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Taehyung was allowed to stay in the castle until his back had healed, visited only by his brother (occasionally, before he was caught) and a healer. Once the cuts on his back had closed, leaving two ragged scars in their place, he was given enough food to last him a week and cast out. Kim Taehyung the Prince of the Hawks became Taehyung the Wingless Urchin.
He couldn't stay in the city long, because people knew him there and knew what he had apparently done, and he was treated even worse than before. No one would talk to him, though plenty would stare. It would take a while to get used to the long, hard stares full of judgement and curiosity. For a while, he didn't think he'd ever get used to them—but he did, or at least learnt to ignore them.
Once the city wasn't an option, he was forced to venture outside. He left the city, making the long trek down the mountains with half a week's food and fresh scars on his back that ached with too much movement. He managed to stretch the food to a full week and a half but that still didn't get him down the mountains completely. Each day was just one long trek, desperately wish it would end. Exhausted and starving, he was sure he was going to die there. Sometimes he wished he would.
Birds flew above him, making the trek with ease as he struggled to adjust to the travel on foot. Adjusting to have no wings was hard—near impossible. Sometimes, he could still feel the ghosts of them there, fluttering idly at his back. But they were gone now. His hawk heritage had been ripped from him, taken from him by the raven king's uncle. And for what reason?
Sometimes, Taehyung thinks the only thing that kept him going was the burning hatred he felt. It bubbled inside of him like a volcano, waiting for its chance to erupt. He spent his nights, as he tried to fall asleep, coming up with the many different ways he could exact his revenge. The speckle bearded male would lose his wings, that's for sure. Taehyung would make sure he felt that same pain, and stayed alive long enough to feel it. Maybe, he would keep him alive, constantly suffering like he was now. Or maybe the sight of him would cause so much rage, he would just kill him where he stood. He would hone what little magic he had left, perfect it until he would be able to fight that man.
Then, he would make him pay.
Eventually, even anger grew exhausting. Taehyung had barely even made it to the next village, but he had long since run out of food. He had stuck to eating mountain berries, unsure whether they were edible or not but not caring either way. He was starving and wasn't afraid of death anymore. Certain it was coming from him, he'd come to accept it—he probably would die on the mountain, but at least he wouldn't have to suffer anymore.
One morning, he woke certain that that time had come. The sun glared down at him through the crevice he had found and he barely had the energy to get up. He lay there for half the day, not moving, barely conscious. Time passed strangely, sometimes feeling as though hours had passed, sometimes minutes or seconds. He wasn't quite sure how long he had laid there, but at some point during the day, a shadow came. It hovered over him like death, sapping away the heat, and it picked him up. Death had finally come for him, carrying him down the mountain and into the afterlife.
