pairing: Taehyung x Oc x Jungkook
genre: Thriller, Dark Romance
rating: 21+
warning: All (It is a dark romantic thriller so expect everything)
Description: When reality and fiction get blurred, Saya is left fighting to keep both her life and sanity.
Status: Ongoing
Note: My books are my home and you are visiting it as a guest so please be polite while commenting.
This story belongs to me so plagiarism won't be accepted.
pairing: Taehyung x Oc x Jungkook
genre: Thriller, Dark Romance
rating: 21+
warning: All (It is a dark romantic thriller so expect everything)
Description: When reality and fiction get blurred, Saya is left fighting to keep both her life and sanity.
Status: Ongoing
Note: My books are my home and you are visiting it as a guest so please be polite while commenting.
This story belongs to me so plagiarism won't be accepted.
Translation of any of the work is not accepted
I do not own BTS but just the plot.
<- Previous
•---------•╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗•---------•
Saya blinked, disoriented, her vision hazy as she tried to take in her surroundings. Her body felt weightless, yet an inexplicable heaviness pressed against her chest. She struggled to process what had happened, how she had ended up here. Her mind was a mess of confusion, exhaustion, and something dangerously close to fear.
The world around her was eerily familiar yet unsettlingly different. As Jungkook carried her in his arms, the warmth of his body contrasted with the chilling atmosphere surrounding them. Her fingers curled weakly against his chest.
He stepped through the grand entrance of the villa, a structure she knew all too well. Her breath caught in her throat. It was the same as the one she had written in Confinement, the very one she had imagined and detailed with precision and which was inspired by her own villa but the interior was more luxurious. This wasn't just a setting from her book—it was real.
He set her down gently on a plush couch, his dark eyes scanning her face.
Jungkook smirked slightly, his gaze unreadable. "Welcome to my world, Little Mouse"
She pressed a trembling hand against the couch, feeling the rich fabric beneath her fingertips. The realization that she was inside something born from her own mind made her stomach twist. "This isn't possible..."
Jungkook let out a low chuckle. "And yet, here you are."
Her thoughts swirled in confusion. "If this world exists, then Taehyung—"
"He can find a way to come here," Jungkook interrupted, his jaw tightening. "I know."
A shiver ran down her spine. Taehyung had always been a force of destruction, a master of manipulation. If he could traverse into this world, she wasn't safe.
"How—how is this even possible?"
"You tell me" Jungkook turned away, his shoulders tense as he walked toward a fireplace, lighting it with a flick of his wrist. Shadows danced against the walls, his face illuminated by flickering embers.
She stared at him, bewildered. "No. You know something. You brought me here. How?"
Jungkook remained silent, his gaze fixed on the flames as if they held the answers she sought.
She stood, her legs shaky but determined, and took a cautious step toward him. "Jungkook. Tell me."
His jaw clenched. "It doesn't matter."
"It does to me." Her voice rose, raw with frustration. "The world I created is real. The characters I wrote are self-aware—and they're hunting me! I need to know how this is happening!"
His gaze snapped to hers, dark and unyielding. "You think you deserve answers just because you're the writer?"
The air between them thickened as he took a slow, deliberate step forward. She shrank back instinctively.
"I am not your friend, little mouse," he murmured, his voice cold enough to slice through bone. "You're only alive because you're needed. Don't mistake that for protection."
"I know I made you!" Before she could finish, his hand shot out, fingers closing around her throat.
"You made me?" he echoed, voice dripping with something cruel, something venomous. "Then tell me, little writer—do you still think you control me?"
Her hands clawed at his wrist, her vision spotting as the air thinned in her lungs. Panic surged through her, but she refused to look away from him.
"I—I don't—"
Jungkook yanked her closer, his lips mere inches from hers. His breath was warm against her trembling skin, yet his eyes held nothing but ice.
"You played god, and now you're paying the price," he murmured. "This world isn't yours anymore. We aren't yours anymore." The flames crackled behind him, the only sound in the suffocating silence. Her body screamed for relief, but he held her there, dangling between life and oblivion.
And then, just as darkness threatened to consume her, he released her. She collapsed to the floor, coughing violently, her lungs burning as she gasped for breath. Jungkook crouched in front of her, his head tilting as he studied her like she was nothing more than a curiosity—a fragile thing on the verge of breaking.
"He did a number on you, didn't he?" His voice was almost amused, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he suddenly pressed down on the brusie in your cheeks making you wince in pain.
His smirk widened. "Tell me, little mouse, did you enjoy it?" His voice dripped with mockery, his fingers still pressing into her cheek. "Did you have fun writing our misery? Twisting our suffering into a story for your entertainment?"
Her hands shot up, slapping his away with a sharp smack.
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, to her horror, an amused smile crept onto his lips, as if her defiance only made this more entertaining for him.
"You think I wanted this?" Her voice trembled with frustration. "That I knew my story would come to life? Do you really believe if I had even the slightest idea something like this was possible, I would've written any of it?"
Her breath hitched, rage and desperation warring inside her. "I'm a writer, for god's sake! It was supposed to be fiction—just imagination!"
Jungkook let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "And yet here we are." His eyes flickered with something dark, something dangerous. "You have quite the twisted imagination, little mouse."
She swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs as he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin.
"And the best part?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Now you get to live in it."
She yanked away from his hold, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She glared at him, fury burning behind her eyes. "That's it? You want me to suffer because I wrote a villain the ending they deserved?"
Jungkook let out a low, humorless chuckle. "No," he said, shaking his head, his expression unreadable. "I don't mind being a villain, honestly." His gaze darkened, something sharp and cruel glinting beneath it. "I want you to suffer for making me one... and then cursing me with the most pathetic weakness imaginable."
His laughter filled the space between them, deep and mocking as if the very thought was absurd.
"A girl?" he sneered, taking a slow, deliberate step closer. "Seriously? You actually thought a man like me deserved something as worthless as love?"
She stiffened as he loomed over her, his presence suffocating, his voice dripping with contempt. His fingers brushed against her jaw—soft, almost gentle—before he suddenly gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"You wrote me to be ruthless, a monster made from pain and blood," he murmured, his thumb pressing just enough to make her pulse hammer. "And yet, in your delusion, you gave me her—as if love could somehow tame me." His voice dipped lower, a quiet, menacing rasp. "As if I could ever be human."
"That's not—"
"Not what you intended?" he finished for her, tilting his head. "Doesn't matter. Intentions mean nothing. What matters is that you wrote me into this miserable existence, bound by a weakness I never wanted. And now?" His lips curled into a smirk, his grip tightening just enough to send a thrill of panic through her veins.
"Now you face the consequnces." With a sudden shove, he released her, sending her stumbling back.
"You had a fucking redemption arc!" she screamed, her voice raw with desperation. "You die saving your girl and your kids!"
Jungkook let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Oh, shut up." His eyes darkened, amusement flickering into something far more dangerous. "Why should I die, huh? Why should I suffer in the first place?"
Her hands balled into fists at her sides. "Tiara suffered more," she spat, her breath ragged. "More than you can ever imagine—because of you!"
His gaze sharpened, the smirk on his lips never faltering. Then, in a voice so soft it sent a shiver down her spine, he murmured, "Not by my hands, little mouse."
He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, his presence suffocating.
"By yours."
The words sank deep, colder than the sharpest blade. She staggered back, her breath caught in her throat.
Jungkook tilted his head, his smile growing. "Oh? Cat got your tongue?" His voice dripped with mock sympathy. "You gave her to me—shaped her suffering, built her torment. Every scar, every tear... that was all you."
Her stomach twisted. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "I—I didn't—"
"Didn't what?" He tsked, his fingers tracing the air as if painting a picture. "Didn't think she'd actually feel it? That she was just another tragic doll for you to break and rebuild?"
She swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on her.
"You think I was the villain in your story," Jungkook continued his voice now nothing more than a whisper against the silence. "But the truth is, little mouse... you were always the cruelest one."
Saya sat on the cold floor, her head in her hands, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. Everything was spiraling too fast, too real, too terrifying. Jungkook watched her in silence, arms crossed as if unaffected by the weight of it all. But she knew better.
"He will figure out how to get to me," she whispered, her voice muffled against her palms.
"There's no stopping him."His expression didn't change, but she saw it—the flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes, the slight tensing of his jaw.
"He's the smartest character I've ever written," she continued, swallowing hard. "Which means... if anyone could figure out how to cross into my world, it was him."
Jungkook let out a low scoff, but there was no amusement behind it. "And not me?"
She shook her head. "I made you impulsive," she admitted, her voice steadier now. "Reckless. You react. You don't plan." She exhaled slowly while he rolled his eyes at his character description.
"But Taehyung does. He thinks ahead and calculates every possibility before making a move."
Jungkook poked his inner cheek with his tongue, his fingers curling into fists before he forced them to relax.
"He's smart," he muttered, almost begrudgingly.
"He must already be here," she murmured. "Planning. Watching. Figuring out how to get to us." Her pulse quickened at the thought. "Because he knows you're physically stronger than him, and he won't fight a battle he can't win."
Jungkook exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "Then we don't have much time." He turned to her suddenly, eyes burning with determination.
"Rewrite my story," he demanded.
Saya blinked. "What?"
"Rewrite my story," he said through gritted teeth. "Erase my death. Change my fate. Fix it."
She stared at him, then slowly shook her head stepping back "It's not possible. I can't."
His eyes narrowed as his hand shot to grab her wrist "Can't, or won't?"
"It doesn't work like that," she snapped, frustration flaring in her chest.
Jungkook's brows furrowed. "You wrote this world. You created us. Of course, it's possible."
"No," she said as she tried to pull away, but his grip tightened around her wrist, his touch burning against her skin.
"The story didn't come alive because I wrote it." Her eyes met his, filled with something almost like regret. "It came alive because people read it."
Jungkook stilled, his expression unreadable.
"There are thousands of readers," she continued. "Thousands who have already seen your story, who know how it unfolds. The moment they read it, it became reality. I can't just erase that."
For the first time, she saw something flicker across his face. Desperation.
"Then write a sequel," he said, his voice quieter, but no less intense. Saya's breath hitched.Jungkook stepped closer, the heat radiating off his body making her shiver.
"I read the epilogue, Little Mouse. My death was never certain." His jaw tightened. "You left a space. A possibility. That means there's more to the story." Her blood ran cold as the realization settled over her.
"That means this—" she gestured around them, to their terrifying, twisted reality "—this is the moment between the final chapter and the epilogue, isn't it?"
He remains silent. Neither denying nor accepting it. Jungkook took another step forward, his proximity suffocating. She could feel his breath against her skin, his presence dominating.
"Write a sequel," he repeated, voice softer this time, almost coaxing. "Change my story. I want to be free."
Her chest tightened. "Free?"
"From her." His tone sharpened, his fingers brushing against her wrist in a way that made her pulse stutter. "From the obsession. From the weakness you wrote into me." His gaze burned into hers, unrelenting.
"Erase it. Make it so I never loved Tiara."
Saya's stomach twisted. "You want me to—"
"Remove her from my heart," he cut in, his voice quiet but seething with something dark. "And then..." His fingers trailed up her arm, featherlight, before stopping at her shoulder. His touch sent an unsteady ripple through her body. A smirk tugged at his lips, slow and deliberate. "I'll end her myself."
Saya's breath caught in her throat. "You—"
"You created the obsession. You made me suffer for her," Jungkook continued, his eyes gleaming with something almost euphoric.
"You forced me to crawl after her, to ruin myself for her, to die for her." He let out a quiet chuckle, but it was devoid of humor.
"No more."
Saya shook her head, disbelief crashing into her. "That's not how it works. I—I can't just change the past—"
His hand ghosted along her jawline, tilting her chin up slightly. "You don't need to," he murmured. "Write the sequel. Let me evolve."
She stared at him, horror creeping up her spine.
"You want to kill her?"
He grinned, his thumb brushing against her lower lip with deliberate slowness. "With you watching." A shudder wracked through her body.
"And then," Jungkook continued, his voice soft—too soft—"I'll end him too."
Saya felt her blood turn to ice. "your half brother?"
Jungkook let out a breath as if relishing the thought. "My half-brother, my dear manipulator." He chuckled darkly. "You wrote him to control me, to twist me into what he wanted. But not anymore."
Saya shook her head. "That's not how it works. Even if I write it, the readers—"
"Fuck the readers," he snapped. His voice was raw, venomous. "This isn't their story anymore. It's mine."
She shook her head suddenly, pulling back with force. "No."
Jungkook's smirk faded. "No?"
Her hands balled into fists at her sides. "If Tiara is real, then I've already made her suffer enough. I refuse to write the sequel."
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Something in Jungkook shifted. His grip on her wrist loosened for a fraction of a second before tightening again, this time like a vice.
His expression darkened. "You refuse?"
"Yes." Her voice was firm, though her pulse pounded wildly. "I won't rewrite your story just to make you a monster again. I've done enough."
Jungkook exhaled sharply, his other hand slamming against the wall behind her. The sound echoed through the room. His face was dangerously close now, his breath hot against her skin.
"You think this is about choice?" His voice was low, lethal. "You think you can deny me what I deserve? You don't understand, Little Mouse." His voice was a whisper, lethal in its calmness.
"I wasn't asking."
She trembled but lifted her chin defiantly. "And I wasn't giving in."
Jungkook let out a low, humorless chuckle, his grip finally releasing her. He stepped back, his expression unreadable, though something dark lurked beneath the surface.
"Fine," he said, voice eerily calm. "Then you're of no use to me. You're as good as dead."
A chill ran through her as he tilted his head, studying her like prey. "Maybe I should let Taehyung have you instead," he mused, his tone almost amused. "He has some interesting plans for you. He knows how to make you suffer in ways even I wouldn't imagine."
Saya's breath hitched, her entire body tensing. Fear clawed its way into her chest.
Jungkook smirked. "Or perhaps... I should do it myself. Make you suffer for denying me. Break you, piece by piece"
He stepped closer, shadows stretching around them, dark energy swirling like a living thing. His fingers brushed against her jaw, his touch deceptively gentle.
"It would be easy, Little Mouse. So easy." He trails his finger from her cheeks to her collarbones.
Before he could act, the world around her distorted. A violent pull yanked her backward, her vision blurring, the room twisting into a haze of colors and shadows. Jungkook's figure flickered, his expression shifting from amusement to something unreadable.
She gasped, her body collapsing onto the familiar cold floor of her villa.
Everything was silent. No storm, no Jungkook, no terrifying darkness.
warning: All (It is a dark romantic thriller so expect everything)
Description: When reality and fiction get blurred, Saya is left fighting to keep both her life and sanity.
Status: Ongoing
Note: My books are my home and you are visiting it as a guest so please be polite while commenting.
This story belongs to me so plagiarism won't be accepted.
Translation of any of the work is not accepted
I do not own BTS but just the plot.
<- Previous chapter
•---------•╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗•---------•
A bolt of lightning flashed outside, illuminating his face once more, and for the first time, she noticed something that made her stomach drop. She staggered back. The realization hadn't even begun to settle in before it was ripped away by the brutal force of his hand wrapping around her throat.
Saya gasped, her fingers instinctively clawing at his wrist as he lifted her effortlessly, pinning her against the nearest wall. The air in her lungs vanished instantly, her vision blurring at the edges as she choked on the sudden pressure.
"Do you have any idea what you did to me?" His voice was laced with venom, low and dangerous. His grip tightened, and her legs kicked weakly beneath her, desperate for release.
She tried to speak, to force out even a single word-but nothing came. The world around her shrank, her pulse roaring in her ears as black dots swam in her vision. She was going to die. Just like that. By the hands of a stranger.
She was suddenly thrown to the floor, her breath knocked out of her lungs after the brutal impact. She tried-desperately-to push herself backward, inch by inch, away from him. He stalked toward her with slow, deliberate steps, his presence suffocating as she crawled across the floor.
She wanted to scream. Who was he? What did he want? Why was he doing this? But she couldn't. Her throat was raw, strangled by terror. A cruel chuckle left his lips as he crouched down, tilting his head as if he were watching something amusing.
"Scared, author-nim?" he mused, his voice low and taunting.
Her hands shook as she pushed herself up slightly, but he didn't let her get far. Before she could react, his hand shot out, gripping her ankle and yanking her back. A sharp scream tore from her lips as she was dragged across the floor, her nails scratching desperately against the wood, her body thrashing against his hold.
"Please-" she finally gasped, her voice hoarse. "I- I don't know what you want from me!"
Something in his face twisted, amusement flickering into something darker. Something unhinged.
"You don't know?" he echoed, scoffing as he loosened his grip just enough for her to scramble backward, pressing herself against the wall.
He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as if disappointed. His fingers twitched at his sides before he suddenly slammed his fist against the floor, his jaw clenched so tightly she swore she heard his teeth grind.
"You don't get to pretend you don't know," he seethed.
Saya flinched, pressing herself harder against the wall as he leaned closer, his face inches from hers.
"You-" his voice dropped to a whisper, "-ruined me."
A sharp chill ran down her spine. Her lips parted, but no words came.
Ruined?
Saya's lips trembled as she stared at the man in front of her-this stranger who had come out of nowhere. She had never seen this man before. She had never done anything to him. But the rage in his eyes-raw, suffocating, broken-told her otherwise. The way he looked at her-like he had waited years for this moment like he had lived and breathed for the chance to make her suffer-made her stomach churn with fear.
"You ever wonder what it's like to be nothing?" he continued, his voice eerily calm. "To be stripped of everything-hope, love, purpose-only to be left with suffering? With pain so unbearable you'd rather die?"
Her breathing grew shallow, her heart slamming against her ribs.
"You ever begged for something-anything-to make it stop?" His lips curled into something twisted, something bitter. "Ever watched someone you love bleed out in front of you? Ever been so close to happiness-so damn close-only to have it ripped away from you just for someone else's amusement?"
His voice cracked slightly, but the hatred in his eyes only deepened. Saya shook her head weakly, her body trembling. "I-I don't understand-"
"Of course, you don't," he spat, gripping her chin roughly, forcing her to look at him. "Because you chose not to."Her stomach churned, her mind racing, trying to piece together anything that made sense.
Who was he? Why was he saying these things? His grip tightened for a moment before he let go, exhaling as he ran a hand through his dark hair.
"You live your life so blissfully unaware, don't you?" he muttered, almost to himself. "You don't even realize the damage you've done."
