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gimmethatagustd · 4 months

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the flower knight (1) | kth + myg

A disciple of the Mugunghwa Temple, Yoongi has lived a pious life free of the vices of the outside world. That is until the temple must become a safehouse for wounded soldiers when war breaks out, and Yoongi catches the eye of a certain military commander.

○ Pairing: Soldier!Taehyung x Healer!Yoongi

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Historical fantasy, magic, pistilverse, strangers to lovers, forbidden love, angst, eventual smut, eventual fluff

○ Word Count: 3,143

○ Warnings: A minor character experiences public humiliation and slut shaming due to religious beliefs (of a fake religion I made up). Additionally, Yoongi is forced to have his body examined for flower markings. This isn't sexual or violent, and Yoongi isn't upset about it, but it still gives me the ick lmfao so I figured I should put a warning just in case.

○ Notes: I added a glossary at the end of the fic for those of you who aren’t familiar with the Pistilverse AU. If you subscribe to me on AO3, this will probably look familiar to you~

○ Post Date: January 2, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Bad things always come in threes.

Yoongi isn’t sure if he believes in destiny, but he does believe in this rule of thirds. He doesn’t remember where he learned the saying; perhaps he learned it from one of the other temple pistils, the older ones who like to tease the younger ones who are gullible and impressionable. Yoongi doesn’t think he was ever one of those young students, but he believes in the saying, doesn’t he?

Life has allotted Yoongi very few tragedies, for which he is grateful. Despite being an orphan, abandoned at the Mugunghwa temple as an infant to be cared for by the monks, he enjoyed a fulfilling childhood. The monks loved Yoongi with unconditional kindness that can only come from someone touched by the grace of the gods. The other orphaned children, those who had yet to have their awakening, played in harmony and were raised to be future disciples – that is, until their subgenders were awakened.

The monks raise the orphans within the confines of the temple grounds, but Yoongi never yearned for what lies beyond the colorful stone walls separating the temple buildings from the outside world. Yoongi had heard enough about the evil of the secular world, where the villages at the bottom of the mountain succumb to greed, violence, and lust and where suffering runs rampant through the townspeople. To Yoongi, it seems that the gods have forsaken such places. He is more interested in maintaining his quiet temple life.

So one might wonder, how does Min Yoongi, a young temple disciple with no knowledge of the world, know that bad things always come in threes if he has yet to experience bad things?

Twenty-one years of peace is far too long of a streak to maintain. At some point, luck runs out. Although Yoongi is a devout disciple of the gods, he can’t help but wonder if sometimes even the gods do not have control over fate.

The morning of the First Bad Thing starts as every morning does: Yoongi wakes with the sun.

Light streams through the thin curtains drawn across his open windows, illuminating his quaint room with hues of orange and yellow. A breeze gently stirs the curtains, causing them to flutter with each new gust of wind.

Children’s laughter filters in from outside. Yoongi smiles when he hears one of the older pistils, Namjoon, scold the children for being loud so early in the morning. No one cares if the children make noise, and Namjoon knows that. That’s why his threats of putting the children to work are empty and half-hearted.

With a longing for simpler times pulling at his heartstrings, Yoongi forces himself out of bed. There is no time to miss the past when the present urges him to get started.

After washing his face in the washbasin in the small bath adjoining his bedroom, he slips into his white linen hanbok, the simple one that doesn’t weigh heavily on his shoulders. The weather has been unusually warm for the spring, and Yoongi isn’t interested in sweating through his clothes while he does his daily chores. Sometimes, he wishes he could wear less restrictive clothes, like the simple linen shirt and shorts he wears to sleep. Unfortunately, the monks have taught the student disciples that such clothing isn’t becoming of pistils. Less cloth means more exposed skin, and with exposed skin comes the risk of showing off one’s awakening mark.

Yoongi watches himself in the small mirror he keeps on top of his dresser, propped against the wall. In the oval glass, he twists to take a peek over his shoulder by turning his head to the side. He can barely see the tips of the barren tree branches that decorate his spine. As a sign that he was maturing from a teen into a young man, the mark of a barren tree sprouted from the base of his spine one morning. It crept up his back, its dark lines eventually breaking off into branches that spread between his shoulder blades.

When Yoongi fastens his hanbok, the black branches are hidden away, just as he was taught.

Having experienced the extremely uncomfortable awakening nearly ten years ago, Yoongi has reached the point where he rarely looks at his awakening mark. It is a reminder of his status in society, a lowly pistil whose primary purpose in life is to tend to the stamen who desire him.

