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sailoryooons · 2 years

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The Iron Ring | Chapter III | pjm (m)

❀ Pairing: fae prince! Jimin x human! female reader

❀ Summary: After finding a mysterious ring while cleaning out your late grandmother’s attic, you receive the unlikeliest of visitors: a fae prince who claims you have something that belongs to him. Discovering the fairytales your grandmother told you are true is the least of your problems when you’re taken to a world dangerous and unfamiliar.

❀ Word Count: 19,940

❀ Genre: fantasy au, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Explicit language, graphic depictions of death, graphic depictions of gore, fighting and action scenes, depictions of anxiety attacks and minor traumatic memories from battle, intense sequences of fear and fighting for life, angst, self-doubt, reader being maaad confused for a bit, sexually explicit content including making out, hand job, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, emotional sex, discussions of 'reaping' magic and pain, graphic details of pain and suffering, UNEDITED sorrryyyyy

❀ Published: June 5, 2022

❀ A/N: I'm not even going to be humble when I say it's absolutely crazy that I finished this in time for posting on the weekend. When I started writing yesterday, this update was only at about 5k words. I finished last night's session at somewhere around 13k and finally managed to get to 19k today and actually finish where I planned. The next chapter reveals a LOT of things that have been mentioned throughout: who Khione is (by the way, I kind of like the idea of writing a story about her and Yoongi??), WHAT Khione is, what the other are, why grandma told reader that Jin killed her grandpa, and how grandma stole King Malik's power. Anyways - thank you so much for the feedback I've had on this recently. You guys are outstanding and thank you for being patient - I know updates two weeks or one week at a time are a little frustrating but I promise I'm working hard to finish this. Right now I have an anticipated end at chapter five for this story :) Let me know your thoughts! If you know anything about Celtic mythology, you might be able to make a wild guess at what Khione is (even though her name is greek hehe) also this is unedited because i've had covid for like five days and i don't wanna edit today heehe

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Terror shoots through you. Your pants are barely buckled, the heat of the moment evaporating as you step over the dead faerie. The camp is chaos outside, fire crackling on canvas, the ring of swords. The smell of singed hair and skin makes you gag as you look at the iron rods shoved into the ground. There is roughly a dozen, five feet tall and spaced about three feet apart each.

“Come on!” Jimin yells through the tent. His tone isn’t harsh, but urgent.

Licking your lips, you grip one by the door, yanking. It doesn’t move, sunken in the ground firmly. You pull harder, grunting and squeezing your eyes shut as you pull. Your hands slide on the metal, burning with friction. You make a distressed noise, squatting low to pull with more force at the lower point. The pole moves a bit and you grit your teeth, pulling hard and twisting.

The iron rod comes free with a weird suction-release feeling, knocking you backward. You pant, the sky swirling above you. A terrifying face hovers over you, making you scream in surprise and terror. It's some sort of goblin, eyes black with no pupil, sneering over your face.

You can hear Jimin screaming your name, snarling. You watch as the goblin lifts it’s clawed hand toward you and you feel the scar on your chest throb with familiarity. You don’t think. You thrust the rod upward, cross-checking the goblin across the chin with the iron.

It screams and falls backward, the smell of burnt skin prominent. You realize you’re holding iron – toxic to faeries and what’s keeping Jimin warded in the tent. Rolling to your feet, you gasp for air as you hold the pole, watching as the goblin gathers its wits and gets to its feet. You don’t let it, holding the rod like a baseball bat and swinging.

There's a sickening crunch and the sound of sizzling flesh.

“Hit it again!” Jimin snarls from the other side of the tent. You don’t know how he knows, but you do as he says until the goblin isn’t moving. You're shaking all over, breaths coming out in panicked gasps. “It’s okay,” Jimin calls. “Work on the rods – I'm right here. I just need you to remove enough near the entrance that I can pass with mild burns.”

You drop the rod. You're trembling all over and you feel bile creep up in your throat. Knees buckling, you hit the ground hard, rocks digging into your palms, stinging your hands. You vomit into the grass. It burns like gasoline, scraping your throat as you cough.

Terror claws at you. You trying to catch your breath, gasping.

You can’t get enough air.

Your chest is getting tighter and tighter and you can’t feel that tiny node of energy that exists within you.

The black splashes of Nox and Nyx throb in your vision.

You can’t get enough air.

There's no room to breathe and there is darkness pressing against you, tunnel vision making it impossible to see how to navigate out of this.

“Enaid.” Your head snaps up.

You can’t see Jimin, but you can feel him. Through the panic, through the thunder heart. You know he’s on his knees on the other side of the canvas, hands pressed against the fabric even though the iron is singing him. You don’t know how you know but you know.

“Deep breath,” Jimin murmurs. “With me – one, two, three. Now out – one, two, three.”

You follow the exercise, looking desperately at where his hands press against the tent. Your heart slows and your shaking comes to a stop. You’re no longer gasping, levelling out. “Killing is not easy.” Jimin’s voice is almost a whisper. “I am sorry you are here. But you have to get the iron out of the ground, okay? Get the iron out and I can help you.”

You lick your lips and stagger to your feet. “Okay.”

“I’m right here,” Jimin promises. “You did a good job. You can do this.”

“Okay.”

Licking your lips, you move to the next rod.

A cracking sound makes you flinch and turn around. Hoseok has his back to you, taking a firm stance. Fire curls around his wrist, the whip moving on the ground. He glances at you over his shoulder and nods. “Remove the rods, I’ll cover you.”

You try not to look at the dead goblin as you work on pulling more rods from the ground. You flinch every time you hear the crack of fire behind you, too afraid to turn around and see what Hoseok is fending off. There is mounting chaos in the distance, making you scream in frustration as the poles take all of your energy to pull.

Finally, you rip the last one from the earth, collapsing backwards and red in the face. You're gasping for air as Jimin surges from the tent, darkness writhing around him in a furious, dark storm. You look up at him, dizzy with effort. He picks you up carefully, brushing the hair from your face.

“Okay?” he asks. You nod. He disappears in the tent and reappears, handing you the bow you’ve been practicing with and a quiver. You’re wide-eyed, the bow shaking in your hand. “Just don’t miss.”

It's ridiculous advice but it has the desired effect. You laugh immediately, feeling a little better because it’s still Jimin, despite what happened moments ago.

With trembling hands and a flipping stomach, you shoulder the quiver and pull and arrow, careful not to catch the arrowhead on the lip of the quiver. You nock it, though you’re not confident you could pull and aim right now.

Blinding, white light pulses from the center of the camp. The three of you turn to look at it. Fae with black are rushing toward it, weapons raised.

“Taehyung,” Jimin says, watching as the light fades. “These are solitary fae that don’t belong to courts. Goblins and orcs – look at the eyes. They're being controlled by other.”

“To the king?” Hoseok asks

Jimin nods. You're surprised that they want to help Taehyung and not use the moment as a distraction. Something in your heart flips at Jimin’s decision, watching him storm forward with his sword in hand. He spins the sword as a goblin creature runs by, his wrist moving like a painter as Jimin lops the head off easily.

You don’t have time to be disgusted. The three of you jog through the camp, Jimin and Hoseok clearing the path. You're slammed by the noise and the chaos of it, watching faeries in white with the crest of the Day Court fighting and falling. There are more goblin creatures than Day Court.

A group of creatures scramble toward your trio. You gasp in shock, forgetting about the weapon in your hand. Jimin doesn’t hesitate, a shadow pulsing from him. It hits the goblins, making them scream and collapse, writhing as whatever magic Jimin has used killed them.

Light surged again as you reach the middle of the camp, warriors in white surrounded Taehyung. It's hard not to pause as you look at the King of the Day Court. He radiates light, golden skin glowing pearlescent as he thrusts his sword through the chest of a large creature – an orc, perhaps. None of these creatures make sense to you, but you push forward.

Behind Taehyung a guard is cut down, a hulking monster moving toward the king’s back. Instinct vibrates through you as you pull the taught string of the bow. Aim down the arrow. Don't squeeze your bow hand. Touch the string to the corner of your mouth.

You release the arrow. You swear you hear it whistle as it cuts the air, hitting the monster in the eye. You make a surprised sound, Jimin and Hoseok both whirling around to look at you. Sensing the danger, he was in, Taehyung turns to look at the fallen creature than back up to you.

“Well do more of that!” Jimin hollers, cutting down a troll. “As much as I loathe to save Taehyung after he imprisoned me, we need him as an ally.”

You remember the dark stains on the stone of your bedroom. The cup of water left out for you. The food.

You steady your breath. A cool calm washes over you, soothing the shaking hand. You nock an arrow, pull the string, aim down the shaft and release. You move in a rhythm, the noise of battle fading behind you. Behind the firm calm is terror, but it’s kept at bay by the image of Nox and Nyx murdered.

Anger simmers there too.

Jimin fells anything that gets too close for you to hit. Your aim isn’t perfect – you miss and some of your shots aren’t lethal, but they make the creatures falter, crippling them enough for a member of the Day Court to slay one enemy without fear of being stabbed in the back.

You enter the circle of the fray with Taehyung and his guard. Jimin turns to Taehyung. “How many of your court are outside of this ring?”

Taehyung’s face is stormy. “None. Do what you will.”

Jimin nods and spins his sword, swing up and plunging it down tip first. It sinks into the ground. Day Court warriors circle tight, the creatures making a thick ring and chittering, closing in on you. Jimin spreads his hands part, palms facing one another. Darkness gathers there, twisting and shadowed. There are sparks there, like lightning lancing through darkness.

“Duck,” Jimin orders. You hear the command of a king there, voice firm and loud.

Everyone drops to their knees. Jimin throws his hands out, casting a disk of shadow. It feels like oxygen is pull from the air and you gasp, as though you’re in a vacuum for a moment. There is a sharp sound like bones snapping. You look at the enemies surrounding you, creatures frozen and gaping. Slowly, like the early raindrops of a storm, the top halves of the creatures start toppling to the floor.

A hand claps over your mouth as you watch the ichor and blood spill. Organs topple from bodies sliced through stomachs, chests and heads. You cannot tear your eyes away as the ground soaks up the black blood, bubbling and steaming.

Not a single creature remains standing.

White clothes with the sun emblazoned on them are littered among the dead. None of them move. Slowly, you begin to stand. You realize that the tents and poles are you have bene severed in half. No splints, no tatters, no threads. They’re singed as though they have been cauterized.

You look at Jimin.

You haven’t even seen a flicker of my power.

On unsteady legs, you look at the carnage around you. The members of the Day Court tentatively start picking through the remains, looking a little lost and dazed. You don’t look at the dead or the bleeding creatures or even think about the reeking smell that is beginning to drift toward you.

Jimin sheaths his sword and then looks up at you, green eyes dark. “What?” he asks, adjusting his weapons built and bending to pick up an arrow you dropped. He holds it out to you. “I told you – you've barely seen my power.”

“What was that?”

“Something that should be done seldom,” Hoseok answers. You glance at the summer prince. He's watching Jimin with a guarded expression. “Summoning pure night like that is reckless and can kill you.”

“Would rather not be killed by solitary faeries that are possessed, Jimin sniffs. He turns to Taehyung, who remains motionless and staring at what was once a camping ground.

Following Taehyung’s stare, you realize that out of the dozens of faeries who had accompanied him to this corner of the Day Court, there are only a few left. It sets in that there are not only monsters dead around you – there are willow men and woman and creatures who were loyal to their king that are now covered in grime and death.

Something abought the thought flips your stomach. You turn and retch, nearly vomiting on Jimin’s boots. He doesn’t seem to mind, handing going to your back. You flinch away from him, remembering that only moments ago he had summoned night and used it as a weapon. You didn’t understand entirely what that meant, but Hoseok’s expression was enough to know that it wasn’t normal. Or expected.

