𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖚𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓: 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉

The throne room shimmered like a wounded lullaby.
Marble floors mirrored torchlight,
but the air was heavy with disdain.

Priests in gold-lined robes.
Advisors carved from old stone.
And voices-
sharp as scripture.

"A boy cannot command."
"A submissive creature cannot be King."
"Let him sing in silk, not speak in law."

And yet-
Taehyung sat.

Bare wrists resting on the throne's cold arms.
Lashes downcast,
but gaze unfazed.
Like moonlight resting on a blade.

He said nothing.

He did not explain,
did not defend.

He simply was-
draped in silver silence,
crowned in defiance.

Until-

The doors opened.

Slow. Ancient. Final.

And in stepped Jeon Jungkook.

The King of Iron Nights.
The shadow-draped tempest in black velvet and stormfire eyes.

He moved with thunder in his veins
and a smirk carved like sin on his lips.

He did not ask permission.
He did not greet the court.
He only walked-
to him.

The condemned Queen.
The boy they all feared would break the crown.

Taehyung did not look up.

Not until-

A shadow knelt.

The hall gasped-
a sound like glass shattering beneath velvet.

Jungkook bent low,
like prayer,
like gravity itself bowed with him.

Then he did what no one dared believe-

He took Taehyung's foot
-fragile, pale, sacred-
lifted it onto his knee...

And kissed it.

Not with hunger.
But with hush.
With worship.
With forever.

Then he pressed his forehead against it,
eyes closed, breath steady,
and whispered so only the boy on the throne could hear:

"My moon-blessed Swan..."

The room fell into a stillness
so deep it felt like snowfall on a battlefield.