While some orphaned teens he grew up with were disappointed to awaken as pistils, Yoongi was relieved. Becoming a pistil meant he could stay in the temple as a disciple of god. If he had awakened as a stamen by developing the mark of a flower somewhere on his body rather than branches or vines, the monks would have sent him away to the military – where the monks send all stamen orphans once they’ve reached their awakening. Stamen are naturally stronger and more equipped to handle the violence of war than pistils are.

Yoongi is sure the gods did not make him for military life. He feels sorrow merely from stepping on an ant; he could never handle war.

It is a blessing from the gods that Yoongi was left on the temple grounds by his parents. As a temple pistil, he is privileged to live within a community of only pistils, never once having met a stamen aside from his orphan friends once their status was awakened. And even then, those friends were always gone by the following day, whisked away at night to fulfill their duties as peacekeepers.

Warriors.

Shaking his head to rid himself of thoughts of war, Yoongi leaves his bedroom and follows the hall toward the front doors of the students’ quarters. All students reside in one dormitory on the west side of the temple grounds, just south of the Mugunghwa garden. Yoongi loves the dormitory. He likes the intricate designs that decorate the walls and the proximity to the garden. But most of all, he likes living with his friends.

Yoongi carries a small wicker basket filled with gardening tools in his arms. He is halfway along the meandering stepping stone path toward the Mugunghwa garden when he sees Namjoon rushing toward him.

“Yoongi hyung!”

Namjoon’s sandals slap against the ground, spraying dirt and gravel into the air as he hurries to reach a confused Yoongi. It’s odd; Namjoon is known for his quiet, studious personality. As one of the most promising students, Namjoon carries himself with poise and a gentle confidence Yoongi has admired ever since the two became friends after their awakenings. Yoongi has never seen Namjoon so animated.

“Be careful,” Yoongi warns, motioning toward the mulched flower beds lining the stepping stone path. A small lizard scurries from a patch of ferns across the stones.

Namjoon quickly sidesteps to avoid running too close to the pathway's edge.

Patches of colorful flowers have already poked out of the ground. These are primarily common flowers: roses, marigolds, and peonies – all with little value aside from being pretty and smelling good. It isn’t until one gets deep into the garden, where the well of golden water is, that the magic can be felt flowing through the plants’ roots.

“H-hyung, oh shit,” Namjoon trips forward and grabs Yoongi’s forearm to steady himself.

Yoongi clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. What has gotten into his friend?

“Don’t make me tell Myeong noona that you’re using such language, Joon-ah.” He speaks through a teasing smile that slowly dissolves into a frown when Namjoon doesn’t smile back. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Junseo,” Namjoon huffs through loud inhales as he tries to recover from the jog up the steep path.

The altitude in the mountains can easily affect one’s head. It’s one of the many reasons Yoongi avoids exercising unless he has to. He’s mostly a bit lazy, but he supposes that even the temple disciples can afford some vices. Laziness is the closest to rebelling he’ll ever get.

“What trouble has he gotten himself into now, hmm? Got bitten by one of the temple cats again?” Yoongi muses. With Junseo, anything is possible. Yoongi swears no one in the entire temple has needed to be rescued from silly mishaps as often as Junseo.

“No, hyung,” Namjoon rushes to speak. His cheeks are pink, and sweat glistens on his top lip. “Junseo got marked .”

The wicker basket of gardening tools barely misses smashing a bed of marigolds when the handle slips from Yoongi’s loose grasp.

Leaving the basket where it falls, Yoongi grabs Namjoon by the wrist. His expression is stony as he asks, “How do you know?”

“I heard Arem speaking with Misuk-ssi,” Namjoon whispers harshly. He’s breathing heavily as he practically drags Yoongi down the stone pathway toward the dormitory. “She asked her to find Junseo.”

There is nothing more that Namjoon needs to say; everyone knows what it means to be called upon by one of the temple leaders.

The two men are silent as they weave through the stone paths connecting the temple buildings in a winding journey meant to mimic the peacefulness of strolling through the woods. Yoongi has yet to explore the woods, but he supposes he understands the meaning behind the landscaping.

Their journey today is anything but peaceful.

At first, Yoongi is afraid that their frantic hurrying toward the grand temple courtyard will cause suspicion – and he’s sure he and Namjoon aren’t supposed to know about Junseo. But it becomes clear that it isn’t just Yoongi and Namjoon who are privy to the scandal. Despite the early hour, the entire student body is trying to meander toward the courtyard.

If gossip doesn’t bring the students out into the open, Junseo’s cries do.

