Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The palace halls were silent, yet humming with tension — the kind that clung to the air before a storm broke.

Seokjin stormed through the corridor like a flame in silk, barefoot, his robe hastily thrown on, barely tied. His cheeks burned with rage, his hands clenched at his sides. Guards stepped aside with their heads bowed, but he didn’t notice them. His eyes were fixed ahead.

On him.

Kim Namjoon.

The Emperor.

Cruel. Cold. Brilliant. And everything Seokjin loathed and longed for.

He shoved open the carved doors to the Emperor’s private chambers.

Namjoon was in the middle of dressing — the silk drape of his imperial robe hung loose from his shoulder, exposing part of his toned chest and the intricate black ink that trailed down one side of his body. An attendant stood frozen mid-motion, adjusting his collar, until Namjoon raised a hand to dismiss him.

“Leave,” the Emperor said quietly, without looking back.

The door shut behind the servant.

“What is this I hear about a marriage proposal?” Seokjin snapped.

Namjoon finally turned toward him.

Even now — with fury running through his veins — Seokjin’s breath caught at the sight of him. Thirty-six and terrifyingly composed, Namjoon looked every inch the ruler, his dark eyes unreadable.

“You listen well,” Namjoon said calmly, “for someone who’s not meant to hear these things.”

Seokjin’s nostrils flared.

“You're sending me away?” he spat. “To some soft-bellied peace province like I’m a pawn on your board?”

“It’s a good match,” Namjoon replied, turning back to the mirror, adjusting the chain of jade over his shoulder. “They offered peace. A royal heir for a prince. You’re of age soon—”

“Don’t,” Seokjin hissed. “Don’t talk about me like I’m some object on your fucking shelf.”

Namjoon’s jaw ticked. “This is war politics, Seokjin. You wouldn’t understand.”

“You think I don’t understand?” Seokjin said, voice sharp with grief. “My father died for your war. My brother bled out in your name.”

Namjoon’s face didn’t change. But something flickered in his eyes.

“You were supposed to protect what remained of my family,” Seokjin said, stepping closer. “But you just want to sell me to the next idiot who waves a peace treaty.”

Namjoon turned fully toward him, expression hard. “It was Yoongi’s last wish. That I keep you safe.”

“And forcing me to marry a stranger is your idea of safe?”

Before Namjoon could speak, Seokjin grabbed the collar of his robes with both hands and yanked him downward.

And then—

Lips.

Soft, warm, and trembling—but fierce in intent. Seokjin pressed his mouth to Namjoon’s like a weapon, like it was the only way to shut him up, like it was the only way to speak his truth.

Namjoon froze.

The world tilted. His balance faltered. His heart stuttered inside his chest.

He didn’t expect it—the taste of wild peaches on Seokjin’s lips, the heat of his breath, the sheer boldness of the act. The boy had always been sassy, sharp-tongued, untamable—but this... this was something else. This was raw.

For a split second—just one damned, forbidden second—Namjoon’s hands twitched at his sides, the heat of Seokjin’s body too close, the scent of his skin too intoxicating.

And then his instincts roared back to life. No. This couldn’t happen.

He shoved Seokjin back, chest rising in a sharp inhale, eyes wide in disbelief.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he barked, breathless, shaken.

Seokjin didn’t flinch. His lips were still parted from the kiss, swollen and pink, his cheeks flushed, eyes dark with defiance and something else Namjoon didn’t want to name.

Seokjin staggered a step, breathing hard.

Seokjin’s eyes were wild.

“That’s what I want to ask,” he growled. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Silence buzzed between them, electric and volatile.

“If you ever — ever — bring a proposal for me again,” Seokjin said, each word like a blade, “I’ll strangle you in your sleep.”

And he left.

His bare feet slapped against the cold stone floor as he vanished down the hall.

Namjoon stood in silence, his chest rising and falling heavily, his lips parted slightly from where Seokjin had kissed him.

A long breath.

The silk hung heavy on Namjoon’s shoulders, his ceremonial robe stitched with dragons and blood-red trim, but it wasn't the weight of the garments that made him feel buried.

It was the kiss.

Seokjin’s kiss.

Furious, impulsive, full of fire. It lingered on Namjoon’s lips like a curse.

He stood before the mirror, silent as the royal attendant fastened the golden brooch at his collar. But Namjoon wasn’t looking at his reflection. He was staring into the past.

Ten years ago.

Yoongi, bloodied and half-broken, had knelt before him on the battlefield. The sky had been black with smoke, the earth soaked in crimson. But Yoongi's voice—calm, steady—had cut through the chaos.

“If I die, you protect him. You raise him like your own. He’s only six. He’s got no one left but me.”

Yoongi, the Iron General of the Empire. His most loyal friend. His brother-in-arms. The man who never asked for anything—until that moment.

And Namjoon had sworn it.

“I promise.”

That same night, Yoongi fell to enemy blades, defending Namjoon’s flank to the last breath. His sword was never recovered. Only the body.

Namjoon had taken Seokjin into the palace the next day.

The boy had cried silently at his brother’s funeral, fists clenched, face unreadable even at six. He hadn’t said a word for a week. Then he asked Namjoon one question:

“Did my brother die because of you?”

And Namjoon had answered, honestly:

“Yes.”

Since then, Seokjin had grown within palace walls. Stubborn. Brilliant. Sarcastic. With a tongue like a blade and a face like a moonlit painting. No noble blood, but the court bowed to him out of respect for his brother—and fear of the emperor’s fondness.

Namjoon had kept his distance.

But watched. Always watched.

And now Seokjin was sixteen. Old enough to marry. Old enough to leave.

Namjoon had thought it would be safer for him to be wed to the prince of Seoul, a small peace-loving kingdom far from the Empire’s ruthless politics. The prince was gentle, educated, soft. Everything Namjoon was not.

“He’d be safe there,” Namjoon had told himself.

He was wrong.

Because Seokjin wasn’t soft. Wasn’t meek.

He was a storm wrapped in silk.

