19 | Legends of Darlaria
⨰ summary: You wake up amidst a war with no recollection of your past. Faced with suspicion and distrust, you struggle to assimilate into a foreign nation—otherwise known as your home. But on your enlightening journey to search for your identity, you come face to face with the General of the Army.
⨰ pairing/rating: yoongi x reader & jungkook x reader | PG-15
⨰ genre: 70% angst, 30% fluff | war!au & magic!au
⨰ warnings: profanity, character death, grieving, mentions of blood
⨰ wordcount: 4.5k
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⧖⧗Circa Citrine⧗⧖
It’s starting to get colder. When you wake up, frost decorates the drapes of your tent, and by noon, they’re drenched with melted ice. Tomorrow, it’ll be Circa Zircon. There are rumors that there will be another truce this year, but nothing’s set in stone as of yet. Still, everyone is hopeful.
On cold days like this, you like to hold your flames in your left hand, allowing them to thaw your body as you use your other hand to flip through your letters from Hana.
She’s writing in capital letters again, begging you to visit Aella since you’ve already visited the other sectors. She seems to be doing well, keeping you updated on her health, and her progress has been good so far. She says she misses you and also “kicking Darlaean ass,” which are her words, not yours. You can’t help but giggle at her enthusiasm. Her letters are filled with vivid imagery and hilarious anecdotes. Hana has a special talent that makes the simplest things sound like an exciting adventure. It makes you wonder if she starts snoring when she reads through your letters. She makes you promise to tell her everything that goes on in your life, but all that really goes on are waking up, planning battles, eating, planning more battles, attending officer meetings, eating again, sleeping and waking up to do it all over again. There’s no way you can make that sound interesting. So anomaly days—such as the day you visited Ara with the General—always give you great joy to write about. Though you had conveniently left out the part of the General’s confession of his past and his insecurities.
You laugh out loud when Hana calls the day you spent with the General romantic. It was anything but! Romantic? You visited the burial grounds with him! That’s the furthest thing from romance. The mere idea of it makes you snort so hard that the flames in your hand flicker.
And just when you’re about to turn the page of the letter to see what else Hana has to say about your relationship with the General, Nayoon nearly rips open the entrance to your tent and rushes in, falling onto her knees right in front of you. Your smile wipes off your face. She’s crying. With the tears streaming down her face, it’s a wonder that she can even see right now. The fire sitting on your palm extinguishes.
“Nayoon! What happened?” you say, immediately crawling forward to put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?” You run about a thousand possible scenarios through your head. She’s been ordered to go back to Elu. She’s been exempted from fighting, just as you have. She’s been going through some mental turmoil and she’s coming to you for solace.
But all of those sound wrong. She looks too distressed. Something’s not right. Something horrible has happened. It’s as if someone has died.
You freeze.
Your mind goes numb.
Your heart seems to stop beating.
“N-Nayoon,” you say in a trembling voice. “W-Who…?” You’re terrified of the answer. There’s a sick, twisting feeling in your stomach. You feel like throwing up. You pray to Sooht, Soo, Sahn and Sori that it’s not him.
“It’s the Lieutenant,” she chokes. “She’s dead.”
Everything becomes a blur after that.
There’s a persistent ringing in your ears that won’t seem to go away. You can’t tell if everything is happening quickly or slowly. You don’t think you’re processing anything. You don’t know if you’re breathing.
Suhyun finds you and Nayoon huddled in your tent, both shell-shocked and unmoving. You think Suhyun’s crying herself, but you can’t be so sure. But she drags you and Nayoon out and orders her two captains to help carry both of you outside to get some fresh air. You’re not sure who tells you this—the voices are beginning to blend in together—but there will be a burial ready in a few hours.
You think Captain Chu asks whether you’ve eaten lunch, but his words fly over your head. Nothing feels real anymore. You’re shivering. Not because it’s cold but because Doyun’s dead. Gone.
You hear Captain Chu yelling at somebody that you’re shaking. Someone envelops you in a warm blanket, but it doesn’t help. It doesn’t help the fact that Doyun is dead.
You’ll never see her again.
When was the last time that you talked to her? What was the last thing she said to you? The last thing you said to her? Why can’t you remember?
Your thoughts repeat.
Over.
And over.
And over.
Each time, you still don’t have the answer to your questions.
You don’t know how long it’s been when you hear a voice calling your name.
“Hey… Y/N?”
It’s Suhyun. Her voice is shaky. You hear the distorted noise of her rings clinking against each other. “You need to eat, Y/N,” she says. She hands you a bowl of hot porridge. But when you don’t respond, she sets the bowl down to the side. “At least drink some water.” You still can’t bring yourself to react.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Shut it, Goe,” Captain Chu says. “As far as we know, this is the first death of someone she knew.”
“It’s not like she died.”
“Go be an asshole somewhere else, Captain,” Suhyun says. She sounds angry. You’ve never heard her sound so vicious. You want to thank her for her help but the world is spinning. One wrong move and you think you’re going to heave.
“We can’t baby her every time someone dies.” That sounds like Captain Bak. “The funeral’s starting. We should go.”
Suddenly, you’re being hoisted up. You can’t seem to walk, so they carry you instead. By the time you reach the familiar burial grounds, you find that Doyun’s already been buried. The mound above her is devoid of grass. People have circled around her. Some are crying. Others are looking down at their shoes.
Someone pins a white flower into your uniform.
No words are spoken.
Then, a few people step out, closer to the mound. They all crouch down, kneeling on the ground. Their hands touch the bare grave and grass sprouts from the soil. Soon, this mound looks like the others. One by one, everyone drops to their knees, their palms touching the ground as they bow deeply. You fall to your knees as well, but only because your legs give out from underneath you.
Everyone begins to stand again, and someone helps you back to your feet. The crowd begins unpinning their white flowers from their chests and throwing them around the circular mound. You watch, though with hazy vision, as these flowers begin to root themselves into the soil, growing into a full-fledged chrysanthemum bush.
People are whispering amongst themselves now with bowed heads.
“She was such a good person…”
“Such a pity…”
“Goes to show that nobody is immune to the war.”
“I heard it was an accident.”
“I heard she died saving someone else.”
“I hope our prayers will reach the spirits.”
“I wish her a peaceful afterlife.”
And just like that, the crowd around Doyun’s grave begins to disperse. But you have no intentions of going anywhere. You’re still trying to process the permanence of her leave. She’s not going to come back as Nayoon did. You won’t be able to write letters to her as you do with Hana. You will never be able to talk to her again.
You sink to your knees.
It doesn’t feel real.
It can’t be real.
The funeral happened too quickly.
And people left. Just like that.
Someone puts a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, would you like to leave with us?” It’s Suhyun again.
“Let her process it alone,” says Captain Bak. “She needs to cry. She’s still in shock right now.”
Suhyun sighs. “Well…” A long pause. “I’ll come back to get you before it gets too dark.” She waits for you to answer, give her some sort of sign that you’re listening. But when you don’t, she gives you one last glance before leaving along with Captain Bak. But maybe Captain Bak is right. Maybe you do need some time alone.
Yet… how can everyone move on so quickly? How can they be so sad one minute and then go about their day the next minute?
And why aren’t you crying? Why haven’t you cried at all? Is there something wrong with you? Are you really still in shock? Will the shock ever wear off? What if you’ll be stuck in this hollow state forever? What if you can never feel again? But your frenzied thoughts, they all fade away after a while. All you can do is stare at her grave, unblinking, unmoving.
Emptiness.
It’s the first time the world comes to a standstill.
Or maybe your senses are shutting down. Your eyesight is blurry. You’re panting, gasping for breath—like you forgot how to breathe. The ringing in your ears is back, louder than ever.
But when your shaking eyes shift to the mound next to Doyun’s, something snaps inside of you. Something that had been inevitable. As if it had been waiting for you to trigger it.
Your vision clears momentarily. You catch a glimpse of it.
Pansies. White pansies. They fill your vision.
Doyun’s been buried next to her girlfriend.
The first few tears roll down your face slowly, silently. The next few come in rapid succession. Then, all too soon, you’re sobbing loudly. You sob into your hands, attempting to muffle your cries. There’s an uncomfortable lump that grows in your throat, and it won’t seem to go away. It’s choking you; you aren’t able to breathe. And the few moments of silence where you’re gasping for breath, you’re shaking.
You can’t seem to think.
The only thing you can do is cry. You don’t know how long you’ve cried but your voice becomes raw and your eyes become puffy and your cheeks become irritated from the salt of your tears. Nothing comes out of your tear ducts anymore. You must’ve squeezed them dry.
But you continue to scream. It feels like you’re ripping your throat; you can taste the iron. Yet you can’t seem to stop. Only when you gasp for breath, gulp in the dull air, does your throat finally get a reprieve. It feels good for a split second before you torture it all over again.
Only this time, you notice someone sitting next to you. A familiar silhouette. The hunched back, the soft hair…
He notices you staring at him, mid-breath, mid-scream, but doesn’t speak. Just looks straight forward, keeps you company but doesn’t force you to be sociable.
At that moment, the scream dies in your throat.
He looks disheveled, fatigued. You aren’t sure if he was at the funeral, if he was sitting next to you all along but you hadn’t noticed. Had you been screaming in his ear? Why did he choose to stay?
The General finally looks up, meeting your eyes. Then, wordlessly, he passes you a cup of steaming Incha. Your hands shake as you grab onto it, but the General must’ve accounted for that because none of the drink spills out. He’d poured in just enough. You take a slow sip. The liquid descends your throat, soothing just a bit of the soreness of it. You’re not sure if it’s because of the Incha or because you cried everything out of your system, but you suddenly feel better than before. The world isn’t spinning anymore, nor is it at an eerie standstill. It looks the way it always looks. Normal.
And that’s when your senses come back to you. You realize the sun has set. It’s nighttime. You hadn’t noticed before. The night breeze is cool on your clammy skin as you and the General sit in silence.
He looks down at his own hands. They’re rough and calloused and dirty. The nails have been bitten off—so much so that the edges are bloody. It stings when he touches them. But who knows? The blood could also be from a Darlaean. Everything’s bathed in blood these days, anyway. What’s a few more drops on his nails? He continues to stare down at his hands, until he remembers why he decided to come here in the first place.
“I wanted to read you something,” he says.
You don’t even react. Don’t even turn his way. He understands. “It’s a note. From Doyun. She told me to share it with the people who needed it…” He searches you for a reaction.
Nothing.
“Would you… Would you like to hear it?”
Again, there’s nothing.
For the first time, the silence is uncomfortable. Yoongi is unsure of what to do. But he might as well finish what he’s started. So he gently tugs a folded piece of parchment paper out of his uniform. He unfolds it, lights a flame with one hand to combat the night, and begins to read.
“‘Dear whoever, if you’re reading this, I have died.’” He pauses, watching for your reaction again. There’s nothing. So, he continues. “‘But don’t fret. Don’t you dare worry. I’m sure Yoongi took good care of me. By now, I’ve been buried next to Minhee, just as I always told him to do. And if I’m not buried next to Minhee, dear soldier, I beseech that you confront him and demand that he grants me one last fucking wish. But Yoongi’s responsible. He wouldn’t do me any wrong. Especially not after I’ve died.
“‘By now, you might’ve already shed some tears for me. But don’t feel pity, soldier. Don’t feel sad. I was never afraid of dying. You see, this is my closure. I’ll finally be with my Minhee. I’ve been alive for enough in this damn war. It’s time for me to retire. Think of it like an eternal rest. I’m sure the spirits will take good care of me, and I’ll be reunited with Minhee. So soldier, don’t be sad because wherever I am, I will truly be hap—’”
“Please…” your voice comes out as barely a whisper. “Please stop.”
Yoongi immediately stops talking. In fact, he freezes. Was this a mistake? Did this make you more upset? Maybe he should’ve minded his own business. But he was only worried. He heard from Major Ki that you broke down when you heard the news. That Major Ki and Captain Chu were so worried you’d pass out that they stayed by your side for three hours, until it was time for the funeral. Major Ki described it like you’d lost consciousness. Except, you were awake and blinking and breathing.
Meanwhile, you are still awake, blinking and breathing. You just can’t bring yourself to do any more than that.
Closure?
Fucking bullshit.
Death isn’t closure. It’s a cutoff. You refuse to believe that in Doyun’s last moments, she was happy to be dying. What if she was in pain? If you’re in that much agony, is it even possible to accept death? Or are you more likely to accept it with open arms? Or do you try to fight back? Do you try to hold on?
Doyun didn’t know how she would die when she wrote that note. So how could she accept her death if she knew so little about it? What if she died a horrible death? What if she suffered? What if… she doesn’t reunite with Minhee?
Somehow, there are still tears left in your body. They begin to fall from your eyes, silently rolling down your face.
Yoongi notices. But he doesn’t know what to do. So he just watches. Lets you cry. Death is hard. He remembers when he was younger, when he first learned of eternal rest. He remembers being confused. How can something be so permanent? How can it be so unpredictable?
He was never solaced as a child. Consequently, he doesn’t know how to solace others—other than to stay by their side, hope his presence is somewhat enough.
You’d once told him that you’d follow him until you died. Well, he’d do just the same. Maybe even more.
⧖⧗Circa Zircon⧗⧖
It’s been a week.
You’ve already profusely apologized and thanked those who had cared for you that tragic day. You’ve especially apologized to the General—for neglecting to speak to him when he was only trying to make you feel better—though he waved your apology away.
So much has changed in a span of seven days. Major Ki is now Lieutenant Ki, inheriting Doyun’s previous responsibility of fighting in the place of Major Jang. Captain Chu is now Major Chu. After her promotion, Nayoon is now a third sector captain. There’s also a new face in the officer circle: Captain Jo. She was one of the top soldiers in the third sector—hand-picked by Lieutenant Ki herself. Now, she has become the newest addition to the officer meetings, and she’s got big shoes to fill—Im Nayoon wasn’t your average captain.
There’s been so much change, but you haven’t been reacting properly to it. Things seem to happen, and they also seem to pass by just as quickly. It seems like ages ago when you were laughing and giggling at Hana’s letters, not having a clue of all the disasters that would follow.
You’ve grown increasingly numb. And though you still complete your work—for if you stopped to mourn and cry, you would be letting down thousands of others—you’ve lost your joy in it, your passion. It’s hard to go about your day, then realize that you won’t be able to sit down and have tea with your favorite Lieutenant anymore. That you won’t be able to hear her funny jokes or her sarcastic remarks. That you can’t go to her for advice or hear her hilarious anecdotes anymore.
You miss her, and it’s only been a week.
Will you miss her more as time passes? Or will it begin to fade away?
The General once told you that time can heal, but what if it leaves an ugly scar?
The first snow is late this year. You didn’t think it would come today, so you’re shivering outside in your cotton uniform, bowed down in front of Doyun’s grave, paying your respects as you’ve done every day since the day she died. The snow falls onto your back, and the frost on the ground clings to your knees, your elbows. But you stay in your bowed position.
Until you hear footsteps superimposing the white snow collecting on the ground. You quickly stand on your knees, brushing the wet snow off of your uniform. Only to see him. The General. He spares you a small glance, before he, too, sinks to his knees and bends forward, bowing in front of his former Lieutenant’s grave. And he stays down for a considerable amount of time.
When he finally sits up, he refuses to look in your eyes. “It’s cold, isn’t it?”
You only hum in reply.
Silence.
Then, to his surprise, you speak. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to anyone first after the burial.
“I just… don’t want to believe it.”
He turns to you, eyes softening when he realizes you’re crying again.
“I know,” he says, though he wishes he could say something more comforting.
“I can’t remember the last thing I said to her.”
He can’t remember either. Was it before she went out to the battle that ended up killing her? Or was it after the battle, when they rushed her barely conscious body into the medical tent?
“It’s okay if you can’t remember,” he tells you. But he knows how much last words can matter. He keeps his brother’s last words close. He can’t imagine what he would’ve done if he had simply forgotten.
“Is it?” You shake your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I didn’t even get to see her before she left. I never thought she wouldn’t come back.”
He doesn’t know what to say. Stupid! Idiot! How is it that he can console his other soldiers but not you? Why does he second-guess everything he wants to say to you?
“I feel so empty,” you say. “There’s a gaping pit in my stomach.” A snowflake catches on your lashes, and you blink it away; it immediately melts on your skin. “I don’t feel like myself, and it’s scary. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“You’re grieving,” Yoongi answers. “You’re dealing with insurmountable sadness, and this is how your body reacts. You don’t have to know when you’ll be back. Just be… Just be gentle with yourself.”
More tears spill out of your eyes. “I don’t want to let anyone down.”
“You won’t. You’re our officer. We trust you.”
“I just don’t get how everyone else is doing so well.”
“We put on a façade for the others,” Yoongi answers. “No one is ever doing well.” He pauses. “So it’s okay if you aren’t either.”
You sniffle, wiping away your tears with your already wet sleeve. “Then, sir?”
“Hm?”
“How are you really feeling?”