Yoongi doesn’t hear the wailing until he and Namjoon near the grand temple, where prayers and other religious ceremonies are held. The grand temple is also where the temple leaders reside, though Yoongi has never been in the wing with their living quarters. Trespassing is forbidden, but Yoongi is not interested in their living quarters. He has never admitted it out loud, but some of the leaders scare him.

Misuk and Insu are the most intimidating of all the temple leaders and monks combined, so naturally, they are the leaders whose feet Junseo grovels at as he weeps. The young man’s face is wet with tears and lined with red marks on his cheeks as though he has been clawing at his face. Seeing him with clothes and other small trinkets scattered around his body, his white hanbok soiled by dirt, makes Yoongi’s blood run cold.

“Pick yourself up, Junseo,” Misuk commands. The refreshing breeze has died down, making Misuk's words cut through the spring air and echo between buildings.

“Please don’t make me leave, seonsaengnim!” Junseo presses his forehead to the stone path at the base of the temple stairs. “I am nothing without Mugunghwa!”

Misuk and Insu stand a few steps above him and watch him with eyes as dark as the center of the well of gold water in the garden. Yoongi has never seen such icy glares. Until now, nothing has disrupted the peacefulness of the temple. Sure, they all have occasional quarrels; it’s hard not to bicker when living in such a tight-knit community. Scandal, though, is unheard of. And this certainly is a scandal.

“You have defiled your body, Kang Junseo,” Insu finally speaks, his voice as tight as the grimace on his face. “You are no longer welcome on sacred grounds.”

When Junseo rises to his knees, the group of onlookers gasp. Even Namjoon inhales sharply, the sound quiet but loud enough for Yoongi to hear from where he stands beside him.

Yoongi is silent as he watches Junseo hurry to pull his clothes tighter to his body, but the damage has been done. A large rip in the back of his hanbok runs from just below the collar down to the base of his spine. When he twists his torso, slivers of skin peek out from the rips – skin decorated with the prettiest marks Yoongi has ever seen.

Dozens of flowers line the branches on Junseo’s back. Yoongi can’t make out the types of flowers from where he stands, the markings too small for him to see any details, but he’s close enough to be both amazed and horrified by the variation of colors on the young man’s skin.

Junseo has many flowers on his back, which only means one thing: Junseo is no longer a virgin. From the looks of it, he lost his virginity a long time ago, or he has taken on many lovers in a short period— many lovers.

Whispers erupt around them, but Yoongi can only hear his blood rushing in his ears. It isn’t until he feels lightheaded that he realizes he’s been holding his breath. He’s never seen the mark of a stamen on a pistil’s body before. Disciples are forbidden from having romantic relationships or engaging in sexual activity. One must be pure for the gods, dedicating their time to worship and the betterment of their community rather than to bodily pleasure.

Not to mention the fate of pistils who are outed for having a stamen mark – let alone multiple – out of wedlock.

“What will happen to him?” Yoongi asks Namjoon, never once taking his eyes off Junseo as he gathers his belongings into his arms.

Namjoon shrugs, his eyes, too, still on Junseo. “I don’t know, work at a brothel, most likely. No one will want to marry him, and no self-respecting business owner will hire him.”

Pressing his fingers to his lips, Yoongi tries to suppress a gasp without looking too obvious that he’s shocked by Namjoon’s prediction. “A brothel?” Yoongi knows what one is, but he cannot begin to imagine what it would be like to live and work in one.

“Mhm,” Namjoon hums. “It’s awful. Many brothel pistils run out of room on their branches, so they go through a second awakening. Or a third and fourth. I’ve heard rumors of some brothel pistils completely covered in flowers.”

One awakening was painful enough for Yoongi. To go through multiple… he doesn’t even want to consider it.

In front of him, Junseo stands with his belongings clutched to his chest. He has stopped crying and now stares ahead with a blank expression as though he doesn’t see anything at all. The look makes bile bubble up Yoongi’s throat. Silently, Junseo turns his back on the temple leaders and walks with squared shoulders across the courtyard toward the entrance of the temple grounds.

The students dissipate in waves as Junseo walks through the grounds. There is nothing else to see here; no more drama to ogle. Even Misuk and Insu leave, taking slow, purposeful steps to their wing of the grand temple. In a matter of minutes, the courtyard is empty, aside from Yoongi, Namjoon, and a handful of other students who have returned to talking amongst themselves or studying. Junseo is merely a speck in the distance, moving like an ant until he turns a corner and Yoongi can no longer see him.

Just like that, Junseo is gone, and the temple returns to how it was as if there had never been a Junseo at all.