Jimin takes a few steps back from you, retracting his hand. You glance up to see that the princely mask has fallen into place. Gone is the man from the tent who had kissed you and tasted you with hunger you’ve never experienced. Gone is the man who admitted he craved touching you from the moment you met.

“I saved us,” Jimin mentions. When you and Hoseok say nothing, he turns to Taehyung. “You owe me a life debt.”

That makes the handsome faerie glare. “I suppose I do.”

“I’m asking you to let us pass through your lands unchecked.”

“Permission granted.” Taehyung looks at you. “They were going to your tent before I flashed my power. Take your ring and get it out of my court and do not come back through my lands until you have banished whatever evil your grandmother has let into this world by killing the High Tree.”

The words land like a slap. You feel their sting, hot against your face. Tears burn your eyes as you look at the empty eyes of Taehyung’s court. Your fingers shake. A faerie somewhere lets out a loud sob and you turn toward it. A satyr leans over a dryad, howling.

Since the moment you stepped into Faerie, you’ve been so sure your grandmother was a hero. She spent her entire life telling you have her great adventures, of the people she saved by defeating the High King and hiding his power. What could be so wrong about that?

But you look at the faces of the dead, faces tilted up to the warm sun. And you realize that they cannot feel it. Immortal beings who believe they will live forever snuffed out because of this thing – these creatures – that come through some sort of door that your grandmother has opened.

And it occurs to you: was the cost of so much life worth a temporary peace?

The answer chokes you. You feel your throat tighten and you look at Jimin, eyes burning. And though you can’t tell what he is thinking or feeling, you think... he understands what is racing through your mind. That he knows that you’re realizing the cost of her actions.

And it’s fucking heavy.

Jimin dips his head to Taehyung in thanks. “King Taehyung.”

Taehyung repeats the motion. “King Jimin.”

The horses are blessedly alive. Umbriel and Asfaloth paw at the ground, throwing their head up and down nervously. Hoseok shushes them, approaching slowly with a hand held out. A warmth radiates from him – magic, you think – and they grow calm enough to mount.

Jimin urges Umbriel into a fast canter, peeling off toward the north.

No one speaks. You don’t look at the ruined camp, instead closing your eyes as Jimin urges Umbriel faster, wind cutting at your eyes. You can feel your eyes water, tears slicing past your temple.

Nothing makes sense. From hat you know, solitary faeries are those who belong to no court. They prefer to keep their business to themselves – so why attack the Day Court? Taehyung’s accusation that they were coming for your tent haunts you. Were they there because of you? And how were there so many?

Tension twists your neck and shoulders. It feels like there is an intense pressure crushing on top of you, grinding you until you’re nothing. And you want to be nothing.

You don’t want to be here. You don’t want to be afraid. You don’t want to be anything.

Jimin says nothing from behind you. The comfort he offered you before is gone, replace with a cool exterior.

The horses carry on. Day turns into twilight and the wind gets colder. You shiver in the saddle, looking up at the sky as blue fades to grey.

The Winter Court looms ahead.

Winter wind tears at your face. It scrapes its nails down your cheeks, bites at the flesh of your lips, making them blood and peeled. Your bones ache with cold, even though Jimin has stopped the horses to change into warmer clothing. Though fae are not as affected by temperature fluctuations, even the two fae princes cannot fight off the sting of winter.

Grey skies and clouds stretch overhead. Something feels off about the world here. The Day Court and the Night Court were thriving with life and magic. Dread fills you here, almost as deep as the cold.

You want to ask Jimin about the Winter Court, but the image of his power ripping through the solitary faeries plays in your mind over and over again. You have no idea the extent of his power, but you know that Hoseok has been just as standoffish.

So instead, you turn to the prince of the Summer Court. “It feels wrong here.”

Hoseok looks up at you. He's fixing a buckle on his boot. He nods as he looks back down, fingers shaking in the cold before he finishes and slides gloves on. “Like the other courts, the Winter Court is powered by the Winter Tree and the royal family who are tied to it. They have suffered incredibly losses – more than what you just witnessed at the Day Court. It takes faeries time to heal. We do not have many children.”

“They also chased out their best heir, Jimin mutters. “That kind of counts for their downfall.”

Hoseok gives Jimin a hard look before standing and looking at you. “You won’t find much happiness here, but the Winter Court is full of people. Sure, there are a few bad apples – every court has them.” Hoseok looks pointedly at Jimin. “Anyway, we’re going to the Nightingales, you don’t need to worry about the royal family.”

“What are the Nightingales?”

Jimin helps you onto Umbriel. You rub your palms together and pull your cloak closer. Jimin leans a little more into you than previously, making you flush. Even in the state of things, it’s hard to forget the way he licked and sucked at you, making you writhe and curl and-

“You okay?” Jimin’s voice is a purr. You go rigid and nod your head, though you get the sneaking sense that he knows where your mind was wandering off to. “The Nightingales are some of the most powerful fae in Faerie. They’re the keeper of secrets and have ancient knowledge of the world. They were started thousands of years ago as an assassination ring by the Winter Court, but they’ve since transformed their use and purpose.”

“Do they still assassinate people?”

“Do you really want the answer to that question?”

You don’t.

Instead, you let yourself get ensnared in your own thoughts.

A mixture of shame and confusion circle you and Jimin. You have no idea where the heated moment between you came from or what it means. You had thought up until that point that you were a tool at his disposal. But the way he had kissed you and blinded you with mindless pressure makes you shiver in the saddle.

You don’t know how to feel. Jimin is... abrasive but kind and he is constantly contradicting himself. He is the epitome of the chaos of the fae, and you struggle to understand the motivations and the machinations of his mind.

Trying to guess the rhyme and reason behind him eating you out like a man starved is impossible.

You think about the pull you constantly feel with him, the way you feel like there is a tiny string dragging you along toward him until you’re united once more. The realization that maybe Jimin feels something similar.

It gets colder as you’re consumed with your thoughts. No one speaks, but your breaths come out in puffs. A terrible tremble rattles your spine and you pull your cloak tighter. Jimin presses his chest against you and you feel warmth bloom at your back. You make a startled noise, going rigid.

“Relax,” Jimin grunts. “It’s just a little magic.”

“You should conserve your magic,” Hoseok warns. “Teach her how to use her own instead. You're going to exhausts yourself after summoning night like that and keeping two bodies warm.”

“What does that mean? That you summoned night?”

Jimin huffs, breath clouding. “Most fae have general magic about them. A banshee predicts death, a brownie can make things appear and reappear, a dryad can sing trees into shape. Hoseok and I can perform basic magic – warming, some elemental magic, a little healing. But we are members of the gentry as well, the strong fae that make up the royal court. My gift in magic really lies within a skillset unique to the Night Court.”

“So that’s why Hobi can summon a whip of fire?” You ask. Hoseok nods. “You can manipulate fire to a certain degree because its unique to the Summer Court?”

“Exactly. Those bright flashes of light you saw when Taehyung was fighting was him summoning the day – he was pulling on his own life force and re-creating the very essence of the day and frying and blinding the other.”

“So you summoned night and... what, exactly?”

“Used it like a blade. I made it solid, pure darkness of the night sky fashioned into something sharp.”

“It was dangerous,” Hoseok grunts. “To do that in the Day Court where you’re weakest? You’re lucky you could do it at all.”

You turn to look at Jimin over your shoulder. For a moment, you can’t help but think how good he looks, even in the Winter Court. His eyes hair matches the background, black hood pulled over his head. His eyes are lighter – like jade – than they were before. His eyes meet yours, intense and unrelenting.

“You were weakened in the Day Court?”

“It is my natural opposite,” he admits. “But we were not so far from home like we are now. We’re also very near the High Court.”

“Are you in danger?”

He cocks his head. “Worried about me?”

You flush from head to toe. This tone is playful, eyes dancing. “No.”

“I thought faeries didn’t lie,” he whispers, leaning forward a bit. His voice is soft, the same voice he used when he had you under him, panting and naked. Heat drops in your stomach like a furnace. “You’re part my personal court. It makes sense to fear for me.”

“She’s in your court?” Jimin’s eye twitches in annoyance. It is the single most human expression he’s ever had as he looks at Hoseok, lip curled upward slightly. “Yes,” Jimin answers through his teeth. He has no right to be annoyed, but you can feel the irritation, like something vibrating up an invisible tether between you. “Is that okay with you?”

“You’ve never had a court. I’m just surprised, is all.” Hoseok looks at you and his brown eyes light up and he smirks. “Or maybe I’m not that surprised.”

“Is having a court special?” You ask, a little dubious.

“Only your closest confidants should be in your court,” Hoseok answers. “People you trust with your life, people you rely on more than anyone. You care for them, you love them.” Hoseok smiles as he urges Asfaloth faster. “Jimin has never had enough friends to make one.”

The prince of the Night Court has no response for Hoseok.

Instead, Jimin tries to teach you to warm yourself. It seems hopeless at first. Now that your terror has subsided, you can feel the little piece of energy there. You poke and prod at it with Jimin’s teaching. It doesn’t give away like before, like there is something between you and accessing it.

You work at it. Jimin grunts when you fail again to reach that spark inside of you and opts for a new method. Motivation, Jimin thinks, will drive you to your goal faster. He withdraws the warmth he has been feeding you and lets you go numb again, your extremities screaming as you begin to tremble, the wind and cold an entity out to kill you.

It seems in viciously. Your teeth chatter, your hands tremble. You can’t really feel your legs in the saddle beyond a dull ache. You start to get angry as Jimin pushes you, his patience fraying.

“I’m t-too cold t-to d-do this,” you get out. “J-just warm m-me for a m-moment t-to try again.”

“No.”

“F-fuck you, I’m g-g-g-” you cut off, and angry yell leaving your mouth as you struggle to say the words. “I-I'm going to f-f-freeze to death.”

“You won’t if you tap into it.”

“L-let me d-d-die then.”

“You’re being dramatic. You feel it there – the access to it. It is yours. So take it.”

“I h-hope you f-f-fall of the horse when I d-d-die.”

Jimin’s breath is warm as he leans into your ear, whispering, “Do you need a better motivation than living?”

Jimin nibbles at your earlobe. You burst with heat from the action, surprised. Even more surprising is that you explode with real heat, tapping into the magic and shooting torrents of heat through your body. The force of the heat surprises Jimin, making him yelp and jump backward. He falls from Umbriel and though you want to see him eat snow, he lands in a crouch, looking up at you.

The freeze melts away from you as the fever blooming at your center spreads to your limbs. It's almost painful, the way it chases out the cold. Jimin straightens as Hoseok laughs and jeers at him, but he ignores the summer prince. He narrows his eyes at you before leaping back up onto Umbriel.

“Can you soften the heat a little?” he’s back to his instructional voice. “Just pull back a little – like releasing your bowstring slowly.”

You imagine just that, letting go of that taught energy slowly. The heat dampens to a hum. Your hands are red and you feel flushed like you’re standing in front of a fire, but it’s better than the alternative.

“Would you look at that,” Jimin notes. “My tongue is still a motivator.”

“Shut up,” you snap, looking at Hoseok who has returned to leading you. “I just wanted to knock you off the horse.”

“You worried about Hoseok knowing that I've fucked you with my tongue?” You squirm at his words. His hands find your waist, squeezing. “Worried what he’ll think about how you were going to let me spread you open for my-”

You elbow Jimin. He cackles, knowing that he’s won. You say nothing, focuses on trying not to pass out from embarrassment. Jimin is right, though. You were about to let him do exactly that and the thought of anyone knowing how pliant you were for faerie you barely knew, for a faerie who was mean to you and who had dual motivations and who had kidnapped you and brought you here.

It was mortifying. And Jimin knew it.

