“Goodbyes are only for those who love with their eyes. Because for those who love with heart and soul there is no such thing as separation.” 

Rumi 

 

…

 

Seungwan wistfully pondered as she watched her reflection in her golden framed mirror. Her maids and servants fluttered around her hastily as they worked from tucking loose strands of her chestnut locks behind her ears, tightening the bucks of her pearl beaded corset and smoothing the silk train of moonlight behind her. 

 

 

She closed her eyes before taking a deep breath and interlacing her fingers together. She’s dedicated her entire life into becoming the perfect pawn and wife- the necessary link that would strengthen her father’s unstable claim to the throne and bring stability to the kingdom.  

 

 

“Didn’t think pearl white would be your colour, sister.” 

 

 

Swift and furtive, her youngest brother Jaehyun teases her cheekily, leaning against the wooden door frame of her spacious bedroom. If it were someone else, she would’ve been horrified that someone would barge into her bedroom nonchalantly during the most feverish days of her life. 

 

 

 

He was their mother’s spitting image and the one who resembled the Jung features the most, yet his nature was said to have echoed her father’s spirit in his youth. 

 

“Just because I wear other colours that aren’t black, unlike others here doesn’t make me any less, brother.” 

 

She retorts, unable to hide a burgeoning smile blooming on her porcelain face. He chuckles and shakes his head playfully. A maid dressed in bright canary carefully placed the diamond and sapphire encrusted crown the Min family had given to her as she was welcomed into the family. 

 

“Your Royal Highness Prince Jaehyun, we must get you dressed soon! The royal parade cannot start without you-” Lady Kahi, with her wrinkled yet effervescent features, silver-grey hair pulled up in a knot and marigold wrap-dress, had raised each of the royal children as her own. 

 

Jaehyun flashes a half-sincere grin, barely reaching his eyes before he marches begrudgingly towards his bedroom to dress himself in his armour. He beningingly shuts the wooden door as he leaves, yet is interrupted by the calloused, rough hands of their father. 

 

All the maidens and servants in the room looked down in embarrassment, hastily bowing in respect to their king before fleeing and abandoning the room to give the father and daughter privacy.

 

“F-Father, I thought you would be busy preparing-” 

 

“Why would I miss the only time I have left alone with my daughter before I give her away? Of course not.” 

 

King Yoochun, dressed in his crimson robes, whispers mournfully with tears b from his eyes. His lips quiver in languish, and his torso cowers in defeat as he battles both the denial and grief that consumes his inner being knowing he will be sending his daughter miles and miles away from the capital. 

 

“Oh father, you speak as if we will never see each other again- I will visit often- I made Min Yoongi promise that he will let me visit as much and whenever I want.” Seungwan coaxes her father reassuringly, leaping into his arms as she clutches her delicate palms against his back and leaning her face into his shoulder. 

 

He sobs faintly, barely making a sound yet the sorrow exhausts him as his face is flushed and contorted in pain and misery. He brushes a brief yet firm peck on her wide forehead, his fingers in the locks of her hair. 

 

“Yes, yes- but you will always be my little girl- and it reminds me how fast you are growing up, my peach. I was not able to see my sister Yoona fully blossom into a woman and become a wife- but at least I can be here to see yours.” 

 

Seungwan nods tearfully, pearls of salty droplets falling from her eyes like waterfalls, and reaches forward to wipe the tears spilling on her father’s cheeks. 

 

“It’s just that you remind me of her each day, my dear. I wanted her to marry for love because our mother never loved my father and only became his consort to save her reputation, and it would have destroyed Yoona the same way it ravaged our mother. “

 

“-And I’m sorry I ended up becoming the same man I never wanted to put you in a marriage of convenience and want for power and stability. I know this marriage was not of your asking, but all I wish is that love will grow and prosper between you two anyway.” He coos regretfully, looking into the eyes of his daughter that mirrored his.

 

She pauses in his grasp, her smile dropping into a wavering frown as her mind is suddenly flooded with doubt. 

 

“O-of course father, it already has.”

 

…

 

Yunho clutches into the leather straps on his stallion as he rode towards the city gates and made his way towards his quarters. The earth beneath him was still damp and sodden, previously drenched from the rainstorms that have showered the region from the night before. 

 

 

 

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, grounding himself of the brooding anxiety and uncertainty that plagued him recently. The steward was unable to find any rest on his voyage in return, even as his soldiers passed out like the night around him- he could not bear sleeping even with just one eye open. 