The only change to temple life after Junseo’s dramatic departure is the immediate implementation of what the monks call a “purity sweep.” They insist to the students that this is a one-time occurrence, merely the opportunity for temple leaders to ensure that no one else has fallen prey to worldly temptations. If the rest of the students are well-behaved, purity sweeps won’t be needed.

Although Yoongi is a virgin, he trembles with nerves when he stands outside the infirmary a week later with Namjoon at his side.

“It’ll be alright,” Namjoon reassures Yoongi, gently squeezing the nape of his neck. “It’ll be over before you know it. I can even go first if you’d like.” Namjoon is too kind for his own good.

Yoongi shakes his head even though having Namjoon go first would be a source of comfort for him. His nerves are irrational. If he was a good student, he’d know how to meditate the fear away like Namjoon had. “No, no, I will be fine.”

Bracing himself for the unknown, Yoongi enters the infirmary. There is a monk there to guide him to the correct examination room. Their sandals click against the stone flooring and echo through the hall. Yoongi doesn’t need the monk to show him where to go, but he doesn’t say anything. Due to his affinity for plants, Yoongi has trained to become a temple healer. Thus, he knows his way around the infirmary due to his regular training hours.

Although magic does not run through the veins of pistils, the Mugunghwa carry magic in their petals from the gold water in the enchanted well at the center of the Mugunghwa garden. Monks like Yoongi, who is patient and kind, know how to nurture the magic within those plants, using their petals to create healing potions that the monks send throughout the kingdom.

Reaching the correct room, the monk allows Yoongi to enter first. He gives Yoongi a gentle smile and gestures to a wooden table against the wall.

“You may remove your hanbok and place it there,” the monk instructs. He’s an unfamiliar face to Yoongi, which isn’t surprising. The Mugunghwa temple is one of the largest in the Mountain region; it’s impossible to know everyone.

Silently, Yoongi follows the monk’s instructions. He shivers once he is standing in nothing but his underwear despite the room being almost uncomfortably warm. Unsure of what to do with himself, Yoongi stands stiffly with his arms at his sides. The stance seems good enough, for the monk doesn’t say anything as he walks a tight circle around Yoongi’s rigid body, looking for any splotches of color along the branches covering Yoongi’s back.

Sweat beads at Yoongi’s hairline, making his blonde bangs stick to his skin. What if the monk finds a blemish on Yoongi’s skin and thinks it’s a stamen’s flower? Will they immediately toss him out like Junseo? Would Yoongi have the chance to explain himself?

Questions swarm his mind, churning around until his brain is clouded with nonsense. He’s so stressed that he nearly misses the light touch on his shoulder.

“Yoongi?” The monk calls out softly, making Yoongi blink rapidly.

“Yes, seonsaengnim?”

“You may get dressed. The examination is over.”

With a sigh of relief, Yoongi scrambles to put his clothes on. As he hurries out of the infirmary to wait for Namjoon in the courtyard, he sends a silent prayer to the gods that the other students remain pure like they’re supposed to. Yoongi doesn’t want to go through another purity sweep ever again.

Series Masterlist

GLOSSARY OF TERMS

(Borrowed from here and revised to fit my fic)

Pistilverse AU - A South Korean fanfic trope wherein almost all humans experience an "awakening" during puberty that assigns them into one of two botanically-inspired groups: Pistils and Stamens. These groups are denoted by marks on the person's body, similar to tattoos.

Pistil and Stamens - Pistils develop a mark of a barren tree that appears along their spine after their awakening, while stamens develop a flower somewhere on their body after their awakening.

Awakening - The moment a flower or tree appears on a person’s body, signifying their status as a pistil or stamen. You could look at it as a coming-of-age moment in a person’s life. These are typically painful for pistils. A pistil might experience more than one awakening if their tree becomes too full of flowers.

Marks/Marking - When a pistil sleeps with a stamen, the stamen’s flower blooms on the pistil’s tree branches. The number of flowers a pistil has is proportional to that of the stamens they had sex with. In this fic, pistils with many flowers are considered promiscuous and experience slut shaming based on religion.

Marked - The term used to describe a pistil who has received a stamen’s flower on their body.

Mugunghwa - The national flower of South Korea.

Gukseon - A Chief officer of a Hwarang group. The Hwarang were an elite warrior group in Silla, an ancient kingdom of the Korean Peninsula until the 10th century.

Seonsaengnim - A respectful honorific for a teacher.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories.

