golden ashes

by donateblood

Summary:

The king’s expression is cruelly uncaring, and the seeping chill of hopelessness is brittle and sharp, almost as cutting as the king's sneer before he nods briskly at the guard beside him. The hard-faced man doesn't hesitate before he seizes Jungkook's arm in a bruising grip and yanks him forward just in time for the king to step lazily forward and slam his wrought iron scepter against Jungkook's side. His ribs scream with it, breathless burning agony blooming as he cries out and collapses to the ground, the guard's fingers still harshly gripping his limp arm, biting into it painfully and keeping him halfway kneeling. And the tears have spilled over, hot and fast, and Jungkook gasps and pants but the king's voice is cold and steady when he spits, "This straw will be gold by sunrise, or the village burns with you."

Jungkook’s head jerks up, horrified, but the guard roughly throws him to the ground, and the door is already slamming behind them when he rasps, “Wait!” He slams himself against the locked door, and his ribs ache with it as he shouts, “Wait, wait! I - I can’t, please-” Their footsteps fade too quickly, and they’re gone, and the threat looms in their absence, just space, time, and endless piles of straw.

There’s magic at the core of almost everything dark in the world, and rarely does it bring good. Once Jungkook's wracking sobs have dissolved into hitched breathing and silent hopeless tears, desperation starts setting in, and with his cheek pressed against the freezing stone floor and his body curled so tightly against the wall his muscles strain with it, he shoves down the panic sparking through him and makes himself consider what should never be an option: magic. Even though Jungkook had been young, just 6 years old when his mother passed away, he remembers distantly the stories she'd tell him, how the warnings were always cautioning that magic was dangerous and was not to be trifled with, not for anything. 

She'd have been horrified to find out that just 14 years after her death, the poverty-stricken orphanage that took in her son and raised him for her, the home he'd decided to work for even after he aged out of it himself, they had been starved and struggling and had been forced to make a terrible, impossible choice. When the cruel, greedy king had offered a ridiculous amount of gold in exchange for buying one of the staff members for four days, they'd been disgusted and frightened by the implications. But the king's page had sneered and shaken his head and clarified they needed someone with magic for work, and that in exchange, they'd cover food for the orphanage for a full month, all the food they could store and use. And the offer had been far too impossible and unfathomable to be turned down, and he and the other staff (all skipping meals for most of the week to feed the children, all aged out orphans who had grown up within these walls themselves) had debated furiously in hushed voices late into the evening about how and who and how. 

In the end, there was never the option of not allowing one of them to be bought, despite the page’s refusal to specify the work that needed to be done, but that didn’t matter greatly when the fact of it was that none of them had even the slightest trace of magic in their blood. What they did have was grit and endurance and the unwavering willingness to do anything necessary to sustain the parentless children left in their care, just as they’d been left once, every single one of them, on the crumbling, shabby steps of the orphanage they’ve dedicated themselves to. 

They know that in the past, those in employ of the palace have used their magic to work the fields faster than others, or to imbibe the food they cook with strengthening or rejuvenating properties, or to magically dry the laundry faster and get more done at once, but even if that’s what the castle is looking for, they’re all hard workers. Surely they can do their best to manage a difficult workload, try to be as fast or as thorough. Jungkook, resilient and selfless and brave, insists until they relent, that it be him that gets sold.

He’s terrified out of his mind, well aware the king’s reputation is being cruel and hard and uncaring, but while the others are orphans like him, some have other relatives in town, or across town, and two of them are in relationships, and he doesn’t have anyone to miss him should the king find him unsatisfactory and lock him away or - or worse. His heart races and his hands quake the entire path to the castle, wearing his softest shirt for additional comfort and with his hair respectfully tied up, brushing nervously away at wisps that hung over his eyes when he dropped his anxious gaze to the ground. 

The page or steward or whatever type of servant he was, who had been the one waiting for Jungkook when he stumbled and shivered at the castle gates, had been dismissive and uncaring when he’d led Jungkook steadily through a side door carved from fancy marble, through spotless gleaming hallways with ornate artifacts glimmering on the walls. The superfluous magnificence of it all had sparked a dull bitterness in Jungkook’s trembling shoulders, roiling beneath the terror sparking under his skin, because the village is threadbare and starving and patching the roof of the medical center with used straw, while every hallway in the castle is shining and decadent. The man leaves him in a small side room, bare and entirely empty, but still with elaborate, expensive wallpaper and plush carpeting so soft Jungkook wants to lay down in it. 