 

    The currant hued walls of the Red Keep that overlooked Blackwater Bay and the Narrow Sea towered over him. The iron and yellow gold barred gates swung open as mum guards unclasped its lock.

 

The warm heat of the sun shining above him gave him no comfort, but only more paranoia and disillusionment. Never trust a happy ending. Never believe it’s always going to be like this. It’s all a trick. The worst is yet to come. 

 

Yunho tiredly mounts off his riding horse, mudded riding boots hitting the pavement with an emphatic thud. He brushes his coarse fingers against the soft, tawny hair of his beloved mare. 

 

“Father, you have returned!” 

 

    His daughter Soojung hurried down the pavement of stairs, her rose and cream coloured robe, leaving a trail gracefully behind her. Her mother’s silver crystal pins were tucked into her hair, holding some curls up the nape of her neck and cascading locks down her back. 

 

“My rose, I assume you are ready in time for the matrimonial ceremony?” He asks benevolently, enveloping his daughter in a snug embrace and brushing a quick peck on her forehead. 

 

 

“Yes I am, father. But before we go, I want to tell you one thing. You’re the first to know.” She pulls away gently from his clasp, a secretive grin as she hushed into whispers and held each of his hands in her palms and looked at him in the eye. 

 

 

“Lord Yunho, Soojung and I are expecting. She had been feeling unwell for the past few days and visited the maester, who confirmed she is nearly a month along.” Lord Do Kyungsoo, her husband, appeared from behind the wooden door suddenly in his obsidian coat, bowing his head in respect and respectfully responding. 

 

 Yunho should have been rejoicing and singing praises. He had always wanted a family of his own, to see his family legacy continue and confide in the companion of his kin. But he couldn’t help but feel this growing pit of confirmation and denial in his gut. 

 

“The timing may not be the best to announce father, but you will become a grandfather in the next eight moons!” Soojung laughs excitedly, encircling her father in another firm embrace as she drew comforting circles on her father’s broad shoulder blades. 

 

“I must get changed so that we may make it in time for the ceremony, but we will properly celebrate after the matrimonial festivities have ended, alright my rose?” He beams enthusiastically, placing his palms on her shoulders.

 

 

Yunho brushes past her, promenading up the staircase with his grasp tightly on its wooden rails. He meets Do Kyungsoo, greeting him with a warm yet firm welcome, and beams with pride and accomplishment. 

 

 

Once he is alone in his room, his servants and maids rush to change his soiled garments and dress him in his finest garments. In his pockets, he found the rusted coin the seer had given him. It feels cold and rough in his grasp, prompting a flood of the visions and prophecies she had warned him and his younger sister about. 

 

 

He was never a believer in the mystery and skepticism that came from the spiritual realm of the kingdom. His sister had the greater inclination to find comfort in the undertaking of such worlds, as he was the rationalist and more empirical of the pair, but he could not help but accept it as truth. 

 

 

“The carriage is ready for you, My Lord. Lord and Lady Do are following closely behind you.” His deputy informs him promptly. 

 

As Yunho enters his gilded cage,  his foster son Jungkook steps in and takes a seat across from him. The coachman yelps firmly as he whips his colt and prompts the carriage to begin its journey. 

 

With the younger’s hair brushed back slick, and his silk mauve cravat dangling from his neck, Jungkook was dressed up more than his usual homely, tattered apparel, but not even his handsome demeanour could hide how much he was shaking and twitching in his seat. 

 

“Is something wrong, my son?” 

 

Jungkook tears his eyes from the ground and shakes his head incessantly. Yunho feels the hairs raise on his arm about how much he reminded him of Changmin with the tilt of his head and the wide, doe eyes flashed at him. 

 

“Nothing is wrong, father. I am well and thank you for asking-” 

 

 

“If you are well, then why are you shaking? Are you ill-” 

 

“Father, I did not sleep well as I kept tossing and turning during the night. There is no need to be worried father, I am fine.” 

 

His stepson proved to be as stubborn and adamant as his parents, which came as no surprise of their nature during their lives and what lead to their tragic end. 

 

 

Jungkook was many things, but being a terrible liar is no doubt truly one of them. He was always so earnest, with every emotion and feeling of his at the moment clearly expressed in his delicate face. 

 

 

“You must be careful and vigilant if you are not well, my son. I will leave you a few hours before the ceremony begins, but no trouble during these times- am I understood?” 

 

 

“Yes father. I can guarantee you that.” 