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

#taehyung x yoongi #taegi #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #tfk

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gimmethatagustd · 4 months

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the flower knight (2) | kth + myg

○ Pairing: Soldier!Taehyung x Healer!Yoongi

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Historical fantasy, magic, pistilverse, strangers to lovers, forbidden love, angst, eventual smut, eventual fluff

○ Word Count: 3,579

○ Warnings: Brief but perhaps a little unsettling depiction of injuries. Reference to minor character death (due to injury, but no actual violence occurs in this chapter).

○ Notes: Hi pls enjoy Chapter 2! I apologize for the angst 😶

○ Post Date: January 8, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Yoongi is one of the finest healers of all the temple pistils, though he would never admit this fact himself. Humble to a fault, Yoongi tends to his duties at the infirmary with humility and sound devotion – as every pistil healer should. The role suits him best. He lacks the creativity required to care for the children as Namjoon does, and he isn’t particularly social enough for duties around the temple grounds that require much human interaction, such as cooking in the dining hall or teaching religion. He can stay quiet and focused in the infirmary, with only the other healers around. Luckily, the other healers are just as soft-spoken and pleasant as Yoongi, so he rarely has any troubles with them.

Except for today.

Bad things always come in threes, and the Second Bad Thing rolls through the temple grounds like the thunderstorm approaching from the east, a wall of dark gray clouds barreling toward them like enemies at the front lines. As much as he tries to be optimistic, Yoongi felt something eerie ache in his bones as he hurried to the infirmary this morning, his woven basket carrying Mugunghwa petals and stems clutched to his chest.

Nature is sacred to the Mugunghwa monks, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t terrifying. Nature is the gods’ way of speaking, and sometimes, Yoongi would prefer not to know what they have to say.

“I hope it doesn’t rain,” Areum says absentmindedly as she uses a mortar and pestle to grind up Mugunghwa petals.

Yoongi sits on the floor on a small cushion with his legs crossed, his own mortar and pestle on a small table in front of him. He grinds the seeds, and Seungwoo, who sits beside him, grinds the stems. The three healers work efficiently, each with their own tasks to quicken the process. Making medicine isn’t difficult, but it can be time-consuming. Magic is a finicky thing, Yoongi has learned during his healer training. The Mugunghwa are sensitive; any wrong step in the process and the entire batch of medicine must be thrown out.

“I’m afraid it may,” Seungwoo says with a long sigh, “Which means the children will be stuck inside and restless. And annoying.”

“You’re so cranky, Seungwoo. Don’t you remember being a child?” Areum teases him.

Seungwoo points his pestle at Areum, who sits opposite them at the table. “I remember you being annoying as a child!”

The two pistils bicker as they have since they were children. Yoongi finds it distracting, but he can’t deny that it’s also rather endearing. Since Junseo’s banishment and the start of purity sweeps, the temple grounds haven’t felt the same. Yoongi wakes to less laughter coming from the courtyards, and fewer friends hang out in common areas like the dining hall and prayer rooms, instead choosing to socialize almost exclusively in the dormitories.

Yoongi can’t blame them. He, too, is still shaken from that fateful day and the subsequent purity sweeps – though they haven’t been frequent, they are still uncomfortable. Yoongi no longer worries that he will be mistakenly accused of being marked, but the sweeps make him sweat anyway.

“I heard Misuk-ssi talking about the war this morning,” Areum says lowly.

She quickly takes a peek at the door. It’s still shut, and the walls in the temple are thick, so it is unlikely that anyone will hear the three healers speaking. Areum is accustomed to sneaking around, though.

Yoongi hasn’t forgotten that she is the one Namjoon heard speaking with Misuk-ssi about Junseo.

“Oh?” Seungwoo asks with a raise of his eyebrows, though he doesn’t look up from his work grinding the Mugunghwa stems.

“Don’t you want to know what she said?”

Seungwoo rolls his eyes. “You will tell me regardless, will you not?”

“What about you?” Areum turns to Yoongi, clearly unsatisfied with Seungwoo’s response.

Yoongi isn’t fond of gossip, but he is curious about news of the war. He knows very little about it, preferring to live in bliss. Politics and religion are strictly separated in their kingdom. The only engagement monks have with politicians and soldiers is distributing medicine, and Yoongi is perfectly content with that.

“I’m a bit curious…” Yoongi says quietly, only meeting Areum’s gaze for a moment before he quickly looks back at his word. The seeds are a fine powder now.

“Ugh, fine,” Areum huffs. Yoongi doesn’t understand why; she’s getting what she wants, isn’t she? A captive audience?

“Misuk-ssi received a letter from someone, I don’t know who, about a battle near the temple! Only a three-day trip,” Areum talks excitedly, a gleam in her eyes. Some people thrive off of gossip, Yoongi thinks. He hopes he never becomes one of those people.