You had never been more thankful for having a member of the Summer Court with you than when Hoseok started a roaring fire, lighting up the dark, winter sky. You pressed yourself close to the fire, letting the flames warm your face and hands. You were exhausted, a kind of tired that you were unfamiliar with.

Jimin called it burn out. You were still new at using what magic the ring had given you – and the dagger, for that matter – and the constant heating of your system had exhausted you.

This you remember from your lessons. A faerie can only use as much magic as they have energy. Accessing magic and using it is just like being an athlete – the more conditioned you are to using it and the more stamina you have, the more you can use and the bigger the magical feats you can perform.

Warming yourself at a consistent rate was incredibly impressive, according to Hoseok. What you don’t tell him is that for the last hour and a half as you entered the dark line of woods in the Winter Court, you had been struggling to do it at all, sagging in the saddle. You suspect that you would have frozen again if Jimin had not been there.

You don’t dare look at Jimin as he rolls out a sleeping pack. You're focused on the way the flames crack, sparks drifting upward into the shadows boughs of the trees.

The woods feel omnipresent. You can’t really make out much beyond the orange ring of light Hoseok’s fire casts. You see a shimmer of darkness – Jimin's magic a protective ward around your slice of camp, you think. You've brushed the leaves in piles, gathering soft moss to place under your sleeping pack at Hoseok’s instruction.

The ground will suck up your warmth he mentions. Always sleep on top of brush if you can.

Though neither of the faerie princes look alarmed, you can’t help but feel a nervous energy humming through you. Hoseok nibbles on dried, salted meat and Jimin sips on freezing water from his waterskin. Rubbing your hands together, you strand on stiff limbs, groaning.

Jimin glances up at you. “Thighs sore?”

You stare at him, eyes narrowed at the teasing lilt to his voice. Hoseok doesn’t seem to notice or doesn’t care about your conversation. On weak legs, you crawl into your bed roll. “I’m fine.”

“It’s okay to have sore legs. Being spread like that makes the muscles ache.”

You whip your head at him, images of him prying your thighs open flashing through your mind. Is he that enamored with what happened? You have no idea what it means, that he’s still so enthusiastic about it. You try not to let it coax you into false assumptions, but it’s hard when your heart skips a beat.

“I’m going to sleep,” you growl.

Jimin wiggles his fingers in a taunting wave and Hoseok murmurs a good night to you.

Neither of them chats as you wiggle further into your sleeping bag. It's warm, aided by the flames. Taking a deep breath, you try to close your eyes and relax. But the scenes from the Day Court flit behind your eyelids.

Red, blood-soaked earth. Charred corpses with empty eyes. Bodies of creatures split open, entrails spilled like ink.

You squeeze your eyes shut so hard you see stars behind them. You will them away. You don’t want to see anymore death. You don’t want to see any more blood and carnage.

These are the stories your grandma left out. The dead bodies, the brutality of fighting. She never described the sour feeling that kills the pit of your stomach. Acid creeping in and melting you from the inside out until you’re vomiting from the sights and sounds.

It had sounded so glorious when she told you about her sword made of night, the crown of stars full of power.

Children’s stories. She had left out so many details, so many truths.

A tear slips out of your eye and you wipe it viciously. You're careful not to sniff, not wanting to alert the two fae behind you of your predicament. But you can’t help it. You have never felt farther away from home. Never doubted your grandmother this much.

You think back to that place of twilight, where she whispered her fear of Jimin, to beware of Seokjin.

The king’s name sours your face. There is still that mystery to unravel, to discover what reason the king of the Night Court could have possibly killed your grandfather for.

Your kind, gentle grandfather. The softness to your grandmother’s edge. You miss the smell of him, like sunlight and warmth. Had Seokjin done it because he hated your grandmother? It seemed to be a common thing among the fae. Even Taehyung spoke her name with venom in his mouth.

Frustration stirs inside of you. You try to shove away the images but they keep coming and coming. The sound of crying in your ears, the ring of swords, the screaming. It throbs and throbs and throbs. You sense the tiny pebble of power within you and reach for it – maybe you can force the fears away.

You seize onto that tiny part of magic in you and something pulses.

Your eyes snap open as that small bead of power ruptures, vibrating outwards. You imagine ripples on a calm lake, ring after ring expanding and rushing outward.

“Y/N,” Jimin says, voice cryptic. “What was that?”

You sit up, sleeping back forgotten. You feel a tremor behind the shadow of Jimin’s magic. Your heart quickens. The three of you stare east in silence.

The quiet grows unsettling. It yawns into existence, opening up its maw and swallowing sound whole. You look at Jimin but he puts his finger to his lips. Slowly, he climbs to his feet. His movements don’t make a sound, Hoseok echoing the movement.

Nothing happens but you don’t feel relieved. Anxiety amounts and something oily and sharp brushes against your thoughts. You flinch backward, falling on your ass. Jimin is up and moving, throwing his shadows out in a solid arch. Hoseok diffuses the power.

“Fuck,” Jimin swears, grabbing you by the arm and yanking you upward. “You sent out a fucking wave of magic. What did you do?”

“I don’t know!”

“You just announce to this entire forest where we are. You have no idea the dark creatures that are in this forest – this wood is ancient.”

“I didn’t mean to!” Jimin drags you to Umbriel, nearly shoving you up onto the horse. What’s happening?”

“You woke something up,” he growls. He leaps onto the horse. Neither he nor Hoseok bother to breakdown camp. They rein their horses and urge them north. “We have no idea how far that echo you just sent went, but it screamed power.”

Fear climbs up your spin. You leave the camp and rush through the woods, Jimin driving Umbriel at a dangerous pace rushing through the trees. You don’t turn around – you don’t think you would see anything even if you did. But something is there in the distance, a heavy silence sweeping over the trees.

“What is it?” Jimin doesn’t answer for a moment. “Jimin?”

“The Callieach.”

“What’s a callieach?”

“Not what – who. the Callieach is not a faerie. She’s... like the Maker and lives deep within the Winter Woods. She is winter itself and can appear in many forms.”

“And she’s... mean?”

Jimin startles you with a laugh. “She’s not good or evil. She’s ancient – but you just sent out a High Court shockwave. It feels like her kind.”

“Maybe she feels lonely,” you jest, though there is a sliver of terror in your chest. “Like maybe she thinks oh – feels like home.”

“She was banished here and trapped in the body of a faerie to keep her out of the Maker’s home world. I don’t think that is the case, Enaid.”

“Will you ever tell me what that word is?”

Despite the terrifying situation, you feel Jimin’s smile when he says, “Perhaps if we survive the Callieach, I will.”

The ride is cold and brutal. You reach for that spark of magic again to warm yourself but Jimin tuts at you, telling you to save your magic. That sends a deeper chill into your bones. You cannot imagine having to fight with magic.

You think of the pulse you felt emit from you through the forest floor. It had been an accident – you had reached for the magic out of fear, an instinct. You had tapped into it and unleashed something. It felt different from the flames you had been working on conjuring which meant… could it be High Court magic?

Thus far, you haven’t managed to summon an ounce of power from the ring. At least, you don’t think you have. All the magic you’ve been able to spark was heat and occasionally shadow fire, which had earned you the Shade title and King Seokjin’s hatred.

It was frustrating. You wished you could tap into your magic and use it for something. The image of Jimin summoning night and slicing through the others comes back unbidden. You shiver, but this time, not from the cold.

Jimin is far more powerful than you thought. You knew as a prince of the Night Court, he had to be strong. He walked confidently and people respected him – but now you also knew why they feared him. Beneath the surface and the words laced with sweetness, he was still deadly.

You remember your first meeting, the way he had thrown you to the ground. Left you in a prison. The forceful way he handled you and how everything out of his mouth was a grinding insult. It’s different from the Jimin behind you now. You’re not sure how, but the Jimin now seems fonder of you.

And certainly more devious. Heat creeps up your neck and you curse yourself for once again remembering the way Jimin ate you out like a creature made from hunger and passion.

Snow began to fall. White sheets of it, blinding and colder than before. It felt like a knife was slicing the bits of your face that were not hidden by the hood of your cloak. Jimin slid closer to you, shivering against you as the wicked fingers of the cold scratched and clawed at you.

The blizzard grew violent. Hoseok slowed his horse as you navigated through blinding, white snow. The world was no longer grey, but a bright, starling white. You could barely see the back of Hoseok. You only knew he was there at all because of the flame he summoned to melt away the ice that was now crackling beneath the horses feet.

An uneasy feeling crept up your spine. You hear voices on the wind, quick and too soft for you to follow. You swiveled your head, trying to catch them as the wind roared around you. Jimin said something in your ear, but you couldn’t hear him over the screaming of winter’s fury.

You turn to him, trying to hear what he’s saying. At the same moment, Umbriel bucks, her terror lost in the wind. You feel yourself scream more than hear it as you tumble from her back, landing in the snow.

Cold like you have never felt it before grips at you. You gasp, startled as you roll over. Icy nails dig into your skin, needling you and holding you there. You blink up at the sky, but the snow is flurrying so hard that you cannot see or make out what direction you fell from. Your limbs are being buried faster than you can peel yourself from the ice.

You look down and your stomach drops. Ice spiderwebs at your feet, crackling and growing toward you. It feels alive and you shriek, pulling your feet from the mounting and snow. Your steps are sticky and stilted as the ice pulls at you.

Spinning in circles, you scream for Jimin. Cold air reaches into your mouth and cuts you. Blood blooms in your mouth as the cold reaches down your throat. You don’t try to scream again but you are lost and freezing and black is pulsing on the edge of your vision.

Everything hurts. You stumble, covering your eyes as you try to see. A flare of orange barely lights the white sheets and you try to run for it, legs stiff and locking. You stumble again, scraping your hand. The ice cuts your palm, red bright against the ivory snow.

You look up and again your sense of direction is lost. You’re sure that the flash of Hoseok’s fire had been right in front of you, but doubt curls in your mind.

Teeth chattering, you reach for your magic. Pain seeps into your bones. Cold pain like you have never experienced. Your knees buckle as you reach for it, but you feel like there’s an icy wall around it, the energy muted.

Fuck. You realize you’re going to die. Ice climbs up your ankle. You focus your attention on that tiny bit of magic, stretching, screaming, crying for it.

The icy wall around it shatters. Magic shoots at you like an arrow, frying your nerve endings and making you gasp as hot, shadow fire licks around your body. You scream in shock – the flames do not hurt but they’re like acid against the snow, biting at it and chasing some of the cold away.

Wind howls harder. You try to expand the flames as you stand on unsteady feet. A figure appears in the snow and you sigh in relief, stepping toward it. You call Jimin’s name but as the shadow materializes, his name dies on your lips.

Though you have burning, consuming fire at your hands and arms now, a woman steps through the snow and you feel fear.

The howling wind fades. You can hear it as though it is on the other side of a pane of glass, screaming muted. There is a circle of silence between you and the faerie – or whatever she is – as she regards you. The snow does not fall here, in the tiny bubble as you stare at her.

She is a vision. Hair whiter than the snow, eyes that are so blue it looks like she stole the. Her skin is so pale that she almost blends into the background. If it weren’t for the blue cloak twitching in the silenced wind, she’d have been hidden to you.

Nails like talons tip her fingers, which look cruel and bent like claws. Her lips are blue as her cloak as she tilts her head, white hair shifting. She looks faerie but she feels so much stronger. A finger of cold brushes against your mind and you recoil. It’s the same eerie feeling that came right after the pulse of magic you sent out, a psychic touch.

I am so lonely, a voice whispers through you. Won’t you take me with you?

You blink and it’s your grandma looking at you. You open and close your mouth. The world around you is softer, like you’re in that forever twilight. You take a step toward her and she looks at you with stars in her eyes.

“Grandma?”

It is so lonely here. Let us go home.

