irises flare the deepest, most carnal shade of crimson.

“I've fought against my thirst for human blood for centuries, Jimin,” Prince Yoongi murmurs, his voice laced with something raw—dangerous—as he licks the last trace of red from his lips. “Even the faintest taste of your blood is enough to drive me to the edge of insanity.”

🥀

Something changed between him and the prince. Jimin struggles to grasp its nature, to give it form, yet he knows it lingers between them. The prince’s eyes hold a strange light, something unrecognizable yet familiar, +

the faint creases at their edges rendering him almost youthful in a way Jimin has never noticed before. There have been lingering touches, unreserved embraces, stolen kisses, and fleeting glances exchanged across the grand expanse of the dining hall +

or in the intimate confines of the drawing room. They have shared a bed—more than once, in fact. When the prince appears in the dead of night, standing on Jimin’s balcony bathed in silver moonlight, +

or when Jimin finds himself drawn to the prince’s chamber, slipping beneath the covers without a word. Each time, Prince Yoongi would draw him close, his strong arms wrapping around him, offering a silent refuge to ward off the nightmares that threatened his sleep.

Jimin has never felt this safe before, not even when he used to live in the orphanage. Perhaps there's something intangible that binds him to the prince, an unseen force, a magnetic pull he cannot resist.

And as the days pass and they spend more time together, Jimin feels a quiet longing unfurl within him, an ache for something more.

"You created all of this?" he asks, his gaze drifting over the meticulously drawn maps and constellations, some pinned to the walls, others strewn across the prince’s desk at the observatory.

"Yes," answers Prince Yoongi, momentarily withdrawing from the grand telescope to glance at Jimin. "These maps date back to when I used to sail. I redraw them now and then, so I won’t..."

Jimin turns to him, catching the flicker of hesitation in his eyes. With a gentle smile, he finishes the thought, “So you won’t forget.” The answering nod is a quiet confession, one that fills Jimin with both warmth and an inexplicable sorrow.

“When you live for hundreds of years, you tend to forget things. Even those that once meant everything to you,” Prince Yoongi murmurs, his gaze shifting away. “Hence, I try my best to remember.”

Drawn to the prince's quiet sorrow, Jimin climbs the small platform at the center and wraps his arms around the prince's waist. "Do you remember your family?"

"Yes." The prince melts into the embrace, his voice barely above a whisper.

"If not for the portraits in the castle, their faces would have faded from my memory long ago. But even so, I couldn’t..." He exhales softly. "I can no longer recall the sound of their voices, not even the joyful laughter of my siblings."

"It must have been hard for you," Jimin murmurs, his voice muffled against the prince's shoulders.

"It was, at first—about three hundred years ago," Prince Yoongi replies with a hollow chuckle. "But in time, I learned to live with the empty spaces in my memory."

Perhaps this is the true cost of immortality—the slow erosion of everything once familiar. Beneath the weight of endless years, the prince remains human trapped in a timeless limbo as the world around him shifts and fades.

Jimin cannot begin to grasp the agony of watching everything he once cherished slip away, piece by piece.

"Tell me about your days at sea," Jimin says gently, steering the conversation away in an attempt to lighten the prince’s heart.

Prince Yoongi smiles, gently guiding Jimin toward the telescope. "Sailors rely on the stars to find their way across the seas," he explains. Jimin gasps, breath hitching at the breathtaking expanse of the night sky. "Do you see the pattern of the stars before you?"

"Yes."

"It forms a figure close to the number 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯, does it not?"

Jimin nods, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Does it hold any meaning?"

"It does." Prince Yoongi’s deep voice drifts through the quiet night. "The purple star at the bottom serves as a beacon guiding sailors safely to this town."

Jimin pulls back, turning his gaze to the man standing beside him. "Really?"

"Yes." The prince’s smile is warm, his eyes crinkling handsomely. "My mentor used to say, 'No matter how far you drift upon the endless sea, the purple star will always lead you home.'"

I see." Jimin returns the prince’s smile. "When I set sail again one day, I will always be able to find my way back here."

