This chapter contains scenes that might trigger some people bc of their violent nature. I'll mark the start and end with ***

Jungkook focus

Jungkook jumped back out of the window of the Park mansion's guestroom. His dagger was gone, which could either mean that the little princess had found it or that they had been found out. The prospect of the latter was reason enough never to come close to this place again.

But it was a shame to lose both of his weapons. They had been a gift of his master and had accompanied him for many years, so he missed their familiar weight at his waist. Also, they had to be used regularly or the blades would lose their grit, but right now they were probably rotting away in the drawer of some ministry or a secret hall of the palace.

He kicked off a stone in frustration.

But as much as he longed for his blades, he would not get them back. Firstly, because he did not know where to search, secondly, because his entry to the palace gardens had been cut into firewood by some royal dogs. So, the best choice he had was to search for a new pair after the princess paid him and bow to his master in apology should he ever be fortunate enough to meet that old man again.

But he was in no hurry. The pouch of the little princess was still feeding him well, and she would no doubt keep to her word and pay him what was missing of her words of doubling the payment. Thus, he planned to stroll the market for the next days to look out for her or her son, and then he would leave the capital for a while until his face was no longer decorating the boards. Maybe some nobleman in Daejeon or Gwangju had a job for him.

Hence, Jungkook had been strolling the market for almost a day, had gotten his fill at a street grill, and had bought some candy that reminded him of the stupid little dog of the prince, and allowed himself to get distracted by the stall in front of a blacksmith now. The workshop was displaying some of their work, ranging from blades and swords to mundane things such as boxes and horseshoes.

Maybe he could find a new weapon here even if it was only half as elegant and proper as his twin blades.

"Young master, what ya serchin' for?" the seller of the stall asked him with a warm smile.

"A dagger," Jungkook answered curtly and let his eyes graze over the shorter weapons. If the blades were as beautiful as the sheaths, he would not be disappointed. "Is that your work?" he asked while pointing at a sheath that had intricate patterns of waves and fish.

"Nah," the man waved it off, "We workin' with the goldsmith. Blade is ours, sheath is his," he explained to him.

Jungkook nodded understandingly. The raw work of the blacksmith did not match a fine work such as this.

When he reached the end of the dagger section, one blade caught his eye. It was so familiar that he reached out for it without a second thought, and when he pulled it out the well-known ridges came into sight. This was one of his!

But what happened next made him forget about his blade quickly. Both his arms were twisted behind his back in a painful manner, and a thick string was slung around his neck, ready to strange him at the slightest indication of disobedience.

"What...?" he asked confused, but when a red-clad man stepped into his sight, he knew he had run right into a trap.

"Get his hat off," the all too familiar voice of the royal lap dog barked, and the straw was torn off his topknot, messing it up. "Look who we have here," the bastard said and smiled at Jungkook, giving his cheek a friendly slap that made Jungkook want to spit at him.

"You filthy wretch! Scum of the palace! Dirty pervert!" he shouted at the man now that it did not matter what he said. But the other just stuffed a cloth into his mouth to muffle his fit of rage.

"Be quiet," the soldier said, still smiling. "Such a pretty face should not use such filthy words." And to the guards of the investigation bureau, "Bind him, then off to prison with him."

The rope that had only been slung around Jungkook's neck was now fixed in a way that if he moved his hands he would strangle himself, and then the guards grabbed him by the arms and they moved through the mass of people who parted to let them through.

Embarrassment burned hot on Jungkook's face and his eyes glazed over with pictures of how he would kill that stupid Jimin dog in the most gruesome way possible. How he would start with chopping off his fingers and toes, then the... no, not the face. He could not bring himself to do something like that. A clean and fast kill, there was no problem with that, but mutilating someone in such a way, he could not do it, not even in his mind. He was a martial arts master, not one of the disgusting torturers of the royal prison.

Angered by how he was handled like trash when he was a man of principles just like anyone else, he kicked for the two guards who held him and threw them to the ground wailing like punished dogs. And the next ones who were coming for him got a nice beating as well. Only then he was satisfied and walked towards the stupid Jimin dog.

If he must go to prison, he would walk by himself. If he must go down, he would walk with his head raised and next to the man who had captured him.