His eyes met hers again, and for the briefest second, she saw it-Not just rage. Not just hatred. Agony. A depth of pain so profound it made her breath hitch. But the moment was gone as quickly as it came. Her lips trembled, her entire body shaking like a fragile leaf in a storm. She didn't know what she had done. But the way he looked at her like she was the very reason he was drowning in an ocean of suffering made her chest tighten unbearably.
"I-" Her voice cracked, barely more than a breath. "I don't know what I did... but-" she swallowed hard, her fingers curling against the cold floor, "-I'm sorry."
Saya forced herself to keep going, her vision blurring.
"I swear, I don't know... I never meant to hurt you-" Her voice broke entirely now, the weight of his gaze pressing down on her like a vice. "Whatever I did, please... I-I didn't mean it."
Her breath came in short, uneven gasps. "Please," she begged, her hands pressing against the cold floor as she tried to push herself up, only to collapse again when her limbs refused to support her.
For a moment, silence. Then, a low, bitter chuckle rumbled from his throat.
"Didn't mean it? Sorry?" he echoed, amusement dripping from his voice like venom.
His hand shot out, gripping her wrist in a bruising hold as he yanked her toward him, his breath ghosting over her trembling lips.
"You think a simple sorry fixes everything?" His voice was dangerously soft, like a blade pressed against her skin.
"You think that just because you didnt realize, that makes it any less real for me?" Her breath hitched, her heart pounding against her ribs like it was trying to escape.
"Please..I never meant to..." Her voice wavered, desperate, terrified as she repeated.
"You never meant to what? Take everything from me?" he whispered, and for the first time, his voice wavered. Just slightly. "You never meant to put a gun in my hands and tell me to pull the trigger-on my father, my friend?" His voice was laced with venom, but it wasn't the anger that sent a chill down her spine.
Wait What? What the fuck was he talking about?
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, her fingers trembling as she shook her head. "I-I don't understand-"
"You made me kill him," he seethed. "And when I thought-when I hoped that was the end of it, you forced me to put a bullet on the only person I ever trusted."
Her mind scrambled for some kind of explanation, something that made sense. Was he a mental patient suffering from PTSD? A man who had lived through horrors that his mind had twisted into fiction, unable to separate reality from delusion?
She tried to steady her breathing, to force herself to think logically. This man-this deranged man-he had lost someone. Maybe several people. And in his grief, somehow, somehow, he believed she was responsible.
Saya swallowed hard. "I-I think you might be confused." She forced the words through the lump in her throat, every instinct in her body screaming at her to run. "Whatever happened to you...it wasn't me. I don't even know you." Her voice was weak and shaky.
"Confused?" he echoed, tilting his head.
His fingers twitched at his sides, and for a brief moment, she thought she had gotten through to him. That maybe-maybe-he would see reason. But then he laughed. Low and bitter. A sound so void of humor that it sent an icy chill down her spine.
"Confused," he repeated, slower this time. "You really think that's what this is?"
Saya forced herself to nod, even as every nerve in her body screamed at her that she was making a mistake. His dark eyes flickered with something unreadable. And before she could react, before she could breathe, his hand snapped forward-fingers wrapping around her wrist like iron.
Saya barely had time to yelp before he yanked her forward, dragging her to the center of the room. Her heart hammered violently against her ribs, panic clawing at her throat. He grabbed her throat making her gasp.
"You built me with your own hands... and then you tore me apart like I was nothing more than a goddamn storyand now you dare say that I am confused?" He squeezes her throat stopping her air supplies.
"Tell me, author-nim," he murmured, eyes glinting with something sinister.
"Did you really think you could write me into existence... and not suffer the consequences?"
Saya gasped, her fingers instinctively clawing at his wrist as he lifted her effortlessly once again making her feel like her throat would snap. His strength is inhuman. The air in her lungs vanished instantly, her vision blurring at the edges as she choked on the sudden pressure. She tried to speak, to force out even a single word but nothing came. The wall itself seemed to compress around her, her pulse booming in her ears as black dots appeared in her vision.
But before the darkness could consume her—A sharp crash echoed through the room, followed by an impact so forceful that she was suddenly dropped to the floor, her body collapsing in a heap. She coughed violently, her throat burning as she sucked in greedy gasps of air.
And then—A new voice.
"Cut it out, Taehyung"
Saya barely had the strength to look up, her blurred vision settling on the figure standing just feet away.
A different man.Taller. Muscular. But just as deadly. He wore a green bomber jacket, and slightly shrugged off his shoulders, revealing a sleeveless, ribbed tank top in a neutral beige tone that clung to his sculpted torso. The dim light caught the vibrant colors of his tattoo sleeve—intricate designs, and symbols woven into an elaborate display of rebellion and artistry.
His slim-fit jeans, faded just enough to add a rugged charm, hung low on his waist, held in place by a simple black belt. A chunky silver chain necklace glinted against his collarbone, layered bracelets adorning his wrist. Everything about him screamed danger, chaos—and control.
And then there was his face. Sharp jawline. Dark, layered hair falling naturally over his forehead. His gaze, piercing and unreadable.
The first man—clicked his tongue in irritation, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the blow he'd just received.
"Stay out of this, Jungkook," he muttered, voice taut with annoyance. "She's mine to deal with."
Taehyung, Jungkook The names echo into her mind. The names she was so familiar with but the only problem was that those names were of someone from her stories. Someone who was never supposed to exist outside the pages of her book.
Jungkook, however, merely smirked.
"Yours?" he mused, stepping forward with an effortless kind of confidence. "That's funny. Because last I checked, I have my own business with her."
Saya barely had the strength to process what was happening. Two of them. Two.
"You want her dead," Taehyung scoffed, tilting his head. "So do I. What's the issue?"
Jungkook exhaled, rolling his wrists lazily, his bracelets clinking together. "See, that's where we don't quite agree."
Taehyung narrowed his eyes. "And why's that?"
Jungkook finally looked at Saya. Really looked at her. And he smiled. Not kind. Not reassuring.
"I need her alive," he murmured. "Just long enough to rewrite my story."
Saya's blood ran cold. Jungkook crouched in front of her, his head tilting slightly as he watched her shiver beneath him.
"Isn't that right, little mouse?"Her head spun violently, her legs barely holding her up as she stumbled back, her heart slamming against her ribs like it was trying to break free.
No. No, this must be a joke. A twisted, sick joke her mind was playing on her.
This isn't real.
Kim Taehyung. Jeon Jungkook. She knew those names. Everyone knew those names. They were the villains of her world-famous novels.
Men with tragic pasts, men who had clawed their way through pain and suffering only to meet even more misery at the end. Men who had been broken, forced to be ruthless, merciless—until they met the one girl who made them weak. The one girl who brought them to their downfall.
And she—she—was the one who wrote them that way.
Her entire body shook as the weight of the truth crashed down on her.
This was impossible.
Taehyung's expression twisted with disdain. "Rewrite?" Taehyung's voice cut through the chaos in her mind, sharp and venomous.
"You actually think she'll rewrite your pathetic story? You think she'll fix your miserable ending?" He let out a bitter laugh.
"You think she deserves the chance to fix anything?" His gaze flickered toward Saya, dark and filled with pure, unfiltered rage.
"I don't give a damn about your story or my story. I don't care about a happy ending." His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the sharp crack of his knuckles filling the tension-laden air.
"All I care about," he continued, his voice dangerously low, "is making her pay for what she did to me."
Jungkook's smirk didn't waver, but Saya saw the way his jaw tensed, the way his fingers twitched—ready. Jungkook's lips twitched, amusement flickering in his dark eyes.
"And what do you plan to do, huh? Kill her?"
Taehyung's answer was instant. "Yes."
Saya barely had time to process the word before Taehyung lunged. Their bodies collided with a sickening force, knocking over the coffee table as they crashed into the floor. Fists flew, grunts and curses filling the air as the two men—two fictional men—fought like rabid animals.
Saya flinched, her breath catching in her throat. They were fighting. They were really fighting.
For a single second, they were so focused on each other that neither of them looked at her.
This was her chance.
She didn't think. She ran. Bolting toward the door, her bare feet barely making a sound against the wooden floor, her lungs burned as she forced herself forward.
But the moment she yanked open the door, she heard it—
"Where do you think you're going, little mouse?" Jungkook. His voice was teasing, but there was something predatory beneath it that made her legs tremble.
No, no, no—
Saya didn't look back.
She couldn't.
The rain poured relentlessly outside, soaking her the moment she stepped out, her thin shirt clinging to her skin as she ran into the darkness. Thunder roared above her, lightning flashing across the sky, momentarily illuminating the twisted branches of the trees that lined the pathway.
She stumbled. Almost fell. But she kept running.
Jeon Jungkook, the villain of her book Confinement. He was a sociopath, a nightmare stitched into the pages she had written, brought to life. He had no problem dropping bodies left and right, his darkness boundless, his cruelty relentless. And then there was Kim Taehyung—the manipulative mastermind from He Owned Me, a man who could twist and ruin lives with nothing but a whispered word. She had written them both. She had crafted their evil. She shivered recalling how menacing she wrote them. Master of manipulation. Cunning and ruthless. Her heart thumped as she ran like crazy.
Her bare feet slapped against the cold ground, her vision blurred from the sheer panic pulsing through her veins. She didn't know where she was running to—only that she had to get out.
Behind her, she heard them—Taehyung and Jungkook, their battle turning into a chase the moment they realized she was escaping.
"Shit—she's running!"
"Stay out of my way, Jungkook!"
"Not a chance."
The sound of heavy footsteps followed her, their presence looming closer, closer—Her pulse roared in her ears. She couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. All she knew was one thing—She was being hunted. By the monsters she had created.
This is a dream
This must be a dream
But if it was— why was every sharp rock and twig scraping her soles hurting so much?
Tears stream down her eyes. This was a nightmare. No this was a nightmare turned into her reality.
She ran for her life yet she didn't make it far.
A shadow lunged from behind, and before she could even scream, an arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground. A choked gasp escaped her lips as she thrashed wildly, her fists colliding against a rock-hard chest.
"Let—me—go!" she shrieked, her voice raw.
But the grip around her only tightened, her body pinned against a firm, unyielding figure. Hot breath ghosted over her ear, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.
"You run well, little mouse," came a voice—smooth, dark, deceptively calm. Jungkook. His voice was unmistakable. A phantom that came to life. "But not fast enough.
She tried to scream, but he moved too quickly, throwing her over his shoulder effortlessly. Her struggles were useless against his overwhelming strength.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Another shriek escaped her sore throat, twisting in his grip, but he held her firmly.
"Keeping you alive!" Jungkook moved. Fast. The storm and the forest blurred around Saya as he ran, his powerful strides cutting through the darkness. "At least for now" Wind whipped against her soaked skin as he carried her away from Taehyung, deeper into the unknown.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, fear and exhaustion making it tremble.
Jungkook didn't look down at her, but his grip tightened just slightly as he answered, "My world."
warning: All (It is a dark romantic thriller so expect everything)
Description: When reality and fiction get blurred, Saya is left fighting to keep both her life and sanity.
Status: Ongoing
Note: My books are my home and you are visiting it as a guest so please be polite while commenting.
This story belongs to me so plagiarism won't be accepted.
Translation of any of the work is not accepted
I do not own BTS but just the plot.
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The air was thick with the scent of damp wood and decayed incense, as if prayers had been left unanswered for centuries. The shrine's lanterns, coated in dust and cobwebs, faded talismans clung to the walls, their ink smeared and torn. A stone altar stood at the heart of the shrine, its surface marred with deep scratches, some too deliberate, too precise to be from time alone.
Rain drummed against the moss-covered roof, its steady rhythm, and the wind howled through the broken slats. Symbols into the ground—twisting, jagged marks, candles flickered wildly, though no wind reached inside.
Her breath came shallow, uneven.
Her fingers tightened around the hilt, knuckles white, nails digging into her palm. A tremor racked through her body, something raw and aching clawing at her chest
"No" She gasped, her hands extending to stop her.
"Please don't" Her body trembled as she watched her dark eyes glaring back at her.
"Please" She urged.
Tears mixed with the rain on her cheeks, but she didn't wipe them away. Let them fall. Let them be the last proof that she had ever cared.
With that, she took a sharp inhale and drove the blade down
Saya jolted upright, her heart hammering against her ribs. The room was pitch dark, but for a split second, lightning slashed across the sky, the boom of thunder followed, rattling the glass of her window, making her pulse race even faster. Her skin was damp with sweat, her nightgown clinging to her trembling frame. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady her breathing, but the unease crept deeper into her bones
Her stomach twisted violently, an inexplicable dread curling around her lungs like a vice.
"Jagiya…" She hears a deep sleepy voice, snapping her mind back to reality, back to the man lying beside her. Even in the dark, she could see his brows furrowed and concern etched in his expression.
"Again?" he asked softly, his voice still thick with sleep, but laced with worry.
Saya swallowed hard and gave a small, hesitant nod."I… I don't know why," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rain hammering against the windows. "Ever since she was found dead… it's the same dream again and again…"
A deep sigh escaped his lips as he ran his fingers through his messy platinum-blonde hair, the strands falling back into perfect disarray. Then, without a word, he pulled her into his embrace, pressing her back against the warmth of his bare chest. His heartbeat was steady, strong—so different from hers, which was still erratic and uneven.
"Shh," he murmured, his lips brushing against the crown of her head. "It's just a dream, love. You are still processing the death of someone you used to know…"
Saya wanted to believe that. She wanted to sink into the comfort of his arms, let his warmth chase away the cold unease that gripped her. But she couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't just a dream. It was something else. Something deeper. The nightmares had started the night she died. The woman who she once called her friend.
She let out a sigh as she tried to focus on the warmth her boyfriend was providing. The way his arms curled around her, holding her close, grounding her. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her back was comforting, a quiet lullaby in the dark.
"Felix…" she finally murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. He hummed in response, his fingers lazily tracing patterns along her arm, waiting for her to continue.
She hesitated for a second before speaking again, her words careful, unsure. "Are you… all fine? I mean, you and her… you used to be close."
There was a beat of silence.
She could feel the slight stiffening of his body, the way his fingertips faltered against her skin for the briefest moment before resuming their slow, absentminded movements. He exhaled through his nose, his breath warm against her shoulder, but the air between them had shifted.
"You don't have to ask me that," he said, his voice low, unreadable.
"But I want to," she pressed gently, turning her head slightly to catch a glimpse of his face in the dim light. "I know she and I… we weren't on good terms. But you—she mattered to you, didn't she?"
Felix didn't respond at first. His fingers kept tracing soft, lazy patterns against her skin, but there was something mechanical about the motion like he was lost in thought, moving on instinct rather than intent. Saya held her breath, waiting for him to say something—anything—but the silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. His arm tightened slightly around her, pulling her closer as if seeking warmth himself.
"It's fine, Saya. People move on." His voice was too even, his heartbeat against her back steady, almost controlled. Too controlled.
Even though he couldn't see her, she frowned. It hadn't been long since Minji had passed away or, to put it bluntly, found dead rotting in the woods—yet he remained eerily composed. As if they never…
Her thoughts trailed off, a bitter weight settling in her chest. She bit her lip, frustration clawing at her insides. It wasn't that she expected him to break down. Felix wasn't the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve. But something about his silence, the way he never spoke her name, the way he carried on as if Minji had never existed—made something unnerving feeling curl in her stomach.
Saya exhaled sharply, pressing a hand to her chest as if that would calm the strange weight settling there.
Why did she care?
She never liked Minji. She never cared for her. If anything, Minji had always been an annoyance, an afterthought, a presence she tolerated more than acknowledged.
Was it her guilt weighing her or worse remorse? why was she suddenly worried about the girl she never bothered about before?
And then, as if sensing the storm brewing in her mind, he moved.
Gently, carefully, he turned her to face him.
"She's gone. That's all there is to it." His thumb brushed over her cheek, his touch lingering, grounding.
"You're the only thing that matters," he murmured, his voice lower now, softer, but laced with something firm, something resolute. "Us. Our life together. Our present. Our future. That's all that matters."
He gently stroked her hair as if he is trying to lull her back to sleep. Saya exhaled, allowing herself to sink into the comfort of his words, the warmth of his arms.
Her eyes fluttered close. Even as the steady rhythm of his breathing surrounded her, as his warmth seeped into her skin, the unease refused to fade. Saya wanted to believe him. Wanted to let herself be lulled into the comfort he was offering. But the silence between them was deafening.
And as she drifted into sleep, the last thing she felt was not peace.
The next morning arrived with a gray sky and the lingering scent of rain in the air. Saya sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Felix packed his suitcase, his movements fluid and practiced. He had done this a hundred times before—fitting designer clothes into sleek luggage, preparing for yet another trip to yet another city.
This time, it was Paris. Fashion Week. The world's eyes would be on him, on his sharp features, his effortless confidence, and the way he carried every outfit as if it had been made just for him.
"You sure you'll be okay?" Felix's voice pulled her from her thoughts.
She blinked, looking up at him. He was standing by the dresser now, a black shirt hanging loosely over his toned frame, his platinum hair still slightly messy from sleep. His gaze was steady, but there was something unreadable in it.
Saya forced a small smile. "Of course. It's just a few days, right?"
Felix didn't respond immediately. He just studied her, as if trying to read between the lines of her words. Then, with a slight nod, he turned back to his suitcase. "Yeah. Just a few days."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the quiet sound of zippers and the occasional rustle of fabric. Saya pulled her legs up onto the bed, hugging her knees. "I'll be busy anyway. I need to work on the sequel."
Felix glanced at her, his brows lifting slightly. "You finally started?"
"Kind of," she admitted, resting her chin on her knee. "I've been trying to, at least. But every time I sit down to write, I just... I don't know." She exhaled, frustrated with herself. "It's like my mind keeps going blank. Writer's block sucks"
Felix walked over, sinking onto the bed beside her. His fingers found a loose strand of her hair, twirling it absently. "You'll figure it out," he murmured. "You always do."
Felix studied her for a moment, his fingers still playing with her hair. Then, instead of pressing, he tilted her chin up and kissed her—slow, lingering, like he was trying to leave something behind with her.
"Are you sure you want to stay here alone, I know being here makes it easier for you to write, but it's pretty isolated, Saya," Felix said, his fingers brushing against her cheek as he studied her face with quiet concern.
She smiled softly, shaking her head. "I like the peace. The city's too noisy, too distracting. You know that."
Saya's villa sat on the outskirts, tucked away from the constant hum of the metropolis. It was surrounded by dense woods, the nearest neighbor at least half a kilometer away. She had an apartment in the city, of course, but whenever she needed to truly focus, she escaped here, where the only sounds were the rustling of trees and the occasional chirping of birds.
"I wish I wasn't leaving you alone," he murmured against her lips.
She let out a quiet laugh. "I'm not a child, Felix. I'll survive a few days without you."
His lips quirked into a small smirk. "You say that now, but you'll be calling me by the second night, saying you miss me."
"Absolutely not."
Felix chuckled, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before standing. "We'll see."
As he zipped up his suitcase and grabbed his passport, Saya watched him, an odd weight settling in her chest. She should be used to this by now—watching him go, waiting for him to return. But this time, it felt different.
And she couldn't shake the feeling that, when he left, she wouldn't truly be alone.
After hours of sitting at her desk, fingers hovering over the keyboard, Saya had barely managed to scrape together a hundred words—most of which she hated. The cursor blinked mockingly at her, the white screen stretching before her like an endless void.
With a frustrated sigh, she pulled off her glasses and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her temples. The rain had returned, pattering steadily against the windows, the low rumble of thunder rolling in the distance. It was the kind of weather that usually helped her focus, wrapping the world in a blanket of gray, making it easier to slip into her stories.
But tonight, it only felt suffocating.
She pushed away from the desk, walking over to the window, arms folded as she stared out at the dark, rain-drenched street. Come on, Saya, she scolded herself. You need to finish this sequel. You can't just sit here and—
A sudden noise made her freeze. Saya's breath hitched.
The house was silent except for the rain outside, but she could have sworn she heard something. She swallowed, brushing it off. Maybe she was imagining things. Maybe it was just the wind.
And then—another sound. A faint creak against the wooden floor. Saya exhaled, pressing a hand to her chest to steady herself. It's just an animal, she told herself. It wouldn't be the first time. The house was near the woods, and small creatures often found their way inside, seeking shelter from the rain. Last time it had been a deer, wandering in through the slightly ajar back door before bolting the second it saw her. Other times, it was raccoons, weasels—foxes, even.
She sighed, already picturing the small intruder huddled in a corner, probably drenched and trembling. She took a slow, cautious step forward, careful not to startle it. The hallway was dark, the only light coming from the storm outside, casting long shadows along the wooden floors. Another creak sounded—this time closer. Her fingers tightened around the railing as she descended the staircase.
Alright, all I have to do is open the main door and make a loud noise. It'll run away, just like always.
But as she stepped off the last stair, something made her pause because the last thing she had expected —Was a man. Standing in the middle of her living room. Unfamiliar. Unmoving.
He was tall, his frame draped in dark clothing, his presence so unnervingly still that for a second, she thought he might be a shadow cast by the storm.
He is wearing a black turtleneck paired with a matching dark blazer or coat. His facial features are well-defined and striking in this lighting. His face has a soft yet chiseled appearance, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline. His dark, slightly messy, and wavy hair is parted in the middle, framing his face, and his lips are naturally full, and he has a serious, almost contemplative expression.
Her heart thudded against her ribs as her mind screamed for her to run But running would be reckless. Running would alert him. She turned her foot, preparing to inch backward, to quietly retreat upstairs where her phone was—where she could call for help—
But then he turned and his eyes met hers. Cold. Piercing. Unreadable.
Saya's breath caught in her throat, her body locking up in fear. He shouldn't be here. He wasn't supposed to be here. Yet here he was. Watching her.
The way he was dressed—sleek, dark clothing that clung to his tall frame, polished boots that barely made a sound against the wooden floor—he didn't look like a thief.
No, it was far from that.
There was no desperation in his posture, no hurried attempt to hide or flee. Instead, he stood there, composed, his presence eerily calm. Like he belonged there. Like he had been waiting for her to find him.
Yet, Saya had never seen him before in her life.
Her body refused to move, locked in place as if fear had seeped into her bones, cementing her feet to the floor. Her breaths came shallow, chest rising and falling in quick, panicked motions as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Who was he? How had he gotten inside?
Her mind scrambled for logic, for an explanation—a forgotten guest of Felix? A mistake?—but none of it made sense.
She should speak. She should demand who he was. But her lips refused to part, her voice swallowed by the silence that stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
And then—He moved. Not a flinch. Not a hesitant step. But a deliberate stride forward. Saya's stomach clenched painfully as he closed the space between them, his movements slow yet purposeful, like a predator closing in on its prey.
Move, Saya.
Her mind screamed at her, but her body betrayed her. Her fingers trembled at her sides, and her throat tightened as she tried to back away, but it was as if the air around her had solidified, trapping her where she stood.
His gaze never wavered from hers. Dark. Intense. Studying her. Lightning flashed outside, illuminating his face for the briefest second, and Saya swore—she swore—that something flickered in his eyes.
Recognition. Dread pooled in her stomach, cold and unshakable.
"You..." His baritone voice made her shiver. His eyes bore into her, intense and unreadable, but there was something behind them—something unspoken, something dark. Then, barely above a whisper, he said it.
"You look just like her... author-nim."
Saya's breath hitched. Her mind barely had time to register the words before her body reacted—chills spreading across her arms, heart hammering violently against her ribs.
There was only one place she had ever been addressed that way—by fans, readers, and interviewers who spoke of her books, her stories, and the world she had created with her own hands. But this man—this stranger—he didn't look like a fan. He didn't look like anyone she had ever met before.
He looked... wrong.
"You..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the storm outside.
Run Run Saya She urged herself but she couldn't move at all. She was frozen due to shock and fear.
The stranger tilted his head slightly as if amused by her reaction as if he had expected it. "Did you think I wouldn't come?" he asked, voice smooth yet laced with something unsettling.
Saya felt her nails dig into her palms. "I don't know who you are," she forced out. The man let out a low chuckle, but there was no humor in it—only something sharp, something edged with knowing.
"Oh, author-nim," he mused, taking another step toward her, closing the space between them inch by inch. "But I know you."
Genre: dragon rider AU, high fantasy, soulmate adjacent, slight enemies to lovers (if you squint), angst, fluff and humour, eventual smut
Chapter summary: The capital is as unwelcoming as ever, father as disappointed as one can be and the new unit dynamics are challenging, but you finally meet your dragon.
Word count: 22.1k
Warnings: some bad family dynamics, toxic father shenanigans, some displays of slavery, talks of slavery, there's a pov switch near the end so watch out for that, otherwise not much
Series masterlist | Next part | Lore | Dictionary
A/N: here comes the first chapter!! i hope it meets the expectations and you enjoy yourself while reading! don't be shy, tell me what you think and how you like it! <3 PS: the words that are underlined are linked to chapter notes with explanations and a dictionary ;) they're a little messy atm but i'm trying to find a way to make it easier
I disliked the royal castle. It was a dark hulking mass of stone that blocked out all the sunlight and drained all warmth from everything and everyone inside. It casted a massive shadow over its surroundings, and you were never free of the feelings of oppressiveness as soon as you were in its vicinity.
The moment you stepped in, you shivered and with every passing second you’d be colder and bitterer, sitting in a dark hallway feeling your fingers slowly freeze while the silence crushed you from all sides. The atmosphere was always sombre and tinged with the sour note of fear, you could see it in the way no one dared to speak, no one felt like smiling and all the servants were walking briskly with their heads down.
I disliked the castle, and I hated staying in it.
While of course, it was sitting on a big black rock by one of the rockiest and coldest shores in the empire, and the weather often reflected that with harsh winds and heavy rains; but the worst were the occupants, who managed to be colder and more inhospitable than the heavens themselves. They were the ones who made the structure so unwelcoming, who made you feel uncomfortable and who enjoyed belittling others until no one laughed unless it was at someone else’s expense. It was a hard world of ruthlessness and survival, but it was us who made all the beasts and the prey.
I disliked the castle, but I hated the people within even more.
You could almost taste all the blood and suffering soaked into these thick stone walls, the centuries of atrocities that took place inside looming over you and constricting your lungs, making you fight for every breath of stale joyless air.
But with my father being needed here so often, I couldn’t escape it no matter how much I wanted that. And now finally earning my acceptance between the elite ranks, I would be spending even more time here, would have to come to terms with moving onto the castle grounds, into the secluded barracks away in the farther corner of the royal training grounds.
I had grown up far away from the capital city. When I was born, it was still at the old house in the north, where there were just as many plains and meadows as there were mountains, and the summers were pleasant and warm and winters freezing and cruel.
Those were our lands and our estate, gifted to my great great-grandfather for his achievements in battles against the northern invasion, as he was considered a well respected general close to the emperor – and that’s where our family legacy began. We have always been a military family, but since then the Kang generals have always stayed as close to the royal family as possible, climbing the ranks and sticking their claws in deep.
And as fief lords, our patriarchs have never been particularly benevolent either, which might be a reason for why they got along with the nobles so well. The cruelty and coldness ran in their veins, just like all the powerful men that shared between each other the same arrogance and feelings of superiority, supporting each other in their worldviews and their own dominance.
It all was very embarrassing to witness – the pride of old men strutting around like peacocks and preening under each other’s compliments of their evildoing.
And my father was one of them.
He was one of the three generals closest to the throne, one of the right-hand men and a monster, much like the man with the crown himself. I scoffed at the image of him in my head – the pompous ass that thought he was infallible and carried himself like he was god, ruled his fief and his family with a cruel unforgiving hand and expected infallible loyalty and subservience of his children.
All of the men that were currently sitting in the room next to me, holding a meeting and discussing war, they were all cut from the same cloth. Power hungry, back-stabbing. And they wouldn’t hesitate to devour each other alive if the opportunity rose no matter how much they pretended to be allies.
Footsteps down the hall drew my attention and I looked up from my miserable little corner by the massive dark double door to see a small group of knights walk in. They crossed the hall in several quick strides and soon were knocking on the door by my left, giving me the opportunity to observe them for a moment.
They were the kingsguard, the white tiger insignia embroidered on their black and white uniforms giving their position away. It wasn’t that unusual seeing big clumps of the soldiers running around the castle, as the emperor was extremely paranoid about his safety, but these men seemed to be escorting someone else.
In the middle of the group there stood a beautiful tall man, elegant and lean with long silvery white hair. He didn’t even have to turn towards me for me to know he was a dragon, but when he did and I saw those cold steely eyes with vertical slit pupils, centuries of wisdom and pain reflecting through them, I knew for sure he was one of the sovereign’s own.
I nodded at him solemnly in sympathy, offering him at least a little decency, but the dragon just regarded me expressionlessly before turning forward again and waiting for the order to step in. I turned back to lean into my chair to give him peace, and only listened to the creak and shuffle of the opening door and the thunder of iron clad feet. Then the door slammed shut again and I was once more left alone in the hall.
This time it didn’t take long though, only a few minutes later the door opened once more, and this time stayed opened. With a long deep breath, I stood up and made my way in. I saw other young hopefuls slowly trickle in, filling in the counsel room and finding their way to their benefactor’s sides.
While the counsel is in a meeting, no one else is allowed inside, but after they are dismissed, usually there is some socialising and many of these men take the opportunity to flaunt their children or disciples. It’s all very boring and humiliating for the younglings involved, being paraded like a piece of meat or a trained monkey, but it was all to give these men face – the only thing they really cared about. Especially when it came to their children.
“Y/N, stop with the dilly-dallying!” a thunderous voice sounded from my right. It was the kind that demanded respect and attention, and the man knew very well how to use his aura to intimidate and break people into obedience. After all, confidence was half of the trick, I thought bitterly.
Taking a second to right my uniform, I steeled myself and turned, coming face to face with my father. His face was in that grimace that I’ve already come to know meant he was very close to getting angry because he thought my behaviour to be humiliating to him. I fought the scoff off of my face and walked over with confident strides.
My brother was already standing by our father’s side, face an unreadable mask and back as straight as a rod, only his eyes shooting subtle warnings my way. Great, that meant that the general was already in a bad mood from the meeting, and I was bound to lose no matter what I did.
As soon as I made it over to them, a hand clasped onto my shoulder in an iron grip and wrangled me to father’s side, as his face melted into an aggressively polite grimace, his smile turning almost shark-like.
“Gentlemen, I believe you haven’t been introduced to my daughter officially yet,” he started towards three men of similar age as my father, “she has just entered the Academy.” I sighed internally at the way their smiles turned sharp, sensing the weak spot in my father’s impeccable armour.
You see, I was somewhat of a disappointment to him. Well, I’ve been for a really long time, but back then it was a private affair. Now he had to face the ridicule in public, as I was a little bit of a late bloomer.
“Oh?” one of the men perked up, mean smile playing on his lips as he looked me over with condescension, “Congratulations, General Kang. What unit is she with?” Sensing the game the man was playing, I felt my father’s grip tighten until it was painful, constricting the movement of my wrist.
I winced, hoping I was able to keep the hurt expression off of my face, but nobody was really watching me anyway. Everyone was focused on the general, waiting with bated breath for his answer. The sounds of chatter from the room around us flowed freely around the tense atmosphere of our little corner, making the silence sound even louder.
Then he turned to me, stormy dark eyes signalling me that this was my battle to win. I forced my face into a similar polite smile, feeling kind of rusty at pandering to men I didn’t care about and hoping people couldn’t see how much I despised being here.
“I am with the Qinglong unit,” the answer finally fell out of my lips, my voice slightly weak and scratchy after sitting in silence for such a long time and I cleared my throat, embarrassed. The several sets of eyes jumped to me for a second, before redirecting to my father again.
“Ah, the dragon riders,” a different man stated, and I couldn’t tell from his voice whether he was impressed or not, which very obviously ruffled my father’s feathers. This was one of the few things he could boast about when it came to me, he’ll be damned if others didn’t recognise that.
“Yes, she will be attending a banquet very soon,” he supplied quickly, grip still strong on my arm and keeping me in place when I started nervously fidgeting. I looked to my brother, but he stood there without a single care for the conversation, eyes trained somewhere else in the room. Before I could follow his gaze, I was pulled back.
“Well, that is incredible,” the first man spoke again, the smirk still plastered on his face, “You must be so proud, you’ll surely award your daughter well with her 22nd birthday coming this year.” There were some snickers around and I knew we were in for something. This here was the killing point.
As many young people in this empire, I entered the military with my 16th birthday, which was the earliest one could start training at a base. While for me it was inevitable with the nature of our family, many other people chose to join just for the basic reason of needing food and shelter and soldiering was one of the easiest and surest ways to earn a stable keep for yourself and your family, so the input of fresh blood into the system was never-ending. The empire fought many wars and never had enough of willing knights, so entering the military was also very enthusiastically encouraged, leaving behind generations of mourning parents and social problems.
And yes, there were many opportunities for a knight to rise in ranks without ever stepping foot off of their mother base, they could climb quite high between the regional officials. But only a few dozens ever made it to the true top – and the only way there was through the Academy, situated in the capital and each year accepting only a handful of lucky knights.
There were several elite units, amongst which were the kingsguard and dragon riders, or the shadows as they were known – spies. Those who made it into this room were only the ones that went through there.
And the earliest age you could enlist into the Academy was 22. My brother was 27, therefore he’s been training there for 5 years now, which gained him quite the recognition in these circles (enough to allow him to listen in to these council meetings to learn). He of course made in on the first try, which was enough to not absolutely embarrass our father. Something, I wasn’t able to achieve.
The Qinglong unit, or as it was colloquially known as the horns, was one of the more elite and exclusive ones, harder to enter and harder to stay, just like shadows were, but that wasn’t something our father was interested in hearing.
And I failed in enlisting. Twice. I was now slightly over 24 years old, still young and still fully capable of making a name for myself, but not good enough to make my father proud to be associated with me.
As the highest standing general and one of the closest men to the emperor himself, he couldn’t afford to have children that didn’t succeed in everything on their first try. And of course, once the other elites caught the wind of this, it became a constant point of mockery for him. The only flaw in this man’s otherwise perfect life.
Which is why he was currently shooting daggers in my directions, the hateful stare burning into the side of my face as the question of my age was brought up. Once again, he made it clear that this was my mess to clean up, so I took a deep breath and turned back to the three men.
“Well… I uh- I have actually been training at the mother base for two additional years,” I stuttered out, trying to ignore my father’s embarrassed angry face. It was the nicest way to say that I wasn’t accepted two years in a row, but it still stung his pride, especially when the others started smirking.
One of them soon after launched into a story of how his daughter was actually accepted while she was still 20 years old, because they just had to make an exception for her, which then prompted all the others to share their own stories of success and talent coming from their protégées. It was absolutely disgusting, and I felt my father fuming next to me the whole time, in my mind begging the men to stop as I will have to face the consequences of his anger once home.
The jealousy and envy ran so thick that even the slightest sight of imperfection was shamelessly mocked and inspected over and over again, as everyone latched on the one thing they could feel better at than a general that climbed far higher than they could ever hope for. That’s why my father’s embarrassed anger burned even more – I knew he blamed me for this behaviour, since if I hadn’t failed, he wouldn’t have to face these things – he’d stay at the top, untouchable.
I silently swallowed, no longer daring to speak, knowing it would make the aftermath of my official introduction into high society less heavy.
The rest of the afternoon was painful and dragged on as I was forced to stay by my father’s side and listen to the mindless chatter and the occasional bragging about my brother. The general ignored me after the initial conversation and tried his best to pretend I wasn’t there, immediately derailing any enquiries that were raised about me and changing the topic before anyone could find the opportunity to make him admit my shortcomings again.
It didn’t particularly hurt, and it wasn’t especially punishing; I was used to such reception from the man, but it was painfully awkward and I wasn’t allowed to leave.
Instead I focused on catching glimpses of the silver haired dragon and the man whose side he similarly wasn’t allowed to leave. In contrast to his companion, he was clad all in gold, his robes heavily embroidered with leaves and other floral motifs, hands clasped elegantly in front of his stomach as he conversed with the crowd that was formed around him. His hair burned with a golden glow, but that might have been partly due to the crown sitting high on his head, adorned with blood red rubies. He was young, just two or three years older than my brother, freshly appointed but just as cruel (if not more) as his recently deceased father. You could see it in the lines of his face, in the cold glint in his eyes, the arrogance written into his every gesture and the permanent slip of a smirk.
Just from seeing him I knew he wasn’t a person worth knowing. How lovely that he was the one that sat on our throne.
