Chapter Text
“Jungkook,” Hoseok says, warning. “Don’t you dare. It’s a celebration.”
Jungkook pouts back at him. It shouldn’t work as well as it does, because Jungkook is an adult and Hoseok’s watched him fight bandits and thieves, and, once, take down a bear almost by himself, a feat that shouldn’t, strictly, be entirely possible. Not to mention—well.
Hoseok tries to pull up the memory of the bear, the vision of Jungkook working and vicious, absolutely not the sort of person who should pout to get their way, but it’s not particularly effective. He’s going to blame the ale. It’s flowing freely and well, the barkeep and serving girls rushing around the tavern. He really should keep Jungkook at their table, or at least, not let him go out pickpocketing. People aren’t meant to be on guard—not today, not with the war over and the new king married to the second son of the Atreyian Isles; a true ceasefire, sealed with the joining of the royal families.
He can still hear the marriage bells ringing in his head, although he’s not quite sure if that’s real, or if it’s just an echo from the morning, when they’d rung out throughout the city and on out into the surrounding countryside, and beyond, throughout Estarion and to the sea.
Jungkook blinks at him.
Hoseok sighs. Taehyung is in the corner of the tavern, deck of tarot cards in front of him. Perhaps Hoseok should let Jungkook have his fun too. How different is it, Jungkook’s pickpocketing, and Taehyung’s fortune telling?
Both just ways to lighten the pockets of nobles and rich merchants; those not important enought to be at the castle.
“Fine,” he says. “But don’t get caught. And not too much, I don’t want any trouble. Just what they might loose, or spend without thinking—” Jungkook rolls his eyes “—and be careful,” Hoseok finishes, although it’s to the empty air. Jungkook has vanished.
Hoseok sighs and drains his mug. He’s tucked away against the wall, cloak still over his shoulders despite the warmth in the room. He hasn’t seen much in the way of threats, these past few days, but he presses his fingers into the hilt of the knives he has strapped to his wrists anyway.
It’s not that he isn’t happy that the war is over, that they will no longer spend so many men waging a war across the strait.
He shakes his head and lets his gaze flicker around the tavern.
He should take advantage of the celebration, with Jungkook and Taehyung distracted. The rooms they rent are close and cramped, and Hoseok rarely has privacy. He could have someone over. The pretty barmaid, maybe, or try his luck with the man sitting across the room, nursing an ale and letting his gaze flicker about the room - big, cute, with dimples.
Or he could leave by himself, spend some time in blissful solitude. Not asleep, that never goes well, but just – alone, for a bit.
He glances around, then slips out the door.
This close to the castle, the streets are almost as full as the tavern. There’d been gifts, earlier, from the court – fresh sweets, coins for the children. New bounty, in peacetime.
A happy day, Hoseok thinks, as he watches some children run by, cackling and shouting at each other with glee. It’s getting dark, which means the castle will soon be alight with magic, showy and bright.
The mages have been preforming all week, a lead up to the wedding. This will be the best show of them all, the grand finale, once the royal court has finished with their ceremonies and their dinner and their dancing. Hoseok can’t imagine what else the mages can possibly do – he’d been out the night before, watched the boom and flash of lights flicker across the sky. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
He turns away instead, pushes away from the centre of the city, towards the coast.
He can see the lights from the Atreyian Isles, far off in the distance from the beach.
He’d never been the one to travel there, but he’d fought their magework on Estarion’s shores; the great hulking metal beasts, almost invincible unless you were able to destroy the gems hidden deep in their throat. Then he’d been safe in Estarion, training the men. He’d been good at it, exacting and clean. He’d kept his men safe, safer than they would have been otherwise.
Everyone knew that Commander Jung Hoseok’s men should the ones to fight the magework monsters. They had the best chance of bringing it down, of ending the terror the beast created.
Hoseok rubs over his shoulder, flicking away the phantom pain.
When he’d left, when Jungkook and Taehyung had left, and brought him with them, he’d worried he’d miss it, somehow. The structure and the clarity.
But they’d shown him a lot more of the world. He’d met some Atreyians, found them to be very like himself, despite the secrets their mages keep.
The show is starting. The flash of mage lights brighten the sea in front of him until it’s almost blinding.
Hoseok’s grown too much to look at the Atreyians as enemies, these days. He’s equally certain that it was just as much the greed of the old king that was to blame for the war, that his son, for all he’s only Hoseok’s age and still untested, has already done more for the people than his father ever managed.
But then, he’s also gotten what the old king wanted.
Hoseok turns, and looks at the sky, where the power of Atreyian mages flash colours over the castle, bright gold and purple and red and green. Signaling, as bright as a flare, the joining of the royal families.
Min Yoongi and Park Jimin.
Hoseok shivers, and heads back to the town, ignoring the flashing lights above him.
He shouldn’t borrow trouble. It can eat you; he’s seen it happen. Soldiers, never quite able to shake the battlefield. Civilians, never moving past a raid.
The people are celebrating, joyful and loud. There’s dancing, singing, movement in the streets.
