“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.” 
― William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

Fools for love never think, as they only feel - as did Park Jimin. Jungkook never understood how someone as well educated as Park Jimin would never listen to his head and only did anything from his heart. No amount of tutoring and readings could ever convulse the passion Park Jimin had in his bones and his blood. 

As the heir to the Hanyang clan, nothing was spared or denied from the faction heir, who wanted nothing but the best for Park Jimin. The elegant manor, finest clothing, servants on his beck and call, but the rejection from a girl who never was his and never was, was enough to break down the walls Jimin built around him for years. He had gone lengths to pursue her love and interest but he failed miserably. She was never interested and did nothing but try to wave off his affections, even if he went in circles to chase her down. 

Jimin had no courage to come up to her or utter a single word, yet it had taken all of his efforts to ask one of the servants for her name. The corners of her eyes scrunching up as she had laughed timidly and her soft, rose tinted lips as she spoke excitedly to the Grand Princess Seungwan were besotting to him as he stuck closely by his clan members, half-heartedly listening to his clan members telling him jokes, clearly wanting to get on his good side to receive favours.

He sneaks in a note, urging one of the page boys to deliver his declaration of love on parched paper quickly scratched in with blurry ink to meet him in the garden, keeping himself anonymous. Hiding behind the pillars of the palace halls, he glances behind and notices the curious yet annoyed and nonchalant expression on her face, her features scrunching up as she crumples up his note and begrudgingly makes her way to the manicured gardens behind the sliding wooden doors.

…

“I am sorry but I will not marry you, Park Jimin-ssi.” Yerim utters indifferently, tilting her chin upwards refusing to look at him. Jimin felt as if he stabbed her with a knife with her words, yet she hadn’t even touched him or looked at him in the eye at all.

“Yerim-ssi, I know our families are from different factions, but if they see how much we love each other-” Jimin responds almost pathetically, putting his pride and ego all on the line, yet as he is running out of breath and getting lightheaded over the speed that his words come out of his mouth: they mean nothing to him now.

“How much you love me? Don’t get me wrong Park Jimin, you are a good hearted, kind man but I will marry no one until my dying breath.” She proclaims, finally turning around to face him, before she runs off past him and rejoins the bustling crowd in the palace ballroom.

Park Jimin lost count of the drinks he had in the banquet celebration and the tears he shed that night in his bedroom.

    Jungkook has seen all the girls and young women Jimin has fancied, many have come and go, no matter how many times he had claimed that she would be the “one” - no one had the same effect on him as she had. Some  were stunning beyond humanly possible, some boringly plain, but the girl Jimin had his eye on - Kim Yerim was average at best. All the girls before hastily and sloppily made close to no trace on Jimin’s heart, yet this girl struck him right on the target.

With his chestnut brown hair and dark obsidian eyes, Jungkook stuck out in a swirl of scarlet and mauve locks in a sea of deep emerald irises that shone under the moon. He resembled no one from the Park lineage or anyone else in the Hanyang faction, a loose puzzle piece that fit no edge or crevice yet  they took him in as their own and he has never forgotten the hands that had fed him.

He was fortunate enough to have a second chance in life. If he had not met many of those who had offered a hand, welcomed him into their households, fed him, clothed him and raised him as if they were his own child, he would’ve been dead by now, cold and numb six feet below the ground. Every night before he rests, he mutters a prayer under his breath with his palms folded and tightly grips on the beaded necklace across his neck in thanks for the life he is living.

In the streets of King’s Landing, he fights and dresses in the name of the Hanyang faction, as he had sworn his life to the faction and will die without resistance in order to defend its glory and its name. He wears the faction colour of crimson with pride as he tightly grips on the sheath of his dagger wherever he goes, not afraid of defending the very people he loves and cares for not out of duty but of honour. In gratitude. His faction gave him an identity, gave him something to live for and made him more than the austere, bland personality of his that made him blend in and the paltriness of his bloodline and lineage. He was not just "Jeon" Jungkook, adopted by one of the kingdom's most powerful men with no relation but responsibility and practice, some knight's bastard with a ruined noble or whatever the other nobles gossiped behind his back, but one of the Hanyang clan's most prominent bannermen. That was enough for him. 

    “Jungkook!” He turns around at the sound of raucous clattering of metal hooves against the uneven pavement, seeing his stepfather Jung Yunho mounted on his majestic horse Greythunder, named after its smoke coloured mane and its infamous agility and gait against the roaring winds.

    “Father! I suppose you have heard the news of the Hanyang leader’s son Jimin has been locked up in his quarters since yesterday morning. There is nothing we can do yet we cannot let him sulk and waste away unless Lord Park will panic. ” Jungkook pants hurriedly, as he runs past the crowded streets of the capital’s market, with posts and stores in bright colours against the muck of the dirt and mud that stuck to the bottom of his shoes by his stepfather’s horse.

    “Unfortunately I have, son. Lord Park, like his mother, is a very earnest boy who warmly loves the people around him. He gives and gives with all his heart without the assurance that it will be returned to him, but he lives to be that person to everyone.” Yunho sighs tiredly as he gets off his horse, tangling his coarse fingers through its thick mane in a constant motion while he speaks solemnly to his stepson.

Lord Jung Yunho is pompous and dignified in his plated armour, his six foot tall frame and his muscular built suitable only to the lord of Highgarden, his honey blond curls gracing his defined, hardened features and hazel eyes were full of conviction and tenacity. Whenever Jungkook glanced at his stepfather, he would gulp in insecurity and inferiority that he would never live up to be half as a man his father is. Yunho is a man who sounds like he is from a folk tale, too good to be true, of superior character and too perfect of appearance even for his age as a middle aged man, yet even with his flaws and imperfections, he is still twice as good as half of the men in the kingdom. 