And tonight, he had kissed Namjoon like he wanted to burn the world down.

Namjoon’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. His jaw clenched.

He couldn’t forget the heat of Seokjin’s mouth. The way the boy had yanked him down by the collar, lips bruising and eyes blazing. 

And it shattered everything Namjoon had tried to suppress.

He exhaled sharply.

The door creaked open. His royal assistant, Han, stepped inside, bowing low.

"Your Majesty, shall I send word to Seoul of your acceptance?"

Namjoon turned away from the mirror.

“No,” he said coldly. “Cancel the proposal.”

Han blinked. “Shall I offer reason?”

“Send them gold. Silks. Trade rights if they press. Tell them we reconsidered.”

Han bowed again, retreating with swift obedience.

Namjoon remained in place. Silent.

He knew he had crossed a line by letting that kiss linger for even a second. But what could he do now? Marry him off? Chain him to another man when Seokjin’s lips had already dared to claim him?

“You don’t belong to me,” Namjoon muttered, “and I don’t deserve you.”

He touched his mouth. The phantom of the kiss still there.

Seokjin was Yoongi’s legacy. The last promise Namjoon had ever made to the man who died protecting him.

But something shifted tonight.

And it terrified him.

Because now...

He didn’t just want to protect Seokjin.

He wanted to keep him.

✳️✳️✳️

The emperor stepped into his private chambers, rubbing the tension from his temple. The day had been long—riddled with petitions, war reports, and councils. All he longed for was a moment of solitude. A good fuck… 

But his breath halted when he saw the figure lying on his bed.

“Jin?” he muttered, voice caught between surprise and frustration.

Seokjin lay nakedly, beneath a blanket of thin red silk, the covers clutched just above his chest. His eyes met Namjoon’s with that same unyielding fire he had seen in the morning.. 

Seokjin's eyes glittered in the candlelight. He lifted his chin defiantly.

“I sent away your whore,” He said coldly, voice sharp despite the softness of the room. “Just get it over with. I know you’ve decided I’m old enough to be fucked.. So take what you want.”

Namjoon stared at him, unmoving.

With a slow, almost painful movement, Seokjin let the blanket slide off his chest, exposing his porcelain skin to the cold air.

But Namjoon didn’t look. Not at his body.

Only at his face.

That face he remembered tear-streaked from a decade ago, clinging to his brother's armor after Yoongi's death. That same boy, now grown into something wild, angry, and beautiful.

Namjoon’s expression hardened. “Don’t get ahead of yourself brat.” Namjoon said icily. “Showing your barely grown tits and pussy... it doesn’t turn me on.”

Seokjin’s breath hitched.

Namjoon stepped closer, looming but unreadable. “I washed you with my own hands when you were six and didn’t even know how to bathe. Don’t insult yourself like this.Sleep here if you must. I’ll send clothes. Don’t roam around like a damn stray cat.”

He turned his back to leave.

But a pillow hit him squarely.

“Asshole!” Jin snapped.

Namjoon froze.

Silence.

Namjoon stopped. His fists clenched.

In a flash, he was at the bed, grabbing Seokjin by the hair and yanking his head up roughly.

“You think this is how it works?” he hissed. “You’re so desperate you throw yourself like meat on a platter?”

Jin's eyes widened.

Namjoon’s voice was low, vicious. “If all you want is a cock between your legs, I’ve got a hundred soldiers who would love for a quick fun. Should I send them one by one?They’ll fuck your virgin hole raw, and they won’t care how inexperienced you are”

Seokjin flinched like he’d been slapped.

Namjoon’s grip loosened.

He saw the shock, the betrayal in Seokjin’s eyes, and it twisted something in him. Without another word, Namjoon shoved him back onto the bed—not roughly, but with enough force to make his point clear. His eyes burned a deep crimson, like smothered fire trying not to explode.

Namjoon stood still for a breath, jaw clenched, fists tight at his sides.

Then, without even a backward glance, he turned and walked away. The doors of the emperor’s chamber slammed shut behind him with a thunderous echo, like the final verdict of a trial that was never fair to begin with.

Silence returned to the room.

Heavy. Suffocating.

Seokjin sat frozen on the bed for a moment, his breath trembling, the silk blanket still barely covering him. The warmth of the fire was gone from his skin. Only cold. Cold and the sting of humiliation.

Then something snapped.

Tears burned down his cheeks, but they were silent—like everything inside him had gone quiet except the scream in his chest.

“You bastard…”

He whispered it at first, voice shaking. Then louder.

“You bastard!”

He stood up, the blanket slipping off his body entirely. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything anymore. His bare feet padded across the marble floor as he grabbed the nearest vase—a priceless, ancient thing—and hurled it into the wall. It shattered with a satisfying crash.

Another. A golden candle holder. A tray of carved jade.

They flew across the room like lightning bolts, his sobs breaking free as he moved like a storm, reckless and raw.

And then he saw it—the portrait.

The one Namjoon treasured. The one with Yoongi’s smile, young and fearless beside Namjoon in his armor.

Jin stared at it.

"Hyung..." he whispered, voice breaking. “I tried so hard…”

With one final cry, he tore it down from the wall and smashed the frame across the corner of the bedpost. The glass splintered. The canvas ripped. And with it, something inside him did too.

He collapsed to the floor, clutching the shredded piece of cloth, tears dripping onto it.

"Why…?"

"Why can't you see me?"

"Why do you see everyone else? The whores, the noble women—anyone but me…"

His breath hitched as he sobbed into his knees, rocking back and forth, still naked, still broken.

"I did this because I love you. I’ve always loved you. I just wanted you to see that I’m not a child anymore. That I’m yours… If you ever wanted me.”

"But you… You didn’t just reject me. You insulted me. Like I’m nothing. Like I disgust you."

He clenched his fists into the rug, fury and sorrow bleeding into one another.

"If only you knew how much it hurts… every time I see you with someone else. Every time you smile at a woman like she means something—while I stand here, invisible."

