Chapter Text
50 long years.
A frankly short period of time for the fae, but agonizingly long for Jimin, despite being fae himself. For others, that amount of time would flash by in the blink of an eye. For him? He has waited so many long years to close his eyes, drift into sleep, and wake up with a revelation.
Most would learn their fate shortly after, or maybe even shortly before, they turn 50 years old. For Jimin, it’s been 62. A dozen years past when he should have had his vision, when he should have found his purpose or his path…
Or his mate.
Jimin doesn’t admit it to anyone else, but that’s what he had always hoped his dream would be about, that he would see the face of the person he is meant to spend the rest of his many years with. He has barely even started his life, came of age a mere decade ago, and for the first 50 years of his life, all he could think about was the day he would finally find the person he will have at his side for the next several centuries.
Now he sits with his back to his village, legs dangling over the edge of a cliff, a waterfall crashing in beautiful, thunderous roars before him, and a swathe of bloodwing flowers surrounding him. Breezes blow mist from the water as it flows, coloring the air with faint rainbows and dowsing the flowers with dew. Jimin follows the mists with his gaze until they vanish again, the sight of his dream still dancing before his mind’s eye.
Not a fated mate dream, or so it would seem.
Jimin presses his palm over his heart, rubbing at his chest to still the rapid pounding inside it. Shivers claw through him, leave him shuddering until he grips the cliff’s edge. He needs to calm down. If he’s going to face the elders and tell them what he saw, he needs to be steady. While there are beliefs and laws in place to prevent the elders from holding young fae back from their destinies, exceptions have been made.
It would be Jimin’s luck that his vision would lead him back to their dark past, back to the worst time in fae history. If anyone is going to be told they cannot follow through on their vision, it would be him, for the sake of all fae kind.
He reaches out to touch the petal of a bloodwing flower. A morbid name for a flower with such an uplifting meaning behind it. A blessing on his people from the Forest itself, given to them when their ancestors fought and died for the Forest’s life, their blood given back to the land that nourished them. It cannot be cultivated, cannot be planted and forced to grow where it does not wish to. It chooses its own home when it decides the people there have done well to care for the land’s spirits and proven themselves worthy.
“Jimin?” The gentle voice of Minseo brings him back to the real world, a little flutter of his wings reminding him that he’s awake right now. Not in his dream.
Awake and with no time left to figure out how to convince the elders that he needs to do this. He needs to follow through with whatever it is he saw, He barely understands it himself, though. How does he convince them to let him go?
“Are you ready?” Minseo asks, cocking her head at him, a nervous smile on her face. Everyone has been on edge around Jimin since he stepped foot outside of his room. Everyone can sense that something is wrong.
Either that or they know something is wrong because, typically, Jimin would never shut up. He’s not exactly the quietest fae on the branch, so for him to silently eat breakfast in the dining hall and then leave to stare at a waterfall is a sign that something is out of balance.
Jimin pulls his feet back over the cliff’s edge, wings twitching rapidly to lift him into the air as he turns. Bare feet touch back down on soft grass, silent and as light as a feather.
“Are they waiting for me already?” he asks, ignoring the nervous lump in his throat. “They’re early.”
Why are they early? Do they already know that his vision is something they cannot let come to pass? They’ve been eager to talk to him since he told them he had his dream. It’s usually the young fae with the dream who is pushing for a quick meeting, desperate to follow its path or find their mate.
Minseo nods, holding her hand out to him. With a wiggle of her fingers, she coaxes him closer until their hands fit together like they have since they were children.
There’s much about this village that Jimin won’t miss if he’s actually allowed to take this journey, but he will miss Minseo. No one has ever embraced him like she has. No one has ever accepted his quirks and eccentricities, invited him into their home, taken care of him, the way she has. With no family left, she’s the closest thing to it that Jimin has.
Jimin comes to a stop at the foot of the Home Tree, the center of their village, the home to most of their people, save for those who have chosen to make their homes in other nearby trees. Sometimes for privacy, sometimes for whatever line of work they’ve chosen should they be farmers or hunters or something other job that requires space.
Everyone else? They remain within the dangling houses on the oversized tree’s branches, including Jimin. More communal that way. More connected. Them and their forest.
Jimin’s own home sits in one of the topmost branches, high enough to see over the canopy of the rest of the forest. High enough to see the horizon and wonder what lies beyond. Fae are naturally curious, but scars upon scars have been painted across their lands and their people, tempering that natural state of theirs.
They rarely leave the safety of their forest today.
Until now. If they allow Jimin to do so.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Minseo asks as she, too, stares up at the tree, its twisted branches acting as paths as fae go to and from their homes. They could much more easily fly, but just like Jimin, they all love the feeling of the bark beneath their bare feet. “Maybe your vision wasn’t telling you to—”
“It was.” Jimin turns to Minseo with a frail smile, struggling to keep it on his face as his heart begins to pound. He takes his hands in hers and gives her a playful tilt of his head. Anything to ease her mind. If she thinks he’s worried, then she will worry too. “I have to leave.”
“But the Forest never gives anyone a vision to leave anymore,” she says, frantic this time, a nervous smile painting her lips. “It never— Maybe you shouldn’t—”
“I have to,” Jimin whispers as he squeezes her hands. “I at least have to try. Maybe it’s because we never leave anymore that I’m being told to. Maybe it’s time for us to rejoin the world.”
Minseo’s eyes light up, though fear still dances through them. They look glossy with unshed tears, but there’s a spark of hope there. Jimin has never been the only one with big dreams, but everyone else learned to stifle theirs when they were taught to live in terror.
”Okay,” she whispers with a nod, then hangs her head. “If you must, then… I wish you luck on your journey. I hope it brings you everything you have ever wished for in life.”
”You make it sound like this is a final goodbye.” Jimin squeezes her hands again, then lets go suddenly and taps two fingers beneath her chin. “I’ll be back. I swear it. I’ll be back and I’ll bring good news.”
Minseo nods again, but she won’t look at him, staring at the ground between their feet instead.
As Jimin slips his hands away from hers, he steps back and turns to face the Home Tree again. Chin up, shoulders back, he takes a deep breath and steels himself. He has no plan, no real way to convince them to let him follow what the forest is asking of him.
And he certainly has no way to convince them to accept him back into their fold should his mission fail. He could be putting them all at great risk by doing this. Everyone knows it. If he fails to do… whatever is that he’s meant to be doing, he could bring the wrath of dragons upon their people again.
But he has to take a chance. Everything about fae life today is nothing like it is meant to be. They are shades in comparison to what they used to be. It must change, lest they lose themselves entirely, and lose the brightness and beauty they used to bring to this world.
Jimin looks to Minseo, still standing at his side as she always has, her translucent green wings fluttering behind her.
“Well,” he says with one last smile, “here I go.”
Jimin startles awake as the ground beneath him rumbles, the sound of stone grating on stone rending all remnants of sleep from him. He jerks upright, his covers falling away. A shiver rips through him before he can drag the blanket back up, covering his trembling wings.
He swears sometimes that this mountain is alive. The way it rumbles and groans, one would think that it just woke up as well.
Blinking against the cold wind, Jimin ducks back down behind the rocks he had wedged himself between the night before. A poor shelter against such frigid weather, but it was the best he could muster up here.
There is nothing on this part of the mountain. Hardly any trees to hide beneath, barely any grass. Jimin runs his fingers along the grit and gravel beneath him, wondering what left such a scar on what was once a likely a lush, beautiful place.
Up until this point, it had looked like any other forested mountainside. And then, suddenly, nothing.
He’s heard plenty of tales of dragons as destroyers and sunderers, ripping apart entire cities and leaving ancient marks across all lands. He’s heard about the distant gorge he’s never seen with his own eyes, said to be the result of a battle between two ancient dragons. Jimin doesn’t know which of those tales he believes, but it seems that this place might be proof of at least one of them.
Though he struggles to understand why they would destroy a place that seems to have been their home.
Jimin glances back down the path he had come up as he packs his things. No point in trying to sleep more. The sun has already risen and he’ll be warmer if he starts moving. The sooner he can reach the summit, the better. There looks to be no shelter besides rocks from here onward.
Until now, Jimin slept in tiny buildings that seemed to be miniature palaces long abandoned. Just enough space for one or two people to kneel and pray and leave offerings to, he assumed, the dragons who once lived here. It isn’t uncommon for humans to worship them, but Jimin thought that practice had long been left behind.
Some of the offerings seem to be mere weeks old. And ignored, no longer accepted and taken to the palace above for consumption.
Is there even anyone left on this mountain? Is the dragon that Jimin saw in his vision still here? What if he’s too late?
Still, he treks onwards, his wings aching in the cold, rocks jabbing into the bottoms of his feet. Jimin snaps his fingers and feels warmth flood through him again, enough to keep him moving without keeling over and shivering in a pile on the ground.
He has heard of human inventions such as shoes, but fae use no such thing. And they sound quite miserable—bits of material wrapped around their feet, squeezing and trapping sweat between their toes the same way heavy clothes do. He can’t imagine walking in something like that.
Magic will suffice and do the job much better, in his opinion.
Another rumble echoes around Jimin, but this time from the sky rather than the mountain itself. Jimin throws his gaze upward, to the dark clouds crawling their way across endless blue.
He picks up his pace, tugging his scarf tighter around his face, and then begins to run. He can’t be far now. If the map he found—or, rather, stole—in the town at the mountain’s foot, then the old palace should be just up ahead.
But it feels like this place is limitless. No matter how far he runs, the barren lands never seem to give way to anything else.
How will he explain to everyone back home if he finds nothing here? How will he explain it to himself? A fae’s vision is never supposed to fail them. They can fail to fulfill their fate, but the visions never lie. They all have their purpose that the Forest asks them to carry out—for their benefit and for the Forest itself to thrive—so it would never mislead them.
There has to be something here. Something on this mountain. Waiting for him.
Someone.
Or perhaps the elders let him go so easily because they knew it would be hopeless.
But like a prayer answered by the Forest, a little dot red pokes up beyond the swell of the mountain, the tip of a pillow reaching for the sky with its top broken off. Its shattered pieces scatter the ground around it, red paint worn away in most spots until it’s left with a dull, rusty shade.
Beyond it, as Jimin pads up the path, his throat aching as he drags in harsh lungfuls of cold air, stands massive buildings of the same red, the peaks of their sloped roofs seeming to touch the raging clouds above.
This is it. The place Jimin saw in his dream. This is what the Forest showed him.
And he sees how, now that he’s here.
The moment his feet hit the smooth stones of the palace’s courtyard, he freezes in place. The scarred lands below have been left behind for lush greenery once again, tall trees dotting the courtyard, brilliant flowers gathered around their roots where they peek out from the ground. It’s wild and unkempt, a garden lost in time yet kept alive. Alive but not tended to.
But someone is here. Someone still cares for this place, even if they can’t keep up with it.
It must have been brilliant, once upon a time, with its twisting trees rising so high above Jimin’s head that he has to crane his neck to look up at them. He can imagine what they must look like in the changing of the seasons, blossoming in spring or changing color in autumn.
Is this what dragons made before they fled to the farthest corners of the world? Grand buildings carved with intricate detail, strange symbols winding around pillars and splashed across doorways. Jimin pauses beside one pillar and runs his fingers along the script that twists around it. Around and around, hundreds of words etched into stone. The painted images that seem to depict whatever tale the words tell have worn away until they’re almost impossible to see now.
He reaches up, brushes his fingers along the faded image of what he thinks is a dragon perched on the edge of a sharp cliff, its maw wide open. His fingers drift down to waves, the sea crashing beneath the dragon.
Long lost memories of a time when dragons ruled everything. When the skies and seas and the land was theirs.
Jimin whips his head around to look across the courtyard, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Thunder rumbles overhead, the air crackling with distant lightning. Maybe that’s all he felt. Maybe it was nothing else.
Maybe…
He tells himself that over and over. Tells himself that it’s simply the chilly mountain air that feels like fingers down his spine, tugging tremors from him as he walks. He hitches his knapsack onto his shoulders and clutches the straps, feet padding over cracked stone. Moss creeps up between the broken lines of the courtyard, tickling the bottoms of Jimin’s feet as he goes. He pauses and wiggles his toes against the rough surface, lets the life force of the mountain trickle into him, speak to him.
His eyes fall shut, another shiver rushing from head to toe, all the way to the tips of his wings as they flutter.
He’s not alone here.
He knew he wouldn’t be, but knowing that he’s being watched from somewhere unseen, unable to know who exactly the watcher is, unsettles him. Fae dreams are never clear, always guiding in riddles, and he could very well be walking into a trap.
All it takes is one misinterpretation of one little sign, and he could get himself devoured by a dragon rather than befriend one like he thought he might.
This is idiotic, just as his elders said, but there’s no turning back now. What place does he have among his people if he is the only fae to reject his calling? He cannot turn away simply because his future holds a beast that his people would have once slain out of fear.
There has to be a reason he’s been sent here.
Thunder claps overhead and Jimin looks up, trying to gauge how close the storm is and if he needs shelter immediately. But there’s not a cloud in the sky, the sun shining bright on its retreat to set behind the horizon. He turns in circles, eyes scanning for any explanation for the noise—a rockslide, an old stone pillar falling, anything.
Instead, he gets a deafening roar across the sky, so powerful that it makes his ears ache, makes his legs nearly give out. The ground seems to move beneath him as he tries to regain his footing.
“Speak your name trespasser!”
Jimin cries out as that voice seems to pierce something inside him, a sharp pain through his head like someone has drilled into it. He winces and curls in on himself, his body forgetting all function except how to try hiding within himself.
“You tread on sacred ground, little fae. A foolish act by any man, but especially one of your kind,” the voice booms inside Jimin’s head again. It presses against the inside of his skull, fills his mind until he feels like it might explode. He clutches his head tighter, hands over his ears as though he might block out the sound.
Wind rushes past Jimin, brushing against his sensitive wings, and he stumbles away from the perceived touch. He forces his hands back to his sides to listen, to try to hear above the voice.
Something scrapes against stone. A rumble erupts through the ground. Jimin nearly loses his footing when he tries to make himself look up, his eyes finding the sky first, unable to make sense of his surroundings as that presence continues to press into his mind.
“Tell me,” the voice continues, “what brings a winged hunter like yourself to a palace of dragons?”
Jimin freezes in place, hands clenched into clammy fists, His legs wobble beneath him when he tries to turn around. Something warm washes over his back, like another gust of wind. No, breath.
It breathes down his neck, a low and constant growl emanating from behind him. Even without looking, he can feel the power of the beast behind him. He can only imagine the size of it, the way it makes the ground around him rumble with every slight shift in its movements.
Jimin’s heart rabbits in his chest, thumping hard enough that he’s sure the creature behind him can hear it. It can hear its prey on the verge of panic, can probably smell his fear as he stumbles. His knees nearly give out when he turns, the corner of his eye catching sight of sunlight across white scales, blinding at first, then stunning.
His body goes stock still when his eyes finally find it—the creature before him, massive and serpentine, covered from head to the tip of its tail in white scales. Its body twines around one of the massive palace pillars, head lowered to Jimin’s level to look him in the eye.
The dragon’s head alone could crush him, its nostrils flaring as it growls at him again, Horns—no, more like antlers, really—curl from the crown of its head, like massive, twisted branches reaching for the sky. Golden eyes pierce into Jimin, slitted pupils tracking his every move. The claws of one giant hand grip the pillar, scratching lines into its surface, and the other comes to rest on the ground next to Jimin as the dragon eases closer.
Jimin’s tongue fails in his mouth, ties itself up when he tries to speak and sticks in his throat. He chokes, eyes wide and unblinking. Instinct screams at him to run, but he can’t, frozen in place. He can’t tell if it’s from fear or some kind of compelling power from the dragon, but even as he tries to lift his foot, it refuses to move.
Every time the dragon shifts ever so slightly, Jimin can see flashes of red or green or blue across its scales. Beautiful, truly. If Jimin wasn’t staring into the open maw of a beast that could eat him in one bite, he might actually be able to admire it.
“Answer,” the dragon commands, stern but calm. Its mouth doesn’t move, the dragon’s words filling Jimin’s mind again. “Why are you here? What emboldens a fae enough to face their oldest enemy?”
Jimin tries once again to speak, swallows hard, and then croaks out, “Not my enemy.”
Laughter rumbles across the mountainside, the sound of it filling Jimin’s chest. He blinks hard, trying to make sense of the sound. Is it in his head again? Is the dragon laughing out loud? His senses can’t seem to grasp onto anything.
Is this what his people meant when they said not to let himself be disarmed? He knew that dragons once held great influence over humans and fae alike, but is this why? This uncanny ability to stop someone in their tracks, to make them complacent and unable to fight back as dragons hurl demands and accusations at them.
Another laugh. This one makes Jimin’s wings tremble, eager to take flight and escape this place. He swears the dragon’s mouth actually curls like some twisted version of a smile.
“No. Not yours. You would have been too young to fight in that war, wouldn’t you?” the dragon asks. It heaves another large sigh, the heat of it burning across Jimin’s face.
“And you?” Jimin asks shakily, clearing his throat and ready to repeat himself if he goes unheard. He can barely speak loud enough to hear himself. “Were you old enough to fight? Perhaps—” He breathes in a lungful of fresh air, trying to gather his usual courage, the same courage he had when facing the elders and arguing his case to come here. “Perhaps I should be the one questioning you. How many of my people have you had between your teeth?”
“As many as was necessary to survive,” the dragon answers without pause.
Jimin’s hand rises without thought. Whatever possesses him, he curses it, but he can’t stop himself as he curls one finger. Then flicks it forward, right against the tip of the dragon’s nose.
“Then I have just as much right as you do to pass judgment here,” he says. ”Either that or neither of us can.”
The dragon snarls, an indignant huff leaving it as it stares at Jimin. Even without words, Jimin can feel its emotions, how offended it is at his behavior. Jimin doesn’t have time to regret it before the creature retreats slightly, just a few more inches of space between its snout and Jimin’s face, then lunges forward to snap its jaws.
Jimin closes his eyes, arms thrown up to protect himself. He knows it’s futile. If this dragon chooses to kill him, there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He has to trust what he saw in his dreams. He has to. Why would his ancestors tell him to come here if it were only to get him killed?
The pain of teeth sinking in never comes. Instead, Jimin feels another wave of hot breath, this time bigger, stronger. Strong enough to knock him backward, sweeping him off his feet and sending him crashing to the ground. His ass aches as it hits stone, pain shooting up his back, muscles pulling tight in expectation of the impact and making his whole body twinge as he lands.
He whips his head up, expecting to see another attack, but the dragon rears back, its long body twisting up the pillar as it rises. The air seems to shift as it moves, as if the winds themselves move to carry the dragon up, higher and higher, releasing the pillar from its grasp.
Jimin plants his hands on the ground behind himself, still flat on his ass in the middle of the courtyard, bare feet trying to find purchase so that he might leap up and run if needed.
But the dragon twists in the air, turns away from him, moving as easily as an eel swims through water. The mere size of it casts a shadow over Jimin, the sunlight bouncing off its scales and showering the courtyard in a spray of color.
And then it’s gone, rushing through the air as it curves around the palace, vanishing behind the towering building. Jimin watches its spiked tail whip out of sight, the scaled and ridged back arching over fallen rubble. The winds subside as soon as the dragon disappears, one last breeze whispering through Jimin’s hair.
A long moment passes as Jimin tries to find his breath again, pulling as much air into his lungs at once, his mind finally returning to him. His heart still flutters, panicked inside his chest, his eyes darting around the courtyard. Whatever spell had him compelled to face that dragon seems to have shattered, his senses returning to him. He can feel the ground again, can move his arms as he scrambles to his feet and readjusts his knapsack.
Maybe it was a mistake to come here. He should have taken more time to try to interpret his vision. If this dragon is telling the truth and he once fought against the fae in their decades of warring, there may be no getting through to him. It’s a miracle he hasn’t eaten Jimin already.
Jimin dusts his hands off on his pants, legs still weak and shaky as he turns toward the palace’s entrance, ready to bolt. He can come back and try again once he’s calmed down. He just needs time to decide if his immediate assumption was correct or if, once again, his overzealousness got the better of him.
It stings to admit his elders could ever be right about him, but Jimin is nothing if not impulsive and hotheaded. He can’t disagree with them on that.
Jimin takes one step toward the main gate, ready to spring forward and run as fast as he can before the dragon decides to descend again and this time scoop him into those massive jaws. But one little sound stops him in his tracks.
”Ahem.”
He freezes, eyes wide. Certainly not the sound of a dragon, this time, but no one in this place would remain if they weren’t on the same side as that dragon. No one here is a friend to Jimin, and he’s safer to get out quickly before they decide that his trespass upon their grounds gives them leave to attack his people again.
”I’m going, okay?” Jimin calls over his shoulder, afraid to look back. Afraid of who else might be here. “I’ll leave. If you’re not willing to hear me out—”
“Well, that is what I’m attempting to do right now, but excuse me for trying,” comes a much smoother, gentler voice than that of the dragon, though it still has a strangely biting edge to it.
Jimin spins on his heel, rolling his shoulders back, brows furrowed in curiosity as the sight before him slowly comes into focus. The panic from before slowly subsides, easing away the tunnel vision he had honed in on his escape.
There are no dragons staring him down this time, but the same piercing, golden eyes watch him, this time narrowed and paired with delicate lips turned sharply downward at the corners.
In place of a dragon stands a man—still larger than an average human and much bigger than a faerie like Jimin. Those same white antlers curl from the top of his head, narrowed golden eyes studying Jimin. Black hair flows down his back, contrasting against the red of his robe, a golden rope belt tied around his waist to hold it in place.
“Speaking into another’s mind is tiring, so…” The man waves his arms out to his sides and then slowly raises them as if displaying himself. He stands tall, shoulders squared, looking every bit the definition of poised. But that frown turns into a smirk that Jimin can only describe as devious, and it makes his wings flutter anxiously again. “You get to see me in all my mortal glory. It’s not often someone sees me in the flesh like this. You had best appreciate it.”
Jimin scoffs, unable to hide his surprise. When he saw this place in his dream and was shown that vague, distant outline of another person—especially one so majestic, so grand, with all the daunting power of a dragon—he never would have expected someone so…
Pompous? Arrogant?
Perhaps he’s just playful. Jimin has never been good at reading between the lines of what people say to him—one small part of why he never fit into his village. Fae playfulness has never made much sense to him, despite being one of them. Perhaps dragon humor is much the same.
”Come along, you delightful little dumpling,” the man says as he turns on his heel and makes his way toward the massive, yawning doorway into the palace. “And do not say I did not warn you to hurry once the storm returns.”
Jimin glances up at the sky, eyes narrowing, sharp ears perked to listen for the sound of rumbling thunder or any hint at an oncoming storm. The sky remains still and silent, though, as he pads after the dragon, whose long red coat flows behind him, split down the middle to allow a thick, scaled tail to poke out and swish behind him.
He vanishes into the palace, and Jimin slams to a stop just outside of it, watching as the dragon man turns a corner and disappears from sight. For all Jimin knows, this could still be a trap. Just because this man hasn’t eaten him yet, doesn’t mean he won’t. Maybe he likes to play with his food first.
As much as Jimin wants to trust his visions and his instincts, dragons and fae have been sworn enemies for centuries. Their wars may have finally reached an end years ago, but the resentment has never faded.
Especially from dragons.
Jimin, despite not living through it, thinks he understands.
After all, in a world before the fae won their battles, this place likely would have been teeming with dragons.
Now it lies broken and abandoned. Just one lone dragon perched atop a lonely mountain.
“I said hurry along!” comes a voice echoing from inside. There’s a little snapping noise from somewhere beyond the palace walls, and then the sun suddenly fades, darkness enveloping Jimin, all warmth sapped from the air as a rumbling sounds overheard. Thunder.
A storm, as if on command, crashes down on the peak of the mountain, the sky lit up with flashes of white-blue, wind crashing against the side of the palace.
Jimin yelps when a bolt of lightning strikes particularly close to him, startling Him forward once again. He rushes into the palace, ducking into the cold, stone entryway with nothing but the sound of footsteps to guide him. He zips down the towering hallways, the walls so high that the ceilings themselves feel as distant as the sky outside.
Built to harbor dragons. Built for a grand people that no longer walk its halls. None but one. It almost makes Jimin sick to think of how much has been lost, how many places like this sit forgotten and lost atop mountains that most people wouldn’t dare to summit. What history has been lost? What kind of world would they live in had fae and dragons never clashed the way they did?
Jimin’s eyes fall from the ornately gilded pillars and the intricate carvings along the walls, right to the figure standing in the doorway of a distant room.
The dragon man, waiting for him, arms crossed as he stares into a flickering fireplace.
Just them, then.
Jimin swallows hard, bare feet moving him forward inch by inch. Thunder claps overhead, and then the dragon glances over his shoulder at Jimin before he steps aside, as if the wide open space of the dragon-sized door wasn’t already enough for Jimin to fit through.
”Pick a seat,” the man says, “and then tell me why you’ve desecrated this place with your winged debauchery.”
Toeing at a crack in the stone floor, Jimin edges his way along the high, cold walls of a vaulted room, its ceiling so high above his head that it might as well be a second sky. Firelight barely even reaches its peak, leaving shadow to hang above them.
Before him, the dragon man’s tail swishes across the floor, whipping up soot and ash from beside the fireplace. He tosses an extra log onto it, watches as flame engulfs it and begins to crackle and spit sparks, and then he turns his head to look at Jimin over his shoulder.
Orange light paints the right side of his face, his antlers left as silhouettes.
”Speak,” he says, his voice deeper than Jimin thinks it realistically should be. He didn’t sound like this before. Now he speaks almost like the voice in Jimin’s head earlier.
”Can you tell me your name first?” Jimin asks as he takes a daring step forward. His wings flutter anxiously when the dragon turns on his heel to face him, eyes narrowed. Any moment now, he could decide to shift again and returning to that daunting, massive form of his, that roiling serpentine body that could wrap around Jimin and easily crush the life from him. He could swallow Jimin in one gulp and let him die inside the belly of a beast.
But something compels Jimin, urges him forward, closer and closer to the danger.
He was called here for a reason, and if this man is the only thing to be found here, then he must be that reason. A fae’s dream at their coming of age never lies to them, it never fails to place them on the proper path.
Jimin only wishes it had been a bit more clear. He doesn’t believe he would be summoned here to slay a dragon. No, it can’t be that. He would know.
In his heart, he would know. His people have a way of sensing the winds of fate and which way they’re pushed by such magics.
”That’s not necessary for you to know,” the dragon says, gruff and low, but not exactly hostile. Not friendly, but not a threat. He seems to study Jimin, like he isn’t actually quite ready for Jimin to leave until he’s figured him out. “You won’t be here long.”
”I would like to know anyway,” Jimin says with his chest puffed up, chin raised. There’s nothing to fear here, he realizes. Maybe for someone else, but not for him. He can feel it. “Even if I have to leave, I would like to know your name. Just… to know it. Something tells me that there aren’t many in this world who remember your name anymore.”
The man’s eyes narrow further, the middle of his forehead wrinkling as he furrows it. ”No, there aren’t.” A touch of sorrow in his voice, that roughness gone and replaced with an ache that Jimin feels in his own chest. “And I would like it to remain that way. The last few decades have been quite peaceful.”
Decades.
Decades. How many years has this man been here, hiding away and isolated? Alone.
That feeling that had consumed Jimin in his dream crashes over him once again—that gnawing, sickening ache in his stomach. That loneliness that sunk so deeply inside him that he thought he may never be rid of it. That cold, empty, horrifying feeling that no one else would ever hear his voice again or give him the lightest touch of affection.
The loneliness he felt as a child could not even compare to that—the feelings that he is almost certain belong to the man in front of him right now.
Is that why he’s here? He had prayed for that—for a connection to another unlike anything he’s felt before. To love and be loved.
Perhaps it’s presumptuous to think something like that could happen here.
Perhaps he’s being a bit desperate to find his purpose too soon.
Dreams aren’t meant to hand him everything all at once. They are simply promises for what is to eventually come.
“Has no one visited you in all that time?“ Jimin croaks, his voice failing him when he needs it most. “Other dragons or—?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Those words crack across the room like a whip, but then the dragon’s scowling face softens into something that Jimin can only describe as amused, eyes hooded and a smirk on his lips. “Is that why you’re here? Trying to find the last bastion of dragonkind so you can finally erase us entirely?”
“No!“ Jimin’s heart leaps into his throat alongside that one word, yelping it out across the small space between them. He hadn’t even realized how close they are to each other now. ”Please, listen to me. That’s not— I’m not here for that. I would never do such a thing. I came here because…”
The dragon raises a brow, head cocked, arms crossed. His tail swishes behind himself faster now, impatient. ”Because?”
”Fae…“ Jimin bites at his bottom lip, working it as reconsiders. His people aren’t meant to share these things with someone who is not one of their own. A fae’s vision is intimate to themselves. Most don’t even share the details with other fae. “We have dreams—visions, of a sort—when we come of age. Or shortly after. Mine came a bit late and I was beginning to believe I would never have one. I asked for a vision of my—“
No. That’s too much. He can’t share that. Even if it were acceptable to tell someone what he saw, he cannot very well say to this man’s face what he asked for.
Presumptuous. Far too presumptuous.
”Of what? A dusty, old, abandoned ruin?” The dragon snorts a growl rumbling in his chest along with it as he turns, “You expect me to believe that some kind of fae vision guided you here and it isn’t for you to kill me?”
”I think I would remember something so violent in a vision like that,” Jimin blurts out, every hair on his arms and the back of his neck standing up. His wings twitch again, his instinct telling him that he’s in danger.
Sharp, golden eyes pierce Jimin, once again narrowed in suspicion. ”So, what, pray tell, did the vision tell you to do?”
Loneliness creeps in again, that feeling that isn’t Jimin’s but feels as real as if he were experiencing it right now. He can’t say that either. He can’t tell this man that he came here to find someone who hurts so much, knowing that it’s the dragon before him, and that he pities him.
No, no. Mentioning pity would certainly get Jimin’s head bitten off in the literal sense.
“Just… to come here. I don’t know. It was frustratingly vague.“ Jimin shrugs, his body still on high alert, ready to take off into the air and escape. Not that that would save him from a dragon. At least he’s not completely lying. He is very confused about what he’s doing here. “I didn’t like the idea of dragging myself up a steep mountain to meet someone I wasn’t sure I could trust either. And you’re not giving me a particularly warm welcome.”
The dragon’s brow arches again, and then he glances over his shoulder at the fireplace. “Feels quite warm to me.”
It takes every bit of Jimin’s strength not to roll his eyes. He crosses his arms instead, fists balled up. “I’m no happier about this than you are, but I would like to at least try to understand what my vision meant,” he says. His pity slips away just enough to make room for irritation. “So if you could please try to be a bit more accepting of my presence here, I would appreciate it. It will be much easier for us both if we learn to get along since I don’t plan on leaving until I have my answers.”
The dragon stares at Jimin, one eye seeming to twitch as Jimin prattles on. Jimin swears he can see the corner of his lips quirk up again, ever so briefly.
“Jungkook.”
The word—no, the name—flies right past Jimin at first. He hadn’t expected it, hadn’t been ready. He was sure that this dragon—this Jungkook—was about to chase him all the way from summit to foot.
“Hm?” is all he can give Jungkook in return.
“My name is Jungkook,” the dragon repeats, and he does roll his eyes, unrestrained and unforgiving as he sighs. “And yours, little dumpling?”
The smirk on Jungkook’s face gives Jimin the impression that he intends to get under Jimin’s skin, that calling him such things is meant to be an insult somehow, or to treat him like some sort of cute but useless little creature taking up space in Jungkook’s lair.
It strikes Jimin as anything but that, really. He finds it oddly endearing, the way Jungkook bristles while remaining unnecessarily close, how his smirk widens as he observes Jimin. He looks hungry.
But it doesn’t terrify Jimin the way he thinks it should. He doesn’t back away when he realizes that there are suddenly mere inches of empty space separating Jimin from one of the most dangerous predators his people have ever known.
”I’m Jimin,” he says, a whisper as he glances down, scanning Jungkook’s body. He tells himself it’s just to watch for signs that the dragon is about to attack. No other reason. Though his eyes seem to swim with molten gold when Jimin meets them again, and he has to admit that they make something stir inside him that Jimin would usually only acknowledge in the most private of settings. Alone. “Thank you for humoring me, Jungkook.”
”I might still eat you if you do not explain further,” Jungkook says, then spins away from Jimin with a dramatic flourish of his cloak. He lifts one leg to press his heel against a chair, pushing it slightly back from the fire and turning it to Jimin. “Sit.”
Jimin bristles at the sudden, blunt order from the dragon, his natural inclinations to rebel nearly overtaking him. He steels himself instead, inching toward the chair as Jungkook plops onto another, legs crossed, foot bouncing in the air impatiently.
“I’m not sure what kind of explanations you expect from me,” Jimin says as he carefully lowers himself into his seat. He drags it a bit closer to the fire, stretching his feet toward it, wiggling his chilly toes. This place seems to have ice in its walls, cold to his bones. It’s too big. Too empty. Not made for someone like him.
Dragons, he supposes, don’t need small and cozy space and constant fires to take the chill off their massive bodies. Fireplaces and such are likely just a nice addition when they feel like being human from time to time.
”I already told you… I don’t fully understand the vision, myself,” Jimin says. His hands grip the arms of his chair, unable to relax, leaning forward to try to see Jungkook’s face. “I have nothing to tell you, other than that I know I’m meant to be here.”
Jungkook’s foot bounces quicker, leaps still crosses, his posture casual and careless, but Jimin can see tension in his shoulders. Leaning back, Jungkook rolls his head to the side, flicks his eyes up to meet Jimin’s and cocks a brow.
Jimin wants to shrink away and lunge forward at the same time. Everything Jungkook does feels like a lure and a threat. Fae, Jimin thought, were supposed to be the ones that baffle and confuse, seduce and ensnare, but he has to wonder now if dragons have some kind of hidden charm he never learned about.
“Well, you have nothing to tell me and I have nothing to offer you, little fae,” Jungkook says, his voice almost a purr as his lips curl into a smile. It’s not friendly nor is it unkind, but it unsettles Jimin. He can’t read this man. Is he toying with Jimin? Is he simply strange? “You should leave, and do so quickly. The sun will be setting soon.”
Those words strike Jimin like a slap to his face. ”What? You want me to leave now? You can’t expect me to hike down a mountain in the dark.”
”I can and I do.“ Wind rushes across Jimin’s face as Jungkook stands, a gust much stronger than anything that should be able to reach them in this room. It seems to rush from Jungkook himself, whipping across the room with the swish of his cloak. “Now, go.”
”Wait, I—“ Jimin leaps to his feet, heart in his throat. It beats hard enough to make him feel like he’s choking on it. Every breath he takes makes him gag, too harsh as he drags in cold air. ”Please, you don’t understand. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this day.“
His cheeks redden at the desperation in his own voice, eyes darting away when Jungkook stops with his hand on the doorknob. Jimin sounds like he’s confessing to this man right now, begging him for some kind of chance at… something.
Jimin still doesn’t know his real purpose here, and yet he acts as if his vision was what he had hoped it would be.
It can’t be, though. Not with a dragon.
”Fae— We wait years for our vision,” Jimin says, spewing the words, tripping over them as his mind races to catch up. “It’s our greatest purpose, to find that meaning, to find our place in this world. For some reason, mine is here. Please, just let me stay long enough to understand why I dreamt of this place.”
Jungkook stands so still that he almost matches the statues Jimin had seen dotting various hallways of the palace. The only movement is that of his cloak, swaying ever-so-slightly around his ankles. At least he’s hesitating. At least he’s considering it. Jimin won’t lose hope until Jungkook physically forces him off this mountain.
He opens his mouth to plead again. He’ll beg if he has to. He can’t go back home without an answer. After the way he fought his elders and insisted that this is where he is meant to be, he can’t leave empty-handed.
Jungkook’s voice cuts across the room before Jimin can say any more, not welcoming but not as angry as Jimin expected. ”Very well. But you will stay in this room and you will not wander at night,” the dragon says, barely sparing a glance over his shoulder. “There is enough wood to keep the fire going throughout the night.”
The momentary victory passes in a flash. Jimin’s wings flutter, bristling at the commands. He never was good at following rules. ”I’m hungry.”
Even without seeing Jungkook’s face, the movement of his head and how his hand braces on his hip tells Jimin that his eyes roll. ”So am I. Keep testing me and I’ll sate my hunger by eating you first as a precursor to a much heartier meal,” he says as he yanks the door open. Finally, Jungkook turns just enough to meet Jimin’s eyes, even if only for a moment. “Stay here. I’ll bring you something to eat in due time. Leave, and I'll let you starve.”
Jimin flinches as the door slams shut with a wave of Jungkook’s hand, wind rushing through the room again to trap him inside. When Jimin rushes forward to yank at the doors, they stay firmly shut. He huffs and slams the side of his fist against them, wings twitching at his back.
He should count his blessings rather than spitting in their face, but he hadn’t bet on being confined to a room like this. Nor did he expect that the dragon who greeted him would be so… cold.
No. Not cold. That’s not right. Jungkook isn’t cold.
Jimin can’t quite place his finger on the word. Maybe… guarded. It’s understandable with the history between their peoples, but Jimin had hoped that the past could be set aside, at least between them. He was never a part of the war, never hated dragons the way his kind do.
And his dream had made him believe in something much different than what he’s gotten.
He saw someone in that dream—maybe Jungkook, maybe not—but what he felt toward them, and with them, was nothing like this.
He sighs and takes a step back from the door, letting his eyes drift up them, up the intricate curves of the carvings that cover them. Images of dragons, wings spread wide, twisting through the air, some with their maws open, some descending on scores of their enemies.
Jimin swallows down a lump in his throat, eyes drying out rapidly as he refuses to blink. He wants to take in every bit of the motif] every detail of the war carved out in front of him.
It can’t be a coincidence that Jungkook brought him to this room. This cold, empty room with its broken furniture and barren walls, the few paintings that still decorate it now torn or fallen to the floor. All because the dragons lost everything after they lost the war.
This place must have been so grand before, and now it’s nothing but a husk. Lifeless. Abandoned. Forgotten.
So why does Jungkook stay? If no other dragon does, why him?
And why was Jimin told to come here if not to rebuild what has been broken?
There is no such thing as restful sleep in a place that is not only unfamiliar but provides nothing comfortable to sleep on. Jimin had settled for curling on an old sofa which he had dragged closer to the fire on his own. He’s not weak, per se, but fae are built to be quick and lithe and flighty. They are not made to haul dragon furniture around.
His back ached by the time he was done, and it aches even more after sleeping on the dusty, old thing at a strange angle. His throat feels dry and cracked from the heat of the fire. He’s surprised it’s even still burning so brightly. Jimin had slept through most of the night, only adding wood to it once.
He slides off the sofa, right to his knees and scoots across the floor to peer into the fire, brows furrowed at the sight of a fairly fresh log sitting atop the coals. Well, he certainly didn’t put that one there.
Jimin twists around to look at the door, and his heart stops at what he sees.
Atop a side table next to the exit sits a silver tray, a pitcher of water and an empty glass on one side, a variety of foods on the other. Jimin scrambles to his feet, his throat tight as he glances around as if Jungkook might creep from the shadows in the corners.
The thought of someone slipping into the room while he slept and him being none the wiser makes his skin crawl. No matter his dream and no matter his impression of Jungkook, he still doesn’t know this man. And Jungkook accepted him as a guest only after being harangued. He has no care nor interest in Jimin.
Other than possibly eating him alive in a very literal sense.
Jimin rushes for the food anyway. He has no reason not to trust it and his stomach cramps at the thought of having sustenance so close and yet not touching it. He chugs a glass of water first, pours another, and then tears into a thin slice of meat, fangs sinking in like he’s a starved, wild beast.
“No wonder humans fear your kind so much.”
Jimin nearly chokes, hacking and wheezing as he beats his fist against his chest. He spins in circles, eyes wide, but the room stands empty aside from himself.
”If they saw you like this, they could not be blamed for believing the tales of you ripping out human hearts and feasting on them.”
As the voice settles, Jimin tears off another bite of meat, his heart slowing down as realization crashes into him. He can feel Jungkook’s voice in his head, that dull roar inside his skull just like yesterday. He sighs and rolls his eyes, then picks up the tray. If they’re going to chat while he eats, he might as well get comfortable.
”Is this really how we’re going to talk?” He asks around a mouthful as he plops back onto the sofa, wiggling his toes close to the fire. “With me locked in a room and you in my head?”
”Better than talking face to face with you when you have so much food stuffed in your mouth that you can barely hold it in.”
“I do not—”
Jimin cuts himself off with a yelp as something crashes behind him. He leaps up, the tray flying from his lap, metal pitcher slamming to the floor and clattering. Water spills out across stone as Jimin’s wings begin to flutter and zip, lifting him into the air as if the water might burn him if he touches it.
The double doors stand wide to reveal Jungkook once again cloaked in red, arms crossed, brow cocked at Jimin. Jimin swears he nearly smirks, one corner of his lips twitching ever so slightly before he seems to contain himself.
”I hope you rested well,” Jungkook says as he steps into the room. Cold air wafts in after him, sending shivers through Jimin as he lowers himself back to the ground. Jimin’s wings tremble as Jungkook comes to a stop before him, eyes on his fallen food and drink. Jimin’s stomach rumbles. “Well, that’s a waste. And to think I took time out of my morning to prepare all of this for you.”
”If you hadn’t scared me, this wouldn’t have happened,” Jimin says as he bristles, wings twitching. His fists clench at his sides until he takes a deep breath, forcing his body to relax. “I appreciate the effort, but I will need further sustenance if you still plan to send me back down the mountain.”
Jungkook clicks his tongue, head cocked. “Very well. You can follow me to the kitchens. The sooner you leave, the better.”
With that, Jungkook turns on his heel, cloak swishing around him. The hem brushes against Jimin’s shins, the gust of air pulling another shudder from him. He glances back at the fire, at its warm, inviting glow. It’s tempting to stay right here and make Jungkook bring him something fresh, rather than following this rather rude dragon about and continuing to be told how unwelcome he is here.
But Jimin has one chance to convince Jungkook to change his mind. If he doesn’t, Jimin will have to return to elders who will only tell him they were right, and then what does he do? Where does he go from here if he’s sent away without answers? He can’t simply return home and continue on without following the path laid out before him.
His life would be meaningless. He would be the only fae presently alive to not be given a fate they could follow.
It’s more than just following a dream. It’s a fae’s entire purpose. If he leaves today, what becomes his purpose?
“Must you really be so eager to send me off?” Jimin asks as he jogs to catch up with Jungkook. He clutches his own cloak tighter around himself, bare feet padding across the cold floor until he thinks better of it. His wings flare to life and lift him off the ground again so he floats alongside Jungkook as if atop water. “I know I came here uninvited and that you’re not used to guests, but I would appreciate more time to at least try to understand.”
Jungkook doesn’t look back at him. He merely shrugs and keeps walking. At least Jimin doesn’t have to stay stuck in that room anymore. Still, the size of this place intimidates him, makes him feel even smaller than he really is.
It doesn’t give Jimin much hope, the way Jungkook continues on as if he had said nothing at all. The dragon lifts one hand, lets the snap of two fingers ring out through the hall, and then glances back at Jimin as a pair of doors fling open before them.
”In,” Jungkook commands as he steps back, then waves Jimin into the next room. His eyes droop with boredom, mouth twisted to one side. He blinks, languid and deliberate, until Jimin does as he says.
”Are you going to answer anything I ask or not?” Jimin says, slipping by Jungkook and turning as he does. He walks backward to keep one eye on the man as he follows Jimin, a wave of his hand slamming the doors shut again.
“Likely the latter,” says Jungkook, and Jimin wishes his heart wouldn’t sink so easily. He expected this, but he had been foolish enough to hope, just a little bit. “Regardless of your vision, I can only permit you to stay here for so long. Fae should not even be allowed to set foot on our hallowed grounds.“
Silence. A long, painful silence
“Not after the things your people have done.”
Jimin bites his tongue. Every shred of his being screams to fire back, to snap at this stubborn man and put him in his place. His sharp tongue is wasted here, forced to rest when he has a thousand fiery words burning at the tip of it. Turning this into a battle of insults will get him nothing from Jungkook.
”Perhaps that’s why I’m here,” he says instead, still hovering over the ground, wings fluttering rapidly. His hands ball into fists, arms wrapped around himself in an attempt to hold back everything that is him. “To make up for the past and mend the broken bridge between our peoples.”
The laugh that Jungkook barks out only serves to sink Jimin’s heart further. ”If that is your destiny then I wish you luck. If you believe I’m difficult to be around, you had best hope you never meet another dragon. Most of them would have ripped your head off as soon as they saw that ghastly sparkle on your wings.”
Jimin scoffs as Jungkook whips around with a flourish. He waves a hand over his shoulder—a vague gesture for Jimin to take a seat.
Nothing but stone stools that look anything but comfortable. Jimin hovers closer to Jungkook instead, then plops himself atop a counter, legs dangling off the edge. It’s no more comfortable than the stools, he’s sure, but it gets him a little closer to Jungkook. Closer to reading him as Jungkook scans the barren kitchen, hands on his hips.
“I happen to like my sparkle,” Jimin continues. He leans forward, gripping the edge of the counter, ankles crossed. “Don’t be rude.”
Jungkook turns, hands on his hips, a glacial pace that brings him around to face Jimin again with narrowed eyes. His lips parts, not a peep escaping, and then he clicks his tongue.
“Are you sure you came here for some kind of search for your destiny?” he asks. “Or did your village send you off on a wild hunt to simply get rid of you? You’re rather annoying.”
“Takes one to know one, I suppose.” Jimin bounces his brows, his lips twisting into a smirk before he can stop himself. “In case you’ve forgotten that you are also a lone member of your people, isolated at the top of a mountain,” he cocks his head, “brooding in a big, empty, cold palace.”
“Not brooding,” is all Jungkook gives Jimin in return before he whips away to scavenge and destroy his own kitchen again. Jimin could swear there was a smile on his face. Just the tiniest little thing. “Are you going to sit here and bug me the whole time I make food for you?”
“You invited me in here.”
“Fair enough.” Jungkook yanks a large metal pot out from a low cupboard, turns around, and shoves it into Jimin’s arms. “There’s a well just outside that door. Fill this halfway with water. I’ll start a fire to set it on.”
Jimin slides off the counter, arms wound around the pot. It’s the only thing between him and Jungkook, leaving them with little space. It’s the closest he’s seen Jungkook, close enough to finally notice the slitted pupils that seem to flare to life within golden eyes as he stares back at Jimin.
“Quickly, now,” says Jungkook. “I’m not opposed to letting you starve.”
With a huff and roll of his eyes, Jimin hitches the pot up higher and lets it rest against his stomach. He spins on his heel and trudges toward the door. His wings twitch in irritation, his body thrumming with the urge to fight back, to tell Jungkook exactly what he thinks of him and why it’s a waste of both their time to not just try to understand each other.
The chill of cold mountain air rips a shiver right out of Jimin as he steps outside, leaving the door to the kitchen cracked open. He plops the pot on the edge of the well, glancing back toward the kitchen. This door, unlike the others, is perfectly sized for any human or fae. Though he supposes it makes sense that if the dragons who once lived here cooked for themselves, they wouldn’t have done it in their dragon form. No need for doors to accommodate such size, then.
Jimin hefts the bucket up from inside the well, groaning as he fills the pot, then pauses. It’s like coming up this mountain has made him forget who he is already. Surely being away from home for a few weeks hasn’t made him any less fae than he once was.
Not yet, anyway. That depends on if he can actually fulfill whatever his destiny is.
He snaps his fingers and watches as sparks fly from them, weaving themselves around the pot as it begins to float. The sparks wrap around the pot like a web, then lift it up and away, carrying it through the air to the kitchen as Jimin follows.
“Hasty enough for you?” he asks as he steps back into the kitchen, grateful for the warmth from the cooking fire. Another snap of his fingers makes the door click shut on its own. Jungkook doesn’t even startle, staring into the fire with his back turned to Jimin, hands in front of himself.
Jimin snaps his mouth shut and orders the pot silently to ease itself onto the counter. It barely makes a sound, just a light thunk against the surface. Not enough to pull Jungkook’s attention back around to him. Jimin takes one step to the side, then another, his eyes dropping to where Jungkook’s hands wring together, thumb rubbing at the middle of his other hand’s palm.
“Jungkook?” he calls softly, but there’s nothing. Not even a twitch. Jungkook stares down at his hands, his face twisted into something akin to pain. Or confusion. Jimin can’t tell. “Is everything alright?”
Still nothing. The hair on the back of Jimin’s neck begins to stand.
“Jungkook.”
That gets the dragon’s attention. His head snaps around to Jimin’s like a predator locking onto its prey. Jimin steps back quickly, his back slamming into the edge of the counter. He hisses in pain as the stone jabs between his spine.
The slitted pupils of Jungkook’s eyes seem to narrow in on him, his jaw locked tight, teeth grinding. Jimin grips the counter behind himself, ready to run for the door he had just come through in case Jungkook decides to lunge.
Jungkook blinks, then flutters his lashes rapidly. “Did you say something?”
Jimin swallows hard. “I… did. I asked if you were okay? And if I was hasty enough with the water. Did something happen?”
“No.” Jungkook waves a dismissive hand as he brushes past Jimin. He pauses at the pot of water to peer into it, then crosses back to where he had begun prepping the food earlier. “That was hasty enough. Just try to be as quick about finding your so-called purpose too. And chop those vegetables over there. Make yourself useful.”
Jimin freezes in place. The usual annoyance he would feel at Jungkook’s tone or being bossed around doesn’t even touch him.
“Are you saying I can stay?” he asks.
Jungkook doesn’t glance back. “You have three days here, then you have to leave. The last thing we need is for your persistence to cause another war.”
“I doubt my mere presence could cause such a thing,” Jimin says, puffing up his chest on his way to the vegetables, all stacked neatly beside a large stone slab.
“Clearly you have never listened to yourself speak, then.”
Annoyance clashes with a strange amusement inside Jimin. Despite his words, there’s nothing hostile in Jungkook’s tone. Were it anyone else saying this to him, Jimin would take it purely as a joke, though he thinks Jungkook wants it to sting.
The insult misses by a near mile. He feels no conviction from the man before him.
“Is there truly no way forward for us?” he asks, picking up the knife beside the vegetables, fidgeting with it for a moment as he watches Jungkook for an answer. The dragon doesn’t spare him a glance, tearing off the leaves of fresh herbs that he gathered from gods-know-where. “Our peoples, I mean. You do understand that dragons started the wars with us first, don’t you? We only did what we had to to defend ourselves.”
Jungkook focuses on his work, barely seeming to react to what Jimin said for a long moment. ”Tell that to the dragons whose kin never put fang or claw to your kind and still were slaughtered.”
”No. We never—“ Jimin starts, his voice trembling, too weak to convince even himself. Truth be told, fae history of the wars has always been vague, but he’s seen the devastation that dragons wrought across the land. The world itself still holds scars from their time ruling over all.
