AN: Not long compared to the previous chapter, but I think I got out everything I wanted to in this scene.

Don't be a silent reader! Comment! I'm an active replier!

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Yoongi glanced at the numbers on the sheet of parchment that Yesung handed him without really seeing them. He nodded absently and passed it back, waving the former handler away with a flick of his wrist. The older man didn't move, however.

"Sir, have you eaten?" The officer glanced at the untouched platter that sat neglected on the tiny table Yoongi had set up in his tent. The general's eyes wandered to the dish and he shrugged. It was just simple fair - a chunk of thick bread, some cheese, and a small bowl of stew that had been thrown together by some of the other officers.

"You can have it. Or give it to one of the Exers; they need it more than I do."

The general stood from the stool he'd been sitting on and made a move to grab the tray in order to hand it to Yesung. The older man shook his head and clasped both his hand behind his back, wrinkling the paper he'd been holding.

"You need your strength, too." Yesung raised an eyebrow when Yoongi pushed the platter against the officer's stomach in an attempt to get him to take it. "We made plenty for the Exers. You should eat that."

Irritated, Yoongi put the plate back onto his table and flopped himself down onto his cot. "Any word from the others?"

His ploy to change the topic seemed to have worked as Yesung sighed and attempted to straighten the crinkled paper.

"If you'd just read the damn report I wrote, you'd know," he grumbled, but continued regardless. "We've received runners from Siwon and Donghae. They've combined and are taking their group East before cutting South."

"How many?" Yoongi threw his arm over his eyes, blocking out the lantern light that illuminated the canvas walls of his tent.

"Three hundred and twelve Exers, plus a hundred of our own."

"Who else have we heard from?" The general licked his lips, grimacing at how chapped they were. He sat up and reached for his canteen, taking a long swig. The water hit his empty stomach, making him feel an uncomfortable wave of nausea.

"Bogum. He and a group of our insiders managed to empty at least two thirds of the non-combatants left in the Slave Quarter. Over six hundred Exers."

"How many?" Yoongi pressed, rubbing at his blurry eyes before peering up at Yesung. He liked having exact numbers.

Yesung bit his lip and scanned his paper. "Six hundred and eight. Bogum reports that they've split up just outside Seongnam to keep suspicions down. He has two hundred and seventy-six with him, plus fifty of ours. Chanyeol took a hundred, and the rest went with..." He paused and traced the words with his index finger. "Baekhyun?"

Yoongi frowned, trying to recall the name. It was getting more difficult to concentrate the longer he went without eating, but he couldn't stomach the thought of putting food into his mouth. "I don't know them."

"They're insiders. Donghae recommended them."

The general nodded a little, his memory jogged. His head felt a bit fuzzy but he shook it off. "Right. Anyone else?"

Yesung shook his head. "Not yet. It's only been three days, though. I'm sure the others will send word, soon."

There was a pause as Yoongi stared at the wall of his tent. "Nothing from Hoseok?"

His aide de camp shook his head slowly. "General Jung was supposed to take his group out the Merchant Gate. Siwon went that way, too, but said he never saw him."

Yoongi closed his eyes briefly before nodding his understanding. As much as he tried to hide the pinched expression that adorned his face, he knew Yesung must have noticed.

"Siwon didn't see any of General Jung's troops, either. I'm sure they just had to find a different route." The ex-handler's tone was upbeat, but Yoongi could still hear the doubt that laced itself into the older man's words.

There were always casualties in war; they would never really know how many were lost in the attack. Until they heard from the younger general, or Yoongi saw him in person, there was no way of knowing if he'd survived. Mental images of Hoseok laying cold and stiff tried to invade Yoongi's mind but he pushed them firmly away. He'd already lost one best friend; he refused to accept that he'd lost both of them.

"You're dismissed," Yoongi muttered when he realized that his aide was still standing expectantly by the tent flaps.

"Alright, but you need to eat. I'll be back in an hour to get your plate, and it had better be empty or, so help me, I'll shove it down your throat myself." Yesung bowed slightly before slipping from the tent.

Yoongi promptly ignored the food, letting himself fall back onto the cot once more. He rolled onto his side so he wouldn't have to look at the platter, choosing instead to continue his passive staring contest with the tent's wall.

The number of slaves they'd managed to extradite was truly mind-boggling. In the chaotic panic caused by the resistance's attack, dispatching gate guards and driving out hundreds of people had been easier than they'd imagined. As each contingent was led by an officer with silver hair, onlookers would have assumed that it was nobles fleeing, and taking their property with them. No one looked twice at Yoongi's group; he suspected it would have been the same with the others.

It was a big victory for them but Yoongi couldn't bring himself to feel even a sliver of happiness at having accomplished what they'd set out to do.

Not when it had cost him Song.

He shouldn't have brought her. Lord Jeongguk's orders be damned, he should have found a way to leave her behind. At the very least, he shouldn't have brought her out to the parade. If she'd just stayed safely back at the Jeon's city estate, she never would have ended up out on that street.