"I hate you… I hate how much I love you."

He stayed there for a while—naked, trembling, surrounded by ruins of gold and silk and shattered memories.

The cold stone floor beneath him offered no comfort, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His limbs felt heavy, useless, as if every emotion had drained the strength from his body.

Tears still fell, soaking into the carpet, into the shards of glass, into the torn canvas beneath his cheek.

He curled into himself, chest rising and falling with silent sobs, his breath hitching against the pain pressing down on his ribs. His fingers clutched at nothing. There was nothing left to hold.

He thought of Namjoon. Of his voice. His hands. His eyes that always looked through him—never at him.

Seokjin let out a soft, broken sound.

And then he whispered into the stillness, voice hoarse:

"Why… can’t you love me back?"

No answer came.

So he lay there—alone, heartbroken, and quietly weeping—until the cold stole even the tears from his eyes.

✳️✳️✳️

Namjoon woke with a start, the previous night’s events still heavy on his mind. The bitterness of their argument, the heartbreak in Seokjin’s eyes—everything weighed on him. But the morning came, and with it, the harsh reality of his duties.

As he prepared himself for the day, his royal assistant arrived, breathing heavily. Namjoon turned to face him, already knowing something was amiss.

“My Emperor, there’s been a disturbance in your chambers,” the assistant reported, his voice tense. “Prince Seokjin is nowhere to be found, and the room... it’s a mess. There’s no sign of him.”

Namjoon froze, his heart skipping a beat. A mess? Seokjin had never been like this before. The last time there had been such destruction, it was when he was just a child—hurt, confused, and trying to make sense of a world that never seemed to care about him.

“Show me,” Namjoon commanded, his voice colder than he intended. His assistant nodded and led him swiftly to his chamber.

When Namjoon stepped into the room, his breath caught in his throat. Furniture was overturned, vases shattered, and papers scattered across the floor in a chaotic mess. The portrait he cherished most, the one of him and Seokjin from years ago, was torn to pieces, the canvas ripped and lying in shreds.

His heart twisted. Seokjin had done this—his anger, his pain, all laid bare in the wreckage of the room. Namjoon swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising panic in his chest.

"Seokjin..." he muttered under his breath, the name heavy with guilt and confusion.

He quickly turned to his assistant, his voice sharper now. “Search for him. Everywhere. I want every corner of this palace checked. I want every part of this city searched. Find him. Now.”

His assistant nodded and hurried off to relay the orders. But as Namjoon walked through Seokjin’s chamber, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his gut. Seokjin was not the type to run away. He wasn’t the type to disappear without a word. Something was wrong—he could feel it in his bones.

Hours passed. The search party scoured the city, checking every nook and cranny, but still, no word on Seokjin. As the sun reached its peak, Namjoon’s worry deepened into fear. Something wasn’t right. Seokjin wasn’t the type to harm himself, not with everything that had happened. But then, why hadn’t he returned? Why hadn’t he sent word?

Namjoon’s mind raced as he paced back and forth in his chamber. The uncertainty was eating at him. What if something has happened to him? he thought. What if...

He couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t just sit here while Seokjin was out there, alone and lost.

Without thinking, Namjoon called for his horse. His assistant returned just as Namjoon was strapping on his armor, readying himself to leave.

“Have you found anything?” Namjoon asked, his voice tight.

“No, Your Majesty,” the assistant replied with a grim shake of his head. “We’ve looked everywhere. The city, the palace gardens... nothing.”

“Then I’ll find him myself,” Namjoon said firmly, mounting his horse with determination. “Prepare a search party, but I’m going first. If something has happened to him, all of you will go to hell along with me.”

His assistant hesitated, but Namjoon was already galloping out of the palace gates, riding fast through the streets of the city. The wind whipped at his face as his mind raced with fear and frustration.

Where could Seokjin be? Where could he have gone?

Namjoon’s thoughts drifted back to Seokjin’s childhood. There had always been a place, a secret place, that Seokjin would retreat to when he was angry with Namjoon—somewhere safe, somewhere quiet, hidden from the world. It was a waterfall, a peaceful place deep in the forest. The sound of the cascading water, the coolness of the cave that sat behind it—it was where Seokjin had gone when he needed to hide from everything.

Could he be there now?

Namjoon’s heart skipped a beat as the realization hit him. He spurred his horse forward, his mind only on finding Seokjin. He had to get there. He had to make sure Seokjin was alright.

As he rode through the dense forest, the trees parted to reveal the waterfall, its water sparkling in the midday sun. Namjoon slowed his horse, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of Seokjin.

He dismounted and walked towards the cave, his breath shallow with anticipation. The closer he got, the more he feared what he might find. But when he entered the cave, he saw Seokjin sitting at the back, his back turned to Namjoon. The boy didn’t even acknowledge him.

“Seokjin,” Namjoon called softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He stepped closer, his heart heavy with emotion. “Please... come back with me.”

Seokjin didn’t look at him. “I’m not coming with you,” he said, his voice low and distant. “You said such horrible things to me.”

Namjoon’s chest tightened. He stepped closer, trying to bridge the distance between them. “You know I didn’t mean any of that. I—” He paused, the words heavy in his mouth. “Please, just come back with me. I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Seokjin shook his head, the bitter edge in his tone unmistakable. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You tried to sell me off to that kingdom for what? Power? Safety? You never cared about me, Namjoon hyung . You just want to use me.”

Namjoon flinched, the accusation stinging more than he had anticipated. “That’s not true, Seokjin. I wanted you to be safe—”

“Safe?!” Seokjin interrupted, his voice rising. “You don’t even see me. I thought... I thought you at least cared for me, but all you want is power. You’re nothing but a selfish bastard.”

The words hit Namjoon like a slap, but he held his ground, his heart aching as Seokjin’s pain bled into the air. “Seokjin,” he said quietly, taking another step forward, “I just wanted you to be safe. To be happy. I never wanted this for you.”

But Seokjin wasn’t listening anymore. He stood abruptly, shaking his head as tears welled in his eyes. 