”Do not tell me what to remember of that time, fae. I was there.” Jungkook waves his hand once again, this time more forceful, a cut through the air that tells Jimin that this conversation is over.
There will be no convincing Jungkook of this tonight. Maybe not the next night either. But Jimin won’t give up. If Jungkook’s rule wanted him gone, he would be gone by now. He has to bide his time, has to try to understand. The wounds that dragon kind left on their land and on his people are clear as day, visible to the naked eye.
Whatever scars Jungkook still carries from that time are not so easily recognized. Jimin won’t understand them until he peels back the layers. And he can’t do that if he pushes too hard.
He has time.
He just needs to use it properly. now.
Jimin hadn’t intended to gorge himself on dinner, but his journey up the mountain and his lackluster, wasted meal from before had left him far more famished than he realized. Not to mention using his magic to help himself haul pots of water and clean up as their food cooked. He should never use it on an empty stomach. He knows how it affects him.
The second he had returned to his room on wobbly legs, Jimin had crashed into a pile of blankets right in front of the fire and didn’t move an inch for hours.
The only reason he lies awake now is the feeling of his own drool soaked the pillow beneath his cheek.
Jimin digs his fingers into the pillow, props himself up on his other arm, and chucks the pillow across the room. He grabs another to replace it and plops his head back down, staring into the embers left in the fireplace as it begins to burn low.
Now that he’s rested enough, no longer ready to fall over at the slightest breeze, his mind won’t shut up. There’s so much to learn about this place, about dragonkind from the perspective of someone other than his fae elders. And so much to learn about Jungkook himself as well.
Jimin rolls over, wings tucked close to himself until he settles onto his other side, now facing the door. Would Jungkook be angry with him if he were to wander? Surely there’s nothing in this place that Jimin can’t be allowed to see. And there are no other dragons around. That much is obvious. Whatever fear Jungkook has about the rest of his kind seeing Jimin, they don’t seem to have much interest in returning here.
Whatever this place once was to them, it is no more. Abandoned and forgotten, covered in dust and left to crumble. What makes Jungkook stay, entirely alone, in a place like this? What ties him to this place other than memories and a longing for the past? He doesn’t strike Jimin as the type to simply wallow in what could have been or what used to be?
So, why?
Jimin rolls onto his stomach with a groan, then slams his face into his fresh pillow.
Oh, so what if Jungkook doesn’t want him to explore this place? What will he do if he catches Jimin outside of his room? Eat him?
He can certainly try.
Jimin scrambles onto his knees, stretches his arms above his head and bends backward. His wings flutter as the strength of his stretch rumbles through his body. With a quick stop by the fireplace to stoke it, Jimin tiptoes to the door and presses his ear to it, listening for any signs of Jungkook before he carefully eases it open and slips out.
Not that there would be any obvious signs. He doubts that Jungkook spends all his time stomping around in his dragon form.
Jimin scrunches his face up as he eases the door open, freezing when it creaks slightly, then tugging it suddenly with a sharp breath in. He doesn’t think it was loud enough to garner any attention, so he slips out and shuts it again, then darts down the hall to his left.
He barely remembers which way they went to reach the kitchens earlier, but he’s sure he can find it easily enough. Jimin’s first task is to get a snack, then he’ll explore the rest of the palace. If he could find a library or even a single scroll to read about the history of this place, maybe he could understand Jungkook better and find a way to connect with him.
Maybe.
It’s a miracle that Jimin hasn’t walked away already with the sass that Jungkook has given him. Jimin has never had much patience for anything, but especially not for rude people.
He learned very quickly, thanks to his time in his own village, to not waste his time by spending it around those who don’t want him. Jimin was barely 16, practically an infant by fae standards, when it began to fall into place in his mind. The puzzle as to why he could never seem to befriend the other children as easily as they befriended each other.
Jimin is not particularly adored by his village, and he knows that well by now. He has accepted it. Popularity had never been his goal anyway.
Though, truthfully, Jimin doesn’t know what his actual goal is. That’s what he hopes to find here.
Still, it stands true that Jungkook is on thin ice with him, despite the fact that Jimin knows he needs the damn dragon to help him. His policy has always been to not give anyone the satisfaction of knowing how much they bother him. There were the rare few back home who seemed to take pleasure in watching him be pushed aside, always struggling to break into the inner circle.
Jimin never let them see the cracks in his facade once he realized. For all they know, he enjoys being alone.
And he does. Most of the time. Or he’s learned to, at least. Jimin was born to be social, constantly full of energy and excited to learn about everyone and everything around him, to ask questions and explore. Typical of a fae. They tend to be a social group, always happy to gather up and make everything into a little bit of fun.
It wasn’t an easy adjustment, learning to be alone, but he’s managed. He does it well now, like a talent.
Jimin stops at the sight of the fourway split in the hallway before him. He glances left, then right, then stares forward. Which way did they go last time? He hadn’t paid attention, too fascinated by the murals dashed across every wall of this place.
Oh well, what does it matter?
With a shrug, Jimin turns right.
Though it quickly becomes clear to him that this is the wrong way. Jimin spins left at the next split, then right, then doubles back, then slams to a stop in a wholly unfamiliar hallway. A low hum leaves him as he thinks, trying to recall the way he came. Maybe he should have just waited until morning and asked Jungkook for a tour.
Jimin turns around to go back in what he thinks is the correct direction before a faint sound stops him. His wings go still, foot coming down slowly from his frozen mid-step. Ears perked, he waits for the inevitable scolding he’ll get for leaving his room.
But that same faint sound continues, nothing but a distant hum that ebbs and flows. Talking, certainly, but not to him. Not close enough that they would know he’s here.
Is Jungkook talking to himself?
No. No, no. Fae ears are better than that. He can tell one voice from another, even when unfamiliar with both.
Jimin whips back around and darts down the hall, following the sound. The farther he goes, the colder the hallway gets, the fresher the air. Closer to outside. He has to stop himself from sprinting when he hears the voice fading, moving away from him.
His feet patter across the stone floor, wings fluttering excitedly with a whole life of their own. If he can just listen in for a bit, maybe he can learn something useful. Maybe he can hear what Jungkook has been thinking and feeling since Jimin showed up. Maybe he’like talk about how he stared into the fire, unresponsive and—
But all Jimin hears is an irritated hiss from someone when he finally comes to a stop just inside a doorway to the courtyard. Jimin yanks himself back from the opening, catching a slight glimpse outside and catching an oddly sweet scent on the air. He doesn’t even think he’s been on this side of the palace before.
How did he get so lost?
Jimin shakes off the thought and focuses. He presses himself back against the wall, leaning as close as he dares to the door.
”I never asked you to come back here—” Jungkook, frustrated, practically growling the words out before someone else cuts in.
”I am very much aware—”
“Then stop acting as though it’s my fault that you’re here. If you hate the memory of this place, then stop coming back here. I am fine here on my own.”
“There is nothing fine about living in an abandoned ruin alone for years. You have people. You have a home. You needn’t waste your years here.”
A carries on the breeze, all the way back to Jimin. It sounds so close now that he almost runs, afraid that they might turn and step inside. Jimin holds his breath, waits as footsteps slowly begin to move away from him again, then finally leans out to peek outside.
”I have more than enough years left, Namjoon,” Jungkook says. His back is turned to Jimin, a wide berth between him and the stranger he speaks to, like he would rather be anywhere than walking side by side with this person. “I can afford to waste a few of them here.”
He says the word “waste” as if spitting it out.
”It’s because you have so many years ahead that you shouldn’t keep yourself hidden away here,” says the stranger, disappointment ringing clear in his voice. He sounds tired, like this is far from the first time they’ve had this conversation. “You have so much time ahead of you to do good and make great changes for the future of our people. Why linger in the past instead?”
Jimin bites his bottom lip, poking his head out for another glance. Jungkook stays cloaked in his usual deep reds, the moonlight brightening the white of his antlers. His tail swishes frantically beneath the material of his cloak, one hand on his hip as he looks away from the man speaking to him.
”Perhaps the change I want is what can be done here,” Jungkook says, his voice steady but simmering with a barely contained rage. It nearly makes Jimin want to step out and ask him a thousand more questions about this place, about himself. “Why must we forget the past in order to look forward? Do you not believe there to be any value in preserving who and what we once were?”
“Of course there is,” the other man says. Jimin squints into the dark to get a better look at him, the moon silhouetting him and hiding most of his features. All Jimin can glean are the twisted horns on his head, curling around to frame his face, the tip of the right one snapped off. “But that is why we have our scribes. This place is a ghost town, Jungkook. We are not what we once were. You will never bring our people back to this mountain.”