He had replayed the scene over and again in his head. Despite how much he wanted to banish the image from his mind, it remained. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her hit the ground, speared like a boar on a pike.

Pulling the pillow out from under his head, the general hugged it to his body. He could still smell her on it. Burying his face in the soft feathery cushion, he inhaled, commanding the scent to memory. A stinging sensation started to prick at his eyes and it took a conscious effort to push back the threatening moisture. He hadn't cried yet, and he had no intention of doing so, even in the privacy of his tent.

Song would have teased him incessantly if she'd caught him crying. He could imagine it clearly. She would squish his cheeks and tell him if he was going to blubber away uselessly, she'd call the nursemaid to change his nappy.

With an angry growl, he sat up and flung the pillow across the tent, right into the face of a boy standing in his doorway. It hit him with a soft fwumph, eliciting a startled yelp.

"I-I'm sorry!" The younger hit the ground on hands and knees, touching his forehead to the dirty floor. "Lord Yesung sent me. He said to just... just go in."

Yoongi tilted his head, brows furrowed, as a tingle ran up his spine. He hadn't known anyone was standing there; he was merely throwing his pillow to try to release some of his pent-up emotions. With a long-suffered sigh, the general pushed himself to his feet and stepped over to the boy, inspecting him with half-lidded eyes.

He was an Exer, a few years younger than himself if Yoongi guessed correctly. He was dressed in the typical garb of a city slave: loose linen shirt and pants, and a pair of well-worn shoes. His mop of black hair curled oddly at the ends, making Yoongi suspect that if he grew it long, it would be wavy. There was a prickle of recognition chewing at the back of Yoongi's mind.

"Get up."

The boy stood slowly, keeping his head bowed respectfully. His hands, though, were shaking slightly as he balled them around the hem of his shirt.

Lips pressed thin, Yoongi reached out and put a finger under the younger's chin, lifting his face. He was met with the wide, gray eyes of the lad that had been trying to save his brother. What was it Donghae had called him? Tae?

"What are you doing in my tent?" Yoongi questioned gently, dropping his hand. The boy seemed nervous enough as it was without being touched or spoken to harshly.

"Forgive me, m'lord. I was sent to... uhm..." Tae hesitated, eyes flicking toward the small table where the tray of food sat. "Lord Yesung said to make sure you ate."

The last bit was mumbled, the boy's head dropping down again as he stared resolutely at the floor. Yoongi resisted the urge to growl, running a hand through his silvery locks in frustration. Of course, Yesung was behind it. The man was a great assistant, but he was annoyingly persistent when it came to Yoongi taking care of himself. He should have realized the older man wasn't going to leave it be.

"I can manage without an audience," the general replied dryly. "Get out."

Tae, however, didn't move. "Forgive me, m'lord, but I was ordered to stay. I can't leave until you eat."

Yoongi's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yesung is my subordinate. My order overrides his."

Tae licked his lips before pulling the bottom one between his teeth. He swayed a little before shaking his head. "M'lord told us that we're- we're free now?"

Irritation began crawling up Yoongi's spine like a cockroach up a wall. "Yes, of course." Yoongi had made the announcement to the bewildered and frightened Exers as soon as they were out of the city. Not every slave they'd grabbed had been aware that it was a bid for freedom and not just some inter-noble feud that had fueled the mass kidnapping.

"Then if I'm free..." He paused and chanced a glance up at Yoongi. The older nodded impatiently. "Then I can follow whoever's orders I want. And I chose to follow Lord Yesung's."

The sheer cheekiness of the comment slapped Yoongi upside the head. He stared at the younger for couple breaths before frowning. "Fair enough," he grumbled begrudgingly. "But you're wasting your time. I'm not going to eat that."

Yoongi turned away from Tae and returned to his cot, sitting on the edge. He stared at the opposite wall, doing his best to pointedly ignore the young man.

"Why not?"

Yoongi glanced over at the other. "I'm not hungry." The general eyed the boy's lean form. "You can eat it."

"I don't want it." Tae edged himself further into the tent by a couple steps. "You need to eat it. He said-" The younger cut himself off and gnawed on his lip. "He said you needed to eat it."

A frown twitched the general's brows together as Tae's verbal stumble was not lost on him. "What did Yesung say?"

"That you needed to eat it," Tae responded quickly. Too quickly, if Yoongi had to hazard a guess. There was information he didn't have that the ex-slave was trying to not tell him. He eyed the food on the platter suspiciously, mind rolling through the possibilities.

He eliminated the chance that it was poisoned. Aside from trusting Yesung completely, the older officer had accidentally spilled some of the stew onto his hand when he'd brought the tray in. Yoongi distinctly remembered seeing Yesung lick the broth from his fingers, making a big show of how tasty it was in an effort to get the general to eat it. The same reasoning removed 'drugged' from the potential reasons.