A fleeting emotion flickers through Prince Yoongi’s eyes—something unreadable, thoughtful, and solemn. "Do you wish to see the open seas, Jimin?"

"Of course!" Jimin responds eagerly, eyes alight. "But you must come with me."

A quiet laugh hums from the prince’s throat. "I wish I could," he admits, "but the sun is far too bright for me to endure."

Jimin’s chest tightens. "Does it kill you?" he asks, voice tinged with concern. "Like the myths say?"

"No, but it burns me," the prince admits, his expression turning distant, as if recalling something long buried in memory.

"I have… attempted to take my own life before, more times than I can count, hoping to end my suffering."

Jimin’s lashes flutter, his heart stammering at the grim revelation. "What?"

"I hurled myself from cliffs, tore my own flesh, drove a blade into my heart and let myself bleed out, but the wounds and broken bones always healed. The sun scorched my skin, engulfing me in flames of endless agony, but…" Yoongi exhales a weary sigh.

"I wouldn't die, no matter how much I craved it. And yet, the greatest suffering comes from the realization that I am nothing but a breathing corpse—a remnant of a past no one remembers, alive but never truly living."

Pressing his lips together, Jimin cradles the prince’s face in his hands, his gaze unwavering as he mutters, “I won’t ask you to forget your past, your suffering, or that wretched curse. But you must remember—Taehyung and the others are here for you.”

His lips curl into a gentle smile. “𝘐 am here for you.”

A quiet, breathy chuckle escapes the prince as he grasps Jimin’s wrist, pressing a soft kiss to his palm, the touch sending heat rushing to Jimin’s cheeks. "You shouldn't trust me so much," Prince Yoongi murmurs.

"And why is that?"

The prince’s gaze darkens, a hint of something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Because I am a beast."

"A beast…" Jimin echoes, letting the word linger on his tongue, though it feels foreign, ill-fitting.

His lips curve slightly. "No beast holds someone as tenderly as you do."

"Then, perhaps you should be more careful." The prince lowers his wrist, his eyes flashing crimson for the briefest moment. "Beasts have a way of luring their prey into their lair… only to devour them when they least expect it."

🥀

Jimin should have listened to Taehyung’s warning—should have stayed in bed instead of letting boredom guide his steps through the darkened halls. If he had, he wouldn’t be here now, caught in a predicament he never saw coming.

"𝘈 𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦."

The townsfolks' conversation at the tavern plays in Jimin's mind as he descends the stairs leading down to the dungeons.

"𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘥𝘰𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵."

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦," 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴. "𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨."

The candle in his hand flickers, casting warm glows on the cold, stone walls.

𝘑𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘴𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘭𝘶𝘮𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘵. "𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥?"

"𝘕𝘰." 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥. "𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘏𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴."

"....𝘈𝘯𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦."

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦, 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘑𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

A rancid stench clings to the air, curling in Jimin’s throat like smoke. He moves deeper into the dungeon’s suffocating darkness, his steps unwavering as he reaches the endless line of pitch-black cells.

Then, he sees it.

"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘦." 𝘑𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘦. "𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥."

𝘛𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘥𝘴. "𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘖𝘯𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘴."

Jimin stumbles backward, his breath hitching as his back meets the cold, unyielding wall. His eyes widen, his pupils blown with muted shock and 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳, a shiver crawling down his spine at the dreadful sight before him.

"𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘖𝘯𝘦?"

𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘱, 𝘧𝘪𝘥𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨.

"𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮."

It was a lie. Taehyung had lied to him.

"Gods," Jimin breathes, his hand clamping over his mouth as nausea coils in his gut. Behind the iron bars, heaps of human skulls and bones lay in grotesque disarray, some still clinging to rotting flesh.

"𝘏𝘪𝘴 𝘏𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘭𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴."

Jimin grips the cold stone wall behind him, his pulse hammering.

"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘶𝘱𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴."

"𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩."

The words resurface in Jimin’s mind, their once gentle tone now twisted with something dark, a whisper of danger he had chosen to ignore.

"𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵."

Jimin turns around to run.