“That… is a very bad thing…” Seungwoo stares at her with his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Well, yes,” Areum visibly deflates with sagged shoulders and a pouted mouth, “But how interesting, right? So many things are happening. Nothing ever happens here.”

“I would rather nothing happen than war,” Seungwoo mutters as he gets up. He holds his hand out for Yoongi to pass him the mortar of ground seeds. “Imagine the other kingdom learns of our golden water and sends their soldiers after us. What would become of us, then?”

The conversation ends there as Seungwoo and Areum work together to light the fire needed to heat the water they’ll use for the medicine, but Seungwoo’s question lingers in Yoongi’s mind for the rest of the morning.

What would become of them?

He has heard of horrible things happening to pistils who cross paths with the stamen soldiers from enemy kingdoms, things he would never repeat to anyone, things he can hardly visualize.

Yoongi wonders when Misuk received that letter and where it came from. Letters often take days to reach the temple due to its remote location. For all they know, the enemy soldiers could now be on their way to the temple.

Or, worse, already here and biding time until the opportune moment to attack.

Sufficiently disturbed, Yoongi finishes his duties at the infirmary in time for lunch with a heart more thunderous than the weather. He should have never given in to Areum’s need for gossip.

Yoongi and Namjoon are clearing their table in the dining hall when the gongs sound. They stare at each other for a split second before jumping into action, leaving their things behind as they rush to the exit. Namjoon sprints off toward the center of the temple grounds, where the children’s classrooms are, while Yoongi rushes toward the entrance where the infirmary is located.

In his twenty-one years at the temple, Yoongi has never heard the gongs, though he has been trained on what to do if he does hear them. Every monk is told to get to their home base – whichever part of the temple grounds they have a duty to. Namjoon cares for the children, so he is responsible for watching over them in an emergency, whereas Yoongi must care for the sick and injured, if there are any.

It is easier to know what to do when you are told by your elders in the off-chance that something might happen. It is more difficult when something is happening.

The monks push each other out of the way in the halls. Yoongi is nearly knocked over more than once by a panicking peer; not everyone is cut out for handling emergencies. Yoongi isn’t even sure if he is, but his body operates on its own, propelling him through the building’s front doors.

Outside, everything is gray. Sheets of water rain down hard enough to knock a few children over as they scramble through the courtyard to seek shelter. Mud cakes their white hanboks and slides down their limbs. Yoongi can’t tell who they are; the rain obscures everything, turning the world into a blurry mess he can’t blink away.

The gods have something to say, and Yoongi doesn’t think it’s anything good.

Panic finally sets into Yoongi’s chest when the cold water hits him in the face as he sprints across the courtyard. He can hardly breathe with the rain getting in his nose and mouth. Twice he slips and falls on his butt in puddles of mud. A sharp pain shoots through his pelvis, and he thinks he may have landed on a rock. He can’t tell if the back of his thigh is bleeding because the wetness he feels could be rain, mud, blood, or a mixture of all three.

A battle near the temple!

Areum’s voice chants to the beat of Yoongi’s sandals slapping against the soggy ground and the continuous ringing of the gong.

Only a three-day trip.

Yoongi doesn’t stop running until the infirmary is in view. Its green walls and intricate patterning stand out amongst the gray, as does the large group of men clad in military uniforms and body armor – blurry splotches of red in Yoongi’s vision, the color of their kingdom.

The scene before him shakes him to his core. He finds himself rooted to his spot as other healer pistils run back and forth between the infirmary and the group of stamens outside. There are dozens of them, more than there are beds in the infirmary, Yoongi is positive. They’re soaked through their uniforms, thick red fabrics, leather, and armor drenched. Yoongi can’t imagine how heavy it must be, especially considering how malnourished most of the men look. Very few of them stand on their own, most having to be propped up against the infirmary walls or leaned against each other for support.

As Yoongi walks through the group, he meets the eyes of men who look at him but don’t see him. They stare into the wall of rain unblinking; others don’t even open their eyes. Some of them cry – the ones Yoongi thinks are younger. Some of them scream.

Nearly every stamen Yoongi walks past is injured. The closer he gets, the more blood he sees. It flows in rivers from large gashes in the men’s arms and abdomens, mixing with rainwater and mud. There are men missing eyes and ears, fingers, and even an entire hand. One man has an arrow sticking out of his chest. It’s splinted at the end like someone tried ripping it out and broke it in half. Yoongi worries the man may not be with them because of how still his chest is.

“Yoongi-ya!”