In the end, he’s only given ten minutes to crouch uncertainly and drag his shaky fingers anxiously through the soft rug before he’s jolting upright as the door bangs open loudly. The guards who stride in are heavily armored and have steel, unmoving expressions on their faces. He’s barely looked between them when without a word, they grab him roughly by the arms and begin yanking him towards the door. 

“Excuse me.” Jungkook manages, trying to match their strides even as their grip doesn’t loosen, and they ignore him. 

“Where are we going?” His voice trembles slightly, and the guards’ lips curl derisively but they don’t respond, yanking him along in silence. The corridors and hallways they turn are an endless maze, and he almost unbalances when they keep him tightly pinned between them on the stairs that transition from marble to stone, as the corridors get gradually colder, polished and carved rock as they make turns and walk in silence. When they eventually round a doorway and suddenly release him with a shove, he almost topples into the small room. It’s almost empty, a spinning wheel in a corner surrounded by piles of straw. The room is hallowed and dark, the only source of light a lantern and a small slit window the width of his arm. The door is a heavy, solid metal with an enormous latch, and a terrible fear sparks in him at the sight, a trepidation. He’s turning to ask the guards again when the king appears in the doorway. 

Jungkook supposes he cuts an impressive figure, with the regal clothing and the elaborate crown and the endless jewel-encrusted rings and necklaces and golden tassel cape, but to Jungkook, the display of such riches seems garish and disgusting, when the villages surrounding the palace can’t afford water several months out of the year, when the palace orphanages can’t afford bread most months. 

“This is the seventeenth one we’ve tried.” The king sighs impatiently at one of the guard as he gestures at Jungkook disdainfully, and Jungkook straightens hastily when the king strides up to approach him, gaze cold and voice dry and bored.

“Boy. You will remain in this room for the night, and spin the straw in that corner into gold by sunrise, or the guards will execute you at dawn and the orphanage will starve.”

Jungkook’s mouth goes dry, and the slam of horror is like a physical blow. “I can’t.” He breathes, shame and fear in his muted tone, but the king doesn’t react apart from a disdainful look as he and the guards turn and stride towards the doors. Jungkook scrambles up to follow. “No, no, w-wait.” He’d thought - he’d thought if it was cleaning, if it was work that needed to be done, or - this was magic, this was magic and his life hanging in the balance and the orphanage food and - “I’m sorry, I… I don’t have the power to-” 

“By sunrise.” The king snaps, and the door is slamming shut behind him and the guards immediately, and Jungkook throws himself forward. 

“Wait, please! I can’t, I - I don’t have that power, I can’t make gold! Please!” There is no answer from behind the heavy doors that have latched shut behind them, and he whirls around, pressing his back against the door, panic shuddering through his chest, heart racing with it. The silence settles around him, and the door is cold against his back, and his face feels numb even as his chest trembles. He’s going to die. He’s going to be killed at sunrise, and the orphanage - will they truly not feed them, if he doesn’t complete the task? He can’t - he can’t die for nothing, and the orphanage can't starve, even if he can’t do this… Last week, they’d had to choose several of the oldest children to wait until the next day for their meal, to go to sleep hungry, and Jungkook had cried bitterly about it that night. 

He distantly registers he’s sliding down the wall, lowers himself to press his face into the stone, and feels the desperation yank a sob from his rattling lungs. There’s nothing he can do, nothing at all, helpless and hopeless and out of his depth entirely. And magic is dangerous but even if he had possessed magic, what magic could this possibly be, to transform substances, to make gold from straw? That kind of magic wasn’t even human, it was much too powerful, it was elven magic, or dark magic, or elemental or fae or - Jungkook goes completely still, heart hammering, breath trapped in unsteady lungs. 

The fae are said to be summoned by desperation and by blood. They’re said to prey on those wounded on long journeys far from home, those who lose their heads and lose their hearts and are never seen again. They’re said to be powerful and otherworldly and terrifying, merciless and cold and brutal. They’re said to be capable of what no one else is capable of. Desperation. Blood. 