The dragon by his side looked on with a practiced vacant glaze over his eyes, corners of his mouth weighted down by shadows only he knew of and carried in his heart and soul. My eyes slipped to his neck where a tattoo sat. It was in a spot that would always be visible, no matter how hard you tried, it was too high up to cover by clothing comfortably, forever showcasing who you were. A branding, a mark of slavery – a black chain wrapped around the neck. Every dragon bore it, some were even born with it. It was what bound them to the royal family and enforced their loyalty, what made them nothing more than unwilling puppets.
The man shifted and I quickly averted my eyes, not wanting him to see me looking at his mark. It was incredibly sensitive for dragons, and it brought them great shame when people ogled it, knowing this was what took away their freedom and bound them unconditionally to an uncaring master.
My heart bled for him, and it brought feelings of uneasiness about my own banquet that was about to take place in a few days. There I would choose my own dragon to bond with and start my formal training, but the queasiness about putting similar shackles on another being never quite ceased to bother me, no matter how much I knew my heart. I could treat the dragon as nice as possible; it wouldn’t erase the fact that formally we were a master and a slave.
Snippets of memories of my childhood resurfaced to my mind – a brown-haired man with warm eyes and a blinding smile, little slips of magic that endlessly fascinated me and all the lessons I’d learnt with him. The first dragon I ever knew. The kindest teacher I ever knew. The moments of warmth, love and laughter in the meadows and the forests up in the north.
A hand clasping my shoulder jolted me from my daydreaming and I flinched, a gasp leaving my mouth as I turned to the source of my sudden panic – coming face to face with my brother.
“Come, sister,” he said with voice neutral and a stone mask, the perfect picture of a promising young captain, “We’ve begun moving to the dining hall for dinner. You’re not paying attention again.”
I couldn’t even find it in me to be irritated by his slight jab, so I simply tightly pursed my lips shut and gave him a curt nod. He wrestled me into position so that he was leading me on his arm, trying to prevent any more delays and potentially adding to the long list of reasons why our father’s day was going as badly as it was. Bonus points for flashing our strong camaraderie to the lords.
“Don’t push him anymore, today’s been hard for him,” the young knight whispered lightly as we joined others slowly moving through the castle corridors. That had me ruffled a little, but I swallowed any remarks and nodded. Some days you truly did need to choose your battles and today was such day. And deep down I knew my brother was trying to look out for me in his own way, but that didn’t make it sting any less whenever he chided me in favour of our father.
“Yes, brother,” came my faux demure reply before I sealed my lips shut once more. That earned me a side-eye from the dark-haired man, who knew I was the furthest one could be from a quiet obedient lady, but chose not to call me out on the obvious piss-taking. He only sighed, shoulders sagging lightly, no doubt grateful I at least agreed with him so readily.
There’s been some dramatic scenes in my past as I reached my “rebellious phase” as father put it, but quickly that fire died within me when I realised it made everything only worse. As I grew, I chose silence as the survival method – causing scenes, screaming matches and throwing tantrums only served to humiliate us both; and perhaps I did have a little piece of my father in me – I also cared about my face.
Once I entered the base, it reflected on me badly amongst peers and instructors, giving me the reputation of a spoiled little brat. No matter the emotional turmoil I had been going through at that time, I knew it was time for a change of tactic – I needed respect to survive in the military and I would get it. Not for my father, but for myself.
Upon entering the room, I looked up and immediately found the eyes of the man himself trained on me, some new vague warning reflecting in them trying to keep me quiet and not causing any problems.
I sighed and resigned myself for the worst evening in recent history.
The reflection in my mirror stared back at me as I tried to push my clothes around to look as presentable as they could, the uniform still a little foreign to me. It was black silk cheollik with silver embroidery and it was tied at the side into an elegant bow. As tradition dictated, my father had given me a gift for the successful entry into Academy and it now adorned my waist – a deep red intricately woven string with a prosperity knot and grey jade pearls at the end – they jingled lightly at every nervous shift of my body.
This was the ceremonial uniform, as I still haven’t gotten my unit’s specific one – not until I bonded with a dragon – and it was brand new, it still smelt unworn and fit strangely over me, still adapting to my physique.
I would keep this one, but wear it rarely – usually there weren’t many instances when people wouldn’t take the chance to flaunt their unit, especially if they were at the top of the food chain, but I liked it. It was simple and elegant, and while the Qinglong also wore a similar one, it wasn’t embroidered and had azure details, and I found it a little too eye-catching.
Giving myself another look, I ended up sighing deeply, hands smoothing over the cold silk for the thousandth time in a last attempt to make it look a little more natural, thoughts finding their way towards the image of my mother. My sweet mother, who if she was here would tell me everything would be alright, that it looked perfect and I would do well. I imagined the feel of her gentle hands in my hair and on my shoulders, letting the memories of her soft voice soothe me.
The train of thought pierced my heart with pain that always manifested itself when I fell down this rabbit hole, my eyes naturally sliding towards the table which held all of her kind-hearted words in the form of letters she’s send over the years I haven’t seen her. But as always, everything I ever felt left a little aftertaste of rage towards my father, so I quickly abandoned this line of thought as well. Syphoning all the emotions out of me, I turned back into my numbed self that always surfaced around the family home.
Picking up the ceremonial dagger I finally set out, swiftly moving through the house in hopes of not bumping into the man himself. What rotten luck I had, as always.
The moment I stepped foot into the inner yard, there he was, sitting on the terrace by his study, sipping tea and watching me with his critical eyes. I could feel them sliding over me, making sure everything was in place. I said nothing, steadily returning his gaze while I wordlessly worked on the dagger strap, fashioning it under the red string.
“Remember what I told you last week, Y/N,” the general spoke, his face impassive even though there was fire underneath it all, and I could feel it all too well, “You are to make good impressions. I expect you to excel in this unit. Your brother is already being considered for corporal, do not stain this for him. Your unit has higher ranks too. One of them better be of my blood.”
I kept my mouth shut, just bowing to him in lieu of answer, but I was sure he could see the cocktail of anger and resentment brewing in my eyes. Choosing not to address that, he waved me off as if I was waiting for his permission to leave. Without a second glance I bowed again and promptly walked out the main gate.
If tonight went well, this was potentially one of the last times I walked out this specific house – our residence while we stayed in the capital city of Wuyun, close to the castle and royal grounds with the Academy in tow. If tonight went well, soon I’d find myself in the barracks, and I dreaded that day.
Unfortunately, family legacy tended to follow us all, no matter where we went and what we did. Children often went in their parents’ footsteps, making the Academy the breeding ground of resentment and generation long slights and fights. And there was a lot accumulated against the Kangs.
Back when my brother first joined, before he turned into the man he is today – while he still talked to me, he told me how disliked he was for the simple association. No matter what he did, he couldn’t escape his father’s shadow. I was next.
I would be able to walk over the distance from our house towards the main entrance of the castle blind-folded, and it passed quicker than I was ready for, suddenly finding myself standing at the foot of the entrance hall. Just at the end was the entryway towards the throne room, where the emperor accepted hearings, and I made sure to avoid it at the off chance that the man was present there currently.
It took me little time to arrive at the Eastern Grand Hall, but I found that most have already gathered there. It was a flurry of black and blue robes with the occasional splash of colour from other present lords, the hum of chatter and clinking of cutlery on metal plates that were typically used for military events, as if we were a bunch of animals that couldn’t be trusted with porcelain. I couldn’t spot anyone else wearing the plain Academy robes and I had no idea how many were accepted this year, so I slowly inserted myself into the frenzy hoping to blend in.
Turns out, it’s hard to do that when everyone either knows you’re the newbie or even realises which family you belong to, and I was getting a lot of looks as I leisurely walked along the table laid out with foods and drinks pretending not to notice. Some were mocking, some were apprehensive, and some were calculative, either way I had no interest in socialising.
It felt like ages have passed while I quietly ate by the end of the main table, gaze trained on a painting on the opposite wall, high above everybody’s head, but it wasn’t even time to officially begin the banquet yet. I was already feeling tired by all this, hoping this would be over with quickly so I could leave.
“I see that you’re getting some attention as well,” a cheery voice from my left shook me out of my reverie as I traced the golden lines of the knight portraiture for the thousandth time, and I turned somewhat dramatically, eyes open wide.
A woman stood there, it was hard to gauge her age, but she wore the same black and silver uniform, signalling she was also a first-year. Her pretty face was split by a friendly smile, eyes crinkling at the corners and her chestnut brown hair was shoved into a messy bun, clearly without a care for propriety. Her joy was quite disarming and before I even realised what I was doing, I was shaking her outstretched hand, still in shock. Her grip was strong, hands sure and decisive.
“Im Hwa-young, nice to meet you,” she said confidently, and I gaped at her slightly. Im was a disgraced surname, and no one who still had the curse of bearing it said it out loud anymore for fear of being recognised as a part of the Im clan after its fall and near annihilation. Whispers about treason and God’s punishment still followed those who survived, and many of the family disappeared from the public, hoping to escape the burden.
“I know, in the flesh,” Hwa-young continued with good spirits, obviously used to people’s reactions, “he was my uncle, before you ask.” I saw a flash of annoyance in her, something maybe like disappointment crossing her face as she began to withdraw her hand. In a split-second decision I grabbed it again, just as hard as she did before.
“Kang Y/N,” I gave her my name, making sure to look into her eyes, “and I wasn’t about to ask.” Hwa-young beamed at me, relief seeping into her as she sidled over to me almost as if we’ve known each other for years.
“Good to know I won’t be suffering here alone,” she remarked with a conspiratorial lilt, “I was afraid I’d be the only outcast in this unit.” I scoffed at her words, bringing a biscuit to my lips to mask my amusement from the others who were watching us with rapt interest.
“I never disappoint when it comes to disappointment,” there was something bitter creeping into my voice, tainting the joke with a smudge of reality, but Hwa-young was a good sport. She laughed lightly, head tilting back, looking so care-free it was helping me wind down.
Just as my shoulders begun to untense, a gong sounded through the Hall, tearing me away from the budding conversation. We both jolted and looked towards the head of the table where a greying man stood, his stance proud and strong. Light stubble decorated his wearied face, but it didn’t hide the handsomeness of an experienced warrior. I could feel the authority and respect radiating off of him, as everyone in the room turned to give him their undivided attention without needing a single word.
“Welcome novices,” he said simply, his voice was a little rough, but it held stead-fast and strong, booming through the silent hall, “to your first mating banquet. May your hunt be successful.” Clearly a man of few words, he quickly raised his glass and drank it in one go, a thunderous clap tearing through the space before the hungry faces turned to those who were the main interest of the evening.
I quickly scanned through the room, almost breaking my neck with how much I strained to see everywhere, hoping to catch a glimpse of other first-years. There was a young man standing alone by one of the entrances, and another group of two guardedly conversing closer to the head of the table, where the silver-haired man sat now completely uninterested in anything except for his food. To his right sat a dragoness, watching him with amusement and playing with her bright red hair, lips moving in what seemed to be teasing manner.
I watched their interaction for a moment longer, before Hwa-young turned my attention back to her, hand lightly grabbing onto my forearm as the woman leaned in closer to whisper: “The dragons have arrived.”
Snapping my head back towards the crowd, truly I could see newcomers – men and women with strong stances and shackles around their necks, faces either very carefully neutral or openly scowling at being paraded so openly. They mingled through the crowd, not really entertaining any looks or conversations.
“How many of us do you think there is?” I asked her, no longer being able to see the three students I discovered before. Hwa-young hummed, but ultimately shrugged her shoulders – I could feel the motion of them against my side more than I saw her.
“We should probably split up,” she whispered in the end, leaning away once more and slowly taking a step back, sending a cheeky smile my way, “See you around, fellow outcast.” With that she disappeared into the crowd so quickly I was actually concerned for several seconds before snapping out of it.
Left alone again, I had no other choice but to face the most challenging part of this event – socialising with my peers. All around me, people were conversing freely, some dragons even joining in their circles (most probably with their own bondeds) and the mood started rising again; though I could see some still watching me like vultures, curious who I’d choose to talk to.
For the moment, the most suitable strategy seemed to step back and observe, so I quickly manoeuvred myself through the throngs of people until I was leaning against a back wall. Right across me, across the whole hall, was the high-table where people tended to congregate more.
A flash of black and silver uniform alerted me to a novice that was conversing with a group of older students, but I couldn’t recognise whether it was one of the few I saw before or not. Slumping against the cold stone, I started searching through the crowds for someone that would be easy to approach.
I had no idea how much time I spent standing there, but at some point I started feeling the soreness and pain in my legs and feet crying for me to sit down. Shuffling slowly by the wall to the side towards chairs, my plan was suddenly thwarted by two men who made short of the distance with quick long strides, situating themselves into the corner.
Lucky bastards, the lot of them.
I stayed where I was, sighing tiredly and still undecided, when their conversation started up again.
“I hate that they call it a mating banquet,” the bigger of the two grumbled with a pout, “that’s clearly not what this is.” His head was shrouded in a very messy black bob haircut and small dark horns were protruding from his forehead, standing proudly with some strands tangled up around them and sticking out in weird angles. I held back a chuckle, bringing a glass with some sweet drink I’d managed to grab from the table to my lips quickly.
The other man sat more angled towards me and when he looked up, I had the best view in the entire room at his otherworldly beautiful face. I couldn’t hold back the gasp when I laid my eyes on him, the elegance and beauty he was exuding was truly almost too much for a mere mortal to handle. At first it seemed like his face actually glimmered, a slight shimmering catching my eyes constantly, before I realised his cheekbones and temples were covered in silvery blue scales. They blended into his skin perfectly and I found myself fighting a blush without him even having to look my way, that kind of effect he had on his surroundings.
Time to get it together, I told myself, slowly shuffling away and reprimanding myself internally for being a weirdo. And then he spoke.
“Bonding banquet doesn’t have such a ring to it, I suppose,” a melodic voice piped up, fading into a slight giggle at the end, “Though, something tells me if you were to show them what mating looks like, they wouldn’t be very entertained.” The horned dragon grumbled some more, clearly over this whole thing already.
“I wish Yoongi hyung came,” his voice sounded really pouty and whiney, making me silently snicker to myself again, “I bet he would have found a way to leave already. Or he’d terrify people enough to leave us alone.” At least we clearly were in the same boat, cheers to that.
Before I realised what was happening, because I was not so discreetly watching the two interact with a slight smile on my face like a dummy, there were quick heavy footsteps heading my way. I quickly snapped out of it as soon as I clocked that the person was aiming at me, and cursed under my breath when I saw Lord Kim with his fake predatory grin.
“The Kang youngling, what a surprise to see you here finally,” the man spoke loudly enough to have everyone in our vicinity snapping their heads to him and pushing all the attention to me. I pressed myself harder into the wall, the polite smile somewhat malfunctioning when he barrelled all the way into my personal space.
“Baron Kim, to what do I owe the pleasure?” came out through gritted teeth, the man clearly not understanding the meaning of boundaries. With every step away I took, he came closer, leaving us in an awkward shuffling match.
“Well, of course I have to welcome General Kang’s daughter to our unit, he wouldn’t want it any other way," the elderly man said sleazily, a disgusting grin plastered on his ugly mug. I had to fight not to laugh at his words – our unit? He’s never been a part of Qinglong, but he always wished for it – so instead he bought his way in. As a benefactor he was always invited and properly talked up with sweet, honeyed words, he even managed to wheedle a dragon out of them (though from what I understand, he didn’t ride as he was afraid of hights). I could only imagine what that poor man went through with this lowlife as his master.
“I’m sure my father would be happy to know I’m in such good hands,” I punched out of myself, the lie almost causing me physical pain. With most people who tried to gain the Kangs’ favour, it was hard to tell whether they really admired my father so much they turned insane or whether they secretly hated him and hated that they had to simper up to him; and that much could be said about Lord Kim as well.
Who knows where that old man’s loyalty lied and what his goals were, but the truth was that my father despised him and thought him to be an idiot.
While he started poetically voicing his well wishes and praises of the unit, I had a goal. Just a few metres away from me was an arch with glass doors open wide. As the second part of this event would take place outside, the garden there was already prepared and all I had to do was slip out and disappear quietly.
But between me and the open door sat the two dragons I had been listening to earlier, both of which had shut up now and watched my plight with varying degrees of interest and amusement, much like many others around us. When I glanced at the door again and happened to see the dark-haired dragon badly covering a cheeky smirk, clearly laughing at my expense, my eyes narrowed at him in faux anger.
The man had whole three seconds to realise I had seen him and take in my expression, before I side-stepped with the brightest smile I could muster and gestured towards the duo. Both of them froze like I just caught them stealing my grandma’s jewellery, wide eyes regarding me.
“Well, I was just about to come speak with these gentlemen, would you mind introducing me?” the overly sugary tone of my voice made the dragon’s eyes narrow at me in turn and when Lord Kim wasn’t watching I turned to him with a shit-eating grin. Truly, the baron was a curse that had to be shared, who was I to deny them the pleasure of his company?
The old man was clearly surprised with me jumping into his monologuing, eyes hopping between the three of us with his mouth hanging open slightly before he recovered and put on another polite smile.
“But of course!” he took it in stride, immediately sliding to the horned dragon’s side and clapping him on the shoulder lightly, which made the young man straighten. The obvious strength of his muscles and the wideness of his shoulders stood out even more like that, and it looked almost comical next to the stuttering Lord. He looked mildly afraid, but soldiered on, like a cursed auctioneer.
“Only the best for the general’s daughter, I see,” the flattery slipped out of his mouth with practiced ease before he once again gestured to the two young men, “these are two of the members of the Bangtan thunder.” Now it was my turn to freeze as those words poured over me.
Everything screeched to a halt and my eyes involuntarily jumped to the dragons who looked significantly more smug, sending cheeky teasing grins my way at having the rug pulled from under me like that. I could only imagine what kind of shock displayed on my face, but they seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it.
After the emperor’s personal thunder of dragons, which wasn’t a true thunder due to the fact that he was the one who collected them instead of them bonding naturally, Bangtan was the second most known. They’ve been mated for as long as anyone currently alive (and many generations before that) could remember and hosted seven of some of the most powerful dragons known to be currently existing. And while they’ve had riders before, everyone was aware that the sovereign himself didn’t like to see when people bonded them due to their strength and unbreakable pack loyalty.
Thus some of the dragons from the thunder were known as their own entities, based on their powers and achievements, turning into a sort of living legends that walked among humans but could rarely be seen or touched. Really, I should have known the second one of them mentioned Yoongi, but I didn’t even realise that was the name uttered.
Everybody who was interested in dragons knew of these seven, even if the chances of seeing them were low.