“You don’t get it, do you? You don’t get it,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You’re all I’ve ever known... But I can’t keep living in your shadow, pretending everything is fine when you don’t even see me.”

Namjoon reached out, but Seokjin recoiled, his anger still burning hot. “Don’t touch me,” he spat. “You’re nothing but a liar.”

“Seokjin!”

Seokjin flinched back like a wounded animal.

"I’m scared of you. You’re a sick fuck."

Namjoon gritted his teeth. "What did I ever lack for you, Seokjin, that you behave this way? I should have whipped you harder when you were younger."

"Save your breath Namjoon hyung" Seokjin stood shakily. "I'm starting to think that you just want to get rid of me, because I'm just a liability for you"

Namjoon felt a surge of heat in his chest. The nerve of him—how dare Seokjin accuse him of something like that?

“That’s not true!” Namjoon snapped, his words laced with frustration and rising fury.

Seokjin’s eyes narrowed as if he could see right through Namjoon. “Bullshit,” he muttered under his breath. 

Namjoon’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. His hands shook with anger, and for a moment, all he could feel was the overwhelming surge of emotions that seemed to engulf him. Seokjin didn’t understand. He didn’t know what Namjoon had been through, what he had sacrificed. He had tried—he had tried so hard to protect him.

"Shut the fuck up," Namjoon growled, his voice low and dangerous. He stepped forward and grabbed Seokjin by the wrist, yanking him roughly towards him, their faces now only a breath away from one another. The sudden proximity made Seokjin gasp, but it was too late to pull back.

Before Seokjin could protest, Namjoon crashed their mouths together in a brutal, angry kiss. His lips were harsh, demanding, as if he could force all his frustration and confusion into that single, violent act. The kiss was a punishment, a way for him to release everything he had been holding inside.

"You just want this, huh?!" Namjoon growled between kisses, his anger boiling over. "Getting fucked by me?!"

Seokjin’s body tensed, his hand coming up to slap Namjoon across the face with such force that it made his head jerk to the side. The sting of it burned, but it only fueled his rage.

“Don’t touch me, you filthy jerk!” Seokjin screamed, his voice filled with contempt and pain. His words cut deep, but Namjoon was too far gone to care.

Namjoon’s patience finally shattered like glass. His mind was a storm, everything he had been holding in, every painful word and thought, threatening to break free all at once.

He pushed Seokjin back with an almost violent shove, his breathing heavy and erratic as he tried to control the fury rushing through him. “Then die here, hungry,” Namjoon spat, his voice cold and final. "I’m done."

He turned on his heel, storming out of the cold cave without a second glance, leaving Seokjin alone in the silence that followed. His steps echoed in the vast emptiness of the space, each one heavier than the last, until he was out of sight.

Behind him, Seokjin crumpled to the floor, his knees hitting the cold stone with a muted thud. He hugged himself tightly, as if the mere act of holding his body together could keep him from falling apart entirely. His tears flowed freely, but his pride kept him silent. He wouldn’t call Namjoon back. Not after everything.

Seokjin’s chest heaved with the weight of his emotions, each sob shaking him as he lay there, vulnerable and broken. His heart ached, the pain from Namjoon’s words, his touch, all of it cutting deeper than anything he had ever experienced. But no matter how much it hurt, he refused to call out, to beg.

Why? Because it was Namjoon who had rejected him. And Seokjin couldn’t bear to let him see how much he wanted him, how much he needed him. No, it would be a quiet, ugly destruction—silent, because Seokjin would never let Namjoon see the depths of the hurt he had caused.

But as the moments stretched into an eternity of stillness, Seokjin realized that no matter how much he hated Namjoon in that moment, no matter how furious he was, he still couldn’t escape the aching emptiness that Namjoon left behind. 

✳️✳️✳️

The palace was colder than Seokjin remembered.

He slipped back inside at dawn, barefoot, shivering in his torn nightclothes. No one dared stop him. The servants averted their eyes; the guards stiffened but said nothing.

The news had already spread:

Prince Seokjin had fled after defiling the emperor’s chamber.

He would be punished. Severely.

But when Namjoon heard he had returned, he didn’t summon him.

No.

He ignored him completely.

Three days.

Three days where Seokjin was treated like a ghost — no orders, no letters, no punishments.

It was worse than being beaten. 

It was humiliating.

Everywhere he went, whispers followed:

The emperor is done with him.

The brat will be sent to the monasteries.

Maybe even executed.

Seokjin wore the same clothes he had fled in, stained and ripped, and refused to ask for more. His pride wouldn’t allow it.

Each night, he lay awake on the cold floor of his abandoned quarters, staring at the ceiling, replaying Namjoon's words.

"I should have whipped you harder."

"You’re desperate for cock."

"I’ll send my guards to use you."

He hated him.

Hated him so much it burned.

And yet —

When Seokjin closed his eyes, he still tasted Namjoon’s mouth on his.

Still craved it.

✳️✳️✳️

Seokjin stood at the edge of the balcony, arms folded tightly around his chest, the morning breeze brushing through his hair. Below, the gardens stirred in silence, birds fluttering through trees that swayed like they were mourning too. But all Seokjin could feel was the weight of Namjoon's words, burning in his chest like poison.

He hadn’t eaten. Hadn’t slept. All nights, he’d wandered the palace halls like a ghost, but not once did he think of going to Namjoon. Not after that. Not after being rejected, and left alone like he was nothing.

His eyes were still swollen, his throat sore from crying into the pillows he later tore apart.

"Let him rot," he whispered bitterly to himself, but the ache in his chest betrayed the words.

Just then, the door behind him burst open.

“Your Highness—!” his maiden gasped, breathless, eyes wide with panic.

Seokjin turned sharply. “What?” he asked, dread rising up his spine.

“The Emperor… His Majesty was attacked. Bandits in the forest. He’s alive—but he’s injured. Gravely. He was brought back just now.”

The world stilled. Seokjin’s heart slammed into his ribs.