When he did not make a move on the red-robed soldier, the man seemed to understand. "You are a proud one, eh?" he said with a hint of a grin. Then he let the sword he had pulled out half the way slip back into its sheath and continued to walk down the road without a care for the groaning and wheezing soldiers who hurried to keep up.

The royal prison was exactly like Jungkook had imagined a prison to be like. Dark, moist, and cold. Nothing of the late summer warmth from outside seemed to be able to penetrate these walls. He was led down a few stairs, past several places that looked like they were covered in the remains of blood, and pushed into a cell.

"The shackles," that palace dog called out and two prison guards tried to outdo themselves to hand the man what he had asked for. Such pitiful creatures.

"Make sure he cannot move far or escape by breaking his thumbs," the man said then and watched with crossed arms while the guards fixed the rusty iron around Jungkook's neck, wrists, and ankles.

Jungkook felt like he was slowly dying with every iron clasp that closed around his limbs. Click. He would never breathe fresh air again. Click. Click. He would never run around drunk on the roofs at night to watch the stars. Click. He would never again wield a weapon. Click. He would never see his master again in this life.

When they were done and cut off the ropes, it was not the shackles that made moving impossible; he felt like someone had drained all his liveliness from his bones.

The lap dog removed the cloth from his mouth and crouched in front of him.

"So, this is it?" Jungkook asked quietly. "I'll spend the rest of my life here?"

"No," the other answered, face serious and without a trace of the satisfaction from before. "You will be beheaded."

Jungkook nodded. Accepting his fate felt almost too easy. Something must be wrong with him.

"Jimin?" another familiar voice suddenly called out and the soldier in front of him stood up to greet the man who had just arrived.

"Your highness," the red-clad man said and stepped to the side to free Jungkook's view onto the third prince. "We found the assassin."

But the third prince did not look like he heard the man and single-mindedly walked towards Jungkook before falling to one knee to be face-to-face with him.

"You tried to kill my brothers," the other stated calmly, eyes as sharp as knifes.

Jungkook nodded. "I was paid to do so," he replied calmly. There was no point in denying that. Jimin had seen his face in the crown prince's quarter and the third prince had seen him at the bathhouse where Jungkook must have dropped the poison bottle, which he had not been able to find the next day.

"Who paid you?" the prince continued to question him.

Jungkook stayed silent. There was no reason to betray a customer.

That made the third prince smile coldly. "You do not need to tell me. This is telling me enough." And he took off the money pouch on Jungkook's sash that had not been taken away, yet. "Do you know what this is?"

Jungkook did not move a muscle and only stared at the other blankly.

"This is a gift I gave my sister," the prince said matter-of-factly.

"I stole it," Jungkook lied without much thinking, not even knowing why he was protecting the little princess to this extent. Maybe it was because she had not abandoned him when he was about to die, or because she had nursed him back to health regardless of her status, or because she had trusted in his loyalty and ability. Whatever it was, it caused Jungkook to be reluctant with giving away her name.

His words did not only seem to make himself wonder but the prince as well since the man furrowed his brows at him. "My sister would have turned the capital upside down if her money had gotten lost," he said after a while. Then his face darkened and Jungkook was confused to see such a quick change in his expression.

"Do you know what the punishment for thieves is?" the prince asked him, eyes cold and not at all matching with the image of the soft man Jungkook had met at the bathhouse, not like the one who was raising a puppy and burying birds. "They cut off your fingers, one by one," the man whispered and the hair all over Jungkook's body rose. He did like his fingers quite a bit.

"So, are you sure you stole this?" the prince asked again, a frightening smile on his handsome face.

Jungkook did not know whether he should talk or stay quiet. He did not want to trouble the princess, but he also loved his hands. But suddenly the lap dog's words came back to his mind. He would be beheaded. He was doomed to die anyway, so who would want to cut off his fingers just to cut off his head afterwards? And even if they decided to go through the trouble; as a dead man he did not need his hands.

"I stole it," he repeated sternly, looking the prince straight in the eye. The darkness vanished from the brown orbs, leaving only curiosity. Which made Jungkook wonder why that Jimin dared to call him a demon when the real demon was right in front of them. Only a mad man could change faces so quickly.