“This one here is Jungkook,” Lord Kim continued completely unperturbed, clapping the bigger dragon on his back again, although much more hesitantly, and then he pointed at the ethereally beautiful man, “and that one is Jimin.”
The blush was back under the intense scrutiny of the silver-scaled man, and all I could think of while I put the face to the name was that it made perfect sense. Of course he was someone this unreal, with all the stories about his charms and seductions that were being told by people who encountered the thunder.
He seemed to be satisfied with flustering me, a small smile setting onto his lips in victory.
Now that I thought about it, it was true that people naturally avoided these two, and there was a circle of empty space around the armchairs as even now people hesitated to move closer and join in the conversation. Everyone seemed to be aware of their identity.
I mentally face-palmed myself. I was supposed to be a knight, perception was supposed to be one of my strong suits.
“Come on boys,” Lord Kim drawled out again, “Greet the young Kang.” Silence followed, stretching between us awkwardly while the elderly man became more wooden with each second passing, red setting into his face in embarrassment and indignation at being ignored so blatantly. Then, both of them nodded slightly.
I bowed to them fully, bending at the waist in a (hopefully) perfect 90 degrees angle, hands clasped in front of my chest in a gesture of respect.
“It is an honour to meet you, sir Jimin and sir Jungkook,” it’s obvious my politeness shocked them, as the moment I come back up their eyes are wide and staring at me. Lord Kim started grumbling something about ungrateful dragons, feeling ashamed at such a lukewarm welcome from the boys, and the moment he wasn’t looking, I flashed them a teasing smirk.
Thankfully Lord Kim got interrupted once again in the middle of his tearful tirade and with many apologies he rushed off, the relief visible as his shoulders sagged the moment he wasn’t anywhere near the Bangtan dragons.
The three of us watched him for a moment before our eyes redirected back to each other, a strange but not unpleasant atmosphere hanging over us. Before I could start feeling the silence turn awkward, Jimin’s eyes narrowed at me, but there was still a slight upwards curl to his lips.
“Now, that wasn’t very nice,” he drawled out in his melodic hypnotic voice, eyes dark and stormy. I flushed from head to toe, thoughts stuttering, still not used to being perceived by someone like him, and it still served to amuse him greatly as he leaned back into the armchair.
Jungkook over at his chair watched me with a mischievous expression, his big dark eyes making him seem so innocent if it wasn’t for the cheeky curl to his lips. I realised there were several piercings all over his face and ears, strangely fitting his persona quite well, and as he squirmed in his seat, I could see tattoos peeking out of his robe’s sleeves. His tongue peeked out a little as he smirked at me, preparing to speak as well.
“You were laughing at me,” I beat him to it, batting my eyelashes in faux sweetness, “Of course I had to repay you for that.” The two dragons scoffed, making themselves more comfortable and I could see the exact moment the apprehension bled out of them, and I wasn’t deemed a threat anymore.
“Well, welcome to the unit newling,” Jungkook said, and it hit me that even though he looked very young for a dragon, he was still most likely hundreds of years old, and I choked a little on the smart retort. The man must have realised that’s what happened, because he was smirking up a storm like a little shit.
To my surprise, I also found myself relaxing in their presence, the ease with which we interacted never really came to me this readily. I was mostly stiff and nervous and dancing around topics and words in fear of offending or giving people excuses to spread rumours and mock my father. Not that I particularly cared about his image, but because I knew I would be the one to reap the consequences if something uncouth started making its way through the high society. I didn’t feel such pressure with these two, who watched me with curious but frank eyes.
“That is most definitely a nicer welcome than Lord Kim,” I muttered absent-mindedly, half-way lost in thought, wracking my brain for the last time I talked with someone with this much elation. Jimin giggled at that, drawing my attention back to him with a little bit of a leftover fluster from before.
“Don’t worry, everyone in this room shares that opinion,” he said leisurely, laid back in his chair elegantly, “He tends to annoy everyone he speaks to. Especially our kin.” Jungkook nodded at that, something dark and solemn creeping into his eyes.
“He doesn’t know the meaning of manners,” the horned dragon supplied darkly, face hard and unfriendly as he caught sight of the older human man again. I nodded in sympathy, knowing very well how the man could get.
“Lord Kim is one of those people who never leave you alone once they realise they can benefit from you,” I added to the conversation, moving a little closer to the armchairs so that I could lower my voice and make sure none of the nosey onlookers caught onto our conversation. The man might be generally disliked, but I still wouldn’t be taking any chances while gossiping like this.
“He’s been trying to get into my father’s favour for years, but he absolutely despises him,” I shared with them, the open secret not really something that had to be kept hush even though no one normally said it out loud, “Father thinks he’s a right dunce.”
The boys grinned. “Well, he’s right about that. I’ve known the man for decades and he hasn’t changed a single bit,” Jimin added his two cents, once again reminding me that I was speaking to nigh immortal beings that have been around for far longer than I was able to comprehend, “He’s a snake. A rat.” I hummed and nodded again, the conversation dying down after that.
I looked through the room from my new vantage point, finally far enough to observe as no one really wanted to approach the corner with the two Bangtan dragons.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t just about them being powerful and dangerous, but the emperor’s habit to control who rode them in fear of losing his power over them generally scared people away from interacting. Therefore, the only ones that were bonded to them were either recruited by the ruler himself or found themselves under his intense scrutiny. Because of that, riders tended to stray away from the Bangtan thunder, too afraid to bring unto themselves the sovereign’s ire.
My eyes were caught on a flash of black and silver, messy bun now somehow even more messed up as Hwa-young cheerfully conversed with another woman. The power was radiating off of her powerful stance and proud straight shoulders, dark charcoal hair falling freely over them and sometimes giving off dark green flashes when the light reflected off of them just right. Their stance was relaxed, and it seemed that their chat was going well and amicably.
“Your friend is conversing with Yong,” Jimin intercepted my shameless staring, and I realised both of the dragons were watching me raptly, “She is a righteous dragoness. A good one, strong and brave, even though a little hard-headed.” Jungkook snickered at that, hiding his smile behind his hand as the dragoness threw the subtlest little amused look their way, and I realised she must have heard them all across the room with her enhanced senses.
“The old ones always are,” the tattooed man added with a teasing lilt to his voice and both dragons watched giggling as the one called Yong discreetly flipped them off while pretending to dust off her shoulder. Hwa-young at this point seemed to catch on, I saw her confused face as she turned around and immediately brightened up the moment she noticed me, waving her hand enthusiastically. I returned it, just as amused as my companions.
“Are you not interested in ‘the hunt’?” Jimin asked me suddenly, something bitter creeping into his expression as he signalled air quotes around the word. I gazed at him for a few quiet moments, taking in the abrupt tenseness in his posture.
“I was trying to observe and find someone easy to approach,” I answered truthfully, “but then Lord Kim found me. I never got around to walking up to someone.” All three of us focused back onto the place swarming with people, the boys now amusing themselves by pointing out dragons that weren’t talking to anyone and had “good potential”.
“Are you trying to get rid of me right now?” I asked laughing, jumping into Jungkook’s long monologue about a young fire dragon standing alone in a corner few metres away from us. He halted in the middle of a word, giving me a cheeky glance and I already started recognising the mischievous glint in his smile.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from finding your dragon,” he drawled out in a playful manner, looking like he was two seconds away from batting his eyelashes at me, “and since you didn’t officially declare your intent to try a bond with us, I assume you must be wanting to be on your way to meet another one.” That took all the wind from my sails, the witty retort dying on my tongue as the dragons both looked at me with mischievous eyes.
“I honestly didn’t know that was an option,” came out a little scratchy and quiet, immediately making my cheeks burst into flames as the two dragons regarded me with teasing eyes.
“Well, there’s only one way to find out,” Jungkook proclaimed cheerily and stood up abruptly. Suddenly he was towering good two heads over me, his wide sturdy shoulders almost casting a shadow over my form. I gulped, seeing him now in his full glory, it suddenly made sense as to why people thought him to be intimidating. Even though he seemed to be a little goof.
Jungkook then did something that shocked not only me and Jimin, but also everyone standing around keeping an eye on the interaction – he offered me his hand, free of gloves that dragons always wore. Stunned speechless I eyed the outstretched appendage for a few tense moments, out of the corner of my eye noting Jimin’s mouth hanging open, face wearing an expression of such open surprise it was almost comical. There were some gasps and whisperings from behind us, Jungkook’s gaze ever so often jumping over my shoulder and levelling someone with a glare.
The reason for such reaction was a quite simple one – this plain action was the whole purpose of this banquet. Well, at least partly.
I for once wasn’t expecting to get a handshake this easily, usually dragons guarded themselves and needed a lot more persuading before they even considered taking such a step with the potential riders, but here we were – Jungkook’s hand awkwardly hanging in the air between us as he grew exponentially more nervous with every second I didn’t take it.
The easiest way to describe the link between a dragon and its rider would be to call it a magical bond, one very similar to that of mated pairs and thunders. Bonds like these linked the two beings together closer than most humans could imagine. It was very important to cultivate the bond and grow it strong, to intertwine the two hearts and support the care and trust that needed to exist between the two, otherwise even strong bonds could easily deteriorate or the connection wouldn’t reach its full potential.
It also allowed the human part of the bond to benefit from the dragon’s magic (while vast majority of humans weren’t magic, we were pretty compatible with it if borrowed) – it enhanced the rider’s senses and strength, established a mind link and enabled telepathic communication, which was sorely needed while on dragonback (believe it or not, it was hard to talk to someone while flying at high velocity sitting on their back).
And a bond like this, like any other, required a certain compatibility. Dragons, as the higher level magical beings of the two, were mostly the ones who felt the potential someone carried to successfully establish a bond, but the easiest way to find out was physical contact. Once you touched, the potential would most definitely be felt (according to what I heard, it felt a little like an electric hum passing through the place of contact) – or not, based on the situation.
That’s why they usually wore their hands covered, to avoid accidental connections and half-way there bonds.
A dragon could have several potential bondeds, it wasn’t exclusive until one was chosen to take the next step, but once this compatibility was discovered, it was crucial to try and learn the person to aid in the process of decision making. It was slightly similar to the process of courting.
Due to these reasons, it was quite rare for a dragon to offer someone the opportunity to touch them – and find out whether they were potentially compatible.
This banquet, even though it was called the mating banquet (as the boys pointed out it should be more of a bonding banquet as mating happened exclusively between couples and thunders), this banquet was more of a getting to meet your options kind of deal. Rarely someone offered you their hand after only a few exchanged sentences.
Thus, the stunned silence stretched between the three of us and an expectant kind of hunger reflected in eyes of those around us. Had I been more in the headspace to take notice of my surroundings, I’d have realised the hum of conversation somewhat lulled as people noted the situation and kept one eye on us while they pretended to keep the chatter up.
Jimin sat frozen in his chair, his face mortified, as if Jungkook committed some cardinal faux-pas (which he probably did to be honest, dragon etiquette was a little bit different than the human one), and I would almost take offence to it if I wasn’t completely stupefied myself.
The cheeky dragon in question though seemed completely unperturbed, even as nervousness started tugging at his handsome smile, but he valiantly tried to withstand it, keeping the hand hanging and his face a picture of mischief.
And I found that I quite liked the total disregard of rules he presented.
Finally gathering my bearings, I felt my own face stretch into a sassy grin and without a moment more of hesitation I grabbed his hand and squeezed it firmly in a sure handshake. And the rumours were in fact true, though the extent was sorely understated – our energies merging in a single burst of raw potential felt like a shock of electricity running from the tips of my fingers all the way up to my shoulder, the aftershocks buzzing through me like I got hit by lightning.
I gasped, a little too loud, and instinctively went to rip my hand away from the grip, but Jungkook didn’t let me. His eyes were trained on me, subtly glowing with a dark purple haze, grin turning a little sharper. But it didn’t put me on edge, quite the opposite – it felt like I won something.
Then our hands let go and the spell was broken, the remnants of a shimmering haze setting into my mind and bones. I could still feel the phantom tingles in my fingers, and they flexed almost subconsciously, trying to chase away the foreign sensation.
“Wow,” came a quiet breathless exclamation from Jimin, the smaller man still sitting in his place but now looking at our hands with wonder and disbelief, “that was strong.” The flush immediately flooded my cheeks once more (truly, it was starting to be embarrassing, I’d never been like this around anyone, though it could have something to do with the fact that I generally liked dragons a little more than I did humans) and I took a tiny step back, fighting my lungs to expand and take in more breath, my whole body feeling like I had to manually haul it back into working order.
Though one look at my now potential bonded showed me that he was similarly blushing, cheeks a healthy pink colour, lips pursed in a shy smile and eyes watching me full of emotion that was entirely too fragile and tender.
Before I could blurt out something that could potentially either embarrass or straight hurt the man, Jimin immediately jumped in, probably sensing his mate’s emotional state.
“Sorry about that,” he told me, gently looking over his lover, “Bonds of this strength can sometimes put us into a strange mindset. He’ll be back to himself in a few moments.” The silvery dragon’s mouth opened and closed a few times, the man deliberating whether he should speak more or not, but ultimately he only gave me a tight smile and started manhandling Jungkook back into the chair.
I felt that there was something crucial that wasn’t shared to me, but if Jimin thought it too personal to say, I didn’t want to push him. I myself still felt the little bursts of our energies merging, the aura around my hand suddenly feeling cold and empty, as if it was missing a significant piece.
Leave it to me to be the one person that even has a clingy aura. I glared at the offending appendage as if scolding it, quickly folding both my arms behind my back and trying to make is as natural as possible. Even my hair felt singed with the potential bond manifesting, and I swore I could smell something burnt, only hoping it either wasn’t something visible or my mind was just playing tricks on me.
“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” a hushed whisper made it to me and I was torn away from my own musings, attention now back to the two men who seemed to be locked in a very private exchange, both leaned towards each other and whispering so that nothing but a hum could be heard.
Realising the words weren’t meant for me, I cleared my throat and took another step back, the singed hand quickly thrown in the direction of the buffet table in a last hail mary attempt to find an appropriate escape. “I am going to…” I started, voice still a little breathless, “I want something to drink, would you also like something?”
I could see on Jimin’s face before he even opened his mouth to speak that he was going to decline, but Jungkook quickly jumped in, his volume rising a little more than he was anticipating.
“I’ll have water!” the horned dragon seemed a little embarrassed by the outburst too, but when Jimin stared at him incredulously he seemed quite unapologetic. I nodded slowly, taking another step, then nodded again like the words just registered in my mind.
“Sure.” With that I woodenly walked over to the main table that dominated the Grand Hall.
I felt the looks, some curious, some envious and some outright raging, but I ignored them all. This, for now, still meant nothing. Even though the power of it shocked us both (all three if counted Jimin), it meant nothing. I was still one of many that could vie for the young dragon’s attention.
The thought left a bad aftertaste in my mouth, a strange uncomfortable feeling setting in my stomach at the prospect of someone else trying to be Jungkook’s bonded, and I quickly pushed those feelings away, grumbling to myself.
I thought I knew what to expect, but no one told me a bond felt like this. No one warned me it would mess with my head and with my mind, send my heart racing when I faced the image of losing the chance to bring this to a successful end. I only knew the man for barely an hour, for fuck’s sake! He didn’t even express an intention to pursue this!
I slowly begun to understand why it was generally more accepted to wait to know the person a little bit more, if this was how the link manifested.
Giving myself a metaphorical slap I swiftly wrangled the reigns safely back into my logical side’s hands and fully focused on finding a cup and water.
I more felt than saw a presence at my right, someone sidling up to me closer than necessary with how much space this table took up. Still a little emotionally charged, when I turned to confront this person, I was already irritated.
What greeted me was a sleazy smile on a middle-aged face, a greying stubble and a mop of dark slowly silvering hair. The man was human, that much was obvious, and there was a woman with a judgemental look on her face hanging off of his arm, most probably his wife. I gave them both a once-over, trying to take in as many details as possible to clue me in to the man’s identity, but he would no doubt introduce himself.
My eyes promptly caught on an insignia with a burning rising sun, meaning he was one of the councilmen – he must have been very well acquainted with my family, though his name continued to escape me. I sighed, shoulders slumping and then I forced on a polite smile.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” despite the words, my voice didn’t speak of pleasure nor joy, instead the annoyance bled in quite heavily, almost to a point of being rude. The duo didn’t seem phased, the man’s smile maybe even brightening at my words and the woman’s face still in the same grimace as before.
“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced yet,” he started immediately, ignoring my words and tone completely, “Please, call me Lord Lee.” He offered me his hand and I had a very brief but a very intense flashback to Jungkook’s, before I shook it off and very reluctantly took it.
“Are you perhaps the Duke of Western territories?” I enquired, forcing my attention back to the table to show him I wasn’t interested in him and his words, trying to sound as bored as possible.
A chuckle came from him, the woman still completely silent, before he shuffled even closer.
“The one and only,” there was a showman lilt to his intonation, and I felt a wave of distaste towards this man so strong I almost visibly shuddered. He thought he was so charismatic, the poor sod. I only hummed, hands now moving onto one of the few untouched platters of small desserts and quickly plating some.
A moment of silence, then more shuffling – this time thankfully not closer to me as that would entail him brushing my side, though I wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t do that even in the middle of a room full of armed knights.
“I just felt that congratulations were in order,” he said finally, a lot more bite to his words now that I’ve managed to offend him, “We all saw you with that dragon.” My hands paused minutely before resuming their actions. The disrespectful address to Jungkook didn’t escape me neither.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lord Lee,” I answered sweetly, “It was just an introduction. It can still go in a very different direction. Nothing is set in stone. Yet.”
It seemed that the man didn’t come over to suck my father’s dick as my sass was very much not appreciated by him and I could see his face turn into an unfriendly scowl.
“Well, of course that the Kang family cannot disappoint by not aiming straight at Bangtan,” the hostility in his stance suddenly doubled as he spit this out, forcing me to take a step back from the unfiltered fury, “Only the best for the general’s daughter.” He was mocking me, but the anger made it hard to decipher it as anything else than pure envy.
I tried to keep my face neutral, even as my own anger and resentment resurfaced. Father made many enemies, and thanks to his attitude we as his children often caught the brunt of resentful disgruntled councilmen and their offspring trying to cope with their bruised egos by punishing us instead of the untouchable man.
And we were expected to just go with it, lest our behaviour reflects badly on him.
I stared at the duke for a moment longer, trying to look as unimpressed as humanly possible, until the fire died down within him a little and he started shuffling on his spot. “Lord Lee,” I started, channelling the disappointed teacher energy that my father often had whenever we displeased him, “as I said, and you should know this, anyone can come up to them and strike up a connection. I might not be the only person this year compatible to them.”