“What?” he breathed, stepping forward.

“His chest—he was struck. The guards killed them all, but His Majesty collapsed. They’ve taken him to his chambers. The physician is with him now—”

She didn’t finish.

Seokjin was already gone.

He ran barefoot through the palace, hair undone, tears clouding his vision. The courtiers he passed stared after him in shock, but he didn’t care. His lungs burned as he reached Namjoon’s wing, shoving the doors open with both hands.

He stopped at the sight.

Namjoon lay in bed, pale, shirtless, a thick bandage wrapped around his torso. His eyes were half-lidded with pain, his skin clammy. The scent of blood and herbs hung heavy in the air.

Seokjin stumbled forward, his voice breaking.

“Namjoon hyung …”

The Emperor’s gaze lifted, slow and tired, but the corner of his mouth twitched at the sight of him.

“You came,” he whispered.

Seokjin collapsed beside the bed, grabbing Namjoon’s hand and pulling it to his chest.

“You fucking idiot,” he sobbed, tears streaming freely now. “You were so brave in front of me spewing nonsense … but to get yourself almost killed?!”

He couldn’t hold back anymore. All the anger, the fear, the love—he buried it in the warmth of Namjoon’s body, crawling into bed beside him and wrapping himself around him like a shield.

Namjoon gave a faint, pained chuckle. “You should be happy,” he murmured. “One less power-hungry bastard to worry about.”

“Shut up,” Seokjin snapped, voice shaking. “Just shut the fuck up.”

Without another word, he slipped into the bed beside Namjoon and pulled him into his arms, gently but possessively. He pressed his face against Namjoon’s bare chest, right where the bandage was tied across the wound.

Namjoon winced. “Ouch… your head is on my injury.”

Jin didn’t move. “Let it be,” he whispered. “If I stay here, I can hear your heartbeat. That way I know you’re still alive.”

Namjoon swallowed hard, emotion catching in his throat. He lifted a hand, hesitating before resting it against Seokjin’s hair. The feel of him, warm and real, was more healing than any medicine.

They stayed like that through the night. Jin didn’t speak again, but he didn’t leave. He lay on Namjoon’s chest, listening to the rhythm of his heart, as if afraid it would stop if he turned away.

Morning light crept in, casting a soft golden hue across the room. The door opened quietly and the royal physician stepped in.

“Your Majesty, I need to change the dressing and apply new medicine—”

But as he approached, Seokjin’s sleeping form was still curled tightly against Namjoon, arms draped over him protectively.

Namjoon raised a hand, stopping the physician. His voice was soft but firm. “Come back later.”

The physician hesitated, then bowed and left without a word.

Namjoon looked down at Seokjin still nestled against him, breathing slowly, peacefully. He rested his hand again in Seokjin’s hair, closing his eyes.

He should apologise to Seokjin first of all, he had said some horrible things out of anger.. And then maybe he should say Seokjin what he truly think about himself. How he like the latter to stay beside him like this forever. For a moment Namjoon wanted to steal a kiss from that pink soft lips. 

They should have been mine from the beginning and should be mine forever.. Would you allow me Jin? 

Namjoon thought.. And closed his eyes drowning in to a dreamland where he would kiss Seokjin until his cheeks become red and out of breath.. 

✳️✳️✳️

Seokjin woke to the the warmth of morning sun slipping through the tall windows. For a moment, he didn’t move—he only listened. The heartbeat beneath his ear was steady, alive. Namjoon was alive.

He lifted his head slowly, eyes falling on the Emperor’s face. 

The bruises left on Namjoon’s face were already blooming dark across his cheekbone. The cuts from the battle hadn't been bandaged properly — dried blood clung to his ribs and hips.

He’s always been like this, Seokjin thought bitterly. 

Charging into war, into danger, into me.

Reckless. Brutal. Beautiful.

Seokjin reached out with a shaking hand and touched Namjoon's bruised face — featherlight.

"Why do you do this to me?" he whispered.

There was no answer, of course.

Only the sound of Namjoon’s ragged breathing.

Seokjin pressed his forehead against Namjoon’s.

"You made me love you," he said, the words breaking free, too soft to take back. "And you didn't even want it."

He laughed, a hollow, ugly sound.

Tears slid down Seokjin’s cheeks, unnoticed.

"I hate you," he whispered.

"But I’d still die for you."

A soft, broken sound escaped Namjoon’s lips.

Seokjin froze.

Then Namjoon’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused but aware, and he caught Seokjin’s wrist — weakly, but deliberately.

“You're still here,” he murmured, voice rough.

“Of course I’m still here,” Seokjin said softly, brushing strands of hair from Namjoon’s forehead. “I’m not heartless.”

Namjoon tried to move, but a grimace of pain crossed his face.

“Easy,” Seokjin whispered, slipping an arm around Namjoon’s back. Carefully, he helped him sit up and lean against the headboard, propping up the pillows behind him. Namjoon grunted, the wound on his chest clearly protesting, but he said nothing. His pride wouldn’t let him.

Seokjin sat beside him quietly for a moment, then reached out and placed his palm over Namjoon’s chest—right above the bandages. He could feel the weak but steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I don’t know how to live without you,” Seokjin said, his voice trembling.

Namjoon’s eyes dropped, fixed on the bedspread. “You will be fine without me.”

Seokjin looked away, jaw tightening. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

Namjoon turned to him, confused and quiet. “What?”

But Seokjin only shook his head, a bitter smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

He withdrew his hand from Namjoon’s chest, letting it fall limply to his lap.

“You were right,” he said after a long pause. “I should be away from you.”

Namjoon stayed still, breathing slow and shallow. There were a thousand things he wanted to say—he could feel the words rising in his throat, heavy and unspoken. But before he could gather the courage, Seokjin spoke again.

“Tell that person—whoever you promised me to—that I like the proposal.”

Namjoon’s breath caught. The words didn’t sting—they burned.