"𝘉𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘳… 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘵."

Panic floods his veins, the sting of betrayal festering deep in his chest. Just like the mounds of bones decaying in those dark cells, would Jimin's fate be reduced to the same grim end?

🥀

Jimin's hurried footsteps echo along the walls of the castle as he makes his way to the prince's chambers. He pushes the doors open, entering unannounced, his breath unsteady as his eyes roam the dimly lit space.

They halt upon the prince’s figure effortlessly poised upon his chaise lounge. The balcony doors stand ajar, allowing the moon’s silvery glow to spill into the chamber, casting a luminous radiance over the prince’s handsome features.

On any other night, Jimin would have paused, entranced by the sheer elegance of his ethereal beauty. But it is not. A weight presses against Jimin’s chest as he strides toward the prince, anguish etched into every line of his face.

"Jimin," the prince greets, setting his sketchbook aside with quiet grace. "Can't sleep again?" The warmth and concern in his voice only deepen the ache in Jimin’s chest.

"Are you hiding something from me, Your Highness?" he asks, his piercing gaze searching for the truth the man refuses to speak. Prince Yoongi stills at the words, his expression unreadable as he locks eyes with Jimin for a fleeting moment before glancing away.

"I went to the dungeons and saw it with my own eyes." Jimin’s voice cracks slightly as he moves closer, desperation seeping into his words. "The intruders turning to dust, the crystal rose, your curse—have you been lying to me this whole time?"

Without meeting his gaze, Prince Yoongi rises to his feet. "The curse is real."

Jimin exhales sharply, his hands clenching at his sides. "And those countless thieves who broke in to steal the rose—did you leave them to rot in the dungeons? To starve? To die?"

"Their lives hold no meaning to me."

And for the first time since they had grown closer, Jimin sees it again—the predatory red gleam in Prince Yoongi’s eyes. The very same one he had witnessed that fateful night he first trespassed into the castle.

A stark, chilling reminder that the man before him is something beyond human. "They broke into my castle and dared to steal what is mine." Prince Yoongi’s gaze flickers to the floating crystal rose. His voice remains cold, unwavering. "Their fate was their own doing."

Blood roars in Jimin’s ears as he forces out the question. "What about me?"

He swallows hard, pushing down the storm of emotions threatening to rise. "I committed the same crime. So why am I still alive?"

A heavy silence blankets the room, stretching unbearably before the prince finally speaks. "Because you are the Destined One."

Jimin lets out a shuddering breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "And what does that mean for you? For this curse you carry?"

His eyes search the prince’s for answers, for something more than vague truths. "What am I to you, Your Highness?"

The weight of his words settles between them, an unbearable burden neither can escape. And when the prince finally speaks, the warmth once woven into his voice has vanished, now as unyielding and cold as his icy skin.

"I warned you before—you are my prisoner."

Yoongi’s ruby eyes gleam with a dangerous light. "You were destined to be the sacrifice, the key to breaking this curse and setting my people free."

Jimin stumbles back, his breath caught in his throat, as Prince Yoongi's voice hardens, his next words as unforgiving as the cold, wintry night.

"You are nothing but my prey," he utters. The dim light catches the sharp curve of his fangs, and Jimin's breath falters, his body turning rigid as a chilling fear seeps into his bones. "I am no man, Jimin. I am a 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵."

Prince Yoongi's tone is dark and merciless as he slowly advances forward. "And now, you must run before I find you and take every drop of life from your veins."

Terror surges through Jimin’s body, and he spins and bolts out of the prince's chambers.

The world around him blurs as he sprints through the castle’s corridors, his breath ragged as his heartbeat deafens in his ears.

"Jimin?" A voice cuts through the chaos—Taehyung. "Where are you going?"

"I must get out of here." Jimin barely spares him a glance before rushing down the grand staircase, each hurried step propelling him toward the only escape he can see.

"What?! Why? Wait, Jimin—"

The young thief shoves the heavy doors open, the night’s cold air biting at his skin as he bolts outside. Unlike before, no invisible wall stops him, no unseen force keeping him trapped. This time, Jimin is free to run.