Hoseok pulls a smile onto his face and joins the crowd.
He’s the first one up the next morning. Taehyung is curled against his back, Jungkook splayed out on his belly across the room. Hoseok wonders briefly which of them got back first, if Taehyung wanted the comfort of sleeping with him, or if Jungkook chose the better bed, away from Hoseok.
Then he shakes his head. He knows better, and he ought to keep moving or the worries will consume him. And they’ve no food.
He goes to wash up and buy pastries for breakfast. The others will likely be hungover, or at least a little worse for wear, after the celebrations the night before. The city itself is quiet, even the baker looking a little tired when Hoseok greets her.
He wonders what stories Taehyung told last night, what pretty trinkets Jungkook stole. He hopes it was nothing too offensive or too noticeable. He likes this part of town.
“That’ll perk your boys up,” the baker says, handing him the pastries. “Help ‘em recover. I’m not sure how the royals expect us to keep up with this schedule, we’re not all as young as you three.”
“What?” Hoseok says, and then takes a bite of pastry and groans with pleasure, letting the joy of delicious food shiver through his body in a half dance.
The baker laughs at him. “I’d give you another just for that reaction,” the baker says, and then, when Hoseok looks at her, “and another two copper bits.”
It’s hardly a discount, but Hoseok hands it over anyway. To be fair, the pastry is delicious.
“They’ll be celebrations again in a few days,” the baker says, once everything is safe is Hoseok’s belt purse. “The king and his new husband are going on tour. Visiting the country, since the king’s so new and the prince consorts never been. Spending time at all the estates and towns.”
“Huh,” Hoseok says, and then, “hell of a honeymoon.”
The baker snorts. “They’ll have the best accommodations in the country,” she says. “With all the nobles showing off their jewels and gems and down feathers.”
“Still,” Hoseok says. He’d thought perhaps the new couple would stay in the castle, at least for a while, until one of the concubines has a child and an heir is announced, but then what does he know? He’s a warrior, not up on the workings of politics, of when it’s more important to be seen then to be safe.
“Anyway, it’ll be extra work for me,” the baker says. “With all those folks about.”
“Well, yes,” Hoseok says. “You do make the best breads and pastries, so I suppose it can’t be helped.”
The baker rolls her eyes, and Hoseok flashes her a grin, before bowing politely and heading for home.
He does like it here. He likes that people know him, know Taehyung and Jungkook. Know enough about them that they’re known as Hoseok’s boys. People know them for work here, too. He’s gotten a couple jobs – moving things, protecting transport of some gems to the palace – just from word of mouth. Hope and his boys.
It’s not so bad.
Jungkook’s still dead asleep when he gets back, but Taehyung’s up and rubbing at his eyes when Hoseok slips back into the room.
Hoseok hands him a pastry. Taehyung takes a bite so big that he manages almost half of it in one go, scattering crumbs over the blankets in the process. Hoseok wrinkles his nose. Maybe he can convince Jungkook to air out the sheets.
“How was your night?” he asks Taehyung, who tilts his head.
“Good,” he says. “Told some fortunes, and then I went up to the castle with the girls.”
By the girls, he means Eunchae and Jisoo, dancers at the nearby theater. Hoseok likes them, but he’s not as close with them as Taehyung, who easily charms people with his handsome face and steady, guileless attention.
“To watch the lights?” Hoseok says.
“Mmhmm,” Taehyung replies and then adds, “and the dancing. The prince consort preformed.”
“What?” Hoseok says.
Taehyung nods. “They didn’t say it,” he says, “but Eunchae said that’s who it was. He was very beautiful. I can see why the king would have wanted him.”
“I don’t know that the king’s preferences would have had that much to do with it,” Hoseok says.
Taehyung shrugs. “It might,” he says. “It was a odd dance. Traditional, someone said. He was all covered in gems, and it was all part of the lights show. I don’t know if he’s a mage or if they just timed it very well, but it was very strange. Beautiful, but very strong. The girls were impressed.”
“Huh,” Hoseok says, and then, “the baker said they were going on a tour. The king and the prince consort. To see the country.”
Taehyung hums and finishes his pastry.
“Strange royals,” he says, and Hoseok nods.
Strange royals doesn’t even begin to cover the half of it. The old king was so tucked away that even Hoseok had never seen him, for all he gave half his life in the service of the country, the war the king wanted fought.
Hoseok has even been loyal, really believed the Isles were a threat.
To have a prince consort preform for the people at his own wedding, to have a newly married royal couple on a tour—it is strange.
“Perhaps this is what peacetime is like,” he says.
“I wouldn’t know,” Taehyung says. He’s poking at Hoseok’s bag, looking at the other pastries.
“That’s for Jungkookie,” Hoseok says. “And I wouldn’t know either, I suppose.”
“There’s two,” Taehyung says.
“Well the other one’s for me,” Hoseok says, and Taehyung collapses on him, wailing dramatically until Jungkook throws a blanket at them.
Hoseok hands him a pastry in return. Jungkook drags himself up and eats it without, as far as Hoseok can tall, actually opening his eyes.