His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. He stared at Seokjin, searching for a trace of hesitation, but prince Seokjin was staring at his hands, lips pressed into a firm line.

“If that’s what you want,” Namjoon said at last, voice low.

Seokjin said nothing.

Namjoon turned his face away.

He had wanted to confess. To say that no matter the promise, no matter the weight of their world, Seokjin was the one he’d chosen long ago. But maybe—just maybe—Seokjin was better off without him.

And so, in silence, he let the only person he’d ever loved slip further away, even as the space between them had never felt so small.

✳️✳️✳️

Seokjin sat by the open window, his gaze lost in the darkness beyond the courtyard. The breeze was gentle tonight, brushing against his cheek like a whisper of something once tender. He wasn’t crying. Not anymore. There were no more tears left for Kim Namjoon.

He had told himself it was for the best. That if he stayed, he would never get over Namjoon. That every breath he took in the same palace would be soaked in the memory of what he could never have.

That was why he said yes.

To the faceless man he would marry tomorrow.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even a choice. It was an escape. From his own feelings, from Namjoon’s silence, from the ache that refused to fade.

His maidens bustled around the chamber, laying out the robes for the ceremony. Their hands were careful, reverent, as they unfolded the pink silk and spread it over the divan. Seokjin’s eyes flicked to the fabric, and a bitter sound escaped his throat—a laugh, almost.

The silk shimmered under the candlelight. Rare. Pricey. Soft as a whisper and dyed in a hue nearly impossible to find in the capital. This wasn't the kind of gift a political husband would send. This was Namjoon's doing.

Namjoon always gave him the best… except himself.

Seokjin rose from his seat and walked toward the robe. His fingertips brushed the delicate threads. So beautiful. So carefully chosen.

He sighed into the silence. “You’re so cruel, Joon…”

He turned back to the window. His hands gripped the frame, knuckles white. The night sky spread wide above him—quiet, uncaring. Somewhere in the garden below, a cricket sang alone.

He had known Namjoon since boyhood. First as a shadowy figure behind guards, then as the quiet protector who always stood between him and the world. Seokjin didn’t know exactly when his heart had begun to belong to him. Perhaps it had always belonged to him.

Even when Namjoon ruled with a harsh hand, Seokjin had only ever sought his warmth. Not the throne. Not the power. Just him.

And now—tomorrow—Namjoon would be a forbidden name in his chest. A ghost too living to ignore.

He didn’t even know what kind of man he was marrying. He didn’t care.

Why should he, when it wasn’t Namjoon?

Seokjin was still staring at the stars when a sudden knock echoed through the silence. His body stiffened.

Then came the voice: deep, smooth, unmistakable.

“Announcing His Majesty, the Emperor.”

The tall doors opened.

Seokjin turned his head slowly, his breath catching in his throat.

Namjoon stood at the threshold, his eyes unreadable, his robe dark against his skin. He looked stronger now—healed, regal, like nothing had ever struck him down. Two weeks of silence. Two weeks of absence. And now, the night before everything would change, here he was.

Seokjin didn’t speak.

He simply stared.

Finally, the man who had held his heart in silence had found the courage to stand before him.

But Seokjin wasn’t sure if it was too late… or if part of him still wished it wasn’t.

“You’ve finally decided to show your face?”

Namjoon stepped inside slowly. “I came to talk.”

“Talk?” Seokjin let out a dry laugh, facing him. “Oh, after ghosting me for two weeks, you came to see how happy I am before my wedding, right?”

Namjoon didn’t answer immediately. He walked towards Seokjin, as though entering sacred ground.

“Aren’t you happy?” he asked softly.

A bitter chuckle left Seokjin’s lips.

“The audacity you have to ask…” he muttered, just loud enough for Namjoon to hear.

“You asked for this,” Namjoon replied, voice low, unreadable.

That made Seokjin whirl around. His eyes were cold flames.

“You brought this first! You arranged it, you picked the man. You sealed the documents.. And now? Now you walk into my chamber like you still have the right?”

“I would never marry you off against your will,” Namjoon said, jaw clenched. “If you hadn’t agreed, I wouldn’t have—”

“Oh, look who’s talking about my marriage,” Seokjin snapped, voice rising. “Suddenly you're concerned? Suddenly I’m yours to worry about?”

Namjoon took a step closer, trying to control his temper, but his own emotions betrayed him.

“Seokjin—”

“Don’t,” Seokjin cut him off. “Don’t say my name like that. Like it still means something to you.”

“I told you,” Namjoon said, his voice dangerously low, “don’t tempt me.”

“Really?” Seokjin scoffed. “What are you going to do, Your Majesty? Lock me up? Or better yet, throw me onto the wedding bed of some stranger and pretend I’m not a burden anymore?”

Namjoon’s fists clenched. “You are not a burden.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Seokjin hissed. “You’re the one who turned away. You’re the one who decided I’m better off gone.”

“I promised your brother I’d keep you safe!” Namjoon’s voice cracked, anger laced with pain.

Seokjin stared at him. “And what makes you think the King of Seoul can do that? You think he’s safer than you? You think you’re doing me a favor by abandoning me?”

Namjoon looked like he might explode. His breath was ragged.

“Seokjin…”

“What?” Seokjin demanded. “Say it. Go on.”

Namjoon’s voice broke through the tension like thunder.

“I love you, damn it!”

Silence.

His breath heaved. “I love you, but I’m no good for you. I’m twenty years older, I’ve bathed in blood, I’ve ruled with fear. You… you’re pure. You don’t deserve this life of war and death and darkness that follows me everywhere.”

Seokjin didn’t move. He only stared, stunned.

Namjoon looked away. “I’ve loved you since we were young. I watched you grow up into something golden. Untouchable. And I— I became the monster that protects the gates, not the man who gets to hold the your hand.”

Seokjin’s lips parted to say something… but nothing came.. 

Namjoon’s voice faltered, softer now. “I wanted to send you somewhere peaceful. Somewhere far from all this—somewhere you can smile without fear. That’s the only thing I ever wanted.”