🥀

1 week later....

"Have you heard?"

"Heard what?" A gruff man grumbles, raising his tankard before taking a deep swig of ale.

The other leans in, voice hushed yet brimming with intrigue. "Another band of fools—thieves, they say—tried their luck with that mysterious castle."

At the mere mention of the castle, Jimin's fingers tense around his tankard. He sits perched on the tavern's counter, his expression unreadable, but the faint tremor in his hands betrays him.

The surface of his drink ripples, distorting his reflection just as his thoughts have been ever since he escaped. A week has passed, yet Jimin remains. No matter how much he tells himself to leave, his feet refuse to move beyond the borders of the western port.

It’s as if unseen chains bind him here, holding him captive in a way even he cannot understand.

"And?" the gruff man presses, seemingly uninterested at first. "Did they never return like the others?"

"As a matter of fact, they 𝘥𝘪𝘥 return." A smirk plays on the man’s lips. "Carrying chests of gold, I was told."

From beneath the shadow of his hood, Jimin stiffens. Then, with a sharp turn, he finally whips around, disbelief flickering across his face at the unexpected news.

"Well, well…" The gruff man chuckles, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Seems that old castle 𝘪𝘴 nothing more than a treasure trove waiting to be plundered."

"Shall we gather men to search it at dawn?"

"We must." With a final swig of his ale, the larger man rises, his chair scraping against the wooden floor. He slams a coin onto the table with a sharp 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘬. "Come. Let’s see if the tales of this so-called beast hold any truth."

As a handful of men trail after them into the night, a cold wave of panic grips Jimin’s chest. No, he cannot be drawn into this again. He tells himself to look away, to let them go.

The prince had deceived him, making him believe he was more than just a prey caught in his trap. That there had been something between them. Something 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭.

"𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶."

The prince’s voice lingers in his mind, cruel and inescapable, twisting like a dagger in his chest. Jimin grits his teeth. “Fuck,” he spits, slamming his tankard onto the counter as he pushes himself to his feet.

Prince Yoongi has the luxury of eternity, an endless stretch of time to let memories fade like whispers in the wind. But Jimin? Jimin has only this one fleeting life. And so, he cannot forget—not now, not ever.

🥀

The distant echo of heavy footsteps marching toward the castle fills Jimin’s ears as he scales the back walls with practiced ease. Perched atop the parapets, his breath catches at the sight of the first sliver of sunlight creeping over the horizon.

"Shit," he hisses, urgency flooding his veins as he quickens his pace. He cannot allow those men to see the prince, especially in broad daylight.

"Jimin?" Jungkook’s voice rings out, sharp with surprise, as his eyes lock onto him.

"You're back!" Hoseok cries, his translucent form rushing toward Jimin, ghostly eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I don’t understand what’s going on, but thieves invaded the castle yesterday and took our gold!"

"We tried to lead them away, but the prince ordered us to let them take what they wanted," Seokjin grumbles, his scowl deepening. "And now? More intruders are marching straight to the castle doors."

"I need to see the prince," Jimin gasps, struggling to catch his breath.

Namjoon shakes his head. "He's not in his chambers or the observatory. I searched everywhere—he's nowhere to be found in the castle."

"That can't be right—" Jimin’s words die on his lips as a sudden, thunderous banging echoes against the main doors, sending a jolt through his body. Around him, the castle staff snaps to attention, their expressions shifting to alarm.

"He has to be somewhere; he cannot step beyond the castle grounds."

Taehyung clasps his hands, grounding him. "Go find the prince," he says with quiet determination. "Leave the intruders to us."

As the relentless shouting behind the heavy doors grows louder, each bang making the wood tremble in its frame, Jimin whirls around and sprints toward the drawing room. "Your Highness!" he shouts, throwing the door open.

When silence greets him, Jimin grits his teeth and hastily turns around to search every place he knows the prince might have gone. Echoes of shattering objects and the clash of steel against steel reverberate through the corridors, but Jimin doesn’t stop.