“How was your night?” Taehyung asks him and Hoseok grins.
“Went dancing,” he says, happily. “Just hanging out. You know.”
Taehyung looks at Jungkook, still communing with his breakfast. Then back at Hoseok.
“Where’s your haul?” Hoseok asks, and Jungkook waves a hand at the far side of bedroll.
Hoseok goes to fetch it. He trusts Jungkook, of course, but he still – he still wants to know what Jungkook got. If it’s something he needs to worry about.
After all, that’s his job.
There’s not too much in Jungkook’s pockets – some coin, a bracelet, a few rings. Hoseok takes it all over the little table in the centre of the room, humming to himself as he lays them out in a neat little line so he can inspect them.
Then his finger close on soft leather, and he frowns.
“A whole coin purse?” he asks Jungkook, witheringly, who yawns.
“It wasn’t,” he says. “He had – it was this rich guy. A noble, probably. He had like, multiple ones. Probably paying off bribes or something.”
Hoseok wrinkles his nose when as he drops the little leather purse on the table. Even the bag itself is looks expensive. Maybe he can figure out who it belongs too and return it? A nice, neighbourly thing to do, to head off any sort of blow back.
Taehyung comes over to poke at the bag, and then tugs it open, pouring the contents out, and Hoseok’s jaw drops.
He’d expected copper bits and coins, maybe even silver. Instead, gold coins scatter across the table.
“Oh, Jungkook,” he breathes, and to his credit, Jungkook winces.
“Whoops,” he says, and then “well why was he carrying that much around anyway? It makes someone an awfully easy mark—”
“What did he look like?” Hoseok says, “if we can – Taehyung or I can go return it, pretend we’re good Samaritans who caught a thief, maybe—I like this place, Jungkook-ah, I don’t want—”
“You don’t need too.” Taehyung says, and his voice is so uncharacteristically somber that both Jungkook and Hoseok’s heads snap towards him. “There’s a note.”
“What?” Hoseok says, but he’s already reaching out for it, Taehyung’s hand outstretched.
He turns it over, and his heart sinks. The note looks rush, scrawled and scribbled, but there’s no mistaking who it’s for, not with Hoseok’s title - Commander Jung Hoseok - scrawled over the top of the page.
“How’d they—” Hoseok says, “I’m just Hope, now.”
Jungkook and Taehyung’s worried faces peer back at him, and he swallows, looking down at the page in front of him.
There isn’t much on the note, just his name, a date and time, a location, and below that, a single, hastily written line.
Protect the king.
“It’s payment,” Taehyung says, quietly.
“It’s payment,” Hoseok agrees. He’s quietly, suddenly, furious. Payment for a job they haven’t taken, to risk their lives with no intel, no context.
“Shit,” Jungkook says. He’s wide awake now, glaring. “I didn’t—I was being careful, how’d he—”
“I know,” Hoseok says, because Jungkook is careful; or at least, careful enough for the circles they usually run in.
“Do you remember who you took it from?” Taehyung asks. “A man, right?”
“I—” Jungkook says, and pauses. “I—yes. I think.” He frowns. “I mean, I think he—he was handsome. But—” He stops, rubs at his brow. “I don’t—I can’t think of what he looked like—his features or anything. I don’t—”
“Was he wearing gems?” Hoseok says, and Jungkook tilts his head.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I—maybe.”
“Two days,” Taehyung says. “Are we—are we going to take it?”
“We don’t even know what we’re doing,” Hoseok snaps. “Protect the king—from what? Boredom? His husband? An archer in the crowd?”
“An assassination attempt,” Taehyung says. “Surely.”
“We can’t do it without any more information,” Hoseok says. “And he’s—Jungkook’s been magicked somehow—”
“Well that’s information,” Taehyung says, “it’s a Atreyian mage then, probably—”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Hoseok says. “The magics in the gems, you can buy and sell it—”
“If the king dies,” Jungkook says, softly, “There’ll be war again, won’t there?”
“Well,” Hoseok says, “yes, I mean—fuck. Jungkook-ah—”
Jungkook’s chin sticks out, mulish, and Hoseok sighs.
“He tricked you,” he reminds Jungkook. “This mage, or noble, or whoever.”
“Yes,” Jungkook says. “But hyung—”
“Yeah,” Hoseok says, and looks back down at the note. Messy and creased, as if it’s owner had worried it in his fingers. There’s still so many angles. This could be a trap, some sort of trick. He considers, briefly, the possiblity that there is still some enchantment on Jungkook, then dismisses it.
It wouldn't be necessary. Jungkook, Taehyung - they're still good. Good people. Hoseok's worked hard to keep them that way.
And for all Hoseok’s been struggling to adapt, to cast off the shadow of wartime—he doesn’t want to lose the peace, either.
“Okay,” he says, and starts to tuck the gold coins away – divvying them up, so it doesn’t seem too obvious. They probably shouldn't even carry all of it. There's false back he added on the chest of drawers over in the corner, which should do for a bit, at least.
“Okay, we’ll do it.”