He hated it.

He had always had a reputation for being cold, and that wasn't quite a rumor. He loathed his royalty; the riches, the fame, the long, empty halls of the lonely castle, the guards, the agitating amount of respect everyone paid him just because he happened to be son of the rulers of this land.

Yoongi hated being a prince.

He shuffled his feet across the smooth tiles, squeaking sounds echoing out through the halls due to the intricate, proper (and ridiculous looking, in his opinion) boots that he wished he didn't have to wear. It was just after their last meal of the day, but he was restless, not comfortable or tired.

"You know, maybe they'll let you leave the castle by yourself after your next birthday," Hoseok remarked, mainly just trying to fill the silence, and at a loss for what else to say. Yoongi chuckled wistfully; they both had a strong feeling that that wouldn't happen. He was already well past eighteen, (he'd turned 20 that spring) and that frankly was a sign that he wouldn't be free anytime soon.

"I wish," Yoongi grumbled, fiddling with his hands. Hoseok never knew quite what to say when Yoongi sank into these gloomy moods, and so it was almost to his relief when another servant approached them, informing the taller dark haired boy that Namjoon (the king, and Yoongi's father) requested his presence. "I'll see you later on, then?" he commented to Yoongi. At a short, sulky nod from his handsome blonde friend, he walked off, leaving Yoongi alone again.

There were only two things the young prince really liked that came from being in his position.

One, of course, was Hoseok; a servant, and his one and only friend. Bright, quirky, and full of smiles, Hoseok brought a certain light to his life, but as a servant, he was often busy.

And so at times like these, when he was by himself, he would turn to the other joy in his life; reading. In the castle, if you ventured towards the back, there was an enormous library, one with any book that could possibly come to mind. If you ever were in doubt of Yoongi's whereabouts, chances are, he was in the library reading the hours away.

Which is what he planned to do now. His walking gradually turned from a mopey, wandering pace, to a more determined one. Many might not grasp his passionate love for books for a man at his age; usually they were reckless, rambunctious, but he was the perfect picture of a reserved, detached bookworm. His parents found it amusing, and appreciated his lack of rebellious nature, but they still did not trust him to leave the castle alone. He was the prince, after all, and was still yet to be married.

Yoongi arrived at his favorite room in the lonely edifice of a home, pushing open the doors with satisfaction in his fingers. He trotted to the enormous bookshelves, eyes grazing over titles. It didn't really matter what he would pick. It never did; he would read anything and everything.

However, his very favorite were books about people from small towns and villages. Ones who had been born with normal lives, unlike his privileged, yet lonely one. He wishes he'd been born like those people; surrounded by ones who loved them, laughter always filling the air, and the sense of impending responsibility not so ominous and crushing.

He obliviously chose one of these books today, curling up in his favorite spot in the corner next to a vast window, despite the many comfortable seating choices throughout the large room. As soon as he opened to the first page, he let a smile grace his lips, so easily entranced by the words inked onto the yellowing paper.

He lost himself in yet another story, his heart connecting pleasantly with the main character; a bright boy who was raised on a farm. Optimistic, enthusiastic, funny. Yoongi very distantly realized that perhaps he liked the character so much because he was everything Yoongi wasn't, but he dismissed the thought before it could fully enter his mind.

"Sir."

He did not look up; at this point in the story, the sweet boy of the story world was in danger, and his attention was glued to the pages.

"Sir."

A horse was rearing up above the fictional boy, and Yoongi held his breath.

"Sir."

Finally, Yoongi jerked his head up, irritation swimming in his eyes at the one who had interrupted him, but they didn't seem phased in the slightest. "You have dancing lessons," they informed him monotonously. Yoongi groaned; the lessons were for when his parents decided to hold a ball at the castle. They required their son to dance, in the hopes that he would impress some rich girl, or someone of the nature.

"Can't I skip them today?" he whined. He had never liked dancing, and he was especially disinterested in doing it now, when his mind was so wrapped up in the story he'd pulled himself into. "You know you can't do that, sir," the servant told him blankly, and Yoongi sighed deeply, standing up. He gave one last glance to the book. I'll be back for you soon, he thought.

The next hour or so dragged on as it usually did, with constant glares from him to his instructor that of course went completely ignored. He hated having her hands on him, placed far too intimately on his hips or shoulders.

Finally, he was released, and he frowned at the sunset. He would not have as much light to read as he would like, but he would make do. Without so much as a goodbye to his instructor, he walked briskly out of the ballroom.

However, when he reached the library, excitedly making his way to his favorite spot, his face fell when he noticed that the book was no longer there. Scanning the room to find the reason for this, he spotted a maid dusting off tabletops in the room. A scowl fixed into his lips, and he approached her with a biting question on his lips.

"Did you pick up the book off the floor?" he snapped, making the young woman almost drop her feather duster in surprise. Her lip quivered at the anger in his eyes, and the word was caught in . She finally forced out a small, barely audible, "Yes," backing away in intimidation so her long, dark brown, wavy hair bounced on her shoulders.

Yoongi's face twitched in irritation. "Where did you put it?" he growled, pointing at the bookshelf. She took another small step back. "I-I don't remember, sir. I'm sorry, sir," she choked out, her eyes watering. His stare flicked to the ground. "I'll find it. You don't have to act like I'm going to murder you or something," he added, feeling guilty at just how afraid she looked of him. "I apologize, sir," she whispered, voice still shaking.

Yoongi's stomach twisted, eyes turning apologetic. "Just...call me Yoongi, okay?" he requested. She nodded quickly, and he gestured for her to carry on with dusting. He shook his head as he walked over to look for his book. If only he wasn't so naturally bitter. He needed to work on that: smiling more, snapping less, and just being pleasant in general. It was just hard to do when you're always cooped up in a castle, lonely and being fussed over by intimidated servants at the order of his mother or occasionally his father.

He bit his lip, snapping back into reality. Right. The book. He scanned over each spine, realizing quickly that the light was too dim for him to have any chance, especially with a bookshelf so huge.

With a sigh, he swiftly left the library, leaving the maid alone, and strode to his own bedroom. He opened the door, greeting the sight of the only other room in the castle he enjoyed being in (besides the kitchen, sometimes).

Moonlight filtered through another large window into the beautiful, open room. His bed was a size enough for six people, and it was so soft and comfortable that he always melted pleasantly into it. Tonight was no exception.

But once in bed, wrapped up in the warm covers, his mind wandered to what Hoseok said earlier, and kept him awake. "You know, maybe they'll let you leave the castle by yourself after your next birthday."

He wanted to leave with everything in him. Now. By himself. He wanted to see things, meet people. He wanted to be treated the same way everyone else was, not as if he was some god like many people seemed to think he was.

His brain began to pull out different ideas, going through the possible flaws in them. There was one plan in particular that his mind kept returning to. He was coming up with solutions to the problems inside of it. It was the most viable option, he thought.

The thought of it looping in his brain finally brought him out of bed. He wasn't going to sit around and think about this anymore. He wasn't going to wait for his parents to trust him. He was going to act, but to do that he needed something. If he thought he'd get away with going out anywhere without a disguise, he was wrong.

But he already had a possible disguise in mind that would be different enough for him not to be recognized by anyone. His lips curved into a mischievous smile. Perhaps...

--

Okay so how was that for a starter? It's kinda boring right now, but we'll get there. I'm hoping this fic will turn out as awesome as it potentially could :') Well, hope you enjoyed ~ See you soon! c: