PERFIDY || Taekook

Psithurism

Taehyung barely has time to react before the weight of the alpha collapses against him. His arms instinctively tighten around Jeongguk's body, his muscles straining as he struggles to keep him upright. The sheer difference in strength between them is humiliating—Taehyung hates how his body nearly buckles under the king's weight, hates how Jeongguk's breath ghosts over his collarbones, hot and uneven, making his skin prickle with something strange.

Jeongguk's warm breath, contrasting the cold night air, tickles Taehyung's skin, causing goosebumps to rise all over his body. The omega's chest rises and falls gently with every exhale, his body still frozen in place, startled, yet making sure Jeongguk's body does not meet the ground abruptly.

He should drop him.

He should let him fall to the ground, let the cold night seep into his fevered skin, let the guards find their precious king in the dirt where he belongs.

And yet—

His grip tightens.

With gentleness foreign to the omega himself, Taehyung lowers the alpha against the grass of his garden slowly — a frown etched to his features, his head slightly tilted to catch a glimpse of the alpha's face. His usually sharp, intense eyes are shut, his long lashes casting delicate shadows over his pale skin. His jaw is tense, his lips slightly parted as if struggling to find breath even in unconsciousness.

His hands shake slightly as he gently pushes Jeongguk's hair back from his damp forehead. Even now, even in unconsciousness, the alpha radiates an undeniable presence—commanding, intimidating, yet... vulnerable in a way Taehyung has never seen before.

A scent has lured Taehyung out of the concubines' wing and into the king's garden earlier. He does not remember the exact moment his nose has caught the scent, nor does he remember how his body bolted out of the wing as soon as he had smelled it. But he remembers the scent clearly. It was so familiar that it had his body moving as if it was some kind of muscle memory. The scent has led him over to Jeongguk's garden, and it faded right there. The scent can no longer be detected further. Taehyung's legs had given up the moment he could no longer find it in the air, his whole body collapsing with disappointment.

Taehyung stares down at Jeongguk, his breath uneven as his mind races to make sense of everything. The moon casts its silver glow upon them, illuminating the sharp contrast between Jeongguk's dark hanbok and the soft grass beneath him. The alpha is utterly still, save for the erratic rise and fall of his chest.

The scent.

Cardamom.

It had wrapped around Taehyung like a whisper from the past, pulling at something deep within him—something instinctual. He had followed it before he could even question why, his body acting on a reflex he did not know he possessed.

And now, here he is, kneeling beside the unconscious king, his fingers still ghosting over Jeongguk's forehead.

Taehyung swallows, his throat tight. The alpha looks different like this—less like the ruthless monarch feared by many, and more like a man consumed by something beyond his control. He has seen Jeongguk in many states before—fury burning in his red eyes, the quiet menace in his every step—but never like this. Never so unguarded.

Taehyung shifts, his fingers brushing against the side of Jeongguk's face. He barely notices the way his own hands tremble.

Why did he come here? Why did the scent vanish the moment he arrived?

His nose twitches as he inhales again, but there is nothing—only Jeongguk's burning wood scent, the crisp night air, and a subtle hint of a foreign scent that he has never smelt before.