Even if Jimin barely understands what this means, the man’s words even make him flinch. He can see Jungkook grow tense, his body turning further from the stranger with every word. Jimin can feel it, the anger and disappointment and defeat in Jungkook.
”There is always a place for you with the rest of us,” the man says as he takes a calculated step back from Jungkook, like he expects a strike at any moment. “Where you belong.”
Jungkook grunts, still staring at the ground as he crosses his arms. “Is it really so wrong to want to rebuild this place? Even if it remains naught but a historical site? Perhaps a… destination for future pilgrimages to teach our young about who we once were. Is it so wrong to miss what once was?”
”It is if you lose who you are and who you could be by doing so.”
At that, Jungkook closes his eyes, his head hanging lower. “I will… consider what you have said here tonight.”
Jimin leans back as the stranger glances around, his chest puffing up with a deep breath. He may sound harsh, but Jimin feels nothing but sincerity from him. If a fae knows anything, it’s when someone is being honest and when they are lying or scheming.
Lies and schemes are a fae’s game. They cannot be lied to. Not so easily, at least.
And this man, whoever he is, worries for Jungkook, even if it is unfounded.
Though, Jimin feels he may have to agree with this man. There’s something about Jungkook. Something sad, broken, and lost. Something lonely.
The stranger mumbles something under his breath, too quiet for Jimin to hear before he walks away. Jungkook isn’t the only one here who feels disappointed. This man aches for the sight before him, this crumbling ruin and the lone man watching over it.
“And, Namjoon,” Jungkook calls after the man, freezing him in his tracks, “tell Taehyung to stop sending gifts. He’s not going to bribe me into coming back.”
All Namjoon gives him in return is a hum and a wave over his shoulder before he continues across the courtyard. Jimin grips the edge of the door, peering around it to watch Namjoon’s retreating form. Even as a human, he would tower over Jimin, tall and stoic and intimidating. As mesmerizing as Jungkook is, something about this Namjoon feels ethereal, compelling Jimin to step out and reveal himself despite his better judgment.
He yanks himself back into the dark off the hallway as soon as he feels his foot slide forward against his will. Jimin’s heart hits his throat, pounding in his ears. He presses a hand over his chest and breathes in, that sweet scent in the air flooding into him.
Jimin has heard the effect that dragons can have on others, their mere presence making those around them wish to submit and serve, but that only comes with living thousands of years in this world. No dragon ancient enough to have that effect on others is meant to still be alive.
The sound of beating wings rips Jimin from her thoughts. He startles and presses himself against the wall, then sighs in relief.
He’s gone. Whoever Namjoon is, he’s gone. Though Jimin doubts most dragons would risk sparking another war by harming him, he doesn’t want to test that theory. It was risky enough to even approach Jungkook.
A groan carries on the air from outside, drifting to Jimin on a breeze. He stills and listens, almost peeks out again before he hears Jungkook mumbling curses under his breath. He sounds pained or sick, the way one might after eating a bad batch of food. Jimin half expects to hear the sound of Jungkook expelling his dinner.
Instead, he hears, “You can come out now.”
Jimin presses his lips into a firm line and bites down on them. If he stays still long enough, perhaps Jungkook will give up or convince himself he imagined whatever tipped him off to Jimin’s presence.
Another sigh. He can almost visualize the way Jungkook must roll his eyes, hand on his hip. Somehow, Jimin feels like he’s known this man for a lifetime already.
”How did you know?” Jimin calls out, though he doesn’t reveal himself just yet, grinning to himself as he pictures Jungkook’s irritation flaring. They have spent enough time with Jungkook being the one to toy with Jimin. It’s his turn.
“You reek.”
Jimin has to stifle a gasp, fist pressed to his mouth. His brows furrow, a frown carved into his mouth. “Excuse me?” he fires back, stepping into the doorway with his fists balled at his sides. “I smell perfectly fine, thank you! I bathed just today—”
”Fae always reek,” Jungkook cuts in as he turns away from Jimin to face the courtyard again. He walks away, shoulders back, head up, but there’s something heavy in his steps, something weighing him down as he goes. “Your kind have a very particular scent. You’re lucky he didn’t catch it.”
Jimin hurries after him, pushing a hand through his hair. He shivers, the night air sinking into his skin. He hadn’t expected to come outside. Inside the palace is cold enough, but out here he really needs something to cover up with.
”What is that scent?” he asks as he falls into step beside Jungkook, ignoring the way his own body trembles every time the wind shifts toward him. “That flowery… smell? Was that something to do with the man who just left? Is that why he couldn’t smell me?”
Jimin tries not to bristle at the thought of himself even having a scent. Jungkook may not find his scent pleasant, but Jimin refuses to believe that he objectively reeks.
”No. That’s…” Jungkook stops, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his cloak. He won’t look at Jimin, shoulders tense. Jimin swears he sees a slight twitch in the man’s body, again like he might suddenly keel over and hurl. He lets out a long, loud breath instead. “That’s my scent. He would have caught yours had I not covered it with my own.”
Jimin tries to make his feet move when Jungkook begins to walk again, but he finds himself stuck, staring after him. He never would have expected such a soft, flowery scent to belong to a dragon that had looked so fearsome, so ready to eat him the moment they met.
“Who is he?” Jimin asks when he finally manages to follow again, trotting along after Jungkook.
”A friend.” The answer comes quicker and easier than expected. It makes Jimin wonder if Jungkook has wanted someone to talk to, to tell about his life and his friends and whatever family he may have left.
Someone to tell about this place.
If only he would allow himself to.
“You need to leave.”
And just like that, the moment crashes back down on Jimin, his hopes dashed. Not entirely, but enough to make him deflate.
”You said I could stay,” he shoots back, and the noise that leaves Jungkook sounds like a laugh covered with a scoff. “It’s bad manners to take back such an offer.”
”It would only be bad manners if you were in a situation in which making the journey back would be difficult or dangerous,” Jungkook says matter-of-factly as he takes a sharp turn to the right, nearly bumping into Jimin, who jumps back with a flutter of his wings. “But you are in perfect health and you have had time to rest. I will provide you with the supplies you need. You leave tomorrow.”
Jimin springs through the next doorway, following Jungkook back inside the palace. ”No,” he says. “You promised to give me time, so you will give me that time. Besides, if your friend has checked in recently, he’ll likely wait awhile before his next visit, yes? Then I should be safe for some time.”
Jungkook’s head droops as he walks, hands on his hips. ”Gods take me,” he says, and Jimin has to contain his own smile in case Jungkook looks back at him. “No wonder we waged war with you fae.”
“Bit unnecessary of a comment to make,” Jimin says, wings moving more rapidly with every passing second. Despite Jungkook’s irritation, there’s a hint of something else buried deep beneath. Before he knows it, Jimin feels his feet leave the ground, lifted right into the air by his own excited wings. “I would like permission to explore this place freely. Should anyone arrive, we can set up a way for you to warn me and I will hide. Your scent should cover the rest, correct?”
Jimin floats in front of Jungkook, stopping him from proceeding any further down the wall. Torchlight flickers across his face as he looks up at Jimin, hovering just high enough to make himself taller than Jungkook. Jimin holds out a hand.
“And I will stay out of your hair—or, rather, your antlers—and keep myself occupied with my own research. I swear it.”
Jungkook works his jaw as he stares at Jimin, golden eyes studying him, their slitted pupils somehow wider than before. He looks pale even in the golden firelight, dark circles under his eyes. Jimin swears those weren’t there just moments ago.
“Very well,” he says, flat, exhausted. Jungkook grips Jimin’s hand firmly and shakes it. “But I’d best not see hide nor hair of you unless I ask.”
A grin splits Jimin’s face. His skin tingles where Jungkook touches, his wings nearly losing their strength to keep him afloat as a tremor runs through them. Jimin swallows down the strange heat building inside him.
“A done deal, dear dour dragon,” he singsongs before dancing away, twirling through the air. His mind already races with a thousand thoughts, a million ideas. If rebuilding this place is what Jungkook wants, perhaps Jimin has found the key to this dragon’s heart. “I will be the absolute picture of propriety and the most perfect guest— ah!”
A half-shriek leaves him as he feels something catch his ankle, dragging him through the air as he writhes and tries to fly away. A door creaks open just as he loses his balance and crashes back onto his feet. Jimin stumbles, head spinning, and straightens up just in time to see Jungkook standing in the doorway of his room with a sly grin on his face.
Jimin hadn’t even noticed how far they had walked, nor did he realize they were anywhere near the room he’s been staying in.
”You had best keep that promise. Starting tonight,” says Jungkook as he grips both of the double doors, brow and head both cocked at Jimin. “Sleep soundly, little fae. Do not seek me out in the morning.”
Jimin gets just enough time to stick out his tongue and blow out a very loud, very wet sound at the dragon before the doors slam shut.