"Jimin," the third prince said, and the red-clad man came closer while pulling out Jungkook's damn dagger.

"What are you doing?" Jungkook asked concerned and balled his hands into fists because of a bad inkling.

"This is called falsifying a testimony," the prince said sweetly and continued to smile at him. "Now give me your hand."

But Jungkook would not. He would not give up his hands without a fight. The heaviness from before was gone and suddenly he felt lively enough to tear down these prison walls.

"Stop struggling, little demon," the bastard of a soldier Jimin said softly and grabbed his left arm to place it on the worn-out wooden bench that decorated the cell.

***

"Stop! What are you doing?!" Jungkook shouted at them and tried to pull free his hand, eyes seeing red.

When his fingers were uncurled violently and pressed down on the rough surface, he could feel splinters piercing his skin and sinking into his flesh. A slap to his face cleared his panic-blurred sight and made him focus on the dark smile of the third prince that was hovering in front of him.

"Now, did you steal the pouch?" the monster asked again and showed Jungkook his own blade before lowering the nasty ridges onto his pinky finger. "Yes? No?"

"You can go die!" Jungkook shouted hysterically and tried to kick at the man, but the shackle around his ankle held him back.

"Hm," the third prince hummed and shrugged. "Are you sure that you do not want to tell us the truth? Those are nice hands."

"I. STOLE. IT." Jungkook was shouting to overpower the ringing in his ears and vent his fear and panic. He was done with this torture. If they wanted to cut off his fingers, he would not stop them. Maybe he could turn into a vicious ghost after his death and hunt the prince for the rest of his life, gnawing off his royal fingers. He would be satisfied then.

***

But to his astonishment, the iron grip on his arm loosened and the prince handed the dagger to the lap dog who sheathed it and stood back. A warm thumb brushed over Jungkook's cheek. Only now he noticed that he was crying.

"Do not cry," the prince said with a soft smile. "It is over now." And then he pulled apart Jungkook's lapels and took the jade pendant into one of his long-fingered hands.

"You were in my room," the he said quietly, while his fingers rubbed circles over the green stone.

"Ye-Yes," Jungkook breathed out weakly, unable to stop his body from shaking. Who was this man?

"Why did you not kill me?" the prince wanted to know, eyes locking with Jungkook's.

"Why... why..." Jungkook stuttered, too shaken to understand the question. "Why would I?" he asked back eventually.

This guy was playing with him, and it slowly drove Jungkook mad. What was happening here? Why was everyone so calm when he was about to lose his mind?

After a moment of just looking at him, the third prince nodded slowly and let go of the pendant, which fell back against Jungkook's chest with a thump. Then he stood up and turned around, leaving behind nothing but confusion in Jungkook's head.

"Did he scare you?" that Jimin guy asked softly and crouched down to remove the pendant from Jungkook's neck. Brown eyes looked at Jungkook with curiosity, but he could not move from the shock, not to say speak. It did not make sense. This could not have been the man who was talking to radishes and burying birds, not the one who allowed a puppy to sleep in his chamber and fed beggars with meat buns. It was impossible.

"He is not a monster," the soldier continued while searching Jungkook's clothes for weapons and other possessions. "Do not make the mistake of thinking that you know him."

Jungkook still felt unable to move, so he was silent.

"He never would have hurt you," the soldier resumed his monologue. "If he had wanted to call you out as a thief, he could have taken the pendant as evidence."

Slowly Jungkook's whirling thoughts calmed down with the soothing voice of the other, and he could start thinking again. Jimin was right. If Taehyung had wanted to cut off his fingers, he could have used the pendant as indisputable evidence and gone ahead with it. But the prince had decided to use the pouch. It had been a test. He had tested whether Jungkook would break under pressure and give up the name of his employer. But Jungkook had not, so what conclusion did the prince draw?

"Will he come back?" he asked the soldier who had collected the candy from his lapels and the chopsticks from his right boot strapping.

"I do not think so," the man answered with a soft smile and stood up to leave as well.

"What will happen to me now?" Jungkook called after him but was left without an answer.

"Beheading takes place every new moon," one of the prison guards told him bored while locking the door to his cell, then he was alone.

><

"Dinner," a raspy bored voice woke Jungkook up from his slumber.