With his breath unsteady, he heads to the one place left he has yet to search. "Please be here," he breathes, voice barely audible over his pounding heartbeat as he rushes into the greenhouse.

As the first, fragile rays of dawn filter through the glass roof, Jimin halts, holding his breath. Amidst the field of moonglows—buds tightly closed, their once-majestic shimmer now extinguished—stands a lone figure.

"Your Highness," he whispers.

His back remains to Jimin, but the prince turns his face just enough for the morning light to caress his sharp features, making them appear softer—almost vulnerable. His dark hair gleams under the first touch of dawn.

Despite the prince's picturesque beauty, Jimin notices the dark bruise under his eyes and the color of his skin, now paler than it had ever been. "You shouldn't have returned," he murmurs, but this time, his voice carries no edge. Only exhaustion. Resignation.

"My prince, I—" The words die on Jimin's tongue as his gaze locks onto the crystal rose, clutched loosely in the prince’s left hand, its petals now a vivid, pulsing red.

Its cruel thorns sink mercilessly into the delicate flesh of his palm, blood beading along the wounds before slipping from his fingertips like falling rubies.

"You said you wanted to see the sea," the prince murmurs, his voice fragile beneath the weight of his pain. "I'm letting you go, Jimin. Please... just go."

And then, Jimin sees it.

Prince Yoongi’s skin does not burn under the morning light. Instead, the right half of his face is slowly crumbling to 𝘢𝘴𝘩, the wind carrying away pieces of him as if the world itself is reclaiming him.

The prince is dying.

"No!" Jimin cries, sprinting through the field of flowers just as Prince Yoongi collapses. Dropping to his knees, he gathers the prince’s limp body into his lap, his hands trembling as he watches dark cracks spread across his face, his existence crumbling into drifting ashes.

Crimson seeps through the prince’s tunic, staining his pale skin as it spills through the crystal rose, pooling into the earth beneath them. Jimin chokes back a sob, his tears falling freely as he clutches Prince Yoongi’s hand to his chest, +

barely noticing the sharp sting of thorns piercing his own palm.

"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮𝘴 𝘳𝘶𝘣𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘣𝘦𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵."

Jimin had once believed that only he could be the sacrifice to break the curse—just as the prince had told him. But now, as the truth unfolds before him, it becomes clear. It was never just him.

The prince had offered his own blood to the crystal rose, sealing his own fate in a lie of sacrifice and deception. Prince Yoongi loves him, and because of that, he is dying. "Please, my prince," the younger weeps, "do not leave me."

Jimin murmurs softly, the words floating into the air like the drifting fragments of the prince’s fading body, "I love you." His lips brush against Prince Yoongi’s in a silent confession, a final touch, before the weight in his lap disappears, leaving only ashes behind.

The prince fades from Jimin’s grasp, the crystal rose turning to dust as it slips away, leaving nothing but silence and the bright rays of the dawning light.

With his hands pressed to his chest as if holding a remnant of his beloved, Jimin collapses on himself as the weight of grief crashes over him. He shouldn't have left. He should have trusted his heart over the prince's words.

He should have found the courage to speak of his heart when the prince’s smile was still resting in his arms.

"My prince," he sobs, his bloody hands trembling as he cradles them close to his chest. "𝘠𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪."

A gust of wind brushes against his face, and as Jimin blinks through his tears, he watches the flowers around him shift in color, once untainted in white now beginning to bloom in a fiery red, their petals glowing under the sun's first light.

"𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴," 𝘗𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘪 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴. "𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦."

"How...?" Jimin stammers, speechless. And then...

“𝑱𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒏.”

Jimin freezes, his breath halting in his throat as his heart races at the sound of that voice. Has his grief caused him to hear things? But when the unmistakable scent of 𝘭𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘤 drifts towards him, he immediately spins around, his pulse quickening.

There, behind him, stands Prince Yoongi, a single crimson rose clutched in his hand, his eyes wide with disbelief and wonder. "Jimin," he breathes, repeating his name as if unsure of the reality of it all.

