Prince of Hearts

Chapter 18: Not Love

Author's note: Please be warned that this chapter contains depictions of death, dead bodies and gore (kinda?) 

[Y/N]

You knew the light would be out in less than an hour. Even now, the sun loomed over the horizon, reddening the sky. Once it was dark, there would be no hope of finding them again.

The hounds had been released. They sniffed among the tall grass, straining against their leashes. The trail led north, upstream along the river. The horses followed, trotting behind them, their riders tense as they held their swords up. Yours was the only sword that was sheathed, perhaps in a hope that it wouldn't come to a bloodbath.

"Footprints!" A cry arose. The frontline halted, followed by the rest of the men.

The rows parted in front of Jimin. You followed in his trail, aware of the sudden silence that had fallen.

"There was a fight." Jimin crouched down as he surveyed the marks on the ground where the grass had been trampled. His eyes followed the trail that led to the river.

"They were ambushed," you said,  feeling your skin prickle. "The attackers must have come from the river."

"Your Highness!" Jungkook called from ahead, hidden by the grass. "Take a look at this!"

The trail of bodies stretched beyond the horizon. It was almost like they were dragged there to be strewn around. Or as if they had run and their attackers had chased them down.

Some lay facedown, bleeding into the dirt. Some had arrows sticking out of their necks.

Jimin turned his eyes away from a corpse, wincing. "That's not the work of a sword."

The skull had been cracked open on that one, the face marred beyond recognition. The body was intact, but above the neck, it was a mess of blood and bone and hair.

"A mace," you muttered under your breath.

All around, the men were covering the corpses with the clothes they could find, carrying them to the clearing. You walked with Jimin and Jungkook, thankful that the sun had set. The dull grey of the twilight took the edge away from the bloody scene.

Jimin paused, inclining his head. "Lord Waymer."

The man lay on the ground, his white hair in the dust. His eyes were still wide open and a streak of blood ran from his mouth. His stomach was torn open with some kind of heavy blade. An axe, most likely. His guts spilt out of the hole, darkening the ground beneath him.

"What kind of beasts did that?" Jungkook said as he knelt by the body. "I would have said wolves if I didn't see the arrows on the others."

"Send messengers to the nearby villages," Jimin said as he walked ahead. "We should let their families know. Let's wait till dawn to bury them."

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[Jimin]

The gift of the dead, Jimin thought as he stared at the porcelain jug that rested on the table. It was black and glazed, adorned with golden paint. He lifted the lid, sniffing the contents. The aroma was a mixture of fruit and spice, along with the pungency of alcohol.

It had been a gift from the Waymers. Taking a taste of it struck him as something wrong. It was tainted. With death. With resentment.

Jimin replaced the lid, turning to his half-brother. He was sitting close to the fireplace, eyes fixed on the dance of the flames and the shadows.