Jungkook scrambles up, stumbling to the spinning wheel with his heart racing, and doesn’t allow himself to pause or consider or think before he’s slamming his finger onto the needle of it. The bead of blood that wells is dark and shining, and Jungkook feels breathless as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets his mind spin with the desperation of it, with how dire, how hopeless, how helpless and terrifying it all is now. And this is dangerous, more dangerous than anything he’s ever done, but the orphanage is at stake and his life is at stake and what does he have to lose? And if this it to be his end, if this is how he dies, he’d rather be murdered by a bloodthirsty fae than to meet his end at the disgusting hands of the king. 

There’s a distinctive, sharp shift in the air, a tinny pressure increasing around him and pulsing through the room, and his eyes snap open just as it releases. There’s something different about the… the weight of the way things stand in the room that feels just slightly off. Jungkook had thought he would feel terrified, would feel the fear cloying in his chest, but there’s a strange calm at the prospect now that it has arrived, and something is settled within him in a way that almost makes him question if it’s beyond his own influence. And then just as suddenly as if he’d stood there all along, as if he’d always stood there, there’s a fae standing over him, right beside the spinning wheel. He’s ethereally beautiful, glowing against the dim elegance of the room, features sharp and strong and too lovely, but Jungkook’s breath is catching in his chest because those piercing, golden eyes are kind. 

“It’s been many, many ages,” the voice muses softly, distantly surprised, “since a mortal was able to draw me in.” 

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook whispers immediately, something about this seeming to necessitate an apology, a hushed voice, reverence. 

“You’re sorry?” The fae’s unearthly smile grows, and Jungkook feels breathless as he nods slowly, unsure if he has somehow been offensive, but the fae looks more amused, and that’s better - better than angry. The amused smile becomes a grin with far too many teeth, somehow. “You’re delightful. I’m Hoseok.” 

Jungkook jolts, bowing quickly. “I…” He isn’t certain if there’s a respectful or appropriate way to ask, if he’s meant to wait, if there’s any sort of formal process to this at all. “I… I need your help, please.” 

Hoseok tips his head back, gaze drifting around the room. There’s something about the way he holds the space he takes in the room - if he’s really there at all - almost as if he’s in subtle motion constantly, even as he stands perfectly still. Jungkook fidgets in place before him as the silence between them continues, then takes a deep breath. “I need your help with magic, please.” 

Hoseok’s sharp gaze returns to him, and the weight pinning him in place is colossal and powerful but - but it isn’t hostile. It isn’t harsh, isn’t frightening, but Jungkook is nervous as he twists his fingers together. "Magic cannot give or take life for you, Jungkook." The shudder of fear at his name is involuntary, and he bites his lip but doesn't look away from the focused gaze, breathtakingly beautiful.

Jungkook shakes his head, inhales waveringly. “I need to spin the straw into gold before sunrise.” 

There’s something that shifts in Hoseok’s eyes, from inquiry to - disappointment? And that shouldn’t matter, it shouldn’t feel so important, but Jungkook feels a pulse of urgency to defend himself, to explain. 

“It isn’t for me! I don’t - I don’t get to keep it or anything, it’s not - I’m not asking you for me. It’s the king, he - he, um…” Jungkook feels uncomfortable voicing it, shame curdling a bit in his lungs. “The king b-bought me. For four nights. And I… I thought he just needed work done, that I could do without magic just - just if I worked hard enough, but…” Jungkook has to drop the radiant, unblinking gaze, and blinks hard at where his fingers are twisted into each other in front of him. “If I don’t do what he wants by sunrise, I’ll be killed. And - and, um… he’s supposed to feed my… my family. If I do this. So… so I have to do this. Will you…” He forces his gaze up, and bites his lip at the endless patience and kindness in those graceful features. “Will you help me? With your magic?” Hoseok’s eyes are so bright and so warm, and Jungkook’s heart pulses and flutters.

“All magic has a price.” Hoseok says somberly, and Jungkook can feel the weight of it even before Hoseok leans towards him, eyes solemn in warning, voice too soft. “It isn’t a light matter, to bargain with fae magic.” 

“I understand.” Jungkook makes himself nod, a shallow breath. “I’m - I’m willing to pay that price.” Hoseok raises a perfect eyebrow at him, and Jungkook sets his jaw. “The orph- my family won’t get food if I can’t d-do this, I - I have to do this. And I’ll be killed if I don’t, and they - and it’ll be for nothing, I just… I have to do this. I’ll pay the price.” 

Hoseok’s glowing eyes and the line of his mouth look hesitant, look almost - pitying? 

“Please.” Jungkook breathes. “Please help me.” Hoseok tilts his head, assenting, still silent, and Jungkook swallows. “What… what will it cost me?” 

His voice trembles despite himself, and he stiffens but doesn’t flinch as Hoseok’s hands reach out slowly to take both of his own. Hoseok’s touch is so gentle, his hands so soft, and he holds Jungkook’s hands between their bodies, enveloped within his own. Jungkook bites his lip, lets his eyes flutter closed for just a moment to allow himself this comfort because he’s been afraid and he’s being pathetic and touch-starved and this is a fae, a being of power and magic and he should be terrified, should be more afraid but - but Hoseok’s thumb sweeps so gently over his palm, and his fingers are warm and his hold soothing. 

Then Hoseok’s hands are sliding down his hands, and he’s circling Jungkook’s wrists lightly between his long fingers, exhaling and closing his beautiful eyes. “Jungkook.” Hoseok breathes, and the words ring with something in the small, dark space around them. “Do you place yourself in my debt in exchange for use of my magic?” 

It’s terrifying final, endlessly heavy, and his pulse stutters and races against Hoseok’s steady fingers, wrapped so firmly around his wrists like bindings, Hoseok’s unwavering gaze gentle but so serious. Jungkook’s throat is dry, and he has to clear it several times before he can whisper, “I do.” 

Hoseok’s grip tightens on his wrists, just slightly, and heat flares through his palms and up his arms, not painful but sharp, and when Hoseok releases him and Jungkook hastily steps back, there are brightly golden manacles made of light, locked around his wrists beneath the skin, unmovable and unbreakable and a reminder of the price he is paying, the sacrifice he is making. When they fade into rings on his skin as he yanks his sleeves down over them, he can still feel their simmering warmth, and it makes something in his chest tremor restlessly.

Hoseok has spun away from him with a nod, and settles himself on the stool beside the wheel, tugging straw into his hands before he tips his head back to look at Jungkook and waves him over. Jungkook crosses the room uncertainly, standing above him, and Hoseok begins to wind the straw onto the wheel.

“Do you sing, Jungkook?” He asks conversationally, and Jungkook startles. 

“Oh, um… not… not really, I mean not - not well, or anything, I-”

“Do you tell stories?” 

Jungkook blinks, confused. “I… I guess I do. At the - with my family, I tell stories to the other kids sometimes.” 

“Excellent.” Hoseok announces, and his smile is pleased as he waves Jungkook closer. “I’d love a story please.” 

Jungkook tilts his head, and Hoseok’s smile grows at the gesture, reaching out to poke at his cheek before Jungkook shuffles away with a blush. “Why - um, why would you like a story? You’ve… been alive a lot longer than me, I don’t think you’d… find any of mine very interesting.” 

“I find you very interesting.” Hoseok counters with a bright grin, and Jungkook feels his face warm with the sincerity. “Besides, it’s a lot of straw.” Hoseok waves an arm around him at the wispy piles. “I’ll get bored.” Hoseok pouts, and Jungkook can’t hold back his smile in response. 

“Couldn’t you just transform the straw?” Jungkook tilts his head curiously. “Instead of spinning it?” 

“Even magic has its limits.” Hoseok informs him as the spinning wheel rattles to life, and the straw whirls through. “Making anything from something else takes time, must always take time.” Jungkook nods, taking this in, and Hoseok makes a pleased sound, holding up the first of the gold as it slides smoothly from the wheel, glinting in the dim light around them. Jungkook’s eyes widen, and he steps forward to kneel beside the wheel, eyes roving over it curiously, gold glinting where just a second ago, it was straw. He watches, entranced for a moment, at the smooth way Hoseok’s hands run ceaselessly over the straw, the way it ripples beneath his capable fingers and feeds through, straw dull rattling along the wood, gleaming gold right before his eyes, inexplicable. 

“Jungkook, story.” Hoseok whines, whines, and it make Jungkook laugh, unexpected and bizarre from the fae beside him, ancient magical deity spinning straw for him and pouting at him and all of it is surreal somehow, but not overwhelming. “Jungkook, tell me a story.” 