Through the rain, Yoongi sees one of the lead healers, Hoseok, waving at him. He hurries to the pistil’s side with his hands above his eyes to shield himself from the rain.

“Come with me,” Hoseok shouts over his shoulder, already rushing into the infirmary.

Yoongi nearly slips on the wet floor when he steps inside but manages to keep up with Hoseok’s quick pace. The infirmary isn’t immune to chaos, either. Monks rush past each other, passing medicinal salves, bandages, and medical instruments. He peeks inside the rooms as he follows Hoseok down the hall. Tables are blanketed with sheets and pillows as makeshift beds, and even the tubs used to wash patients are being used as beds.

“This one,” Hoseok holds open the door to one of the patient rooms near the back of the infirmary, where it’s not as loud, away from the chaos at the front entrance.

Yoongi is surprised to find a crowd inside the room. Multiple men hover around a singular cot on the floor. They kneel shoulder to shoulder as though guarding the man lying on the cot, and Hoseok has to shout at them multiple times before they clear a path for him.

“He’s struggling to breathe,” one of the men calls out once the room has quieted. He kneels near the injured man’s head, one of his hands gripping the man’s shoulder possessively.

Hoseok beckons Yoongi closer before sinking to his knees beside the cot. “We need to remove his armor.”

After a few seconds, Hoseok stares up at Yoongi, his mouth set in a thin line.

“Yoongi, I need you to help me remove his armor and the rest of his uniform so we can see where he is injured.”

“I– Me?”

“Yoongi, now!”

Immediately falling to his knees, Yoongi scrambles to find the clasps and buckles that hold the man’s uniform together. He tries to ignore how hard his hands shake and worries he will ruin his reputation for being an excellent healer if he appears too nervous in front of Hoseok.

The thing is, Yoongi has never met a stamen before, let alone touched one.

He doesn’t think the stamen orphans who live at the temple until their awakening count since they immediately leave once awoken. Those stamens are just kids, not grown men. It’s different.

But it can’t be different, not right now when this man is dying.

It only takes a few minutes for Hoseok and Yoongi to remove the stamen’s armor and cut open his shirt, but minutes are a matter of life and death in a situation like this.

The severity of the situation is confirmed when Hoseok removes the final piece of fabric.

Someone in the room gasps. Yoongi worries it may have been himself, but he barely holds onto his mental state to know. All he can do is stare at the open wounds that litter the man’s torso. Gashes and holes reveal flayed flesh, most cut deep enough to expose bones. Yoongi wonders how the man’s internal organs have managed to stay inside him.

Yoongi looks up at the man at the head of the cot with confusion. “How did his armor not protect him?”

“Their swords were, were–” the man closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “It was magic I have never seen before. Swords that cut through metal armor like a knife through sundubu.”

Hoseok grabs Yoongi’s shoulders and squeezes him so tightly that Yoongi lets out a pained whimper.

“Yoongi, I need you to go to the well and bring back as much water as you can carry as fast as you can. Do you understand me?” He shakes Yoongi’s shoulders, fire and fear in his eyes. “Gukseon Kim’s life depends on it.”

The gods must favor Yoongi because it stops raining once he reaches the well. He doesn’t have time but must rest for a few moments to catch his breath, leaning up against the old stone as he gasps. His calves burn, and blisters have formed from the slide of his feet in his wet sandals. His entire body feels pruned; he’s sure he looks like a wet cat.

Why had Hoseok chosen him for this task? Yoongi is young, and although he has a good reputation, he is merely a student. He has much more to accomplish before he can call himself a true healer, yet Hoseok chose him to aid in caring for a soldier.

Not just any soldier, Yoongi thinks as he draws the golden water from the well in as large of a bucket as he can safely carry. The patient dying on that cot is the leader of the military unit seeking shelter at the temple, one of the highest commanding soldiers in their entire kingdom.

And if he dies, it will be Yoongi’s fault.

Yoongi safely returns the bucket to the infirmary full of the sacred gold water that feeds the magic of the Mugunghwa. Ingesting the magic from the source is far more powerful than the medicine the monks make, but it’s a remedy that is saved for only the most terrible of injuries. This poor stamen fits the criteria.

“Give him the water using this,” Hoseok thrusts a small cup into Yoongi’s hands. “If he doesn’t swallow, just give him small droplets so he at least has something in his system.”

Taking the cup and a smaller bucket Hoseok has used to portion off some of the water, Yoongi kneels beside the man’s head. Hoseok uses the rest of the water to cleanse the stamen’s wounds and sew him back together. It’s a grisly affair that Yoongi can’t help but watch, even as sick as it makes him to see a human’s innards up close.

