Lord Of The Wolves

To Defy Is To Be Against History

"Should we allow this?" Namjoon's stance is nervous, folded arms tensing as he fixates on the unfolding battle before them.

"The Prince has spoken," The King retorts, as if it were the the most sensible reason to provide. He is perched atop a fancier seat, showered with tantalising golds and silvers, lined with proud rubies around the blinking edges. His face is stern, but the gleam in his eyes carry more than a disapproving grimace –far from what the princes' anticipated. 

"As royalty, you have to initiate more than what you're meant to do. I believe Jungkook's declaration is deserving of an applause for doing exactly that."

Seokjin supposes too, but he is still as unsure. Many crowd may cheer the young man's name now, but the scrutinising eyes of their foes would never disappear. The wicked ones are always watching. They do no disappoint, firmly committed to writing out the interesting turn of events and twisting the phrases for the thrill of a commendable slander. It won't be a surprise, if Jungkook came across the same predicament.  The circumstances are dire and if the outcomes do not deliver well - if Jungkook fails this, a dreadful consequence will await them.

"What if this hurts him more? If this bites us in the ass, what then?"

The King only smiles, a lenient stare to bear on his vague expressions, "It's a risk every great ruler should dare for. He's testing his own strengths and proving his credibility – inspiring his self is an admirable feat, but to elicit this much support from the public? Don't you think Jungkook is doing more than an act of bravery?"

"The Master's right," Sejin adds, inching his chin to point to the prince himself, posture straight and adamant, "Your brother is making a statement. You don't often see an omega prince claiming control over the situation. Just look at what he's painting to us."

They marvel at the prince's creation, glued to the fascinating display of magic —icy valleys standing tall and pulling daggers, bridled by cold. It's embellished by the chilly winter bliss, whetting ghostly peaks and rushing upwards to the Sun's keeking rays. The lurid lines light up the icicles, reflecting the presence of a brightening afternoon, of an ending rainfall. They're inscribing a story of their own, colouring the frosty waves and performing a spellbinding spectacle, as if roaring about Jungkook's untamed power.

It was a sight to treasure – one deserving of a space in the many history books to come. This was a moment of redress –a reset, an ominous provocation that had stupefied both foes and onlookers alike.

"Behold," Master Bang says, a smidgen of unfiltered confidence to go along his blithe tone, "This is your King."

-

Jungkook is equipped with a double-edged sword, its blades are made of smoothened ice, the handle short but firm in his grasp.

"Two against one?" His arms are damped, the mix of sweat and rain sticking close to his skin. "Seems like a fair fight."

Jimin lurks behind shoulders, sprinting fast to attack from behind. He swiftly makes a turn and block the offending splash of water, slashing a shallow cut on Jimin's shin as he floats above him, wounding the older with only the flick of his sword.

"Evidently so," Jimin huffs, landing on top of a curbed platform. The sea-like crests are tough, but they're slippery too. It hinders most of his movements, decreasing his speed and agile kicks.