And Jungkook has told endless stories to the children at the orphanage, calming them from tantrums, or getting them to settle for naps or for bed, or keeping them in one room while the others are setting up or cleaning another. He knows stories, can weave a tale easily, knows he has a good voice for it and knows how to keep it interesting and feels confident in the tales he tells, the way they entertain the children and adults alike. So he isn’t nervous or embarrassed at all when he settles down at Hoseok’s side, tilts his head back to look at the straw piled around them, and begins to speak. 

His focus wanders as he tells an older legend, a clever cat that wanted to walk amongst men and bargained itself a position in a castle, but found itself growing harsher and more selfish the longer it spent with humans, and hating those changes it found, ultimately returned to its fellow cats, bringing back gifts from the human world that captured all the good that was to be found there. He’s thinking about the last time he told this story, a few months ago to some awestruck children who’d been visiting from an orphanage in a different valley and whose nursemaids had been struggling with putting down for naps. He wonders about that orphanage, whether they’ve been struggling through the food shortages as well, if they’ve fared any better or worse. When he finishes the story and shoots Hoseok a bright smile, he’s stunned to find Hoseok’s eyes far too delighted, shining with an admiration that makes Jungkook startle.

“Was it a good story? I hope you enjoyed it, that it wasn’t dull.” Jungkook bites his lip, nervous, but Hoseok’s eyes are impossibly fond. “It’s an older tale, and-”

“You’re so lovely.” Hoseok says simply, and his smile is warm sunshine and honey and Jungkook can feel himself blushing but he doesn’t look away. 

“Oh, um… thank you. That’s very kind.” Jungkook says politely, then jolts. “I mean - you are too. Lovely, I mean. You’re - you’re also lovely.” 

And Hoseok is lovely, and he’s sweet and kind and charming, he’s funny and he’s genuine and his laugh is like honey, his smile like sunshine. He weaves the straw so steadily Jungkook almost doesn’t feel the time passing, sharing stories about the children with him, telling him old tales he’s entertained the kids with, trying jokes and finding Hoseok laughs brightly and easily. It’s been too long since Jungkook connected with any person like this, since someone made him smile, made him laugh like this, since someone cared about him and helped him and spent hours at his side, and he’s getting ridiculously attached. 

This is a fae, this is an ancient creature of magic, and he’s here as a debt, chaining Jungkook to him for a price he’ll have to pay, and Jungkook reminds himself of this over and over, tries to make it matter. Still, by the time dawn is quickly approaching and the last brittle piece of straw has emerged as a shining strand of gold, Jungkook feels a frantic need to hold Hoseok there, to beg him to stay, face the king with him. He bites it back until Hoseok dusts his clothes off and rises from the wheel, stepping towards him with a finality. 

“Do you have to go?” Jungkook blurts, then bites his lip, looks down at the ground when Hoseok’s eyes soften sadly. “I don’t want to be alone.” Jungkook manages, sounding and feeling too pathetic to make eye contact, but Hoseok just reaches out to take his hand, squeezes it gently. 

Hoseok’s fingers weaving between his own are soothing, and the rings around his wrists pulse and spark with their contact, a promise. “I’ll see you again soon.” Hoseok breathes, and Jungkook’s eyes flutter closed when Hoseok presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. His heart thrums in his chest, warmth spreading through his cheeks, and when he blinks his eyes open, he’s surrounded by glittering piles of woven gold, and he’s alone. 

The king and his guards crash through the door later that morning and toss him a meager tray of breakfast he barely catches in time before their eyes lock on the gold and they swarm over to examine it. Jungkook’s ravenous appetite almost diminishes at the extent of their disgusting hunger for the shining piles in the corner. He hasn’t even seen gold before, and he knows that isn’t true of a single one of them, and they’re behaving shamefully as they greedily watch the servants carry it out of the small room in waves. But he straightens from his tray with a resigned bleakness when the king peers out of the door with a nod, and the guards begin dragging in more straw. 

But the guards don’t stop dragging in straw when they’ve refilled the piles by the wall, and Jungkook watches in growing anxiety as they pile in more and more straw. He begins to protest when it’s almost double the amount Hoseok had spun the night prior, but the guard nearest him shoves him roughly and shoots him a very clear glare laden with warning. When the straw pile reaches the ceiling on the far wall, he can’t keep quiet. 

