Royally Yours (Jikook AU📱📲)

17

Jimin’s body moved with the music, each gesture precise yet flowing like water, every step and turn commanding the stage. The silk fabric of his outfit swirled around him, catching the dim spotlight and turning his movements into a dance of light and shadow. His face, calm yet intense, conveyed emotions deeper than words could capture.

As the final notes of the piano faded, Jimin held his last pose in the center of the stage—one arm extended gracefully toward the ceiling, the other lightly resting on his side, fingers trembling ever so slightly from the exertion and emotion of the performance. His head tilted just enough for the soft light to catch the sharp, commanding gaze in his eyes.

Then, with a deliberate, flowing motion, he bent into a low, sweeping bow, his body following the rhythm of a silent drum in his heart. The silk around him fanned like a cloud of smoke as he rose slowly, head still lowered, before finally looking up and straightening—eyes meeting the gaze of the crowd for just a heartbeat.

The ballroom fell silent for a brief, awe-struck moment. Every aristocrat, noble, and guest present felt the power, elegance, and raw emotion that radiated from the young slave dancer.

Even Jungkook, who had been barely paying attention to the prior acts, felt his heart hitch. His eyes fixed on the graceful figure, following every line of his movements, every subtle shift of balance, every controlled breath.

The applause erupted—slowly at first, then swelling into a roaring wave that echoed off the gilded walls. But for Jungkook, it was as if the noise around him melted away, leaving only the dancer in the center of the stage.

---

Greeting the emperor and the crown prince, Jimin slowly walked out from the ballroom. His breathing was steadying, but his chest still fluttered from the adrenaline. He peeked back to see the reactions of the aristocrats.

'huff They look satisfied,' he thought to himself, trying to calm the lingering nerves.

“WAHH! Jimin! It was perfect!” Jhope hopped onto him from behind, ruffling his hair with a wide, bright smile.

Jihyo approached as well, brushing a stray lock of hair from Jimin’s face. Other performers who had come to the palace for the celebration gathered around, praising his performance.

“I missed one step, though. I got nervous at one point,” Jimin confessed quietly.

Jhope immediately cut him off, shaking his head. “You are too hard on yourself! Didn’t you hear the claps? Do you think the high-class people would cheer if it was bad?”

“He is right, Jimin. You did great!” Jihyo added, smiling warmly. The others echoed their agreement, making the dancer blush despite himself.

Jimin felt a fleeting sense of happiness. Everything around him—the grand ballroom, the cheering audience, the lights, the music—felt surreal. For a moment, he could forget the chains of his life, the reality of being a slave.

But the perfectionist in him still wished he could have been better. Little did he know, the crown prince of Seoulvenia, sitting on his throne, was captivated—jaw dropped, eyes fixed, utterly mesmerized.

---

The emperor rose, clearing his throat, and gestured toward Jimin.

“Such a... competent display from a young… performer. Not bad for a slave, I suppose. One might almost forget their place for a moment, seeing such a show,” the emperor said, his tone demeaning yet polite.

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed. The words grated against him like nails on a board. He stood abruptly, the guards shifting nervously at his motion.

“Father,” Jungkook interrupted smoothly, his voice calm but carrying a quiet authority that drew the entire ballroom’s attention, “I think you’ll find his place is exactly where he belongs—right here, in the spotlight. Not just tolerated, not just for amusement, but admired.”

A hush fell over the ballroom. Nobles and aristocrats shifted uncomfortably. Even some guards stiffened, unsure whether the crown prince’s rebellion would extend further.

The emperor’s brow furrowed, but he chose to let it slide, rolling his eyes in mild exasperation—the usual reaction to Jungkook’s rebellious interjections.

Without a word, Jungkook stepped forward and reached into the folds of his ceremonial robe, producing two small leather bags. He tossed them deliberately toward Jimin, the gold coins spilling across the polished floor near and around the young dancer’s feet.

Jimin’s eyes widened in surprise and a small blush rose on his cheeks. Humiliation flickered across his features—he was a slave, after all, and this was not a common courtesy. Yet he quickly composed himself, kneeling slightly to gather the scattered coins.

“Th-thank you, Your Highness,” Jimin said politely, keeping his head low as he carefully collected each coin.

Jungkook’s gaze never wavered. He watched Jimin’s delicate, soft hands, the way his fingers brushed over the shining coins, his hair falling in gentle waves around his face. He longed to fix the stray strands, to smooth them from the dancer’s brow, but restrained himself, the heat of curiosity and admiration growing within him.

Jimin, aware that someone was observing him, instinctively tried to glance up. He wanted to catch a glimpse of the crown prince’s expression—what kind of crooked, satisfied look he must have worn to watch a slave pick up gold coins—but the dancer controlled his urge, forcing his eyes to the floor as he finished collecting the coins.

As he straightened and stepped back, Jungkook felt a pang in his chest—something unfamiliar, a pull he could not name.

---

Behind the stage, Jimin’s friends continued their teasing and light-hearted ribbing.

“Pffft! You think you missed a step? You stole the show!” Hoseok laughed, punching Jimin lightly on the shoulder.

Jihyo smirked, “Yeah, you had everyone mesmerized. Even the nobles are still talking about your grace.”

Jhope leaned in, whispering conspiratorially, “I swear I saw His Highness staring at you for longer than anyone else. The crown prince, Jimin!”

Jimin’s cheeks heated at the remark. “You’re exaggerating,” he murmured, shaking his head.

Hoseok rolled his eyes, nudging him. “Am I? The way he was watching… it wasn’t normal. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

Jimin opened his mouth to respond but stopped. He couldn’t deny it; there had been something… different about the way Jungkook’s gaze lingered.

Meanwhile, across the ballroom, Namjoon observed the crown prince. His sharp eyes noticed the subtle shift in Jungkook’s demeanor as he watched Jimin. A frown creased his brow, unease curling in his chest. Something about Jungkook’s focus—something unusual, uncharacteristic—did not sit right with him.

---

As Jimin retreated into the backstage shadows, the applause still echoing behind him, Jungkook’s mind remained fixed on the dancer. The room could be filled with nobles, music, and celebration, but for the crown prince, the world had narrowed to the image of Jimin—the grace, the skill, the unexpected command in his sharp, commanding gaze.

The next thing Jungkook saw made his chest tighten in a way he had never experienced before…