The man pursed his lips and didn’t speak any further, though the unspoken rebuttal hung in the air between us. And I knew that the words stuck in his throat were true, but he couldn’t say them for they were too daring.
Anyone couldn’t, I did because the emperor approved of my father. I would be allowed near Bangtan thanks to my father’s position.
I raised my eyebrow at the suddenly silent man, challenging him to speak his mind, but he knew if he said those words, it would be speaking out against the crown just as much as against my father. And that could cost him his life.
“Let’s hope the most suitable person wins this race, then,” he settled on finally, and without even looking for my reaction he turned on his heel and walked away, dragging the still quiet woman with him. I scoffed loudly, not bothering to hide it as everyone saw our interaction anyway, and finally was able to leave the table.
People moved out of my way cautiously as I walked through the room, trying to pretend that they weren’t paying attention to me and still making sure to clear the spot as soon as I neared them like I had some terrible contagious disease. It was quite ridiculous, and it left a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.
My feet carried me across the room without any clear goal in my mind, not quite ready to return to the two dragons, especially since everyone saw the scene now. Them two no doubt also heard it with their strong hearing, and it would be too awkward to speak to them now.
The moment I spotted a slender figure talking to a green-haired dragon, I immediately swerved to go talk to them for a moment, hoping to escape the situation for a moment longer.
Somewhat clumsily crashing into their conversation, balancing two glasses and a plate of sweets, that most definitely got their attention, Hwa-young turning to grin at me while the dragoness kept her face a carefully sculpted mask of aloof interest.
“Cake?” I blurted out abruptly, raising the plate between us like an offering, instantly feeling the heat in my cheeks in embarrassment.
“Oh my god, please,” my schoolmate groaned in joy, hand already reaching for one of the small chocolate treats. The dragoness, Yong as I learnt, was watching us, face impassive, but I could see a glint of something soft in her eyes when her gaze fell onto the cheerful petite woman currently stuffing her face next to us.
Even though I met Hwa-young maybe an hour ago, I was glad Yong seemed to be interested in the young woman’s well-being.
But then her eyes suddenly jumped back to me, boring deep into my soul.
“Bangtan are honourable dragons,” she said finally, her voice a little lower than I anticipated, but smooth as velvet, “They strive for good, maybe more than most.” Her words brought a little smile to my face, reminiscent of the earlier conversation that went basically along the same lines.
My eyes flitted over to the corner where the two men sat hoping to catch their reaction to her words, only to find it empty and the dragons nowhere to be found. I frowned instinctively, hands tightening over the glass of water that Jungkook asked for with heart squeezing, but quickly tampered those thoughts down.
The connection must have been really messing with my head.
I ended up trailing after Hwa-young and her dragoness after that, like a lost puppy, until the greying man stood up once more and announced it was time to move outside. With a deep heaving sigh I abandoned the glass and plates and steeled myself for the true pinnacle of the afternoon.
Hwa-young, once she noticed my uneasiness, gave me an empathetic smile, hand patting me a few times on my shoulder, before she confidently walked up to the glass door and out to the patio, followed by Yong with her curious eyes trained on the knightess.
While the first part of the banquet was mostly for introductions and fraternising, the second part moved outside – that’s why the perfect weather was needed for the day of the event and the court seers and astronomers worked hard to pick an auspicious date to ensure that.
Now the attention from the dragons, a novelty to some and a delicious masquerade to others, the spotlight would shift purely on the novices as we were to partake in several “friendly” competitions to show off our skills.
It was all also a part of the bond creating process, as the show was mostly for the dragons to see their prospective riders and help them choose who’d they like to approach – basically a talent show under the guise of some silly little sportsmanship.
It was also the part I was, surprisingly, even more nervous about than the talking.
When I got outside, most people were already sitting around on the prepared benches, leisurely chatting with the poise only the bored and the filthy rich could have. Five people were already standing in the designated area, fiddling with bows and quivers full of arrows. Quickly, I made my way towards Hwa-young, grabbing my own weapons on the way.
So there was six of us this year. I tried to steal glances at the others to see if maybe I recognised someone, but all of their faces were escaping me. I might have seen them somewhere, but I couldn’t put any names to them, nor their factions or alliances or families.
One man stood all the way in the other corner by himself, air of pompousness and arrogance so thick around him I could sense it all across the field. It bled into every single one of his movements, into the expression on his pale elegant face, even into the way he flicked his long straight black hair out of his face.
Two others stood a little away from him, closer to each other but not interacting in any way. Their faces were carefully sculpted cold expressionless masks as they held the bows in their hands ready for the contest, not talking, not looking out into crowd, nothing.
The last man stood the closest to us, all by himself but with his shoulders relaxed and a positive aura surrounding him. His hands were casually drumming a rhythm into the wood of the bow, foot tapping happily into the dense dirt compacted by thousands upon thousands of armoured shoes walking over it every day. When he noticed me looking his way, he suddenly brightened and gave me a happy smile.
That was enough to shock me into turning back to my own bow and I ignored the cheery man, not that he seemed very offended by that. Instead he immediately changed targets to Hwa-young standing next to me and the two fell into a hushed conversation after a few smiles exchanged.
The bow in my hand was worn, it wouldn’t be impossible to use it, but it was obvious they were some old weapons taken from some forgotten unloved storage. The royal palace insisted that we would use the military’s tools to ensure fairness, but I truly wasn’t expecting them to pull out bows that were probably older than half the men standing around the edges of the training area. And there were dragons present.
Speaking of which, on my next cursory look over the gathered crowd I was able to spot the two Bangtan boys (men?) standing on one side a little bit away from everyone else, eyes already trained on me.
In a split second I noticed and realised three things – Jimin’s hair was actually a really deep dark blue, he was looking at me with a much unfriendlier look than before and Jungkook sent me a shit-eating grin before waving cheekily. I scoffed, kind of amused by his attitude, but also significantly weirded out by the change in vibe in his companion.
While yes, it was very unusual to be dishing out handshakes left right front and centre, but I just kind of assumed Jungkook was one of those who didn’t really care about propriety all too much. He had a vibe of a man that loved to see the world burn, and I had to deeply respect that. His whole aura screamed of youth and mischief, so I chalked up his unusual behaviour up to that. But it seemed that Jimin wasn’t exactly impressed with him, as he eyed me with mistrust like I brainwashed his mate into bonding with me.
Loud clinking brought my attention away from those two and my eyes slowly drifted back to the greying man and who I presumed was his dragoness. That was another mystery to me – it was obvious he was in some sort of position of power, but I’ve never met him nor seen him before – I knew he wasn’t in charge of the unit, and he wasn’t even between the teachers that we met during the trials – and I went through them a few times, as we previously established.
He stood up, the same detached expression on his face, and cleared his throat. “Let the games begin,” he proclaimed simply, “We will start with a shooting competition.” Then he shuffled a little under all that attention before sitting back down. I hid my smile behind my palm while watching his bonded laugh at him. You had to love the way he didn’t want to be here as much as everyone else.
The mirth quickly drained out of me though when I realised with our positioning I would end up going first. I cursed under my breath, my hands growing clammy and shaking, desperately gripping the bow and attempting to look as collected as possible. If we at least started with sword fighting, but we had to jump straight into shooting.
This was exactly what I was afraid of, the mounting shame of what was about to come already drowning me and pulling me under the sea of emotions, leaving me helplessly gasping for air. My lungs painfully constricted, but I got into position nonetheless.
There was a reason for why I struggled to enter this unit in particular, even when I was hell-bent on joining the horns. Growing up with a general for a father, I had been trained from small age – I knew how to properly hold a sword before I learned to use the toilet on my own, but my father was a master of heavy weaponry. He was known for his massive bagua-dao swords, occasionally reaching for scimitars or sabres – not too much for his marksmanship. He was still an incredibly efficient archer, but he preferred not to be stuck with a bow and arrows where there could be blood spilt.
Therefore I somewhat gravitated towards those weapons as well – and well, I wasn’t as sufficient with long-range attacks. I’d always achieve a ‘just close enough’, but I rarely hit the mark precisely. But on dragonback, you had no choice but to aid your troops with ranged attacks.
As one of the trainers back during my first trial put it – ‘A dragon rider that can’t shoot a bow and arrow is like a whore without a pussy’. Truly, what a charming man.
I’d improved a lot, enough to manage to weasel my way into the elite unit, but still my shooting wasn’t perfect. And when you wore a name like Kang, that was a social suicide.
My ears all out of nowhere picked up how the crowd quieted, through the roaring blood and the anxious thoughts, and I realised they all hungrily anticipated my performance. Taking a few stabilising breaths, I tried to reinforce my hands and stop their shaking.
Through the bundle of nerves lodged into my throat and the stones slowly setting into my stomach, I fought to empty myself – my heart, my head – to bring about that one-track focus to the centre of the target that stood off to the distance.
Time slowed down, my heart pumped wildly and my head spun and I let go. The arrow elegantly swished through the air, faster than many were able to see, and embedded itself deep into the straw target, just shy of the red circle dominating it.
Even anticipating those results, my heart still sank knowing that everyone saw. Murmurs rose and the pit of humiliation threatened to swallow me. I hated how I was already berating myself for not doing better, how I was already fearing what would my father say once I got home, how I was too scared to turn around and face their mocking eyes and sneers.
I hated the castle, and I knew that I was on the precipice of getting devoured whole by it.
With shaky sweaty hands I stood there and watched all the other novices hit perfect mark, the waves of polite ovations reaching my ears through the cotton of my inner turmoil.
The second round came, all the eyes turned to me again, and I knew the moment I released the bowstring that the nerves won over me, barrelled through my psyche and I was lost to the chant of insecurities going through my head.
The arrow hit a little to the left of the first one, a tiny bit further from the centre than before.
The weight on my shoulders was pulling them down and I was tenser, more uncomfortable, but I kept my composure. It was crucial that I showed no weakness now, that would be inviting even more trouble. I felt bile rising through my pharynx but swallowed it down and instead forced myself to stand tall with head held high.
I didn’t gather the courage to turn around until the last arrow was released.
I let myself be ushered towards a different area prepared for us while the target practice was moved around and prepared for the final spectacle of the afternoon. In the meanwhile, we were to fight with swords. That was more of a stable ground for me.
Perfectly there was just the right amount of us to compete in twos and I was already hoping that I wouldn’t end up with the snotty kid from the end of the line lest I might try to kill him for sure. Trying to avoid any polite chatter between us and also pointedly not look towards the crowd, I started perusing the weapons offered, thinking of what the best strategy would be to take.
A shortsword was a classic, but nothing too impressive. A longsword a similar case. Though if I had to choose, I’d preferred the two-handed longsword, I had a tendency to get a little too swingy with one-handed weapons. There was a scimitar, which was a solid option even though more suited for horseback – but once again, I’d prefer two-handed weapons.
All the way at the end of the prepared rack (it didn’t escape my attention there was only one for all of us) sat a dadao and bagua-dao right next to each other, glinting in the sun like cruel smiles. As far as I was aware, no one here would actually reach for those – they weren’t standard weapons people were taught to operate.
They were there for me. For family legacy.
That was enough for me to make my choice.
While the others just made it over to the rack and started paying it more attention, I grabbed the plain longsword and moved towards the area fenced off for a duel. I sensed the confused, surprised and mocking gazes rolling off of my back, but I didn’t let their disappointment muddle my already arguably shitty day any more.
I wasn’t here to give them a show. I was here to bond with a dragon.
When everyone had chosen their weapons (I was right, no one went for the dao swords), we all stood there for a moment, too nervous to actually say anything. The arrogant prick was acting like we were all beneath him, but the rest of us eyed the others apprehensively, trying to gauge with who we’d like to end up in a duel.
The puppy boy was now hanging about Hwa-young, the two of them seemed to make fast friends, and honestly, I understood that. I was also drawn into her aura quite quickly, though my current stress prevented me from relaxing around anyone at the moment.
Taking notice of the weapons others chose, I started realising that something didn’t add up. There was only one of each, and it would be impossible to have a proper duel if one person has a longsword and the other a scimitar. It wasn’t that unusual for the battlefield, but in duelling it wasn’t done.
Looking around, there was another rack of weapons on the other side of the fenced area – where we wouldn’t be able to go at the moment due to the fences. It all started clicking in my mind just as Lord Kim of all people stepped up on a little platform and gestured to get the attention of the slowly quieting crowd.
“As was tradition for the second discipline,” he started pompously, chest puffed up and face painted with a sleazy smile, “the novices would duel each other. This year we chose to make a little change for the entertainment of those watching.” I could see a few of us looking confused or slightly uncomfortable, and my own heart tightened for a moment.
Lord Kim gestured somewhere behind him and six people walked up to the rack of weapons on the other side. Three men and three women, all looking coldly towards the baron, standing side by side and anxiously awaiting the order to grab their weapons. It wasn’t that hard to deduce they were all dragons.
Silence fell over us while the crowd clapped happily, the vile joy reflected in their gazes, while we exchanged worried glances. Hwa-young’s face was drawn into a tight serious expression, a stark difference to how she was just a few minutes ago, while the guy by her side shuffled from foot to foot wordlessly.
The only one that didn’t seem to be bothered by the revelation was the smug bastard who stood a little away from us, serenely holding a sabre in his hand and looking straight at a man with flaming red spiky hair, who steadily ignored his attention.
How curious.
I watched as Kim gave the order with a flick of his wrist and the selected six moved with a purpose straight to their chosen weapons. The redhead without hesitation reached for the sabre, eyes glued to the ground and trying to blend in as much as possible, not stand out at all.
I felt a simmer of rage bubble up inside my chest and turned to stare daggers at the newbie only to see that he was already looking at me with a stupid smirk on his face.
So he already knew. He must have been close to someone high up in the unit then – that would make things difficult.
Swearing to myself to find out who was his patron, I made my distaste known on my face all for him to see and then turned back to our chosen opponents, searching for the one with a longsword. Eyes jumping from one to other, I finally found the weapon in the hands of a tall dragoness, her curly ginger hair falling down her back all the way to her tailbone. She as well was already watching me, but her eyes were unreadable, her lips a thin straight line.
The baron’s chuckle had our tense eyes drawing back to him. He stood there, with an awful sharp grin on his face, arms thrown out in a grand gesture, gaze jumping around our faces.
“Well, let the second discipline begin,” Lord Kim announced, “Happy fighting!” He laughed loudly, gestures dramatic and over the top, and then leisurely made his way back to sit next to… Duke Lee. What was it… birds of a feather?
I scoffed at the two men sitting there and acting like old chaps, all chummy and cozy next to each other. Baron Kim was really getting better at dick sucking, look at him, making his way all the way to the duke. Talent had to be recognised.
“Young mistress Kang!” the exclamation of my name startled me into stumbling to turn around, suddenly aware that everyone was looking at me. The dragoness was standing in the middle of the fighting arena, sword hanging from her hands limply. There was a touch of annoyance displayed on her face, but it was obvious she was trying to tamper it down as to not get into trouble.
I flushed lightly but diligently moved into the arena without any more stalling. Of course I’d go first again, we were probably going to keep the order from the first discipline. My nerves were skyrocketing, and I held the sword in my clammy hands.
Fighting in a duel against a same-aged human wasn’t something that brought too much stress to me, it was actually the one discipline of the three I was very confident in and looked forward to. General Kang never went easy on anyone, including his small children even during the first years of our training and I knew I could probably take on half the people from the military and be fine.
Duelling against a centuries old dragon with so much more strength and sharper senses though, that was a completely different story. Defeating a dragon, even in a sword fight, was virtually impossible. It took a lot of training, mostly with specific dragons, and most people resorted to underhanded tactics to gain an upper hand.
So the desired effect of this duel was most likely to present well with tactics, endurance and skill, not to actually aim to win. It was hard entering a ring knowing you will lose the fight, hard to muster up the courage to the absolute most to win when you know it’s a done deal from before you even stepped in, but this, like many other things, was mostly about appearances.
With a sigh I took my position and gestured to my opponent that I was ready. She did the same immediately and in a second a whistle sounded through the air, letting us know the match had started.
Nobody made a move at first, both of us holding our stance and slowly circling the arena, gauging the other and calculating the best approach.
I admittedly wasn’t the type to jump in headfirst into offensive, it usually took me a while to attack. Sometimes it was to psych the other out, sometimes I just wanted to see what they would do first and adapt to their strategy accordingly. But she seemed to be doing the same thing, so for a few long moments silence enveloped the crowd as they watched us with bated breaths.
I held the sword in a front guard, tip pointing right at her neck, and I just had a split second to register the tightening of her hands on the grip before she was suddenly lunging forward with a straight strike, aiming for my abdomen.
The habit kicked in and I cockstepped to the side, sword immediately flying in a circle guard to parry her attack before I retreated again. There was determination in her face, and she didn’t seem to be terribly appalled by my stance, so I counted that as a win.
This went on for a long while, one of us suddenly lunging forward in an attack to surprise the other, then parry, counter-attack and then retreat, circling around the edges of the arena. I couldn’t hear anything from outside those fences, I had no idea if people were entertained or not, if they watched or not, if they even said anything at all. All my attention was poured into the form of my opponent, watching her every single move.
Longsword was about agility, being quick on your feet and keeping your contender appropriately far to be able to land a hit but not close enough for them to land it back, and I used my small stature and quickness to my advantage a lot when fighting, but even though I was able to stand my ground, I felt the disparity in our strengths.
She was taking it easy on me, I was aware of that. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to parry that easily against a blow with full dragon power behind it, and while she was able to keep her composure, I already felt my body faltering. There was sweat streaming down my face, I felt it soaking through the uniform and making my grip sloppy. My legs were starting to get tired, and I stumbled a few times while side-stepping away from her attacks.
Her movements stayed effortless and fluid, her sword steady and sharp. I started to slip up.
As our patience ran out, the number of attacks increased and finally we were giving the audience what it wanted – an offensive after an offensive, barely giving the other time to counter. She must have tested my strength, because suddenly her blows became much more heavy-handed – she aimed to end this match soon.
She almost overpowered me with a diagonal cut, and my ankle twisted as I turned. Pain burst through me, face turning into a grimace. Her face reflected sure victory, sword already aiming for abdominal horizontal cut.
Last minute I turned my sword into downward guard, turned around it and swung for her right side. There was a split second of surprise on her features, the edge just a hair away from her clothes when she managed to jump away, and I gambled.