You take another step toward her. Your fire dies a little as you do, hypnotized by seeing her again. Millions of questions flutter through your mind, stopping you short and you shake your head. “Your stories,” you whisper. “They feel all wrong. Why have you only told me half-truths?”

Come, I will tell you all. Let’s go together to the warmth.

“No, I want you to tell me now.”

Haven’t you missed me? I have been so alone without you.

“Tell me why you sealed away the magic and opened a door! Why you did it knowing it would hurt this world? So many people are mad at you – mad at me because you took the power and ran.

Your grandmother hesitates, tilting her head. Her face blurs for a second. You think you imagine it, that suddenly it’s not your grandmother but of course it is. She smiles at you and…. It’s all wrong.

Where is the door? Let’s go there together, back home.

You frown. “What do you mean? You know-“

Where is the door open, child?

Her face blurs again and Jimin’s words come drifting back to you. She is winter itself and can appear in many forms.

Shadow surges from you. Your grandmother – who is not your grandmother – leans away from you, eyes flickering colors, flashing a kaleidoscope of grey and silver. Ice melts and turns to charred soot beneath you were the flames lick, and you set your teeth.

“You are not my grandmother.”

Where is the door? the Callieach hisses. She is no longer the kindly image of your grandmother. She is a terrifying woman, beautiful but sharp, with eyes too big for her face and teeth razor sharp and too large for her mouth. Tell me where the door is and I’ll eat you quickly.

You don’t answer her. You thrust your hand out, remembering the way you attacked Jimin at Hoseok’s cabin. It feels so long ago, but your body follows the movement so easily. Fire shoots at her but she’s fast – faster than the eye can catch.

The world is swallowed by wind and snow again. You screech as it tears at you, the shadowy flames dimming a bit. You focus on keeping yourself warm and keeping the worst of the snow away from you. It bites and claws at you, a living storm trying to pry your mouth open and stick its hands down your throat.

The Callieach appears in front of you, face contoured as she lashes. Her nails catch your arm as you hold it out. You both scream, her hand coming in contact with the flame and her nails ripping open cloak and skin. You feel hot blood well on your arm, running down to your hand as you pull away from her.

Smoke sizzles from where she touched you – but her hand is not ash. Blackened and flaked, but it does not crumble like the plant had where your flame missed Jimin.

Snow and ice blast you. You can’t see, can’t feel. Tumbling backwards, you fall to the ground hard, head cracking against ice. Your vision pulses. Pain explodes. Your fire gutters out, shocked at the pain and the cold and the burn of the ice.

The Callieach slinks towards you. Your hands push the ground, trying to crawl away. Ice climbs up your fingers, making them freeze. A scream works its way up your throat as little veins of ice snatch you, keeping you in place. The wind blows harder.

You look up, watching the ancient being approach, her hair wiping and silver eyes glowing. This isn’t a faerie. This isn’t a creature. This is a god and now she’s going to make you a meal.

Your heart palpitates. Every breath hurts. The world starts to go quiet. Your vision grows hazy and you realize that you’re freezing to death. You can’t breathe, your tongue led in your mouth, frozen. You can barely look to the side as your limbs become ice and you become one with the ground.

The world slows and so does your heart rate.

Thump thump.

You feel it, beating painfully as it struggles to keep you in the land of the living.

Thump thump.

It’s throbbing. The Callieach approaches as your vision starts to go black at the edges.

Thump.

Ice crusts your lashes. They flutter open and closed. A figure appears beyond the Callieach and you think you feel a pulse. You don’t know. The world is cold and you no longer feel pain. Your eyes flutter shut.

Thump.

A screech makes you open your eyes one last time. It’s such a funny sound. You don’t see the Callieach. Instead, the Grim Reaper has come to take you. Dressed in all black, hood pulled up. The Grim Reaper rushes towards you, mask pulled over the lower half of its face as it leans over you, ready to take you into the afterlife.

Thump.

You look up. At least you feel nothing. The cold has burned away the pain. You are nothing. Feel nothing. The Grim Reaper has one blue eye, one black.

It’s the last thing you see.

You are dying and Jimin feels it. He screams as he drives his sword through another creature made of eyes. There is frostbite on his fingers. He feels like they are going to snap when he swings his sword again, screaming his rage and pain into the face of a shattering ice monster.

Behind him, Hoseok’s flame whip lights up the winter storm. Hoseok is using unsafe amounts of heat and fire to keep them from dying and to keep the Callieach’s snow soldiers at bay. Jimin knows the summer prince will not be able to manage this heat and fire for much longer. In any normal situation, Hoseok could fuel heat and fire for days.

The Callieach’s winter is not normal. It is biting and eroding, pulling at Jimin’s skin and peeling back layers of flesh. Jimin feels like every time his skin heals, it’s sealing in the cold, letting it drip down to his very bones and soul.

His soul.

Jimin’s soul screaming. He can feel the panic and the pain ripping through the storm at him. He can’t feel where you are but he feels the mounting terror, the slowing beat of your heart. Jimin blindly runs in the direction that he thinks you’re in – he has no way of knowing in the Maker’s damned storm.

Hoseok follows, flames licking at their enemies.

A tremor runs through the ground. Jimin barely pulls up short and misses the explosion of ice lancing across the snow. Mist and frozen ground spray in the air, momentarily blinding him. Jimin shields his eyes with his hand as it all comes down.

The snowy minions pause, half of their numbers obliterated. Jimin turns to look north, a shadow appearing in the white blizzard screaming around them. Relief floods Jimin’s system as the figure in black throws a black-gloved hand forward, another torrent of grown and snow rippling. The earth cracks as it hits the the Callieach’s figures.

Jimin and Hoseok launch into action, slicing through them as their new ally falls into battle with them. Jimin sees the black blade glinting as it cuts through their enemies. The winter storm lessens around them, almost coming to a complete stop as the ice continues to lash up from the ground like a whip, cracking and destroying the remaining figures The Callieach summoned.

The dark figure turns to Jimin, only his eyes visible under the heavy black hood and mask pulled across his lower face. Inky, feline eyes stare back at Jimin and he realizes who has come to help them.

Yoongi.

“Help me!” Jimin begs. “The Callieach is killing her!”

“Khione will take care of it.” Yoongi’s voice cut through the winter like a command. And Yoongi is of the Winter Court – of course his voice can stop the snow and mute the wind. His eyes are dark and dangerous under the Nightingale hood. “You are both going to freeze to death. Come.”

Jimin doesn’t listen. He can feel you now that the the Callieach’s fury is dying down. It feels like a thread is tied between the two of you and Jimin runs for it. Yoongi snarls at him, going after Jimin and grabbing him. Jimin is hurt. He can feel the bite in his fingers, the tremble in his legs and the raw burns from where the storm has peeled at him.

“You are going to get yourself killed.”

Jimin growls at Yoongi. “You don’t understand.”

“I have a mate too,” Yoongi snaps at Jimin, pulling the prince up short. He can’t see Yoongi’s face, but he sees the eyes. There is understanding there – not pity, but empathy. “And my mate has her. Let’s go.”

“Please,” Jimin asks and Yoongi seems to understand. Yoongi nods once, his eyes glazing over for a moment. Jimin feels a second away from breaking, squeezing his hands on the sword that is still in his hand.

He doesn’t know when he acknowledged the thread connecting the two of you. He felt it the moment he stepped into the attic, but he thought that perhaps it was a sense of familiarity. You looked so much like Yvaine that Jimin was sure the tingling at the back of his senses was familiarity.

When he took you to Faerie with him, he thinks perhaps that’s when he knew. He could feel the pain radiating from you after knocking yourself out. He could feel the anxiety and the fear like it was his own, two emotions that he wasn’t very familiar with.

Jimin had not truly been afraid in a long time. He worried for his people and he stressed over his own search for the power that had been stolen from his father and in turn, him. He had spent years and years going over Yvaine’s journals and belongings, trying to find out where she went. Trying and hoping and failing.

But despite all of that, he had never truly been afraid.

Jimin is afraid now. As he was when Taehyung took you from him for questioning, as he was the night the others attacked you in your room and slaughtered Nox and Nyx. Jimin doesn’t acknowledge where this fear comes from. To say it out loud is to give it a name and names are powerful things.

But that fear is driving him now, making him step toward Yoongi as it eats away at Jimin’s nerves, corroding him from the inside out.

Yoongi’s eyes flash and he zeroes in on Jimin. “She’s alive.” Jimin sags with relief, pain on the edge of every feeling in his body. “Come.”

Despite the screaming terror inside of Jimin, all focused on a single, half-faerie girl, he complies. Yoongi cannot lie, and he knows that he’s checked in with his other half. The telepathic talents of the Nightingales makes Jimin shiver. He had never understood what rituals they perform to become what they are, but they are faerie and they are more.

Yoongi leads them to a massive wolf waiting patiently – Jimin realizes it’s a Fenris, one of the rare giant wolves native to the Winter Court. It’s midnight black, coat absorbing the light reflecting off the snow, a dizzying effect. It sits and watches the faeries approaching, larger than both Umbriel and Asfaloth. The horses paw at the ground nervously, ice flaking their coat.

“Thank god they lived,” Hoseok breathes, rushing to his mount.

Yoongi casts a wary eye. “They didn’t. Thank Khione for that.”

Hoseok pales and Jimin’s stomach turns as he looks at his horse. She looks fine and she is warm to the touch when his trembling hand brushes across her neck. “A generous way to use her gift,” Jimin notes carefully. He studies Yoongi. “One might call it frivolous.”

“What can I say.” The wolf lowers himself to the ground on all fours, letting Yoongi mount him. The leader of the Nightingales looks tiny but terrifying on the back of his Fenris. Jimin wonders what Jungkook would think if he ever saw them – the Dread Wolf has never left the Night Court a moment of his long life. “She likes animals. Take better care of yours.”

Jimin keeps looking over his shoulder as Yoongi leads them north. Jimin had not realized how close they were to the mountains – granite-colored peaks shoot up toward the sky like the spine of some ancient creature, capped with snow.

Dark woods lead up to the foot of the mountain. Yoongi leads them into the shade of the tree. There is heavy silence around them. Jimin looks back the way they came, but sees no sign of you.

Yoongi senses Jimin’s apprehension. “You won’t see them.” He looks forward, nearly blending with the Fenris he rides. The rock face of the mountain comes into side, covered with shrubbery and snow. “Skadi is white and blends right in. Khione turns her armor white when she rides.”

“Stealthy,” Hoseok notes.

Yoongi makes a sound that has a touch of warmth.

It’s been a long time since Jimin had seen Yoongi. The Nightingale is elusive and has been focused on helping rebuild the Winter Court and the Nightingales. The last time that Jimin saw the quiet faerie, he was threatening Seokjin to keep his nose out of Winter business.

Even as a king, Seokjin knew threats from Yoongi were to be taken seriously. He was older than most of their ages combined and he wasn’t just a faerie – he was something ancient like the maker, bound in his oath to protect the Winter Court the knowledge of the Faerie.

Nightingales were rare and they were powerful. It took years of brutal training, renouncing your loyalty to your family, and undergoing some sort of ritual and transformation that was unknown to Jimin. Yoongi had been the captain of the Nightingales as long as Jimin had known him. He had no idea what ties the faerie had to the Winter Court before him, but he was part of the reason the original regime was torn down.

Though Khione was more the reason for that.

A shadowy alcove appears in the rock face. Jimin can’t see the ward, but he feels the veil of magic they pass through. The tunnel into the mountain is shadowed but warm. It’s comfortable and he relaxes only slightly as he lets Umbriel follow without direction.

In the darkness of the tunnel, Jimin closes his eyes and reaches.

He can feel you there, faint like the flutter of butterfly wings. You are alive but you feel barely there. He grits his teeth and reminds himself that Yoongi’s mate is the best faerie that you could be with. There is the reason the Callieach does not come to the mountain.