It took him only a few seconds to decide there was nothing wrong with the food, itself. So that meant that Tae had another reason for choosing to side with Yesung.

"What did he promise you?"

The ex-slave had the audacity to look surprised. "Promise me, m'lord?" His eyes widened, lips turning down at the corners ever so slightly.

Yoongi knew that expression. Song would use it on him when she was trying to get away with something. Tae's face had enough similarities to the girl that the general had to look away as painful memories started to trigger again.

"Stop calling me that," he ordered in an attempt to mask his discomfort.

It was Tae's turn to look uncomfortable. Yoongi watched from the corner of his eye as the younger twiddled with his fingers. "I'm sorry, m'lord," the boy murmured after a few more fidgets. "I might be... free now, but you're still a lord and I'm still... not."

"I'm a general," Yoongi corrected.

"Should I call you sir?"

"You should call me Yoongi." The older stood from his cot and ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back from his forehead for a moment while he regarded the stubborn young man with narrowed eyes. "You're Tae, right?"

Tae nodded slowly. "Kim Taehyung." He took another small step toward the tray of food but didn't take his eyes off Yoongi's face. "I'm from-" He cut himself off with a shake of his head. "Was from the Jang Jiseok pens." He touched the raised flesh of his forearm brand. "Number Nine-two-fo-"

Yoongi interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "I don't care what your number was. Taehyung will suffice."

They lapsed into silence as the Exer took another step closer to the food. Yoongi wondered if he was going to attempt to force him to eat it. Even weakened by not eating, Yoongi doubted the younger would be able to do so. He seemed a little shaky on his feet; not uncommon for someone who had spent their life as a slave. He was probably undernourished.

When Tae reached the tray, he stared down at the stew before picking up the spoon and giving the thick substance a stir. "It'll get cold," he told the older quietly.

"I don't really care."

"Why won't you eat?" Tae glanced up from the food and Yoongi found himself quickly averting his gaze. Tae's eyes were not exactly the same shade as Song's, but they were close. Song's had been lighter, like storm clouds. Tae's were more like a slab of dark slate. In a land where gray eyes of any sort were abnormal, though, the resemblance was close enough to be disconcerting.

The silence returned, slowly growing until the tent felt suffocated by it. Tae moved back into his line of sight and ducked his head slightly to try to catch Yoongi's eyes. The general evaded the efforts, though, sitting back on the side of the cot. He rested his forearms on his thighs, letting his long fingers dangle between his knees. It was on those fingers he fixed his gaze.

"You can't look at me." It came out as a whisper from the younger. "The girl with eyes like mine. That's it, isn't it?" It was asked so quietly that Yoongi almost didn't hear it, as if Tae was talking to himself.

Worn shoes appeared in Yoongi's vision before disappearing. To Yoongi's surprise, a second weight was dropped onto his cot as Tae sat down. Arms wrapped carefully around him from the side, pulling him into a hesitant embrace. Yoongi's head fell unbidden onto Taehyung's shoulder.

"What are you-"

Tae's soft, deep voice rumbled in his ear. "Whenever I was sad, Jin would hold me like this."

"What-"

Tae cut him off again. "I miss my brother." The young man took a shaky breath. "If you eat, Lord Yesung said he would try to contact Donghae, see if he was able to..." Tae swallowed heavily. "To get Jin out."

Yoongi couldn't see Taehyung's face from his position but he could hear the strain in the other's voice, like the younger was trying to hold back tears of his own.

"I understand how you feel," Tae continued, his voice hitching slightly. "It hurts." The arms tightened. "It hurts so much."

Yoongi closed his eyes, taking a deep breath that was shakier than he'd intended it to be. Slowly, not sure if he should, he turned slightly to return the hug, wrapping his arms around the other's thin torso.

Normally, Yoongi was not an overly touchy person. He would sometimes catch himself being handsy with Song, but that had been rare. In a different situation, he never would have allowed himself to sit in one place, in a prolonged hug, with someone he didn't know. But, for some bizarre reason, it was helping.

He could feel the ache in his chest lessen a fraction as the sting returned to his eyes. Fisting his hands in the back of Tae's shirt, he buried his face in the other's neck and tightened his arms, clinging to the younger as if his life depended on it.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, hating how weak he sounded but not being able to help the way his voice cracked. "I couldn't-" He cut himself off, not wanting to give the other empty excuses. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"I am, too," Taehyung replied, his voice choked by emotion. "Whoever she was, you must have loved her very much to hurt like this."

Yoongi opened his mouth to deny it but nothing came out. His mind flipped through so many memories from the last year, and from even longer before that when Song had first shown up on the Jeon lands, a lost, skinny run-away with equal parts fear and ferocity. Her laugh. Her smile. The way she'd roll her eyes at him whenever he tried to joke about love.

With the force of a bursting dam, a sob shoved its way up his throat and out of his lips. And once it escaped, Yoongi couldn't stop more from following because, deep down, he realized that Taehyung was right. He had loved her - truly loved her - and now it was too late.