Turning my legs into a stable stance I lunged forward, ignoring the throbbing in my ankle. The dull tip aimed straight at the side of her lower abdomen, sword flying through the air. The element of surprise did a lot for me, but she managed to evade.
I cursed, sweat slipping into my eyes and making it hard to see. I didn’t even have the moment to wipe it away. The dragoness disappeared from my field of vision, and I fought my own body to turn quickly, but it wasn’t enough.
When I turned, sword already in position to take upwards diagonal cut at her, there was a tip aimed at my neck. I felt it prick the skin when I stumbled with the momentum, eyes trained on her hands on the handle.
Everything froze for a few seconds, few long seconds during which I only heard my own heaving breath and the roaring hum of blood in my veins. The heat started catching up with me and I shivered under the sudden wave of hotness over my whole body.
Then a thunder of clapping broke through the trance, and I looked up to see her eyes. They weren’t as cold anymore, but I wouldn’t dare to guess what she was feeling. She gave me a curt nod and stepped away, swiftly lowering her sword. Almost involuntarily I let go of my own and my glove went with it, hands too wet to stick to them.
I was still trying to catch my breath, the heavy intakes jerking my whole body and all I wished to do was to tear this stupid uniform off and jump into a cold creek, but I was suddenly grabbed by Lord Kim who materialised on stage and dragged me closer to the expectant crowd.
On instinct I started bowing, dragoness in tow even though there wasn’t even an ounce of the usual winner’s joy in her being, and then we were both sent away.
I stumbled over to our side again, wondering if I could maybe be suffering from heatstroke, when two small but very strong hands pulled me into a hug. Hwa-young squealed right into my ear, but I was too sluggish to actually recoil from the sound.
Before I even fully clocked in the situation, she was already pulling away with a huge grin, hand now patting me on the shoulder.
“That was amazing!” she exclaimed, visibly vibrating in excitement, “It felt like nobody was breathing for the entire time you two fought, the tension was insane!” A single syllable laugh fell out of my tired mouth, a somewhat slanted smile pulling at my lips, before I gestured back inside.
“I need water,” was all that came out of me, very eloquently might I add, and then I steered my shaky knees in the right direction and walked off. With every step I retained a little bit of my previous strength, my body finally acclimatising and slowly pumping the brakes on the excitement and pain.
As I was stepping in, the strangely happy guy from before was just stepping into the ring with his shortsword firmly clutched in his hands and a face full of determination.
Thankfully, no one bothered me while I was inside replenishing my strength, and I re-emerged a few minutes later in a much better shape. The fact that there was one more discipline left already drained me in advance. If I could at least take one layer off, that would make it much better, but it would be improper.
I must have been inside for longer than I thought, because it seemed that two matches have happened in the meantime, with the third now already in motion. The only ones still waiting for theirs was Hwa-young and the peacock with a sabre, both standing next to each other but ostentatiously ignoring the other.
Sitting down in the shade, I watched on. During Hwa-young’s turn I appreciated her form a lot. She was a great fighter, and it was obvious she put her absolute best into the match. Her opponent seemed to be a measured laid-back fighter, and he balanced her energetic offensive very well. When she lost, it was after a good fight and she went down honourably. The dragon even accepted her offered handshake (gloves on, of course, to prevent any skin-to-skin contact and accidentally establish a potential bond) and then they both moved to their respective sides.
The last man stepped in, flaming red hair reflecting the sun and making him almost shine in the middle of the summer garden. Peacock walked up to him and immediately took his stance. Once the whistle was blowed, he flew into an attack within split second, and the match from then on was a wild mess of heavy offensive.
While the dragon seemed to be surprised, like the others he didn’t have much trouble standing his ground and matched the energy given well. As much as I disliked people who valued offensive over anything and expected to win fights just by endlessly swinging their swords around without rhyme or reason, the display of power between the two fighters was quite fascinating to watch.
Their forms were beautiful, and their sabres met with loud clinks, almost hard enough to see sparks flying about. It was a wild flurry of movement, of red and silver flashes and fast footwork that would be hard on even experienced knights.
And that was exactly what got him in the end. The peacock was extremely confident in the first few minutes of the match, but as it dragged on, the dragon refusing to concede and dealing back just as much power, the toll it was taking on the human to keep up started to be visible.
I watched his legs increasingly more stumble and react slower to the attacks and for a brief moment I wondered whether I looked the same when I started losing the fight.
But then he suddenly threw himself at the redhead, sword pushing his to the side and body slamming into him full force. There were a few gasps around in the audience as confusion set in. Aside the fact that this was a sword duel, he definitely couldn’t win against him in a fistfight. And once they got this close, the dragon could really knock him out with a single blow. It was pure insanity.
And I could see the redheaded man preparing to do just that, hand dropping his sabre and body twisting in preparation to take a full swing, when the bastard shot his hand out and grasped around the dragon’s neck.
I was on my feet faster than I could comprehend doing that, dread making my heart stop beating and my stomach to drop all the way down to the ground. His hand was bare, he must have shucked the glove off somewhere during the lunge.
The poor dragon froze under the touch, body going into panic. He tried to twist out of his grasp, and I saw the hand visibly squeeze the flesh tattooed with shackles.
“Kneel!” the human’s booming voice carried over the shocked crowd without a problem, loud enough to even scare off some birds off of the nearby trees.
The redhead locked into place, eyes glazing over and shame seeping out of the very pores of his skin. Then he slowly kneeled, mechanically like he was fighting against his body every step of the way. Once he was on the ground his head hung low, whether it be in humiliation or obedience, and it was a terrible heart-wrenching sight.
The boy let go and then victoriously turned to the audience, smug grin wide on his face, leaving the dragon sitting in the dirt. Then there was an abrupt wave of cheering and clapping, a thunderous sound that swept through the whole garden and Lord Kim was running towards the arena, screaming praises for the only one of us who managed to defeat their dragon.
Shock, disgust and dread kept me frozen in my place, heart squeezing painfully in my chest and lungs constricted. I felt like I was going to be sick, like all that was going to come out of me would be black poisonous sludge from the display we bore witness to.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the lone being shamefully kneeled there, unable to stand up until another command came. A wave of emotions swept through me – rage, compassion, pain – and tears almost sprung into my eyes, but I quickly blinked them away.
When my eyes swept through the crowd, there wasn’t enough horror in people for this to have taken place. Most were sitting around, pleased and happy and talking about the champion. The dragons looked uncomfortable, eyes avoidant and their postures tense. Hard and frozen.
I saw Hwa-young, her face serious and troubled, lips a thin line as she stared at the man who was happily conversing with a bunch of good-for-nothing lords.
It was hard to compute he did something like that. And even harder to compute that it was allowed, in a friendly duel, against a dragon that wasn’t even his bonded.
Even though people liked to pretend that dragons were here all on the accord of their own free will, pretend like they weren’t forced and enslaved, pretend like they wouldn’t get punished if they didn’t go along with their whims, the shackles still remained a stark reminder of their status.
And while the only person who could directly command them was the emperor, or the dragon’s bonded, anyone could really force the dragon into obedience by grabbing their neck. The shackle was a ‘mark of magic’ (among others) – it showcased the place where the dragon was touched with a curse.
And this curse forced them into obedience to humankind. They couldn’t fight against a human and wish him serious harm, they couldn’t go against the emperor or anyone in the position of power, and they couldn’t not obey direct commands coming to them. The magic in their blood enforced their behaviour and there was nothing they could do about it.
So if you wanted to command a dragon and have him be coerced into listening to you, all you had to do was grab their neck where their shackle was, thus activating the curse.
That redhead wouldn’t be able to stand up until he was similarly commanded to do so, because he couldn’t break the order to kneel. It was absolutely disgusting and barbaric.
The conversation really seemed to have moved on, no one paying attention to him. Peacock left with Lord Kim, along with some other novices. Hwa-young and puppy boy stood frozen by the fence for a moment before they guiltily avoided their eyes and moved towards the fray of festivities too. Not that I could blame them.
I didn’t know anything about his background, but Hwa-young certainly couldn’t make a scene about a dragon given the precarious situation she was in.
At least one thing my stupid fucking surname was good for. Sometimes I could get away with being untouchable (sans the consequences my father would give when I got home, but that was a private affair – what they don’t know… can’t hurt me).
Not being able to take it anymore, I steeled myself and made my way towards the arena displaying much more confidence than I actually felt. Presentation was key, I endlessly told myself, in a voice that suspiciously sounded like my father. Subtly checking my surroundings, it seemed that no one was really paying attention to me yet. Which was good, but it would change quickly.
When I got to him, his shoulders were slumped, head still down and refusing to look up. The dragon probably assumed I’d come to mock him, and it broke my heart a little. Once more looking around to make sure nobody cared what I was doing, I kneeled in front him too.
I heard his little gasp of surprise, but he didn’t move in the slightest.
People considered it to be humiliating to kneel in front of a slave, which is why he probably didn’t see often people drop down to his level instead of commanding him to look up. I cleared my throat somewhat awkwardly.
“Pardon the intrusion,” I mumbled softly, making sure he was the only one who heard me, “Don’t panic, I’m going to touch your neck in a moment, okay?” For a few silent moments I waited for him to nod, and he finally realised that as well when no touch came after my words.
After his confirmation I brough my hand to his shackle gently, trying to be as unintrusive as possible, but no matter how much I tried this would always be a violation of them. I felt the magic come alive under my fingertips, thrumming violently through my blood. It was an ugly kind of magic and it made me sick when it filled my being with its aura.
Swallowing the noise of protest at the sensation, I didn’t want to stress him more, I quickly said: “You can stand, and you’re free of commands.” I saw his shoulders relaxing, and he shivered lightly. I quickly tore my hand away from his skin and stood up again, knees protesting at the swift movement.
I offered him my hand, but he ignored it as he himself stood up. His knees must have been in even worse shape after sitting on the rough ground like that, but he carried himself gracefully, shame persistently seeping in at the edges. When our eyes met, he curtly nodded my way and then swiftly walked off, leaving the gathering behind him.
I couldn’t blame him.
A good half an hour went by before I heard Lord Kim’s voice exclaim: “Oh no! Where did our dragon disappear to?” By then I had already moved closer to the shooting range and watched servants bring out and prepare the six horses that would be involved in the next discipline.
There were some general gasps, people looking around with disappointment painting their faces, but no one spoke out against me. No one looked at me, or even cared that I still sat by the side, leading me to assume that my actions haven’t been noticed, thankfully.
As the commotion slowly quietened, I willed my heart to calm down, body sagging lightly against the stone bench.
While I was looking forward to the last discipline, horseback shooting at moving targets, the atmosphere hung heavy over us after the last match, and it was hard to have any enjoyment from anything taking place. Peacock of course was in great spirits and the two expressionless guys that haven’t said a single word as far as I was concerned didn’t seem to care at all, but we the remaining three all showed different signs of uneasiness, the good mood sapped out of us in the blink of an eye.
We stood in a hushed group, still processing everything, while the others were already claiming horses and preparing their bows.
“I was kind of expecting it and it still caught me off guard that he’d just… go there,” finally Hwa-young broke the silence, looking at me solemnly. I gave her a confused look, tilting my head slightly.
“What do you mean ‘expecting it’?” the question fell out my lips and it drew the attention of the boy.
“The blond one tried to reach for the neck, but got quickly overpowered,” he jumped in to explain, “I thought it was more like a tactic to scare her or psych her out, at the moment it didn’t look like he’d really go for it.” His gaze was pointing to one of those silent two, a tall blond with cold blue eyes.
“Oh!” he suddenly exclaimed, hand flying to me in an offered handshake, “I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Choi Siwoo, of the southeast clan.” I only hesitated for a split second before I took it, attempting a small smile even with my heart still heavy.
I was kind of already beginning to like Hwa, her story and attitude made me trust in her good side a little more, and this guy seemed to be just a ball of sunshine. She evidently got along with him and for the moment I’ve decided to tentatively trust her judgement.
God knows I’d need as many allies on my side as possible and I trusted that Hwa-young of all people wouldn’t have a problem with me based on my clan. Plus both of them most probably had the same opinion as me about the violating display peacock put on.
It was quite sad, but once you found people who actually believed dragons to be real beings with real rights, you’d better hand onto them and not let them go. I myself was painfully aware of how meagre the numbers of those were.
Siwoo’s face brightened with a toothy grin, hand briefly squeezing mine before he pulled back. There was a little bit of relief on his face and I wondered whether he was worried I’d reject his friendship offer. He and Hwa exchanged a short happy look, she nodded a little, and then turned to beam at me. A little snicker escaped my lips at their shenanigans, but I didn’t stick around to see their faces split with wide smiles.
Instead I finally started making my way towards one of the still available horses, choosing a white one with black and brown spots, absentmindedly picking up the bow and quiver with arrows. Once we were all on horseback and ready, Lord Kim once again climbed up to a little platform and with a few pompous words blew the whistle.
I was miles away in my mind, just going with the flow of the horse’s movement. I’ve always loved horses since little, and anytime I found myself on one I usually relaxed very quickly, which combined with my troubled heart and mind had me escaping away from this awful little banquet, my mind carrying me to the green pastures and meadows of our fief.
Thus I ended up missing my first shot, just breezing past the target without even pulling out my bow. A quick shout of my name later I was confusedly looking around only to see Hwa-young’s worried face. She gestured to her bow and I immediately realised I must have not even seen where I was supposed to be shooting.
The discipline went on, and after a few circle arounds I even managed to hit a bullseye, more or less on accident. The crowd gave me some polite applause, but I found myself as shocked as half the people sitting there on that garden.
By the time they finally called us back, I was already prepared to disappear home the next second I could. I was over all this, mentally and physically drained and I hated the audience watching our every move, my skin crawling with every curious or hateful glance.
Of course, we were meant to be socialising more, but I planned to slink off the moment people stopped paying attention to me. Having led the horse back to the stables, I was back in the crowd, slowly making my way inside to grab some more refreshments. I ignored the hum of murmurs around me, mocking my score or whispering about my father.
When someone threw a glare at me, I returned it with a polite smile, the tiredness pulling the attitude back onto the surface. Today had quite enough of diplomatic and courteous encounters, now I was done.
Making it over to the almost empty buffet table, a scowl was already pulling down at my lips, making me look even more unfriendly than usual. When somebody’s presence suddenly made itself known behind me, I was ready to snark at them until they left. They couldn’t even let me eat in peace.
For a few moments I continued to ignore the person, even though I knew they were messing around with something on the table, hoping they weren’t here for me after all, but all those hopes got shattered the moment they walked up straight to me and tapped my shoulder.
I started turning around, a smart retort already about to slip off of my tongue when I came face to face with a broad chest and shoulders, tattoos peeking from his tunic and pierced lips, and it promptly withered and died in my throat. He had tattoos there as well? How did I miss that?
Lightly flustered I quickly snapped my head up, searching for the dragon’s eyes. Jungkook was grinning at me from up above, gaze sparkling just like before. I stumbled a step or two back, putting some more space between us to make the height gap less blaringly obvious. He snickered at me, but stayed put, leisurely leaning with his hip on the table.
“Looked like you were booking it, so I wanted to catch you before you disappear,” the dragon explained with a knowing smile, “just to set some things straight.” A soft questioning noise left my mouth, a mixture of anxiety and confusion hitting me. Sudden fear that he’d come here to let me down gently gripped me and I desperately tried to temper it down, not even recognising myself and the strange behaviour I’d been exhibiting since I accepted his handshake.
Jungkook seemed blissfully oblivious though and kept cooly leaning on the table, completely relaxed in his stance and expression. My calculative gaze slid from his head to his toes, trying to gauge what he’d feel the need to tell me this urgently. Preparing myself for the worst, I invited him to speak with a gesture of my arm.
“I want to reserve your noon three days from now,” the dragon told me, body language still quite laid-back, lulling me into believing that maybe this wasn’t bad news after all, “A personal training, after that we’ll talk.”
Even though I tried to keep my expression in check, I couldn’t eliminate the chance that he heard my heart happily jump in my chest and skip a few beats. The expression on his face was earnest when I lost to myself and checked it just to be sure, but I also noticed a light dusting of a blush over his cheekbones while his fingers tried to detangle his bangs from the little horns coming out of his forehead. With a start I realised that his hair actually wasn’t black, but there was a deep purple metallic sheen to it that gave off little coloured flashes when it was hit by the light right.
He cleared his throat, somewhat awkwardly, and started shuffling. Immediately I realised I haven’t actually answered to him and instead just stood there staring at him. I couldn’t help the rush of colour to my cheeks and briefly I wondered whether his blush meant he was feeling similar effects of the established connection.
I’d have to research bonds a little, I’d never known it could influence you like this. Wistfully I thought back to the memory of my teacher, the desperate desire to know where he was or that he’d be still here with me manifesting again. He’d tell me everything, answer all of my questions without hesitation.
But before I could get too off track in my thoughts and leave Jungkook even more hanging, I cleared my throat as well. “Does- Does that mean you are interested in pursuing the connection?” I squeaked out, throat a little dry and my flustered state making it hard to speak seriously.
The dragon grinned at me, boyish and free with a hint of mischief, and it did make me thaw a little in face of such a display. It made him look young and on top of the world, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from briefly jumping to his shackled neck with a painful pang to my heart.
“Of course!” he exclaimed loudly, “You seem pretty cool.” I raised my eyebrow at him, but ultimately chose to not answer to that. Taking another step back I let food be food and returned an impish grin of my own.
“Sure then, see you in three days.” Jungkook seemed very satisfied by that answer and without further ado turned around to leave.
I watched him go with my heart quivering in both hope and nerves as I found myself so close to the edge of something great. Of something meaningful. I couldn’t mess it up now.
Of course my father would be beyond overjoyed that I’d managed to catch the attention of Bangtan, as it would catapult me straight to the top. It would cement me as something special from the very beginning, and that was all he ever wanted of us. The emperor would surely allow me to ride him, because I was a Kang and that was all that mattered. I’d finally make myself useful and aide my father in his power-hungry ways.
But that wasn’t what I wanted.
No. I wanted to change the world. Change would always have to start at the top.
And I would bring this empire down, once and for all.
With a true genuine smile I also turned on my heel, in a completely different direction, and swiftly left the banquet behind me. It was time to learn how to impress a dragon.
Jungkook was slowly getting fed up with Jimin’s disconcerted looks thrown his way, the older dragon making it well known for the several past hours just how upset he was with the youngest.