The Khione that Jimin knew as children is not just Khione anymore. Just like the Callieach was someone else once.

Dark blue fae light hovers above. Jimin has only been to the Citadel once before. A massive, circular antechamber with circular ceilings sits at the center of the mountain. Multiple doors are set in the stone, each leading to different parts of the mountain and Citadel. Hidden stairways, sloping tunnels and long forgotten rooms makeup the inside of the mountain like a beehive.

It was once filled with dozens of Nightingales. Now there are only a dozen, mostly new who are far too young to be members, but who have nowhere to go in the wake of war.

Yoongi slides off the Fenris and whistles, long and low. A young Nightingale appears dressed in a black tunic and black breaches, her hair the color of the deep ocean. She bows deeply at the waist to Jimin and Hoseok and presses a fist to her chest when she bows to Yoongi. He returns the motion with a shallow nod of his head instead of the bow, and instructs her to care for their horses.

Still in armor, he gestures for them to follow.

Yoongi sheds the hood as they do. His dark, inky hair is longer than Jimin remembers. The armor he wears looks like second skin, black plated leather and metal that interlock like dragon scales. There is fine detailing in black, but Jimin does not know what the patterns mean. He assumes they’re sacred to the Nightingales, so he doesn’t ask.

Fae light hovers throughout the hallway. They don’t run into anyone else, a city too large for the few people that live in it.

They’re taken down into steaming pools of saltwater. Jimin can smell the salt before they get there. The air is humid, steam cleaning to the walls and dripping. The fae light down this hall is softer, glowing orange instead of blue and they are spread farther apart than before, casting most of the hall in shadow.

Yoongi gestures to a hole in the wall.

Inside is a soft, milky pool of steaming water. Orange veins of magma course through the wall, looking liked fiery roots digging it’s fingers into the earth. Jimin feels the moisture bead on his skin. Glancing up, he sees stalactites hanging over the ceiling, their teeth menacing.

“Bathe,” Yoongi instructs. There is soap at the west side. The salt will help your wounds and the warmth will melt that child from the Callieach.” He looks at Jimin with heavy meaning. “You need to raise your temperature and keep it consistent. The Callieach’s cold will bite away for longer than you can imagine.”

Jimin opens his mouth. “She will be in the medical wing with Khione. You can go there when you’re done.” Yoongi almost melts into the darkness, eyes flashing silver as he warns Jimin, “Thirty minutes.”

Silence fills the space as Jimin and Hoseok strip. Hoseok’s flesh is burned and blackened with the cold touch of the Callieach, blood and scrapes crusted over with ice. Guilt rolls through Jimin like a thunderstorm. He averts his eyes, knowing that his friend is far too precious for what Jimin is putting him through. For what they have planned together.

The warm water seeps into Jimin’s skin. It chases away the cold, making him sigh. He goes deeper into the pool, submerging to the neck as he closes his eye. He drifts to the far side of the tubs, finding hard, lavender scented soaps. He scrubs at his skin with one and is pleasantly surprised to find it’s mixed with arnica.

“She’s your mate,” Hoseok murmurs. Jimin looks up. It’s not a question, but an observation. Hoseok doesn’t look at him, busy scrubbing away at his skin. “She is, right?”

Jimin looks down at his hands. The knuckles are pink and raw after scrubbing them. The word trembles through the very making of Jimin. He knows what it means to have a mate. His farther losing his mate is what started the entire mess they were in. The pain, the suffering, the aimless drifting after losing his mate is what had driven King Malik to madness.

Having a mate is something deeper than love. It is fated, it is instinctual, it is a bond at the soul level. When a soul matches yours entirely.

Jimin thinks of you. The way you fight his every move because you have a mind on your own despite being afraid. The way you stand your ground. The way you have adapted in impossible conditions. Or your smile when you think he’s not looking. Your eyes when you find something else about this new world of yours fascinating.

Your voice. The way you smell like rose and vanilla – sort of like the palace at the High Court.

You. His enaid.

Jimin nods, voice barely above a whisper when he answers Hoseok, “Yes.”

You were never made for poetry. Stories and novels were always something you excelled at, taking your grandmother’s stories and turning them into something fuller. Bigger. But as you drift somewhere – you're not sure if you’re dreaming or not – Robert Frost’s poem floats around your mind like a haunting song.

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

The cold of the Callieach’s power feels permanent. Like a hateful poison deep in your tissue, making a home in your skin, your cells, your very being.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

You remember Jimin. The way he kissed you, like he had been starving for centuries for you. Just you. The way his fingers pulled and scratched you, digging to your soul. Devouring you whole. Desire incarnate.

But if I had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

It feels like the ice is eating you from the inside out. It is hateful and cruel and cold, burning away at your very being.

And then it stops. The warmth starts very slowly, drip drip dripping into you like the softest rain drops.

More. You want more. It begins to trickle, a steady stream of rain tap tap tapping warmth into you. You relish in it, hoping that it stays forever.

You do stay warm like a fever, but the pain starts to arrive. At first, it’s dull and quiet. Then it mounts to a steady roar, waves of pain deep to the marrow. You moan, turning over on your side and curling into a ball, hoping that if you make yourself smaller it will go away.

It is unbearable. You try to hide from it but it’s there and it demands to be felt.

Something soft brushes against your back and you hear gentle words but it’s hard to understand them. It smells like orange blossoms and the deep air of night, and you feel something soft settle over you. Though the pain is still there, there is also comfort.

The word you hear finally makes sense.

Enaid.

And though you don’t know what it means, it pries the sleep from you, peeling it from your skin. Part of you is angry – the pain is ten times worse when you wake up, eyes feeling like they’re cracking open and burning.

You groan.

“Morning,” Jimin laughs. You croak some sort of response, blinking and looking up at him. “You sound a bit like a frog.”

You’re in a dark room lit by red fae light. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you realize you’re in a cave. The bed underneath you is more a cot than a bed, but it’s warm and comfortable. It smells like herbs and salt, the air damp as you roll over and let out another pained sound.

“I feel dead.”

“You almost were,” Jimin admits. “I would have been very annoyed if you had.”

“Yeah?”

Jimin grins at you and it’s the most beautiful thing. Something deep inside of you stirs. You swallow down the feeling of butterfly wings He taps the ring on your finger. “Valuable, remember?” It's nearly impossible to hide the disappointment on your face. Jimin must see how swiftly the flush of embarrassment rises to your cheeks because he squeezes your hand. “I was kidding. Faeries can’t lie, but we can jest. You are valuable, but it’s not the ring that makes it so.”

“Thanks.”

“How do you feel?”

“Awful.”

“Better than dead.”

“I thought I was dead. I swear I saw the Grim Reaper come for me.”

Jimin frowns. “The Grim Reaper is a being from your world, not mine. We have banshees, but that’s it.”

“Well it was something in all black and it was terrifying.”

“Ahh.” Jimin is still holding your hand. You try not to look down where his palm warms yours, fingers curled around yours. Steady electricity hums through you like a current where you touch. “You mean Khione. The Nightingales dress in all black, though I hear she occasionally wears white. She probably wanted the Callieach to see her.”

Someone sweeps into the room. You feel the power before you turn your head to see her. You flinch in your bed, cowering into Jimin and whimper, the cold fingers that had tried to slaughter you coming back. The faerie who walks into the room is a replica of the Callieach – at least her face.

Black hair that is almost blue swirls around her face as she approaches. Her skin is pale and smooth, shining with radiance like the moon. Her face is stunning – high cheekbones, narrow nose with a soft end, almond shaped eyes with heavy lashes. Her mismatched eyes are hypnotizing – one black, one blue.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, voice soft and deeper than you were expecting. She sounds nothing like the haunting whispers of the Callieach. “I know I look like it - I’m not the Callieach, though.”

Jimin holds you, letting your fear subside. The woman doesn’t move any closer, giving you your space. You can feel the power ebbing around her and as you slow your panic, you realize it does feel different than the Callieach. She feels like darkness and death.

“My name is Khione,” she says gently. “I’m just here to help your healing. May I approach?”

You lean away from Jimin, but his hand stays wrapped around you. You nod and Khione smiles. Her two-toned eyes are mildly alarming, but she approaches carefully. Jimin lets her sit next to you on a stool, rolling up the sleeves of her black tunic to the elbow. Despite everything, you trust Jimin’s judgment to let her near you.

Rubbing her palms together, she slowly holds her hands over you, ghosting them over your skin as she concentrates on something. You feel a soft prodding that makes you squeak in surprise. She gives you a sheepish look. “Sorry,” she admits. “I haven’t done this in a while. My skill lies more in death than life.”

“I see.”

“Don’t worry, I had practice earlier.” Khione jerks her head to Jimin. “He let the horses die. I wasn’t too excited so I brought them back.”

“What?” you demand, looking at Jimin. “How dare you?”

“I was a bit busy running after you,” Jimin grunted. “Perhaps you didn’t notice, but the Callieach’s wind ripped you from me. And we were dealing with snow soldiers while she was trying to rip the power from you.”

“Is that what she was doing?”

“Sort of,” Khione answers. “I think it thought you could take it home.”

Her hands are warm as they skate over your chest, throat and head. She drops them into her lap when she’s done, but you miss their warmth.

Up close, Khione is even more beautiful than you originally thought. It's similar to Jimin’s, an ethereal shine that you cannot help but feel blinding by.

“What happened? I only remember you appearing.”

She sighs. There is a weariness in the corner of her eyes and pinched shape of her mouth. Her one blue eye looks bright and young, while the dark black eye looks ancient. You cannot see the pupil the iris is so dark.

“Yoongi and I were hunting. There have been strange things lurking around the boarder. Usually the Callieach keeps them away – they're either too afraid to go near the woods or they get eaten. I felt the pulse of magic and we decided to investigate.” She looks at Jimin. “You’re lucky we did. You shouldn’t have been in those woods, knowing it was there.”

“We were in a hurry.”

“Haste is death.”

“Well thankfully you were around.”

Khione rolls her eyes, not impressed by Jimin’s argument. You have to admit, you aren’t either. You look at him skeptically. “You knew that thing was in the woods and we went anyways?”

“I didn’t anticipate you sending a ‘hello here we are’ signal into the world.” He grimaces. “But yes, I knew that she was in the wood.”

“Yoongi and I came to help. We were just in time.”

You can see the frustration when she looks at Jimin, which tells you just how close you were to dying. “So she’s dead?” Khione looks at you. “The Callieach?”

“No. But it won’t be coming out now that it knows its sister lies in the north.”

It. You notice that Khione has not called the Callieach she like you and Jimin have. She consistently uses the word, refusing to acknowledge that the Callieach is a person.

“Is the sister a terrifying evil hag like the Callieach?”

Khione is amused as she leans back on the stool and crosses her arms. “I don’t know. Am I?” Jimin rolls his eyes despite smirking at the revelation. You realize now why they look so similar – the Callieach is Khione’s sister. She must see the confusion on your face, because she gives you a sad smile, filled with an ancient hurt. “The Callieach is my sister in two ways.”

“That’s... confusing.”

“You have met the others that come in through doors to our world?” You nod here. “The Callieach comes from the same world. She is a host to a creature like the Maker.”

“A god,” you murmur and Khione shrugs. “It was like the power of a god crushing me.”

“There are all types of names for them in all types of realms. It is a creature that is not from here though, that is very old and very powerful. She was banished here by her own kind and bound to a faerie body. She is severely weakend that way, but still formidable.”

Horror creeps into you. “The host she’s bound to is your sister.”

Khione nods. “Beira sacrificed herself to keep the Callieach from tormenting our people. We had hoped she would keep her mind but she has not. At least, not fully. It sticks to its little corner of the Winter Wood and stays there.”

“I’m sorry. That is incredibly sad.”

Khione nods. “It is an ancient hurt.”