The heat that rushed into Seokjin’s chest felt like a wildfire. Before Namjoon could even take another breath, Seokjin crossed the room in three fast steps and, he was in front of Namjoon, grabbing the front of his robes, pulling him down.

And then he crashed his lips against his.

The kiss was fire and frost, desperate and aching, everything they had locked away for years.

When Seokjin finally pulled back, he whispered against Namjoon’s lips:

“Idiot.”

Namjoon’s eyes fluttered open, stunned.

Seokjin cupped Namjoon’s cheek, eyes shining—not with tears, but with fierce, unwavering love. His voice trembled, softer now, but every word struck like lightning to Namjoon’s heart.

“You don’t get to choose for me, Namjoon hyung. You never did. I’d rather bleed beside you than live in a golden cage without you.”

Namjoon’s eyes closed for a moment beneath Seokjin’s touch. He looked like he’d been waiting to hear those words for a lifetime.

“Jin…” he breathed, regret cracking his voice. “I’m sorry. For pushing you away. For pretending I could let you go. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just… hiding.”

Seokjin leaned in, their foreheads touching, their breath mingling in the space between them.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’ve loved you for so long I don’t even remember when it started. And I’m done pretending it doesn’t burn through me every second I’m not with you.”

Namjoon’s hands slowly came up, trembling slightly as they cradled Seokjin’s face. He looked at him like he was something holy, something he didn’t deserve.

“I might hurt you,” he confessed, voice hoarse. “Not because I want to… but because I don’t know how to be soft enough. I’ve never had to be.”

Seokjin smiled faintly, gaze steady. “Don’t treat me like glass. I’m not breakable,Kim Namjoon.”

For a moment, all they did was breathe, suspended in the gravity of their feelings. Then Seokjin stepped closer, guiding Namjoon gently by the collar of his robe.

“Please,” he said, voice thick with emotion, “make me yours.”

Namjoon’s lips parted, but the only sound he made was a soft gasp as Seokjin kissed him again—deeper this time, slower, more certain. Seokjin’s hands moved to Namjoon’s chest, feeling the heartbeat beneath, strong and real and desperate.

Namjoon melted under him, the weight of restraint falling away like armor to the floor.

Seokjin gently pushed him back until they reached the bed. He was the one leading now—pressing Namjoon down onto the silk sheets, climbing onto his lap with fluid grace, his hands untying the knot of his own robe as he whispered, “Let me show you I’m not afraid.”

Namjoon reached up, thumbs brushing over Seokjin’s bare skin, as if to memorize every line, every breath. “You're more than I deserve.”

“You’re all I want,” Seokjin whispered, leaning down to kiss along the scar on Namjoon’s collarbone.

Their mouths met again, slow and searing, as Seokjin shifted his weight and guided them down, wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s shoulders, their robes slipping away in silence, leaving nothing between them but truth and skin and the ache of years of denial.

Their bodies came together, a perfect match of strength and softness, of bruising longing and tender worship. 

Namjoon groaned when Seokjin’s plush lips trailed down his neck, leaving soft, wet warmth that lingered on his collarbone. Each kiss was a promise. Then it traveled towards his chest and his nipples. Seokjin took his one of nipple to his mouth and start to chew it gently while rubbing his bare pussy on Namjoon's crotch. 

“Namjoon’s breath hitched.

“ohh… fuck.. Jin-ah…”he rasped, his voice thick with reverence.

Jin let out a sweet giggle, like he is not teasing the emperor and not driving the man crazy with his wet tongue. 

Namjoon’s hands, strong and desperate, found Seokjin’s hips. His fingers pressed into soft flesh, leaving behind bruises of love, not war. The ache between them grew louder, wetter, hotter—until 

Namjoon felt Seokjin's slick wetting his stomach and he couldn't hold it anymore.

He used his strong arms grabbed Seokjin by shoulder and flipped pinning the latter onto the mattress. He hovered above him, his breath grazing Seokjin’s parted lips.

“Enough teasing, love…” he whispered, his voice trembling with restraint and want. He leaned down to kiss the corner of Seokjin’s mouth, then lower, beneath his ear. “I’ve waited too long…”

“Ohhh Joon-ahh.. Mmhhhhmm…” Namjoon bit the pale skin earning more red hickeys while Seokjin is a moaning mess. The chamber filled with wet kisses and groans.. 

Seokjin’s moan was all silk and surrender.

Namjoon brought his fingers to Seokjin’s lips. “Wet them for me,” he murmured, and Seokjin obeyed, taking them in with a slow, swirling tongue, his eyes never leaving Namjoon’s.

Namjoon kissed him, a reward, before tracing his hand down—lower—to where Seokjin waited, vulnerable and glowing.

“Gonna prepare your hole for my cock..” he said in hoarse voice and Seokjin could only do moan.. He grabbed Namjoon's broad shoulders with his dear life… 

“Joon-ahh…”

“Spread your legs angel…” and like a pliant doll Jin spread his milky thighs, all for the emperor to entertain his dragon eyes.. 

Then Namjoon slowly put his fingers on the pussy lips and Seokjin gasped at the cold touch, back arching, body reaching for more.

“fuckkk.. You are already wet..”

“hhhmmmm….umm wett for y-you… joonggh..”

Namjoon gave a open mouth kiss to Jin's plump lips while his fingers worked on the latter's clit.. He rubbed the pink bud with his finger tips and pressed it down slowly while giving circulated massage. 

“Joooonnnngghhhh.. Fuckkkk” 

“hmm? Princes don't curse Jinnie..”

“Joon please… do something…”

“You have been a bad boy Seokjin.. You think you deserve my fingers…?” Namjoon smirked.. 

“Joon please.. I'm a good boy.. Ohhh.…godddd…”

Namjoon inserted his fingers inside Jin's wet hole and scissored it. He pushed and pulled his fingers then curled his tips scratching it's walls all while Jin writhing in pleasure.. The white bedsheets rolled up underneath them and Jin was panting hardly.. 