A few inches shorter and his scrawny, lithe build made him look like a willow tree next to his stepfather, yet that was the last of his worries when his stepfather’s character made his physical appearance insignificant. He was a man of his word and his actions. He had raised his real father’s status in life and raised him from obscurity and glory.

He had defended his mother’s reputation and legacy long after he had found her and Jungkook in a hidden tower, vowing to raise Jungkook as his own before her last breath, but Jungkook knows he can never repay that. Loyalty like that has no equivalent, and one cannot find a man like that in Westeros again. Jungkook has heard tales over and over again of his father, about how he rose from poverty  and made a name on his own efforts and the kindness of Lord Jung not because he hailed from a noble, established family, as it was the kind of legend that everyone wanted to hear. The rags to riches story and how nothing is impossible was what the people wanted to hear to comfort and encourage themselves that the same could happen to them too. Too bad the story doesn't end the way they expected it to go. 

His stepfather barely spoke about Jungkook's real parents, and he spoke even less about his mother. He remembers asking him about his mother and Lord Yunho froze like he had seen a ghost and refused to speak about her before moving on to ask his septa to read Jungkook a story going to bed instead. The last time he had talked about his mother was at Lord Jung's mother the Dame Lady Jung's funeral a few years ago, when Yunho, pale, stern and somber in his funeral clothes that have become extremely loose as he had lost weight since his mother's passing, sobbed in his younger sister's arms- the Queen Sooyeon, and confessed how their mother knew about Jungkook's real mother was of a noble lineage and how she would've loved Jungkook if she had lived to see him grow up. The only other thing Jungkook could remember was that her name was Yoona. His mother's name was Yoona. 

He always wondered what she looked like and what she was like when she was alive. Did she have his eyes? His unruly hair? Was she fond of lemon cakes as he was? Was she kind? Beautiful? Did she indulge and drown herself in books for hours deep in the library like he did? Did he smile the same way she did? Would she have loved him like a mother could've loved him? What would a mother been to him? What was it like to have one? To have parents? A real family? 

“I’ve always feared Jimin would eventually tire out that those he does favours for never give back what he gives them out, and I’m afraid my fear has come true. He has wooed many young girls before and they always disappear in a blink of an eye, but no one has hurt him as much as she has.” Jungkook sighs wistfully as he and his stepfather walk through the crowded streets, common folk, soldiers and other nobles clearing the path and bowing respectfully towards Yunho, while giving an indifferent glare towards him as they walked back to the gated walls.

“She? Who is this she you are talking about?” Yunho questions curiously, wrinkles forming on his forehead as he steps up the spiraling staircase of the guarded city.

“Kim Yerim I believe is her name? She is one of the Grand Princess’ handmaidens and hails from the Haeyang clan. It was ruined from the beginning, so Taehyung and I always reminded him that it’ll never prosper because we are from opposite sides-” The younger responded tiredly, having given up in convincing and consulting the Hanyang heir repeatedly to no avail. Jimin has a stubborn streak like everyone else in the family; a trademark that resonated in the Park bloodline, even to his sisters, and once he had made up his mind- it was a point of no return.

Yunho abruptly halts his footsteps once he makes his way on top of the staircase, causing Jungkook who trailed behind him to remain on the step below him. His eyes suddenly soften, the hardness in his eyes suddenly replaced with an uncharacteristic pensive melancholy in the elder’s eyes and his stepson stares at him bewilderedly.

“Jungkook, over time you will see that these borders and sides, we have taken will mean nothing in life to what we feel and who we love. You are very smart and intelligent, my son and I am extremely proud of that- but I never want you to forget what you feel inside. In your heart. What is there to live for in life if we do not listen to what we feel? Law and order is there to keep our kind in peace but how can there be peace without love? Love crosses beyond borders, labels, allegiances, and silly clans like this- if one really loved another- that would mean nothing to them. They would do anything for love. Anything I say. Even die for them. I've seen it before and I fear I'll see it again. ” He pats his stepson’s shoulder firmly yet affectionately, looking him in the eye and flashing him a genuine smile, even though he rarely breaks out into enthusiastic expressions, and leaves Jungkook standing perplexed in the middle of the crowded streets of the palace.

Jungkook knew the factions were lines so far apart that they should never be crossed, unless he wanted the gates of hell to be wide open, but he never expected his duty-bound father to ever contradict the unspoken law in the kingdom. Was there really more to duty? To honour? Glory? Family loyalty? Status?

He glances upwards, past the intricate gothic palaces and towering churches, towards the expanse of cerulean, dotted with feathery clouds as the radiant rays of sun shone on him. He ponders at the beautiful sky above him and contemplates, deep in thought about the advice his stepfather had given him and what it means to him now. He asks himself if all these conflicts and allegiances are that important when it seems like there are bigger things than civil wars and battlefields. 

An idea comes to him suddenly, and Jungkook struggles to hide the sly smile on his face as he makes his way towards Jimin’s quarters. Jimin is going to forget about that Yerim girl with what Jungkook had in mind.

...

Author's Note: Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed the official start of the story. If you haven't noticed, I'm dividing up the story like a play such as Romeo and Juliet is with acts and scenes rather than a huge chapter. It just worked so well with the plot line I've come up with to be structured this way and enables me to update more often for you guys!

I"m so sorry I haven't updated sooner as I was away for a cruise since the last prologue but here it is nonetheless.  Thank you once again for your patience and love! Please do comment, subscribe and upvote if you can as it means the world to me! Suggestions are welcome too! xoxo  <3 

Song: "Lost and Found" by Katie Herzig