With a groan he stretched his stiff limbs and neck as much as his confinements allowed him to and tried to make out the figure in the meager glow of the lantern the visitor had brought with him.

The man who had come looked quite strange. His robes were black with golden thread, indicating that he was an important figure of the palace, but his hair was short and messy like that of a slave boy or a low servant. Was this how executioners looked like?

"Here you go," the man rasped and sat down on the wooden bench in front of Jungkook. A bowl with rice and vegetable was standing between Jungkook's feet.

"My chopsticks have been confiscated," Jungkook murmured drily and took the bowl with his hurting left hand. His stomach turned with hunger. "Can I have a new pair?"

"We don't give wings to tigers," the other man replied in the same dry manner.

Jungkook sighed. He wanted to wash his hands.

"If you're not hungry, allow me," the peculiar shorthaired said and the bowl was pulled from his hand.

"No," Jungkook was quick to protest, and the food was handed back to him. He had lost his dignity when he had cried in front of the prince, so what could he lose by stuffing his face into the bowl? Like a brute he began to swallow bite after bite, smearing his face with grease, while the man just watched him quietly. This was probably his last meal.

Once done, he fished for the third prince's handkerchief that Jimin had not found between his lapels and cleaned his face. He could at least die with a clean face.

"Prison guards' tasks should be left to prison guards," the strange man stated with a hint of annoyance and took away the dirty cloth. "Anything else you should no longer possess?"

Jungkook shook his head. He had not possessed much to begin with.

"Now that your stomach is full, I think it's the right time for storytelling," the shorthaired said and propped his elbow up on his knee, looking down at the frowning Jungkook. Why was this man dragging things out?

"Just sit and let me finish," the visitor sighed. "Once, there was a young prisoner in the royal prison. He had been sentenced to rot away in his cell for all his life."

Jungkook had a notion that he was about to hear his own future. Just the sentence did not seem to match his own. Was he not supposed to be beheaded?

"But one of the princes had taken a liking to the man's abilities and begged the king to make an exception. However, the king forgot about him, and only the prince came from time to time to show his sincerity. One day, the king heard of a prisoner who could read the stars and tell the future and thought that such talent should not be wasted. The prisoner was summoned to the palace."

Jungkook could not read the stars, so what did that story have to do with him?

"He was made advisor of the king, the closest man to the royal family, and lived a life of riches and comfort. He could neither read the stars nor predict the future, but he still knew about everything that went on in the kingdom and beyond."

The prince had lied for a prisoner. Was that possible? What kind of man must one be to be saved by a prince?

"Do you know why the prince decided to deceive the king and the royal court for this one prisoner?" the strange man asked him, but Jungkook could only shake his head in nescience. "Because he was valuable."

The shorthaired looked at Jungkook silently, only his catlike eyes gleamed with the light of the lantern. "Are you valuable?"

Jungkook did not know what to answer to that. A voice in his chest screamed no, but he could not say that, or his life would be over. Moreover, his brain would not accept to be degraded to dirt under this man's soles. If nothing else, he was a martial arts master. If nothing else, he could fight.

"Do you know what it means to work for the king?" the man asked him now, leaning back as if he was beginning to feel comfortable.

Jungkook shook his head again.

"It means to take all the hatred in his stead, so that he can be loved and praised by the people," the shorthaired explained. "Can you do that, Jungkook?"

Jungkook's breath hitched at his name slipping over those thin lips. How did this man know of his identity? Did the princess betray him? Did she rat him out to this palace employee? Or did they find her and torture her?

"How do you know my name?" he asked shaken. But then he remembered the story and the prisoner who knew about everything inside and outside the kingdom. "You're the prisoner in that story," he concluded, unable to hide the fascination he felt for the man. Who was he?

But the palace employee only stood up and turned to leave. "Don't worry about the princess, Jungkook," the main said quietly. "How could we shed the blood of a truebone?" But then he turned back one last time. "What you should be asking yourself now is: do you want to be valuable?"

>><<

"Giving wings to tigers" = Chinese idiom that means giving something/someone which is already powerful something that makes it/them even more powerful/invincible

truebone = Silla word for royal blood, if one can trust the Hwarang drama series