"This odd slit, is it how it is supposed to be?" poking his finger in the box-like hole on the plackart that he holds in is hand, Taehyung mutters to his reflection in the mirror almost absentmindedly, whilst his legs are being clad firmly into grieves.
"Oh, this is the gateway of how it is supposed to be." apathetic mumble reverberated, making Taehyung look down at Sir Yoongi who squats by his feet buckling the grieve of the other leg now.
Dusting his hands he gets up to face the prince who hands him the plakart he was holding. Although the younger looks at him, his vision seems to be focused somewhere far, somewhere distant.
He tapped his knuckle on the boy's forehead simulating knocking on a door and managed to crack a chuckle from him.
There has always been an unsaid exchange of respect between the two. Jin and Yoongi have shared something much benevolent with Taehyung than anyone else having witnessed him grow into the man he is today.
Before becoming this radiating semblance of authority and power, Sir Yoongi was just a boy. Master Yoongi, the son of the General who during the events of the kingdom was occasionally given the responsibility of babysitting the shy little royal who was renowned to get himself lost amongst the crowd.
Like all those times when an adolescent Yoongi stood on the balcony of the marathon ground watching his father conquer horse-races, his hand always wrapped around a small one belonging to a disinterested little prince Taehyung who only agreed for such events on the promise of master Yoongi taking him to the library later.
"Remember that time when you started sobbing merely because I refused to address you by your name?" a gentle smile adorned his face as he took the plackart from the other's hand and placed it on the chair nearby.
It was a demure attempt to lighten his nerves and for the currently jumpy royal who had his limbs shivering in anticipation and droplets of of sweat representing his jitter dewing above his upperlip, it was an attempt very much accounted.
"I sobbed ten times more in my chambers speculating that maybe you weren't fond of me. I wasn't aware of the commands then."
"You mean the witch's orders?" as his smile widened a display of coral gingiva suddenly took Taehyung ten years back when this big gummy smile used to sneak into his chamber with an amateur tasting cheesecake, that Seokjin was learning to prepare, whenever he was admonished or insulted for no reason.
Taehyung instantly found himself relaxing by the embellished conversation. Not completely but at a moment like this, even a shoe-step counted. He was appreciative.
They were in the preparatory chamber, a place uncharted in Taehyung's thesaurus having never remotely dealt with anything abutting a 'fight'.
Sir Yoongi was the one he had chosen to dress and escort him since Jongha was supposed to be the first prince today, not the trainer or the brother.
"Everything shall fall into a good place, your highness. He who trusts himself, needs no wings to rise." his eyes hold a affirmation that nobody except him could have confered to Taehyung.
With a silent nod Taehyung extended his understanding, that had Yoongi sighing and strolling to the chair. Bending, he pulled out a little carrybag from under it and walked back.
"Take off your shirt" he said nonchalantly.
"My shirt? Am I not supposed to be wearing it underneath the breastplate and lance rest?"
"Yes you are. Now take it off."
He would've questioned more or atleast hesitated a little if he didn't have his feet shaking above the ground; or was it the ground shaking beneath his feet? He was so out, he couldn't even tell.
YOU ARE READING
The Theft (taekook)
FanfictionJeon Jungkook, the most sly thief of the town, isn't conscious about his ugly half burnt face anymore just accepting that nobody would look beyond it to stay in his life and love him. He plans for the biggest theft of his life. That being one of th...