“But hurt nonetheless.” She smiles at you. “You said you were a sister to her in more way than one?”

“Ah, that.” Khione taps a finger on her knee and opens her mouth to tell you when she’s interrupted.

“Khione.” You turn to look at the deep, rasping voice.

Another faerie enters the room. He is dressed in all black, long hair like spilled ink curling at the nape of his neck and behind his ears. His coal-colored eyes are keen like a cats, milky skin flushed as he approaches. His tunic is sable with matching breeches, the shadowy colors looking like they shift with his movement.

Something about his gaze is not particularly friendly and you feel cold, dropping your eyes as he stops at the foot of your cot. There are rings on his fingers and your eye is drawn to one. You sit up in your bed, fixated on it.

“That ring looks like mine.” You point to his thumb. “Did you make this?”

You hold your hand up to him to flash it. His dark eyes fall on it. He remains expressionless and says nothing for a few long moments. Your heartbeat picks up, remembering what Jimin said about potential makers of the ring.

“What have you brought into my home?” he growls. “Yvaine asked me to make that cursed ring for her without telling me what she would use it for. She perverted my magic and used it for her own devices.”

“Yoongi,” Jimin says softly.

The faerie – Yoongi – holds his hand up. “No. You demand too much of the Nightingales just like Yvaine did. What I did to put that power into the ring is unspeakable. I will not relive my faults for you.”

Yoongi says nothing more. He storms out of the room, a raincloud over his head. Khione sighs as she goes, rubbing her temples. She gives Jimin and you an apologetic glance.

“Sorry about him,” she murmurs. “He is under stress. The Nightingales don’t pass the trials like the used to and he feels at fault.” Her eyes flicker to the ring and she gestures for you to hold out your hand. You do, her fingers hovering above it. You feel power in the tips of her fingers. She pulls her hand away. “There is no power in the ring.”

“That’s not possible,” Jimin says. “She used it when she called the Callieach.”

Khione hums thoughtfully and leans forward, brushing her hands in a motion over your chest. You feel that flicker of power again, fading as she pulls her hand away. “Your power is not in the ring. It’s in Y/N.”

“Not possible.”

“I am the second in command of the Nightingales and the last namer in faerie, princeling.” Khione stands, eyes narrowed. “You don’t have the faintest idea of what is possible in these realms.”

Jimin doesn’t let you talk about the power further. He waves you off and promises that it’s a conversation for another time. You still feel pain and he nudges painkillers in your directions, telling you that you can take them again.

Hoseok appears, yawning and rubbing his eyes from a well-deserved sleep. He sits down on the cot next to you, all smiles and asking how you are. He brandishes warm rolls from the kitchen and a jar of honey. You tear into them, not realizing just how hungry you are. They laugh and offer to take you down to the kitchens for food.

Together, they tell you that it’s the middle of the night and you’ve been asleep for a day and a half. Jimin had taken up residence next to you, which makes you warmer than you care to admit. He stays closer to you now, leading you down the winding call just a touch out of your reach.

It’s nice.

Both of them keep talk light, giving you an impromptu tour. You can’t help but feel like they are distracting you from what Khione said.

The High Court power isn’t bound to the ring. It is bound to you. Though you’re not entirely sure what it means, Yoongi sounded final in his decision, face haunted. You don’t know what he had to do to make the ring, but you know that even if it almost kills you, you have to be rid of the power.

Cool wind fills the empty stone halls of the underground city. It feels far too empty for how large and grand it is. Jimin and Hoseok tell you that there used to be dozens of Nightingales and a school of initiatives, all protecting the knowledge of the world and the Winter Court royals.

Now, they’re a little more neutral. Though they don’t discuss what Khione is, you get the sense that she isn’t just a faerie.

Your curiosity can wait. You enter a hall with wooden tables and benches, warm light hovering in the high, curved ceilings. There are other Nightingales around, snacking on meats and cheeses. Hoseok vanishes into a back room and reappears with platters of meats, cheeses, bread and water.

The food is delightful, packed with flavor. You try to eat slowly as to not make yourself sick, but the hunger gnaws at you like the cold that you felt during the Callieach’s attack.

For what it is worth, they do a good job at distracting you. The walk you through the brutal fight with monsters made of snow and you laugh at Hoseok’s frustration at how do you kill snow? It's nice to sit and talk to them, even though the knowledge that somehow you have the power of the High Court sits heavy with you.

You elbow Jimin as you bite into a piece of bread, chewing. “So are you going to tell me what enaid means?”

Jimin’s eyes go wide over his wooden cup. “Hmmm?”

“You said if we survive you’d tell me.”

“I said I might tell you.”

“Tomato to-mah-to.”

He furrows his brows. “Is that another one of your turns of phrase?”

You wave it off. “I think we’re pretty lucky to be alive. I think maybe you should tell me in the event that I die while trying to give you this power back.”

He scowls and Hoseok clears his throat, putting his hands on the table. “I’m exhausted, I’m going to head to bed.”

Jimin looks up at him. “You just woke up.”

“Yes - I did. You know fighting and saving the world and killing snow monsters is hard on the body. I need a nap. Have a great night.”

It doesn’t take a genius to know that Hoseok wants no part of whatever conversation you’re trying to have with Jimin. You glare daggers into his back.

Jimin dusts off crumbs from his hand. “We should-”

“No,” you growl. “What does it mean.”

“I already told you, it means a lot of things to a lot of different people.”

“What does it mean to you?”

Jimin doesn’t answer. He shuts his mouth and the open, vulnerable expression he has taken to wearing around you the last few days zips tight. You can no longer get a read on him, beautiful face a smooth canvas. It looks like the Jimin you first met, the impassive prince who cares nothing for you.

It slices like a knife. You push yourself up from the table, wiping your hands on your tunic as you glare at him. “Here I was thinking we were friends,” you snap. “I forgot you do nothing but withhold information and move everyone the chessboard like your little pieces. So much for that fucking oath you swore to me.”

Jimin says your name as you storm off. You don’t know why his refusal to tell you what the word means eats at you, but it does. You hate it. Because you know it means something and the way it makes you feel cannot be fake. The way Jimin makes you feel when he says it has to mean something.

And him not telling you what it means feel like he’s not admitting something important. Something vital.

Jimin isn’t being honest with you and you hate that it bothers you.

Jimin calls your name again, but you don’t listen. You don’t know where you’re going, rushing through the halls with tears burning in your eyes. You've been through so much together and yet he can’t even say it.

You run into something solid, startling yourself. You look up to apologize and the words lodge in your mouth. Yoongi takes in your sudden years and the way you’re rushing, obsidian eyes watching. He flicks his gaze above you, as though he can sense Jimin and beckons you with a tilt of his head.

“Come along,” Yoongi murmurs. “Let’s chat, just you and I.”

It does not feel as though you can protest. Anyway, you want to get away from Jimin and whatever torrential feelings regarding the prince.

Yoongi moves like a shadow. He vanishes between shadow, reappearing in a shaft of light farther ahead of you. He makes you feel like he’s left you, only to reappear again a second later. It’s eerie, the way he becomes the dark.

Though you’ve seen Jimin among the shadows of night, this is different. The dark pockets through the caves that he leads you aren’t just dark – they are void of any light, like they don’t exist in this world. You run your hand through a shaft of darkness as you pass – you almost feel it.

“Khione can feel when you do that,” Yoongi hums. You flinch, realizing you’ve almost walked into him. He’s stopped at a wooden door, turning a key in it. “The shadows are a part of her.”

“Sounds ominous.”

He smirks. “Yeah, a little.”

Burning cedarwood and the smell of wax greets you as you walk into a comfortably warm room. Candles flicker from wooden bookshelves and tables filled with books and scrolls. A fireplace crackles on the far side of the wall, a massive sleeping wolf in front of it. You freeze, staring at the creature. It’s fur is pure white, like untainted snow and you know without a doubt that it is larger than Umbriel.

Yoongi strolls into the room unfettered, glancing back at you when he senses your hesitance. “That’s Skadi, she won’t hurt you. She’s Khione’s.”

“You have a pet wolf?”

“They’re not wolves – not really. They’re older and perhaps what wolves evolved from. They’re called Fenris’ and they originated in the Winter Court. One of the first Queens of the Winter Court struck a bargain with them. They serve the royal family.”

You slid your eyes to Yoongi, who is now sitting on one of the couches surrounding a low table. He fixes himself a steaming cup of tea. You have no idea where it came from. “Khione is royal?”

Yoongi hums and nods his head.

The library is much larger than the one at the Night Court. You crane your neck upwards, looking at the endless ceiling. It spirals up and up and up. You realize the library is at the center of the mountain, going up the hollow center with stacks and stacks of books. Pixies flutter among the shelves, their light like stars in the night.

“Why is she here, then?” You venture, sitting stiffly on the seat across from Yoongi. “You guys are more of a neutral organization now, aren’t you?”

“Neutral for the most part, but we’ll always feel bound to protect the Winter Court.” He waves a hand over his tea and it cools. He sips from the porcelain cup, leaning back to look at you with those inky eyes. “Why are you here.”

“I told you, because-“

“No,” he holds up a hand, cutting you off. “Why are you here?”

An easy question with a complicated answer. You stare at Yoongi mouth opening and closing.

Why are you here?

Because you want to give the High Court it’s power back.

No.

Because you had spent your entire life thinking that your grandmother was the hero of your dreams. She slayed monsters and saved innocent people from dying, all with the wit of her mind and the tip of her sword. She fought against evil kings and broke the rules because someone had to do it, someone had to step up.

Grandmother was like that for you as you grew up, too. She always stepped up when your mother refused to talk about fantasy stories or read you children’s book with magic. Grandmother helped mom take care of you when she was busy making an empire – doing anything to free herself from needing help from her mother.

Grandmother was there when dad passed away, letting your mom scream and yell at her and tell her over and over again that it was her fault. Something you still don’t understand.

Your entire life, you knew she was good. And brave and strong.

Then you came to Faerie, the root of her stories, of her heroics. Only to find that she was hated, looked down on and scolded for her choices. Everyone looked at you and saw your grandmother. Looks just like her. No doubt, that is Yvaine’s heir.

Because your grandmother is a clever little witch.

You’ve stolen the power of the High Court and quite frankly, your grandmother was not quite loved by this court.

You’re ill-received because Yvaine went on her little hero campaign without consulting any of the courts and without care and without considering that the consequences in the future might be worse than the consequences of delayed processes among the courts.

Everyone looked at you and saw the mistakes of the one person you held higher than everyone else and you had no idea how to reconcile that. Was it not your job to make good on her mistakes? Was it not the penance for her actions, for her blood and heir to fix what was broken?

It felt like fate had brought you here to reconcile yourself with the hero you dreamed of and the woman she was. She was not perfect – she had faults like any other living creature – and though her intentions had been pure, she had made choices that led you here, sitting with Yoongi and trying to fix what she had done.

Because it felt like your burden now. And there was no way to return home knowing that she had done something that was causing insurmountable loss.

“It would certainly be prophetic for you to fix the High Tree,” Yoongi acknowledges. You don’t realize that you’ve spoken your despair and burdens outload. You look up at him with tear-stained eyes. “Yvaine was not a terrible person and she perhaps, does not deserve the contrition you have felt by other members of her court.”

You wipe tears from your eyes. “However, fae are immortal beings and have hundreds of years to gnaw on their hatred for someone or their opinions. It takes far longer for them to change their minds about something. In another hundred years, they may be singing her praises.”

“That’s stupid.”

He smirks. “Perhaps so. I appreciate what you’re trying to do to right your grandmother’s wrongs. But try not to think so harshly on her actions. Guilt and regret that do not belong to us rot the soul. It is how you humans birth generational trauma.”

“How do you know about humans?”

“I’m the captain of the Nightingales. It’s my job to know about the realms.”

You nod. “Can I ask you something?”