It’s just Yoongi, Hoseok, and one other soldier in the room now. Seokjin, Yoongi has learned, is the second-in-command. He sits across from Yoongi, never once taking his eyes off Hoseok as he works to put his leader back together. Yoongi doesn’t blame Seokjin for being cautious; he can’t imagine the horrors they’ve all gone through.

“Will he live?” Seokjin asks quietly. He intertwines their fingers as he looks down at the injured man.

“I hope so,” Hoseok replies with bloody arms and a thin mouth.

The soldier’s lips are chapped and caked with blood, but they’re parted just enough for Yoongi to slip the lip of the cup between them. Carefully, he lets a few droplets of water trickle into his mouth. Yoongi can see the stamen’s features better now that he is up close. His long, dark hair that was once tied up now cascades around his shoulders, made messy by Yoongi and Hoseok removing his upper garments. His tan skin looks pale from the loss of blood, but a regal air about him is undeniable – it’s in the sharpness of his nose and prominent cheekbones. His long eyelashes and the heart-shaped bow of his upper lip make him look almost content as he lies there completely still.

He’s pretty, Yoongi thinks as he gives the stamen more water. Even covered in mud and blood, this man is pretty.

“What is his name?” Yoongi looks to Seokjin because Hoseok has already told him “Kim,” but Yoongi wants to know more than that.

“Taehyung,” Seokjin whispers, his gaze falling on the dying man instead of Yoongi. “His name is Taehyung, and he is my dearest friend.”

As if stirred by the sound of his name, Taehyung’s face twitches. The movement is subtle, but Yoongi’s sharp eyes catch it. He quickly lifts the cup to Taehyung’s lips again and watches with joy as the man swallows the small sips Yoongi gives him. He isn’t conscious, but he’s alive. As long as Yoongi can keep him drinking, he’ll survive.

Yoongi knows it.

Some of the soldiers die.

Since he is only a student, Yoongi isn’t required to assist the lead healers with the burials. His help is most valuable in the infirmary because there are more soldiers in critical care than there are lining up to return to the Earth. As important as the afterlife is, Yoongi cares far more about the living. He rushes between patients’ rooms carrying medicine and water, bringing clean rags, washing old ones, and repairing broken medical equipment. He hardly sees Namjoon in the days following the soldiers’ arrival, but there’s far too much on Yoongi’s plate to think about socialization.

On the fourth day, Yoongi finds that his responsibilities will increase exponentially when he runs into Hoseok in the courtyard. Yoongi carries a small bucket of gold water to the infirmary, as requested by Seungwoo, who is in charge of the students while the lead healers are busy.

“Hobi hyung,” Yoongi greets with a bow of his head. Very few older monks allow students to speak to them more casually, but Hoseok has always taken a liking to Yoongi, even when he’s tough on him.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” Hoseok admits. His voice is hoarse from shouting orders, and dark bags circle his eyes. “I need you to care for Gukseon Kim, and before you say no–” Hoseok holds up his hand when Yoongi begins to protest, “I need you to understand that there is no other student at this temple who I trust more than you to care for this man.”

Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek and stares at the bucket he carries. His reflection sparkles up at him in the gold water, masking how tired he feels.

Is he skilled enough to care for the leader of a ferocious military group? What will happen to him if their gukseon dies under his care? How could Yoongi forgive himself, even if nothing happened to him?

“Okay,” Yoongi says quietly, returning Hoseok’s gaze.

“You’ll do well,” Hoseok claps Yoongi on the shoulder, firm and proud, “And if you need anything, you come to me.”

Yoongi nods, not needing to be told twice. He would have gone to Hoseok anyway.

“We will relocate him to the dormitories, the room adjacent to yours, for easier access. We will need the extra space in the infirmary anyway.”

Junseo’s room was the room adjacent to Yoongi’s.

“Do you need help moving him?” Yoongi asks, but Hoseok shakes his head.

“Seungwoo and some others are handling that. Gukseon Kim will be ready for you by this afternoon.”

Yoongi watches Hoseok cut through the courtyard toward the grand temple, likely for his midday prayer. Yoongi has spent all his prayers on the pretty gukseon in the past four days, though he’ll never admit it. He doesn’t necessarily feel shame, but it feels strange to think so much about another person – especially a stamen. Stamens are hardened, built for violence, yet the gukseon was soft.

With a sigh, Yoongi reminds himself that it’s likely Taehyung was only soft because he was unconscious and returns to the chaos of the infirmary. At least in a few hours, he’ll have a more peaceful location to care for Taehyung.