 

 

 

…

 

    Yoongi paced tirelessly around his quarters in anticipation and uneasiness, fiddling with the sapphire encrusted rings on his fingers and speaking to himself under his breath. 

 

“Brother, there is no need to look like you are dressed for a funeral on your own wedding day.” Lady Jisoo, his younger sister questions him accusingly with a lighthearted grin.

 

“And why are you, a Handmaiden of the Grand Princess not accompanying her in preparation today?” He retaliates with the same teasing tone, attempting to be serious yet holds back a chuckle. 

 

“The princess’ wish was that this final moment she had as an unmarried lady was to spend time with her family.”

 

Min Yoongi observes his reflection in his ornate-framed mirror, smoothening out the edges of his velvet coat and brushing his fingers against the sapphires engraved into its jacquard-printed lining. He looks up towards his younger sister who looked so much like him, yet they were nothing alike in nature. She had all of her mother's beauty and none of their father's cruelty. Perhaps it made sense she was always the favourite. 

 

 

“I do not blame her for that. The Princess has always valued her family and loyalty to everything, just as we do. Now, I will leave you be and manage a few loose ends before I make my way to the Sept.” 

 

 

Jisoo raises her eyebrows in suspicion, noting how her brother’s ‘loose ends’ never end well nor peacefully- always bloody, violent or both. She was wiser than anyone had suspected of her.  

 

 

…

 

 

 

    Taehyung releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding once he made his way back into his sapphire hued carriage. The coachman yells for the stallion to heed ahead, leaving the sprawling, expansive cultivated fields towards the hectic crowds that surround the Sept for the Grand Princess’ matrimonial ceremony to the Min scion. 

 

 

The military medals and clan badge feels heavy on his lapel, as he fiddles and tugs on the hems of his newly etched clan garment. He fiddles with the obsidian hued helmet lined with streaks of cobalt silk that surrounded the sole sapphire that marked his lineage and elevated status as an acknowledged noble son of the Haeyang clan. 

 

It is supposed to be a festival of celebration and revelry, yet the atmosphere feels wrong, feels agitated, and feels tense enough that Taehyung knows there’s nothing right in the air with the events leading from today, moving forward. 

 

Sooner than later, he finds himself already in sight with the Red Keep, for what feels like nearly an hour distance by carriage has passed like the blink of an eye. Streamers, lanterns and banners are hoisted upon the city posts,  marked with sigils and adages for good luck, prosperity and a happy marriage. 

 

The clothed stallion that leads them turns a sharp left into a furtive pathway that is unknown to most, yet a favourite bypass for nobles and aristocrats alike for a safer, more private alleyway towards the Great Sept of Baelor. 

 

 

From a visible distance, a bustling crowd emerges a few blocks away, filled with curious sight seekers who find even the matrimonial festivities insufficient of a form of entertainment, and populated with bannermen equipped in varying hues of merlot and charcoal. 

 

 

“Please stop the carriage-”

 

“Sir, your father, Lord Kim has ordered that you directly make your way to the Sept without interruption-”

 

 

 

“I don’t care what my father said or his orders!” 

 

Taehyung swings open the carriage door as he unlocks the string notch, stepping down quickly and carelessly staining his newly polished hide boots against the carcass and the waste of the populated capital.

 

 

He comes closer to the crowd discreetly, cautious to not make a sound and not draw any unwanted attention towards himself. Dressed in the customary robes of the Haeyang clan in swirls of azure and onyx, they surrounded the arrogant, imperious Min Yoongi, all in his finest velvet and sapphires. 

 

 

“Here he comes- the Haeyang Kim clan’s newly legalized son. My dear cousin.” Venom and ridicule laced Yoongi’s voice, as he slowly made his way through the crowds that cleared the path for him to slowly approach Taehyung.

 

 

 

Taehyung gulps nervously, as he has barely started formal sword fighting training with his father’s officials, but he has survived long enough in the streets to stay alive. 

 

 

He is a step away from being known and making himself seen by the Min heir, until he is forcefully grabbed by the collar into a hidden alleyway just behind a brick building. 

 

“Taehyung-hyung, what are you going to do? Didn’t we make a vow to never cross paths with him again unless necessary?!” 

 

 

Jeon Jungkook whispers frantically to him as they hid in the dark shadows amidst the bright daylight. Taehyung sighs in relief as it is an ally and not a foe who grabs him without warning. 

 

 

“You shouldn’t just scare me and grab me like that out of a sudden. I thought someone was going to beat the life out of me here!” The elder retorts, dramatically rolling his eyes and wiping off the light sheen of sweat forming on his tan forehead. 