“I surely couldn’t stop you.”

“Why are you so afraid of this ring?”

A shadow drifts over his face. “I’m not so afraid of the ring. The ring is empty – that power has bound itself to you now. The ring can be removed, the power cannot.” He licks his lips and leans forward, showing you his hand where a similar ring flashes. “These rings act as leaches. They are enchanted to pull from a power source. When I made one for your grandmother, I made one under the guise that she was looking to pull power from one of the thousands of ancient artifacts in this world. These rings were not uncommon once upon a time. They store magic until it is unbound.”

“So it had King Malik’s powers until I put it on and they transferred to me.”

“Precisely. But to steal another faerie’s magic with these rings is the highest perversion of this creation that I can imagine, and for that, I cannot forgive her. It is like stealing a person’s soul, because the soul and your magic are linked.”

“Is that why you won’t take the power back from me?” You ask gently. “Because it might damage my soul?”

“Yes. And a faerie without a soul is exactly what happens when the others take over your body.” Yoongi leans back. “Jimin told me one of them right to possess you.”

“Yes. It was the most painful thing I have ever experienced.”

“Because it was trying to rip your soul out and take its place. What you want me to do – and don’t lie to me, I can see it in your eyes – is to pull that magic from you and risk shattering what makes you. It’s called reaping, because it almost always ends in death or a shattered mind.”

Something occurs to you. “My grandmother… she reaped Jimin’s power as well.”

“Yes.”

“She… she almost shattered his soul? How has he not killed me?”

Yoongi’s smile is soft. “The reasons of the heart are often tangled and complicated. Perhaps you should speak to Jimin about the effects of ripping out magic. I don’t believe he is so keen to continue with your plans, now.”

“I don’t care what we wants. If there is a chance I can give him the High Court power and close the gate, we have to do it.”

Yoongi wavers. “Talk to Jimin about how it feels. If you still want to do it afterward… I will help you – but only if it’s you who wants to do it.”

You sigh, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. Yoongi laughs, like an elder amused by something the younger generation has done. You’re not so scared of him anymore, even though he doesn’t answer your questions directly, like Khione being a royal and Khione being something else like the Callieach.

Yoongi seems more protective over her than anything else.

Khione enters the room behind you – you can feel her presence, the darkness and something else pressing up against you like an invisible barrier as she ghosts through the room toward Yoongi. You don’t see her but you see him.

Yoongi straightens, looking past you to her and he smiles – gummy and blinding, eyes crinkling with affection at the corner. His eyes that have remained so dark and bottomless sparkle now, as though there are a million constellations scattered across their sky.

Yoongi looks at Khione with unchecked affection, a devotion that is so raw you have to look away. You see her walk by him, running her hands softly through his hair. “Hello, enaid.”

That word makes you look up. They’re not looking at you. Khione is smiling down at him as Yoongi murmurs something to her, his face tilted up like he is basking in the sun that she brings him. It’s a tender moment, but your heart is roaring in your ears.

That name. The word. Spoke by Khione to Yoongi in a soft croon, drawing the softest gaze from him.

As delicately as you can, you excuse yourself from the room. Yoongi thanks you for the talk, but his attention is back on the woman that he so obviously loves.

Outside the library, you shut the door, heart pounding. Each beat says that word, two syllables punctuated by the pumping of your heart.

En-aid. En-aid. En-aid.

Once upon a time, there was a maiden who was born of night and had stars in her hair. She was not born with a crown, but she stole one from an evil king.

But this story is not about how she stole the power from the evil king. This story is how she fell in love with the prince who smelled like summer rain and warmed her very soul. About how she found that every soul has a match, two stars in the sky meant to shine together.

The maiden found her star, the prince of summer and they fell in love because they were meant for one another. He made her feel loved when her family did not, and he spoke in sweet whispers and promised to give her the world.

When Faerie was dark and hiding from evil, the prince of summer helped the maiden save the world. Two stars adrift in space, not favored by their families, they decided to run away together and grow old, their magic fading with time but their love stronger than ever.

Once upon a time, there was a maiden who was born of night and had stars in here hair, and though she thought she would never find love, she found her soul mate.

The story of how your grandparents met rattles through you as you storm through the dark halls of the Nightingales. You don’t know where you’re going, but you can feel Jimin. Just like you had the moment you met him in the attic, just like you had throughout your entire journey with him.

A string tying you together, pulling you along.

Thoughts race in your mind. Flashes of Khione affectionately calling Yoongi by that name – by that word. A word that has always rattled your soul when said to you by Jimin. It had no effect when Khione said it, but the way you shiver, thinking of the feeling when Jimin says it is not a coincidence.

The way Jimin refuses to tell you the meaning.

The way Jimin kissed you like his life depended on it.

The way Jimin kept you alive even though the easiest method would be to kill you.

Jimin had proven that he could be deceitful and his methods could be cruel when it suited him. He had told you time and time again on your first days in Faerie that his methods were cruel, but they were a part of who he was. He would always serve the interest of his people his way.

Wouldn’t the best way to do that be to rip the magic from your body, no matter what happened to your soul?

There was little doubt that if this were another person, that Jimin would do just that. You don’t know why you know this, you just do and that makes everything worse. This feeling of instinctual understanding, some sort of unexplainable but fundamental understanding of Jimin.

You find him in the room assigned to him. You don’t bother knocking, you enter the room with a vengeance, your anger sweeping behind you like a cape. Jimin senses this, standing up and looking you up and down warily, tensed for a fight.

“Tell me what it means.”

Jimin remains motionless. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

“Because I want to hear you say it. If you can’t say it, then what is the point?”

“The point of what?”

You ball your fists. “Don’t play coy with me!” You scream at him. Your voice echoes along the stone walls of the room and Jimin flinches. You don’t know that you’ve ever seen him flinch, the motion making you pause. “Tell me,” you beg him. “What it means? Why do you call me that? Why do you care for me one moment and you’re distant the next? Why did you kiss me? Touch me? Tell me.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Faeries cannot lie. This truth will not set you free.”

“Why do you want to lie to me? Why why why? Why Jimin?”

“Because it is cruel!” Jimin shouts at you. His eyes are a dark shade of green, the shadow of a forest. “Because you make you my mate is the unkindest of fates. Because I wish I could hate you the way I hated your grandmother for almost killing me without thinking a moment of it. Because to save my people, I need to rip that magic from you. Because you are mortal and I am not. Because you know nothing of this world. Because you and I are a terrible match and yet fate demands it. I don’t want this - you do not want this.”

There it is again. That word: mate. Taehyung called Jimin your mate in the tent in the Day Court. It is a word you’ve heard in your reading about faeries, about how every faerie soul is born with a matching one. A true mate, someone they can love and understand without boundaries.

And Jimin does not want to be yours. You can see it in the way his vision carries thunder. His fists curled. The rigidity of his jaw. Fate has given him you and he does not want it. Does not want the heir to a woman who would sacrifice him. Someone who cannot live as long as he can. Someone who is standing in the way of saving his court.

It hurts.

Like a physical pain, a knife whittling into your chest as it begins to carve carve carve.

Carve your heart out. Because Jimin may be nice out of an instinctual – no a divine – need to protect you and to care for you, but it isn’t real. He only helps you because the stars or Maker or whatever it is they believe in have paired the two of you. But it isn’t real and Jimin doesn’t want you.

“I will tell Yoongi to prepare.” Your voice is foreign, unaffected. You are vacantly proud of yourself for remaining unaffected. “The worst scenario is that I die. But you get your magic back, and you’re unbound from me.”

“Is that what you think I want?”

“How can I know what you want when you covet every desire you have?”

“I don’t want you to die.”

“Which part of you is saying that?” You demand. “The unwilling soulmate or the prince of his people?”

“Unwilling soulmate? There is no such thing as-“

“I get it,” you cut him off. Your voice wavers now and you hate it. “Who would want to be mates with me? My grandmother did terrible things to you, I’m a human who is despised here, and you did not choose me. I get it, you don’t love me, but you could have told me.”

“You are not listening to me.” Jimin steps toward you and you back up, making him pause. “It is not that I do want you, Enaid. It is that I do not want me for you. I have no court because Hoseok spoke true, I have no friends. I find it difficult to give myself freely to others. I am of this world of cruelty and deception and you have a life, a home, a family and friends that will be there for you when you get back. How could I, someone who is undeserving of such an honor to be your mate, tell you what you mean to me, as my enaid, my soul mate, my fated heart, when all I want for you is happiness and to return to your home?”

Jimin looks at you in a way that makes you cry then. He is pleading, and the pain in his face is evident now. He says the words freely, each one of them direct. Faeries cannot lie, and you realize that it’s not you Jimin despises. It is himself.

Jimin is a product of his environment.

A bastard son split between courts.

Jimin is a product of his environment.

The son to a mad king and a queen who is dead.

Jimin is a product of his environment.

A sacrificial lamb to Yvaine’s plan.

Jimin is a product of his environment.

Alone. An heir to a throne he cannot have. Serving a court that does not want him. Brother to a king that is not bound by blood.

“Is that not the love of soulmates?” Jimin whispers. “To want your happiness more than my own? To hide the truth from you in hopes that you never hear it, never feel bound to a place you do not want, to a faerie you do not need? I did not hide this from you to be cruel and hateful. I hid my truth from you because I cannot bear binding you to a world that could not make you happy.”

“Do you love me?”

“I know little of love, but I know that I care about you and that I want you to be happy, that I will not let you give up that magic if it means risking your life.” He crosses the space toward you. This time, you let him. He lifts a hand, cradling your cheek, green eyes swimming with unshed tears. “I know that I am afraid when you are in danger, and that despite you being an annoying brat, I am fond of the fire inside here.” His hand drifts from your cheek to your chest, flat against your tunic. You wonder if he can feel your heart racing, feel the pounding in your rib cage at his confession.

“I do not know if that is love,” Jimin admits softly. “But I know that I will do all to protect you. Even if it means doing things you believe are unkind.”

“I don’t think you are unkind.” You grip his wrist softly, holding it to your hand. A warm, lush feeling rolls through you. Jimin’s hand is trembling at he watches you. Bravery surges through you. “I think,” you say slowly. “That it is easier for you to hide behind wrongs to protect people you care about, because the methods of saving them are unsavory.”

He laughs. “You’ve got me figured out, huh?”

“And I think,” you continue. “That I knew what enaid meant, and that I wanted you to say it because I was afraid that I was losing my mind. Afraid that I was a stupid little human girl, who doesn’t know what she is doing and who was having her heart stolen by a faerie.”

Jimin clutches your tunic and pulls you closer. “Is that not what happened?” His voice is like silk and your eyes flutter, warmth spreading through you. Your heart is screaming for him. Yes yes yes yes yes yes. “Am I not the evil prince in this story?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure?”

His lips are almost touching yours. You smell orange blossom and night, feel the soft touch of his rough hand, twisting in your shirt. Your grip presses on the bones of his wrist, desperate to keep him there. To keep his touch. “I don’t think you are nearly as evil as you or I thought.”

“Tell me to go away. Tell me to leave. For if I don’t let you go, it will be evil of me indeed.”

“Then perhaps it is evil of me to ask you to stay. For if I let you keep me, it will be evil of me indeed.”

You fall forward as Jimin yanks you to him. He crushes your lips to his and everything you’ve ever thought about vanishes. Every fear, every anxiety, every doubt is erased with the fire of his mouth on yours, the burning sensation as he pulls you to his chest, hands going around your hips and digging into your flesh.

You kiss Jimin back, mouth folded against his, eyes closed and arms wended around his neck. He smells like everything you’ve ever dreamed of, he feels like the soft pages you write your stories on, tastes like the warm sweetness of a tangerine.

