PERFIDY || Taekook

Orphic

"Your Majesty," The soldier starts, his eyes wide. "The concubines are under attack."
Jeongguk's face darkens, his sharp jaw tightening as his hands clutch the reins so tightly that his knuckles blanch. A low growl rumbles from deep in his chest, barely audible over the howling winds. Eodun mirrors the king's unease, letting out a sharp snort as it paws at the ground, eager to spring into action.

"How many?" Jeongguk's voice is cold and steady, but his piercing gaze cuts through the soldier like a blade.

The soldier swallows hard, his throat bobbing nervously. "Four attackers, Your Majesty. Armed. They emerged from the forest's edge and intercepted the concubine's celebrations."
"Casualties?" His tone is clipped, his mind already devising a strategy.

"Two soldiers, Your Majesty," The alpha soldier breathes out, "The soldiers with the concubines are holding them off, but the attackers appear to be well-trained."

Jeongguk's jaw clenches. Whoever orchestrated this wasn't trying to disrupt the celebration — they were trying to send a message. A bold, reckless challenge to his rule, and Jeongguk would not let it go unanswered.
Without another word, Jeongguk digs his heels into Eodun's sides. The horse responds instantly, surging forward with a burst of speed. The wind lashes against his face, carrying the acrid scent of rain and the faint metallic tang of blood. His soldiers follow close behind, their weapons clinking softly as they ready themselves for battle.

As they approach the forest, the sounds of the conflict grow cleared — shouts, the clash of steel, and the terrified screams of the concubines. Jeongguk pulls Eodun to a stop at the edge of the trees, his sharp eyes scanning the scene ahead.

One of the carriages he has ordered to line up in waiting for the concubines lies overturned, its wooden frame splintered and its wheels broken. Several concubines huddle beneath it, their colorful hanboks drenched and muddied, their faces pale with fear.

Jeongguk raises his hand, signaling for his soldiers to fan out and prepare to engage. "Every single concubine should return to the palace safely, if not, you will be held responsible." Jeongguk growls, his voice low but filled with a commanding fury.

He draws his sword with a flick of his wrist, the polished blade gleaming even in the storm's dim light. Eodun rears up on his hind legs, letting out a powerful neigh as Jeongguk charges into the fray, his soldiers following close behind.

—

Taehyung's heart is pounding against his chest loudly as he stands, confused, between omegas who are trying to flee. The omegas' screams are ear piercing as they start running in different directions after one of the soldiers has dropped dead by a sword nobody saw coming. Nobody has taken notice of who suddenly sliced the throat of the now deceased soldier as they were covering their faces, but the sound of the soldier's struggles was enough to break havoc into the celebration and cause everyone to try and flee for their life as a battle breaks out between the attackers and the soldiers.

The clashing of swords is way too loud. Despite it being only four attackers, the soldiers were still struggling to put an end to the terror. The soldiers are the ones who keep ending up injured, while the masked strangers are untouchable, uncaring of who their swords come in contact with.

Taehyung's breath comes in short, frantic gasps as he watches the chaos unfold before him. The shouts of the attackers blend with the wails of the concubines, a cacophony of terror and violence. His body freezes for a moment, his mind struggling to comprehend the madness that has descended upon the peaceful gathering. The soldiers are trying, but they are overwhelmed by the viciousness of the attackers—trained, swift, and merciless.
A soldier stumbles past him, blood dripping from a deep gash on his arm. Taehyung's eyes widen, but before he can react, a loud scream rips through the air. His gaze shifts toward the sound, and he spots a familiar figure—a concubine, Haein, dressed in a pale pink hanbok, her hand clutching the bloodied side of her gown as she stumbles back toward the overturned carriage. Her face is contorted in pain and fear.