Jimin rises to his feet, lifting a trembling hand to the man's face.

They both gasp at the touch, eyes wide as they meet. "You're..." Jimin starts, but the words escape him.

"Warm," Prince Yoongi says, finishing Jimin's sentence, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I feel warm, Jimin."

"My prince!"

"Jimin!"

"Your Highness!"

Rushed footsteps steal their gaze from one another, and it doesn't take a moment for Jimin to recognize the people hurrying towards them.

"I think I died again!" Hoseok exclaims, gripping Jungkook's arm. "This kid, too! I can feel his arms now—"

Everyone gasps as they see the prince standing before them, just as he was, yet somehow different.

"The curse," Taehyung murmurs, his dark eyes wide with disbelief, "it's broken."

"Heavens," Seokjin breathes, tears welling up in his eyes as he presses close to Namjoon's side. "At last, it's over."

"What do you wish to do with the intruders, Your Highness?" the werewolf asks, awaiting his lord's decision.

The prince's gaze shifts to Jimin, pondering. "Let them go."

A moment of shock ripples through the others.

"But, Your Highness—" Taehyung begins to protest, only for Jungkook to place a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head.

"We'll do as you say, my prince," the youngest smiles, gently ushering everyone to leave.

Once alone, Jimin lifts his eyes to the prince, only to find him already looking at him, a certain fondness swimming right in his dark irises. Wordlessly, he offers the crimson rose to Jimin.

Blushing, the younger mutters, "It is done, isn't it? Everything."

"Yes," Prince Yoongi murmurs, tucking a lock of hair behind Jimin’s ear, making him catch his breath. "But some things are just beginning."

Jimin blinks, curiosity lighting his expression. "Like what?"

"Our life together." The warmth of the prince's voice wraps around Jimin’s heart as he feels the man inching closer. "This time, we will see the end of it." The promise of eternity in Prince Yoongi's words sends a shiver down Jimin’s spine as their lips nearly touch.

"This time, I will grow old with you," he whispers. "I love you, Jimin."

With a tender sigh, Jimin wraps his arms around Yoongi’s neck and pulls him in for a passionate kiss.

🥀

"Mhn..." Jimin cups the prince's face in his hands, tracing the blooming flush on the man's cheek with his thumb as the latter moves languidly above him, chasing the lingering remnants of his pleasure. "I love how warm you are, my king."

Yoongi leans into his touch, his chuckle vibrating against Jimin’s lips. “As do I unto you.” He takes a teasing bite of the younger's bottom lip. “My love.”

The ship's wooden floor tilts with the rhythm of the restless waves, sending the monarch tumbling onto his husband's chest. Jimin's laughter rings through the salty air. "We must get up," he coaxes the frowning man. "Your crew needs your guidance, Captain."

With a heavy sigh, the king bestows a lingering, final kiss upon Jimin's lips. "Very well," he concedes. "Let us make ourselves presentable."

Grinning, the king consort willingly obliges.

The sharp scent of salt fills the air beneath Jimin’s nose as he and Yoongi step out of their cabin, making their way toward the deck where waves crash and churn below. “How does it feel to be at sea once more?” he asks the king.

Yoongi steps behind him, encircling Jimin’s waist with his arms. “It feels freeing,” he murmurs, pressing a small telescope into the younger’s hands.

Peering through the lens with one eye, Jimin utters, “I can see the purple star.”

“Then, we will never be lost,” the king chuckles, his warm breath ghosting over Jimin’s ear as he leans in closer, his lashes fluttering shut. “No matter how endless the open sea may seem, we will always find our way home.”

Lowering the lens, Jimin tilts his head, letting the tip of his nose graze the king’s. “Indeed,” he breathes, his voice swept away by the salty breeze, his heart alight with something deeper than the sea. “We will always find our way back to each other.”

🥀𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅🥀

thank you for reading! omg i finished it ;u;
this is my yoonminified version of "beauty & the beast." i hope you liked it! hehe. here, if you wanna support my writing ♡ ko-fi.com/ladyelocin