Namjoon looked up andsaw Jin's eyes closed and lips parted. He captured him to another lustfull kiss while stretching him well enough to bare his cock. 

Namjoon paused for a moment, his forehead resting against Seokjin's, his breath shaky. “Are you ready for me?” he asked softly, his voice a low whisper, laden with care. “I need to make sure you're comfortable… Are you sure?”

Seokjin's breath hitched at Namjoon's question, his heart racing as he felt the intensity of the moment. He looked into Namjoon's eyes, searching for any trace of hesitation or doubt, but all he found was love and concern. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Namjoon's softly.

"I'm ready," Seokjin whispered, his voice trembling but firm. "I trust you, Namjoon hyung. I want this... with you."

He cupped Namjoon's face, his fingers trembling slightly, but there was no fear in his eyes. Only a deep desire, a yearning to be close to the man he loved, completely and fully. "Don't hold back," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with longing. "I want all of you."

With a nod, Namjoon leaned down, kissing Seokjin’s forehead, then his lips, soft and slow, as if savoring the moment. He pulled back slightly, looking at Seokjin with deep affection. "I’ll go slow, I promise. Just tell me if you want me to stop, alright?"

Seokjin nodded, his hand sliding down to Namjoon’s chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I’m with you," he said softly.

Namjoon gently guided Seokjin’s legs around his waist, settling closer. He moved carefully, every inch of their contact deliberate, ensuring that Seokjin felt safe and cherished.

When the time came, Namjoon entered Seokjin slowly, first his tip. watching his face for any sign of discomfort, any hint that he should stop. But Seokjin held him close, his breath even and steady, reassuring Namjoon that they were in this together.

Namjoon continued to move slowly, each motion tender, as if trying to memorize the sensation of being so close to Seokjin. He could feel Seokjin’s heartbeat in rhythm with his own, their breaths syncing as they shared the moment. He didn't want it to rush; he wanted to savor every second, make sure Seokjin felt safe and loved.

Seokjin’s fingers dug into Namjoon’s back, urging him closer, silently telling him he was ready, that he wanted this just as much. Namjoon kissed him again, slow and deliberate, his lips tracing over Seokjin’s, tasting the salt of their shared passion. As they deepened the kiss, Namjoon began to move more steadily, more assured, feeling Seokjin’s body shift in response.

"Are you okay?" Namjoon whispered between kisses, his forehead resting against Seokjin's.

Seokjin nodded, a soft, contented sigh escaping his lips. "I’m fine... You are just big," he breathed out, his hands sliding down to trace Namjoon’s sides, feeling the muscles tense with every movement. "But.. I’ve always wanted you."

Namjoon’s heart swelled at those words. He kissed Seokjin’s neck, his hands finding Seokjin’s hips, pulling him closer as their bodies moved together in a steady rhythm. With each thrust, Namjoon could feel the pureness of their bond, the rawness of their vulnerability, their love, and desire.

The world outside of them seemed to fade away. It was just the two of them, intertwined in the quiet intimacy of the moment. Namjoon’s mind focused solely on Seokjin—on his pleasure, on his safety, on making sure this was a moment of pure love.

As they moved together, Seokjin let out a soft moan, his fingers gripping Namjoon tighter, his body instinctively meeting each motion. Namjoon’s movements became more urgent, but still gentle, always careful. He could feel Seokjin’s body starting to tremble beneath him, his breath hitching as he neared the edge.

"Namjoon..ahhhh." Seokjin gasped, his voice shaky with need.

Namjoon looked down at him, his gaze soft but intense. "I’m right here," he murmured, kissing Seokjin deeply. "I’ll never leave you."

Seokjin’s grip tightened on Namjoon’s back, his legs wrapping around him, pulling him deeper as he finally reached his peak, calling out Namjoon’s name with a breathless cry. Namjoon followed shortly after, the intensity of the moment overwhelming, as he spilled himself into Seokjin with a soft groan.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, their bodies tangled together, trying to catch their breath. Namjoon gently brushed Seokjin's hair back from his face, his fingers tender against his skin.

Seokjin smiled softly, his eyes closed in a blissful haze. "I love you, Kim Namjoon," he whispered, his voice filled with warmth and truth.

Namjoon’s heart soared. He kissed Seokjin’s forehead, his chest still rising and falling with the aftershocks of their love. "I love you too, Jin," he murmured. "I always have."

For a while, there was only the sound of breath and the quiet whisper of the night beyond the palace walls.

Seokjin’s voice finally broke the stillness. Soft. Hesitant.

“What happens tomorrow, Joonie?”

Namjoon’s hand paused.

There was a beat of silence.

Then he spoke, voice low and serious. “The wedding will happen as planned.”

Seokjin’s whole body stiffened.

He sat up quickly, the sheets falling from his bare torso, his expression thunderous. “You—what?! You bastard—”

Namjoon burst out laughing, a deep, warm laugh that shook his chest.

He sat up and grabbed Seokjin by the wrist, tugging him back into his arms. “You’ll be getting married, Seokjin… but to me.”

Seokjin blinked, stunned.

“You absolute ass!” He pounded a hand against Namjoon’s chest. “You scared me! For a moment I wanted to kill you!”

His voice cracked.

“I thought… I thought this was just a game to you,” Seokjin whispered, his voice breaking on the last word as tears welled in his eyes. “I thought you were saying goodbye.”

Namjoon’s smile faded. He cupped Seokjin’s cheeks with both hands, brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “No. No, baby,” he murmured, kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his nose. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Seokjin trembled in his hold. Namjoon rested their foreheads together. “I’m never leaving you. Do you hear me? Not in this life, not in the next. You're mine. And I’m yours. Always.”

Seokjin clung to him again, burying his face into Namjoon’s chest, breathing in his scent, feeling the strength of his heartbeat—like a vow etched into his skin.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Namjoon’s arms wrapped tighter around him. “And I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

The wind outside rustled the trees, but inside, there was only peace, only warmth, only the two of them—finally whole. 

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