Power resided where men believed it resided -- and it was the very basis of their power to make men believe that it should only reside in them. That it was their sole right. That was the idea. 

Chapter 4

Taehyung had always bore his titles like an albatross.

There had been a time when he wanted to convince him to abdicate, to give all of it up and run off into the sunset with him. Taehyung had dismissed him, and his romantic suggestion. What his lover hadn’t understood at the time was that Jungkook was being serious when he suggested it, it had come from a real place from within him.

As much as he complained about the burden, it wasn’t until much later that Jungkook finally understood why he said no to it. With time, and patience, he came to accept that the vision of love he had within his head would never become a reality.

Because as much as he was Kim Taehyung, Tae – he was also something else.

He was an idea – much like Jimin, he was a walking idea.

He was Taehyung, Prince-Imperial, Lord of Seoul, Heir to the Infinite.

Jungkook had the terrible misfortune of falling in love with someone that carried an abstraction on his shoulders. That abstraction unified most of the world, brought peace, stability and security to billions – and was apart of the process that secured it.

It was written into the very fabric of his being to give all of himself to the security and continuity of the idea that he represented with his very existence on Earth.

But there were times when Jungkook grew tired of it.

When his parents died, Taehyung had developed the toxic habit of being caught up in his own thoughts. Whether it was the intense insecurity that he bore when people compared him to his brother, or the raw anger when someone attempted to use him to get to Jimin, Taehyung tended to wrap them together in some twisted crown of thorns.

Jungkook stood a respectable distance back as Taehyung’s attendant slowly removed his regalia, piece by agonizing piece. All the while, he kept his eyes on Tae’s face in the mirror, Jungkook knew that he was caught up in one of those vicious loops.

That vacant, listless stare at his own reflection gave it away.

The worst part was that he knew could never pull Taehyung out of it – all he could hope to do was to catch the other man when he finally took his unavoidable fall.

“Your Imperial Highness,” Consular Jinsoo sounded beside himself.

Jungkook personally thought of the man as an enormous waste of space. The rotund, older man was dressed in the voluminous deep tyrian purple robes of his order, and every breath that he took seemed to take an enormous effort out of him. Charged with ensuring that the time-honored traditions of the Imperial Family remained honored, Jungkook saw something of a contradiction in their mission when it was put into practice.

Because at the end of the day, Jimin and Taehyung could do what they wanted.

“His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor, he will not be pleased with you leaving the ceremony before him, I have to insist that you remain,” Jinsoo said it with such conviction, such zeal, as if he thought that he’d be able to say it and remain unscathed.

The idiot.

Jungkook took a single step back and looked at Taehyung in the full mirror.

This was another reason why he knew that he would never be able to convince Taehyung to abdicate his title and pull himself out of a world of politics that he loathed.

Kim Taehyung wasn’t just a royal, not like his cousins.

He was of Imperial Blood, of the direct line, down to his very core.

If nothing else, he simply didn’t know how to exist outside of his station in life.

Jinsoo’s impudence seemed to draw Taehyung out of whatever funk he was in, and Jungkook almost chuckled at the expression that ever so slowly creeped up on his face. It was a pure, unadulterated disgust, disgust at Jinsoo for the nerve he’d shown.

Taehyung pivoted around on his feet, forcing the poor girl that had been removing a ruby chain from his robe to fall on her knees. The Prince didn’t spare her a glance, and even seemed to grow in size and stature as he stared at Consular Jinsoo.

“You presume to order me around?” Taehyung’s voice had taken a low, dangerous cadence. “You know that you are walking a fine line by doing that, Jinsoo.”

As Prince-Imperial, he was first to all – save for one, his brother.

There was very little that Taehyung could be forced to do, and of that exceptionally tiny list, only his brother had the power to order him around, only Jimin.

Taehyung stepped forward.

He carried himself with such a asive, imperious attitude that if Jungkook had any doubts, he knew in that moment that he could never give it up, he wouldn’t survive in a world where he couldn’t wield near absolute power.

As the consular babbled something of a hasty surrender, seeming to finally comprehend who he was speaking to, Taehyung stepped back to face the full mirror.

A look of a rage painted on his beautiful face.

“Get out, all of you,” His eyes crossed over to meet the man’s in the mirror. “And if Jimin starts ing at all about it, you can tell him to kiss the fattest part of my .”

The attendant couldn’t have left faster, rapidly rising to her feet, clutching a ruby chain from Taehyung’s robe in her hand.

She left so fast that Jungkook noted that she forgot to bow.

And as the girl fled to the door, Taehyung whirled on Jinsoo.

“Are you deaf? I don’t need your help, and I am leaving, so get out!”

Taehyung was screaming at this point – and it was all the invitation that Consular Jinsoo needed to follow the attendant. As he gave Taehyung a hasty bow, he his heels and headed for the exit, his