His eyebrows turn down in concentration as he tries to think of a word to encompass all of his emotions. But then again, there’s not much to encompass. So he opts for, “Numb.”
“Numb?”
“Yes.”
He feels empty. Doyun had written him a personal letter—one that fell out along with the other note that he’d read you. The note he had expected; she told him she was going to write it. But the letter? No, that had been a surprise and a rather depressing one at that. Yet he took all the words in, felt nothing, read it again, and still felt empty.
Dear Yoongi,
Surprise! You didn’t think I’d leave you a letter, did you? I was never too sentimental. I remember three years ago I had to wring the words out of me, writing that other note. Hopefully, it wasn’t too tragic. I meant the letter, but I guess that could be said about my death too. It’s been five years though, so perhaps I’ve grown to be more sentimental. In fact, I was inspired to write this by both you and our officer. You’re the most sentimental person I know, and she’s been writing letters to Soldier Baek. It looked like fun, so I decided to do it. I don’t know when you’ll read this—if you’ll die before I do (that would be a bummer because this entire letter would go to waste). But I’m currently writing this on the first day of Circa Citrine. Has it been long?
And how did I die? I’ve always wondered about that, Yoongi. As I’m writing this letter now, I’m laughing because, though I’m currently alive (obviously), by the time you’re reading this, I won’t be. I’ve always had a lot of questions about death. Would I meet Minhee in the afterlife? Would she remember me? Would I remember her? Is there even an afterlife? I’d be able to answer these questions by now, but it’s a pity that I won’t be able to share them with you.
There are a few reasons that I’m writing this letter, and one of them is to give you a friendly reminder that I deserve to be buried next to Minhee. I tell you this every Circa Citrine, around the time of her death, so you better not forget.
Another thing: I know I’m dead and my opinion doesn’t matter anymore, but I’m sure we both agree that Ki Suhyun should take my place (unless she’s dead, then it’s really up to you to decide). I won’t talk about my preferences for the other promotions—I want you to decide that with Lieutenant Ki (has a nice ring to it). We’ve been working together for years, Yoongi—eight to be exact (or it could be more if we both survive another year). It’s time that you get used to a new right-hand officer. (And no, I don’t mean Y/N.) Don’t give Suhyun the cold shoulder. She’s too shy to confront you, and I want you two to be friends. Like us. We lasted so long, didn’t we? It was because of trust, Yoongi. So learn to trust a new person. It shouldn’t be that hard. You’ve already given your full trust in Y/N, haven’t you?
Be gentle with yourself as you are gentle with her. That is my advice. I might have more to say later, and I’ll add them as the years go by. As of now, I need to
The letter had ended just like that. Unfinished.
She probably expected she was going to live longer. The letter is fairly new after all—barely a circa old.
Yoongi shakes his head. Be gentle with yourself as you are gentle with her. It’s good advice. Not that he’ll follow it anytime soon. It’s by habit, that he’s so self-critical. And it’s a good habit to have when you’re a leader. Because if everyone else is too scared to keep him in check, he’ll do it himself.
“I’m sorry,” you say.
Your voice fills his head. It’s soft, mellow, light like the morning breeze.
“You’ve known her since you were young. And so much has happened… With you acquiring a new lieutenant, a new captain… When will you ever get rest?”
He turns to you, cocking his head. “This is my rest.”
You frown. There are still tear stains on your cheeks. “Mourning is your rest?”
“No,” he replies. He’s not sure why he says his next words. Maybe because he thinks you won’t remember. Maybe because you confessed you feel empty inside, and maybe that means that you have less of a chance of reacting. “Being with you is my rest.”
You pause.
Yoongi holds his breath.
“Is it?”
You’re so close to each other that he can feel your body heat. That you can feel your arm graze his.
“I miss her,” you whisper.
Then, you do something that he doesn’t expect—that he would’ve never expected in a million years. You lean on him. Rest your head on his shoulder.
He freezes.
You act as if it is nothing as you stare off at Doyun’s grave with a wistful look on your face. There are still tears welling in your eyes, tears that will fall any second now. Yoongi shifts closer so that you can lean comfortably. And he lets you cry, lets your tears wet his uniform. The first winter snow rains all over the two of you. The evening air is chilly, and it bites at your noses, pokes at your thick clothes.
But Yoongi has never felt so warm.
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⨰ a/n: i am so sorry 💀
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