 

 

“And why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with your father-”

 

 

“He wanted me to do the rounds of security around the capital city before the ceremonies begin. Good thing he sent me out here or you’ll be long gone!” 

 

Jungkook loosens his grip on his friend’s collar, the white disappearing from his knuckles and blood flowing back from the loss of firm contact. 

 

 

“We must get out of here at once and make our way into the Sept immediately. What were you thinking walking into his circle of minions by yourself thinking you’d come out of there alive? You know better than I do how much Min Yoongi wants us dead and he knows he can get away with it due to his standing.” 

 

 

 

 

“Min Yoongi has the temper of a flame that can never be calmed down-” The blond retorts.

 

 

“Yes, and that is the more reason we must leave immediately!”  

 

 

Taehyung defeatedly nods, as he follows Jungkook as they clandestinely sneak away from the shadows and find the carriage that has been impatiently looking for them. They keep going straight, marching surreptitiously against the pavement, before being interrupted by Yoongi once again.

 

 

“And where do you think you’re going? I don’t think we’re done here.” 

 

 

Jungkook and Taehyung cautiously turned around, both expressionless and unresponsive in their expressions and guarded body language. 

 

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your matrimonial festivities, Min Yoongi? You’re the groom after all.” Taehyung quips acerbically, crossing his arms to reveal his padded leather sleeves of his house and gripping his fingers against his upper arm.

 

 

The Jeon heir makes a silent prayer under his breath, gripping onto Taehyung’s newly minted armour to avoid confrontation and leave the scene before it escalates. He can hear his heart beat faster at an accelerated pace, hearing as it echoed in his ears as adrenaline fills his veins to flee. 

 

 

 

“We sincerely apologize for interrupting, Lord Min. We had gotten distracted and lost due to the redirected routes of the city for the festivities.” Jungkook solemnly bows his head, stammeringly quickly before he could grab Taehyung and run away together towards the opposite direction.

 

 

 

Instead, Min Yoongi takes amusement of the situation and smirks with a nefarious, playful intent. 

 

 

 

“No, don’t leave- we’re not done here. We have a lot to talk about.” 

 

 

 

Each step is made calculatedly, deliberately and consciously that their lives are at stake when the wrong move is made and the words said at the wrong time and place are said. 

 

 

“You want to speak? We’re going to speak right here, right now-”

 

 

All hell breaks loose as Taehyung charges forward towards Yoongi, unsheathing his newly polished sword with the speed of lighting. The Min bannermen and spectator mercenaries and loiters engage in the riot, looking for trouble and carried away by the thrill of action and violence. 

 

 

 

Jungkook’s eyes widen in alarm, as if time had paused around him and he held his breath in anticipation. He leaps in desperation to rip his friend away from the hysteria, from the madness of the world he had kept him out for so long. Yet he is too late.

 

 

 

Like the blink of an eye, Jimin stands between them, out of breath, red in the face and his hair messily disheveled around his face in loose strands sticking to this forehead in sweat and blood. 

 

 

“There is no need for war and violence when there is love and goodness in the world-”

 

 

 

Jungkook screams in agony when he recognizes spatters of fresh, red blood on Jimin’s silk crimson vest. He does not know where to look first, as he shakily attempts to hold onto something that gives him a clear sense of what’s going on in the chaos of the storm in front of him. 

 

 

 

But everything is not what it seems- it is the sight of Min Yoongi’s sharp dagger right onto Kim Taehyung’s abdomen. Jungkook does not know what to believe anymore. 

 

…

 

A/n: Hey guys! This is perhaps the longest time I've been away and a lot has happened! I briefly lost interest in kpop in general and had some rough mental illness stuff that coincided with the mess that is high school grad, part time jobs and travelled for a week with my friends to an island during the summer and had a fam reunion right after before starting first year uni! 

 

 

 

Nonetheless, I did write parts of this throughout the past few months when I got tired of uni stuff lmao, and so excited to deliver the rest of this story with you guys! I have added more characters and introduced more of the other noble families (and the tiered hierarches, whether it be historical, social, economic, or just be alliance association) that exist in this universe! 

 

 

 

 

I have the next chapter partly drafted (briefly but it's the most important chunk) so I hope I get to ride off that same inspo wave as I did to spontaneously finish this before my supposed "nap." I kept this chapter short because contrary to my lengthy, verbose writing style typically- I felt it was necessary to keep it concise for maximum effect and intensity. Enjoy! 

 

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