Jimin’s lips are hungry for you, parting briefly to smile and find your mouth again. He bends slightly, hands sliding to the back of your thighs. You know what he wants, just like you know that Jimin is being open and honest now, is acting on something he purely desires. You jump into his grasp, only breaking the kiss to look down at him as he carries you.

Your hair makes a curtain, hand cradled against his jaw. He looks up at you and there are millions of stars in his eyes. It’s like when Yoongi looked at Khione but this time, it’s Jimin looking at you. His gaze makes you tremble.

Gently, Jimin lays you on the bed. Your hair fans out around you on the sheets. Jimin crawls over you, but his lips don’t go back to yours. He kisses your collarbone, pillowy lips leaving invisible stains of want and desire. You gasp underneath his exploration.

This is different than the night in the tent. He doesn’t eat at you, doesn’t try to devour you. He is gentle, worshiping your skin as he kisses up your neck and to your jaw, his hands slowly tracing up your curves.

You get impatient, grabbing his jaw and bringing his mouth back to yours. You feel him smile as you suck his bottom lip into your mouth, tongue brushing against it. He makes the softness noise, eliciting a breathy laugh from you.

Jimin pulls away from a moment. One hand balances him over you, the other tracing your jaw with light fingers. “You have to tell me what you want,” he whispers. “I only want what you want. But if you want me – truly – I don’t know how to let you go home without me. I don’t know how to live apart from you, if you will have me.”

“Can we figure that out later? I do want you – I’m afraid of how much that I do.”

“Don’t be,” he promises, leaning down to capture your mouth in his. You arch up into him. He parts gently. “As long as you want me, you will never be without me.”

Sweet kisses fill the space between you. Jimin pulls at your tunic, tossing it further onto the bed. This time, you pull his clothes with yours, wanting this to be about you both, not just you. Jimin’s skin is a marvel under your hands, warm and tan. There is strength in every ounce of him, a warrior undoubted but he melts under your touch, abs jumping as you skim up to his chest, fingers tracing the contours.

Jimin’s touch is awed, fingers feeling the curves and dips of your body as his mouth descends. You feel a whip of fire crack through you as his wet mouth takes a nipple in his mouth, tongue sweeping over the peek. You gasp, pushing your chest toward him. He hums, making you writhe.

It feels so good. Everywhere he touches you there’s a fire. His teeth pull at your nipple, eliciting a deep moan. He smirks as he looks up at you with those dark, siren-eyes. His tongue snakes out between his teeth as he grins, flicking the other nipple experimentally. You moan again, more at the carnal vision that is Jimin than the feeling.

“I love the way you sound,” he whispers, kissing the valley of your breasts, the top of your chest. He leaves no skin unmarked. “So beautiful, the only music I could listen to for eons.”

“Kiss me.”

“Anything you ask.”

Jimin kisses you again as you both work off your pants, tangled limbs and shaking fingers. He breaks to kick the trousers off his ankles, giving you a view of his cock and oh my god. There is no part of Jimin not perfection, no part blemished. His cock is proud and weeping with precum, swollen tip flushed.

He settles next to your legs hands tracing your calves and prying you open. Your hand snakes up to him, curious and exploratory. You wrap your hand around his velvety shaft, making Jimin drop his head and moan. It is the sweetest sound and you want more of it. Slowly, you swipe your thumb over the crown of his cock, spreading the arousal to make your leisurely pumps glide smoothly.

Jimin’s breath is unsteady, his entire frame rattling as he closes his eyes. He grips your thigh as you stroke him, watching every single reaction. His skin is growing flushed and his hips twitch forward. You are entranced, squeezing experimentally and drawing a beautiful, deep moan from him.

“Fuck,” he pants. His hand shoots to your wrist, holding your hand still as his cock throbs in your hands. “I will cum if you keep doing that. You have got hands fashioned to touch me, Enaid.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“You are,” he promises. “But when I cum,” he drawls, hand swiping between your leg and making you gasp. “I want it to be in your pussy.”

You whine as Jimin snickers, fingers brushing up and down gently, gathering your juices and circling your clit. You twitch under his hold, hand dropping from his cock to fist the sheets. The pads of his fingers generate amazing friction, your eyes shutting and head rolling to the side as you focus on the feeling of his fingers.

They circle your clenching hole, dipping enough to stretch you but not split you open. You make a high-pitched keen, smacking the bed angrily as you open your eyes to glare at him. “Why are you teasing me?”

Jimin’s eyes are dangerous as he grins. “I’m not. But I need to stretch you a bit. Wanna make sure you can take me.”

You don’t reply as he shuffles, leaning down and claiming your mouth in a lazy kiss, tongues dancing as Jimin slowly sinks a finger into you. You nearly purr, moaning into his mouth as he drinks you in, slowly thrusting his finger, setting a smooth pace that has you shaking with pleasure.

It feels so good. You cannot recall the last time you felt this good. Your skin is sticky with sweat as you pant between kisses, which has devolved to tongues and teeth. Jimin finds that sweet spot inside of you, stroking it and earning a loud gasp from you. You through your head forward, bumping heads as he laughs.

“Yeah?” he asks, half-lidded eyes looking down at you. He looks dazed just from fucking you with his fingers. You nod, squirming under him. He slows and presses another finger to you, waiting. “More?”

“Please.”

Jimin silences your moan with his mouth, swallowing it whole.

You feel that familiar tingle of your orgasm coming. Your heels dig into the mattress, your toes curling. You pant through it, feeling the coil in your stomach wind up. Jimin can sense it, driving his fingers faster, making wet, sloppy noises between your legs as he fastens his mouth to your neck, nibbling.

“Come on,” he pants. “Cum for me. Make it nice and wet so I can fuck you.”

“Jimin,” you gasp, head thrown back. “Please please please.”

Jimin sucks on a soft spot on your neck and you see stars. You cum around him, gasping hard and clutching his shoulders. You can feel him chuck against your skin, but it isn’t a malicious laugh. You can feel how effected he is by you, the way he is enthralled with drawing sounds and pleas from you.

Your orgasm slowly fades as he shuffles himself between your legs, picking you up by the thighs so that the back of them rests against him as he kneels. He leans down again, nearly bending you in half as he steals a kiss.

“Still want me?”

You look at him, stars in your eyes. “If you want me.”

“I will always want you.”

“Okay.” You kiss him. “Then I want you.”

His smile glows like all of the constellations in the sky.

You feel the tip of his cock push at your hole, making a wanton noise slip from you. He smirks at you before he drops his head to look at where he pushes into you, moaning at the side of his cock slowly sinking into your warmth.

It’s a tight fit but it burns so good. The ache there settles, melting into something better, something warm. You sigh in relief, like a puzzle piece drifting into place finally. Your hips are angle upward and he grabs a pillow, sliding it under you for support. Jimin is pink and flushed, shaking as he grabs your hips and slowly starts to pump into you, powerful thighs flexing.

“It feels so good,” you whisper, voice barely rustling the room. “It feels so good, Jimin.”

“Fuck, you feel divine, baby.” You’re giddy at the new nickname.

Jimin’s cock strokes you slowly, his hands firm on your hips. Your hands travel to his thigs, running aroud nails down the smooth skin. It pulls a deep noise from him and you do it again as Jimin speeds up a little, shifting himself so that you’re pulled just the slightest bit up and holy shit.

Every brush of the tip of his cock hits your g-spot before it kisses your service, making you squeal. He grins, knowing what he’s found and he does it again and again and again. You can’t keep your eyes open, world spinning as Jimin completely takes over your pleasure, driving you to the edge of insanity with every stroke.

You reach for Jimin. You don’t have to tell him that you want to be closer. He knows. He shifts, leaning over you and pressing your chests together. You love the way he feels against you, legs wrapping around his narrow waist and arms around his neck as he presses his forehead against you, rolling his hips.

Jimin’s breath is on your lips, nose brushing against yours. “You are mine,” Jimin growls. “That is what enaid means to me. It means you are everything, my soul, a call that I will always answer. I will always choose you, I will make it my life’s goal to do what you want. Even if it isn’t me. Even if this isn’t enough.”

When he says the words, you feel it. Stronger than before. That word awakens something in you and you feel it unfold, like you’re rattling the stars. You glow – literally. A light hums on your skin, surprising you both. Jimin’s eyes glitter as you light up, filled with him, filled with understanding what it is to be tied to someone. To want their own happiness.

Jimin will die for you and you know it.

“I think,” he pants. “You’ve tapped into the High Court power.”

And you have. Because your fear of Jimin is no longer there. Your fear of what it means to have it is gone. Your fear of Faerie and of this world that you don’t yet understand completely no longer exists.

“Shut up,” you huff, laughter between you. “You’re such a- ohhh.”

“Such a what, hmm?” Jimin’s thumb circles your clips as you go mute beneath him. “Always have a mouth until I’m touching you, huh?”

You nod as your orgasm approaches again. Jimin fucks you faster, thumb firm on your clit. The slide of your bodies heats you up, the air between you filled with panting and cursing.

A swell of music comes to you like a memory. String instruments singing in the night, painting a picture with their melody.

A kiss as soft as a butterfly wing – Jimin’s lips.

Rough hands like silk against your skin – Jimin’s hands.

The smell of orange blossom – Jimin’s skin.

A deep wanting worse than anything you’ve ever felt, finally fulfilled.

The color green – Jimin’s eyes.

A voile like silky wine – Jimin’s voice.

An ache so powerful that you’re gasping, finally relieved.

A silver tree taller than any you’ve ever seen before.

Two moons in the sky, circling one another in a dance – you and Jimin.

Your orgasm snaps suddenly. You scream Jimin’s name as the rush of a thousand waves breaks through you. You feel every muscle tightened, clenching down on Jimin as it washes over you. You say Jimin’s name over and over like a prayer answered.

Finally, you know what the music was telling you. Finally, you understand the song of your soulmate, and you can hear the words that he has been singing all the while.

Jimin cums as you clench around him, the same word leaving his lips. Enaid. My Enaid.

The word still sends a rush through you, stronger now that you know what it means. Stronger now that you’re brave enough to listen to when Jimin’s soul speaks to yours.

Eventually, Jimin collapses next to you. You don’t waste a second, pulling him to you, curling into his side. For all that you don’t know about Jimin and this magical world, you know that Jimin is yours. You know that his soul reflects yours – the ugly parts and the beautiful – and that if nothing else in the world is true, that at least Jimin caring about you is.

You have another half. You have someone who understands.

“Thank you,” Jimin murmurs.

“For what?”

He kisses your forehead, sweet as midnight rain. “I’m not alone anymore.”

Stepping around the shadows, you pull the cloak closer to you. It is freezing in the Citadel at night. The warmth of Jimin’s bed and skin has left you as you try to retrace your steps. You follow the orange fae light, wishing they believed in torches that you could warm your hands on.

You’re dressed in Jimin’s tunic, you’re pretty sure – it smells heavily of orange blossom and just… Jimin. It makes you smile, but the smile also brings pain, because you know you’re going to hurt him. But what he said about wanting to do what is right by your soulmate is true.

You want to do right by Jimin. But you’re going to hurt him. You know it will.

I’m not alone anymore.

You try not to think about those words as you step into the library. Yoongi is at a desk, looking over a scroll. He looks up as you enter the room, wavering in the doorway. Khione and the white Fenris are nowhere around, but there is an even larger, black Fenris at Yoongi’s feet.

“Don’t mind him,” Yoongi says, sensing your fear of the creature. “Hodr is a bigger baby than Skadi is.”

“Your wolves are terrifying.”

He smiles. “What brings you here?”

“I want to do it.” He says nothing to your curt response, so you push forward before you can backout, before you can think of the way Jimin played with your hair until he fell asleep. Before you can think of the way that the moon seems to glow in his skin, even when he is in the darkness.

I’m not alone anymore.

You shove down the words. Ignore them. Hide from them.

“I want you to do the reaping.”

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