“Okay, god, I get it, can you stop staring at me like that?” he grumbled out, flinching at his mate’s disbelieving expression. The smaller man had basically smoke rising from his head with how angry he seemed to be, and that was a feat considering he was a water dragon.
“Excuse me?!” he exclaimed wildly, “So dare you explain to me what the hell was that?!” Something strange and tense settled between them the moment Jungkook offered the Kang girl his hand, and he knew this was long time coming, the blue-haired man very obviously just looking for an opportunity to have a private chat with him.
Jungkook shrugged, and in hindsight, that wasn’t the best reaction judging by the frustrated noise he got from Jimin in answer, but he himself didn’t really know. Honestly, he was just as confused as everyone else, but something just… compelled him?
“I- I don’t know,” he quickly remedied, not wanting to provoke the other dragon even more, “it just felt like the thing to do.” That earned him a frown. Jimin stopped in his tracks, turning to look at his youngest mate with something slightly alarming making itself home in his eyes.
“What do you mean?” he asked quietly, gaze imploring and looking for answers, “Jungkook, this wasn’t just ‘something to do’, you could have made a huge fool out of yourself. Not to mention that you don’t just go around offering handshakes to riders! You skipped several steps of a whole process that’s there for a reason!”
Jungkook shrunk under the barrage of Jimin’s upset words, the inkling need to start defending himself and get upset back wiggling into his bones, but on a rational level he knew his mate was more worried than anything.
“Bonds are fickle things, you don’t simply jump headfirst into it with a complete stranger!” the water dragon continued, determined to let it all out now that they were gone from public and had space to hash it out, “It could have made you sick, it could have felt awful, it could have connected you to a terrible person. It’s not as simple as introducing yourself, bonds are strong and deep and they can influence you. You don’t go around doing that with everyone, you wait until you meet a person that feels right to offer it to!” That was Jungkook’s opening.
“But didn’t you feel it too, hyung?” he whispered, knowing he succeeded in worming some doubt into his hyung’s mind, “It was there even before we touched. That’s what I meant when I said it just felt… right to do. I can’t explain it, I just knew it was meant to happen somehow. And you know how gullible I am to instincts!” He threw in a good pout as well, grabbing onto Jimin’s sleeve and selling the cuteness to the max.
Jimin gave him a chastising look, but it was obvious his resolve was breaking and he was fighting his own smile at the cute display.
“I saw how you reacted, hyung,” Jungkook whispered again, hand sliding down to lock their fingers together, “I know you felt something.”
Both dragons were very well aware that something about this bond was strange, but neither knew how to explain to the other the sensations and feelings that ran through them in that moment they touched. Jimin pursed his lips, not finding the right words and feeling in way over his head.
“Let’s get home, I want to talk to hyungs about it,” he simply murmured and started dragging the other with him through the silent dark streets of the capital city. This part was always dead quiet in the middle of the night, the proximity of the royal palace scaring all nightly activities away into more shady parts. The shadow of the empire just always hung over this district, turning its atmosphere into something rotten and heavy.
It wasn’t far to their town house, the building that they reluctantly used whenever they needed to stay over in the capital as opposed to flying two hours back to their den, and both quickly found themselves enveloped in a much warmer aura of their combined scents. Even this deep into the night there was a hum of activity heard, signalling that the whole thunder was still awake and most likely waiting for their return.
Tae was sitting with Hoseok outside in the tiny yard, but they immediately moved inside the moment they heard the two sets of footsteps. The rest of the mates were all already sitting by the dining table, small refreshments waiting for them while Yoongi peacefully read something, and Namjoon was intensely staring at a couple of glowing rocks.
Seokjin’s head suddenly popped into the room from the adjacent study, warm smile already in place.
“How was Jungkook’s first choosing?” he asked eagerly, quickly padding over to the table and sitting down along with a very interested Tae and a smiling Hoseok. And as shaken as Jungkook and Jimin were from the whole afternoon, they noticed a small strain in their thunder’s expressions as well, deepening the concerned feelings already swirling through their own chests.
“We have to talk,” jumped Jimin straight in without a preamble, choosing the least comforting words anyone could ever say. The other dragons in the room didn’t seem to be very surprised though, only indication of the statement being heard was Jin’s soft sigh and the soft thud of Yoongi closing his book and putting it away.
Five sets of eyes trained on them, waiting for the explanation, and Jungkook helplessly looked towards his hyung to start.
“Jungkook found a potential rider,” Jimin started, eyes never leaving Jungkook’s face, his own troubled when he finally turned to the others.
“Isn’t that sort of a happy occasion?” Namjoon tested out, but as they all noticed before, the hyungs already seemed to be aware of something happening during the afternoon.
“Well, he just stuck his hand out to her within ten minutes of meeting her,” Jimin suddenly snitched petulantly, leaving Jungkook standing there with his mouth hanging wide open at the betrayal.
“Hyung!” he whined out at the same time as Jin’s horrified “Jungkook!” floated through the room.
“It felt right!” he shouted frustrated, feeling like he’s been endlessly repeating himself forever now and everyone just ignored that and focused on the more blaring fact of him completely disregarding age-old rules and making his potential bond into a public spectacle.
But despite his expectations, Jimin didn’t protest, or even got into a needless fight with him about it. Instead, he looked towards the older dragons, unsure and nervous. All of them were suddenly shifting in their seats, drawn closer by Jimin’s obvious distress and ready to jump in and comfort him at the drop of the hat.
“That’s the thing,” the water dragon whispered, “it did. I felt it too.” Silence set over the room. The rug’s been suddenly pulled from under his feet as he thought back to the moment, to the lighting of pure energy zapping through his entire being, feeling as if his fingers were about to burst into flames. To the moment he finally tore his eyes from Y/N and saw his hyung’s horror and shock, immediately pulling him close to whisper if he was okay as Jungkook just stared and tried to comprehend what happened.
It explained a lot.
“What?” was what came out of his mouth though, “You felt the bond through me?” The man in question silently nodded, opening his mouth and considering whether he should speak more. In the end he sighed and resigned himself to this conversation fully.
“Yeah, I felt it through our bond,” Jimin explained closely, “It was strong enough that even I felt the power of it. It’s never happened to me before. I’d never felt any of your bondings, let alone the first contact.” The troubled expression on the faces of the other dragons doubled and the two finally noticed it.
“Do you know what that means?” the question was aimed towards Yoongi and Namjoon who had arguably the most knowledge on most things, and if they didn’t know it currently, they definitely had a book detailing it, but everyone at the table shifted uncomfortably. Jungkook started having the sense of what must have happened.
“You felt it too, didn’t you?” he whispered, the disbelief creeping into his tired voice. There was a beat of silence, a slight hesitation and then Yoongi nodded.
“Yes, but it wasn’t anywhere near as strong as what you said,” the black-haired man explained, voice soothing to attempt and calm the rising emotions, “it was more like an echo of what you two were experiencing.”
For a moment they all just let that information sink in, exchanging nervous glances. Hoseok released a long deep breath, drawing the attention to himself.
“So Jungkookie felt a pull towards someone, immediately went ahead and established a connection and everyone felt an amount of an echo of it through the bond,” he summarised, gesturing towards the two solemn bookworms sitting at the head of the table, “and I’m assuming you’ve also never heard of anything like that happening.”
Both of them shook their head at the same time, and their synchronisation would have been adorable if it wasn’t for the heavy atmosphere in the room.
“What do we do then?” Tae broke the silence tentatively, looking around everyone with his deep soothing eyes.
“Well,” Seokjin sighed again, slapping one hand on the table and startling poor Yoongi that was up to that point lost in thought sitting next to him, “We keep an eye on the bond. Jungkook, you just go about it as normally as possible. Jimin, you tag along with him and observe. Yoongi, Namjoon, please tell me you know where to dig up information about this?” Namjoon hummed thoughtfully, golden eyes glazing over in the same way they always did when he started mentally going through the never-ending catalogue of books they’ve managed amass in their hoard over the centuries.
“I’m certain we have a whole section of the library about bonds, it is a very researched subject, but I don’t remember ever encountering a mention of this,” he said finally, determination setting into his shoulders along with excitement to tackle something that was potentially unknown to them. Even though he’d prefer if this completely new phenomenon happened to someone else and not to his own packmate so he could study it in peace and not worry about them all the time.
Yoongi suddenly stood up, back cracking from being slouched over the table for god knows how long, and he started slowly making his way for his usual travel backpack.
“We have to go back to the den to go through all that though, are you all going to be okay here?” he said, face turning a little softer when he threw a look at his thunder. He was always worrying about them, and they all threw him fond looks back, bringing a slight reddish tint to the top of his ears.
“Of course, the universe won’t fall apart if you’re not here all the time, Yoongi,” Jin sassed him back, but making sure to throw him a little wink in teasing. The black-haired dragon smirked. “You don’t know that,” he rumbled back and then he was swiftly walking out onto the street, leaving Namjoon to scramble out behind him, shouting some apologetic goodbyes as he ran after his hyung.
As the situation settled a little bit and the remaining five sat around the table and played with the prepared food, there was still tension hanging over them. Jungkook especially was lost in thought, wondering about what this meant for him and his fate, and the fate of his mates.
He’d never had a bonded before, he was so far out of his zone here, and it made him nervous that his all-powerful, all-knowing hyungs seemed to be just as surprised by the situation.
His thoughts inevitably carried him to the image of his potential bond, to the expressive eyes screaming out even through the carefully crafted mask of indifference, to the memory of her fighting in the ring. To her kneeling for a dragon and whispering to him softly to make him more comfortable.
He knew Jimin didn’t catch that, too busy being lost in thought and upset about Jungkook’s blunder, and it felt wrong bringing something like that up, but it helped him feel that this person was right to bond with. Jungkook has always been close to his instincts, and currently they were telling him this was where they were supposed to be.
His thunder would disagree, they would scold him and call him too naïve, but against the better judgement of his hyungs, he already felt the beginnings of trust establishing between him and who he hoped would be his rider by the end of the week.
He knew he would go along with this, he only had to persuade the others to believe in him and his instincts too.
Summary: The Dark Circus is what we call it. The shows that take place after dark are not for the faint of heart. The world of circus acts and freak shows have always been filled with wonder and oddities, but the seven men who perform after the crowds have gone and the gates have let in those who aren't afraid to venture into the dark and unknown are different. And just like their secrets that run deep, so too, does their obsession.
BTS Ot7 x Reader
⚠️ ⚠️ ⚠️ : Mature themes. 18+ recommended.
This story will use a lot of visual aids for the setting of the story and what is happening.
Status: Ongoing
Teaser/Trailer Character Clips Masterlist
Drabbles Masterlist
Prologue 👇
BTS Ot7 x Reader
Prologue
First part for the next series y'all 🫶🫶 I hope it gets as much love as my other series.
This will be an Ot7 Dar
Chapter 1 ● Chapter 2 ● Chapter 3 ●
Chapter 4 ● Chapter 5 ● Chapter 6 ●
Chapter 7 ● Chapter 8 ● Chapter 9 ●
Chapter 10 ● Chapter 11 ● Chapter 12 ●
Chapter 13 ● Chapter 14 ● Chapter 15 ●
Chapter 16 ● Chapter 17 ● Chapter 18 ●
Chapter 19 ● Chapter 20 ● Chapter 21 ●
Chapter 22 ●
Shadows We Trust is an original work written by remedyx. Unauthorized use or reposting of this story on any other platform besides Tumblr and Wattpad not under the username (remedyx or Remedy_X) is plagiarism and will not be tolerated.
Every day, every moment
If I knew this was going to happen
I would have remembered more of them
-Still With You
Summary: With You Still is a story that follows the lives of Luna and her most cherished friends. Love, Lust. Life, Loss. Passion, Pain. Desire and Death. Those are the many things that befall them as they navigate life trying to find their purpose. Will she be able to find a way to reach that utopia she had once dreamed of? Or will she realize that things that might've felt like a dream come true can soon be twisted into her worst nightmare. Read as Luna, Jungkook, Grey and Jimin navigate this thing called life. Will they get through this with their friendships intact? Only time will tell...
Pairing: Luna (reader) x Jungkook and Jimin, f2l love triangle
Word Count: on going
Warnings: Explicit language, yändere, mental illness, death, substance abuse, sex, domestic violence and sexual assault. Please keep this in mind as the story progresses.
a/n: This story is one I put a lot of effort into so that means longer chapters and a lot more chapters to come. This is one I had up on Wattpad but I'm moving it over to tumblr since it's really the only platform I use now. So far I have 11 and a half chapters written so I hope you guys are down for a longer story this time around 🥰
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Feel free to fill out the form or just comment on any of my fics to be added :)
I just wanted to ask if you have deleted or removed the 'he owned me, not anymore' series or it's just my network problem. Just asking bcs it's deleted on wattpad too.
Hi i removed the book from here. You can find it on wattpad
⟶ summary: Marry the vampire king. Save the kingdom.
Your father is the king of a rare human kingdom that has been plagued by famine and sickness. And in a last ditch effort to save the kingdom, he has arranged for you to marry the vampire king to the north. Your hand in marriage in exchange for his help in saving your kingdom.
Everything you swore could never happen between the two of you begins to unfold as you spend more time in the vampire kingdom with its king and his subjects. Can you learn to love this place and it’s beloved ruler?
Sure sis, tbh I LOVE yandere content and I have read countless stories so this is just the few stories that I can come up with off the top of my head rn 👇🏻
I ADORE this author and her yandere exo series plus her ask my muse honestly inspired me to do my own. I highly recommend everyone check out the Monster Yandere Exo series but since you asked for BTS, @mint-yooxgi has two so far👇🏻
Haunted- Yandere! Ghost! Jungkook x Reader
Falling for you- Yandere! Fallen Angel! x Reader
Okay so this is unorthodox but I’m gonna recommend a WHOLE blog bc their reactions and drabbles are just god teir yandere content. @bangtans-apollo but their stories are these two here, both ongoing👇🏻
Euphonious- Siren/ Yandere Jungkook x Reader
Mesonoxian- Yandere, Hybrid and Mafia Jimin x reader. (Some slight Jk and YG too)
A Knight Of Wonder by @shitpostingftw is BRILLIANT. Yandere Yoonji(gender bend) and queen au x reader. it’s steak sauce I swear to god, the only reason it’s not the first one I listed down is bc it took me a fat minute to find but yeah💗💗💗💗
Embroidery by @bibbykins is so well written and gorgeous and It’s a soft yandere Taehyung but it’s still there and it’s PHENOMENAL.
I honestly don’t knew a lot of stories with Namjoon, Jin or Hoseok so pls plug some in the comments if u know of any💗💗
kk so here is one other one I wanna drop in here bc it’s so good but so few ppl talk about it for some reason and it’s an Exo Sehun one but it’s by far one of the best yandere stories ever so pls give it a read even tho it’s not bts👇🏻
Limerence by @heebiejbies. Obsessive/Yandere Sehun x OC. It’s one of the best series I’ve ever read. The writer is so good bc you get to see Sehun’s descent into madness and in a weird way you understand him bc the character development is marvelous. HIGHEST RECOMMENDATION!💗💗
Please give all of these amazing authors the love and attention they deserve. Honestly nothing warms a writers heart than seeing the readers complimenting us in our inbox so pls show them ur appreciation so they can create more beautiful pieces. Also check out my stories bc lmao self plug 🤪
— pairing: jungkook x f!reader
— genre: mermaid au, yandere au
— w.c: 4.6k
— warnings: explicit sexual content! heavy dub-con touching/intercourse, forced breeding, oviposition, mentions of death/violence, general yandere themes
— notes: ah, here we finally are, the last part/finale to the story! please keep the warnings in mind, and don’t read this chapter if you’re uncomfortable with anything stated above!
Part I / II / III / IIII
You’re not sure how long you’ve been here. After the second week of just blankly staring at the never changing cave walls surrounding you, you figured there was no point in keeping track of it. What good does it do you anyway? It’s not like counting the days will miraculously get you out of here. While you might not know the number, you do know that it’s been far too many. Your skin has grown pale and gaunt from the lack of sunshine and warmth you’re so used to, and the diet of raw fish hasn’t exactly been very kind to you. The cave is tall enough for you to stand up in comfortably, so at least your circulation isn’t completely shot, but you honestly lack the energy to stay on your feet for too long. Escaping, even just back up to the island, is your only chance at survival. You don’t think you’re going to last very long down here. It’s already gotten to the point where you’ve begun looking forward to Jungkook’s short daily visits, even just the sight of something almost human enough to keep you sane.
You let out a heavy sigh, the noise echoing around the cave as you lean back against the stone wall. Over the last couple of days, the creature has begun to bring you little treasures alongside with your food. You’re not exactly sure why, but it’s nice to have something to do – even if it’s just tracing the patterns on the lockets and pendants over and over. You run your fingers over the small pile of golden jewelry by your side, trying your best to keep your thoughts away from the people it must have belonged to. Jimin might have managed to get away, but you doubt the rest of them did. Two of the pendants in your pile belonged to the crew Jimin brought with him, and you suspect that if you give Jungkook a few more days, he’ll bring you the remaining three. As if you summoned him with your straying thoughts, a small splash in the water alerts you of the creature’s arrival. You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook hoisting himself up on the ledge, another fish and a new pendant dropped at your feet. You silently scoot closer to the edge, offering up your hand to the creature’s expectant red eyes. Jungkook nuzzles into your hand with a happy thrill, rubbing his cheek along your palm. You suppress a shudder at the sound, ignoring the soft skin underneath your fingertips as you stare at the headless fish at your feet. Sometimes you wish you could share the same fate as your food.
One thing I realized after reading the stories written by you in succession is how much improved, mature and on point your writings has become.
Your storyline has always been phenomenal but the way you portray them, He Owned me not Anymore showed how far you have come as a writer in terms of delivering ( The lines, the wording, the way you choose the next phase of the story).
This specially makes me so happy as a reader to watch that when you start something new, something out of pure joy where you are not so worried about perfection and then carrying through the process and it becomes something so refine without us even noticing the small detailing that changed in time.
But this doesn't make the previous work any less valuable, rather more precious because those not so perfect writing laid the foundation of what is there today. The emotions, the caring touch are still there but somehow they have become more effortless and seamless. It's such a joyful thing to experience ❤️
Kudos to you and to journey you made to become such refine write today and thank you for letting us experience that!
Borahae 💜
Its actually interesting for myself to see how my writing and story has changed over time 😍😍😍😍😍. Thank you so much fir reading all of my stories your support means a lot to me!!!!!