“I won’t be able to finish this much.” The room goes deathly quiet, and the king’s expression is darkening as the guards beside him smirk and nudge each other, and Jungkook’s shoulders hunch, his words more urgent. “I’m not refusing to, I just can’t, I can’t, the - the magic won’t be enough, please. Magic has limits too, I can only do as much as the magic can, I can’t-” 

The king waves a hand at the guard beside him, who steps closer and twists Jungkook’s arm so sharply that he gasps and bites his lip to prevent himself from crying out. 

“You’re telling me you’re not of use to me after all?” The king snarls, and leans down much too close, a breath away, sharp eyes roving over him in a way that makes Jungkook’s chest feel hollow and terrible. 

“You’re lucky,” the king spits darkly, “that this is all we’re using you for.” The guards jeer and laugh at the way Jungkook pales and flinches at the implication, at the threat, and the king sneers when he leads them out without a glance back to where Jungkook lets himself crumple to the ground, trembling. 

Hoseok had barely finished in time, had hardly been finished when the sun began to rise, it just wasn’t possible. It was meant to be the same amount, it has to be the same amount, but the straw is heaping stacks, and even spinning nonstop, there’s no chance, no chance. Desperation is surging through him, and he stumbles towards the wheel, reaching down and bracing himself to prick his finger again. 

A warm hand catches his firmly, and he startles. 

“Please don’t.” Hoseok murmurs, hair shining in the dim light as he draws Jungkook towards him by the gentle grip on his hand. Jungkook feels his face heat as Hoseok raises his hand so carefully, brings Jungkook’s finger to his mouth, and presses a kiss against his finger. The tiny pinprick wound from yesterday glows faintly as Hoseok breathes against the skin, then it’s gone, painlessly and effortlessly and as if it never happened at all. Jungkook feels a surge of warmth in his cheeks, in his chest, but the rest of him is still trembling and his throat feels constricted. 

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” Hoseok asks quietly, lowering his hand but leaving their fingers linked, and Jungkook shakes his head, biting his lip, then gestures around them with his other hand. Hoseok’s beautiful eyes are wide as he surveys the room, and Jungkook feels a sinking even before the quiet murmur. “Oh no.” 

“Please,” Jungkook whispers hopelessly, “please, he brought more, and - he wouldn’t listen to me, I said it was too much, but he - please.” 

Hoseok tilts his head, looking at the heaping piles of straw around them, then back at Jungkook. “I can’t finish that much in time.” 

Jungkook’s sob is threatening to burst from his chest, fear dizzying, but Hoseok just looks contemplative. 

“On my own, that is. I’ll need help.” Hoseok shoots Jungkook a conspiratorial look, sighing heavily. “Oh, he’s going to be insufferable about this.” 

Jungkook blinks up at him, confused, but Hoseok just shoots him a reassuring smile before he squeezes his hand, letting it drop before just like that, he’s gone. Jungkook jolts upright, spinning around, but Hoseok is already back. 

He isn’t alone. There’s another fae clinging to his arm, stunning with golden skin and a sweeping jawline and hooded eyes, but all pale compared to the dazzling smile that Jungkook finds himself instantly charmed by, even as he warily steps back at the immediate exclamation.

“This is him?” 

“Tae, I told you-” Hoseok is trying to give the other a meaningful look, but he shakes him off and bounds up to Jungkook, his grin almost maniacal. 

“It’s great to meet you, Jungkook, I’m Taehyung. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 

Jungkook’s eyes fly to Hoseok, alarmed, but Hoseok just looks faintly embarrassed, which is charming and makes his heart flutter, and Jungkook shifts in place, his smile nervous. “Hello. It’s… it’s my pleasure to meet you too.” 

Taehyung whirls to Hoseok instantly, smile radiant. “You’re right, he’s so cute!” 

Jungkook’s face feels warm, and his heart pulses. “Are you - are you going to, um - help me too?” 

Taehyung’s grin is a baring of teeth, and Jungkook can feel the force of it at his core. “I’d love to.” Taehyung leans towards him. “For a price.” 

Jungkook looks at Hoseok uncertainly, then back at Taehyung. “Oh, I… I don’t have, um… anything.” 

Taehyung raises an eyebrow, confused. “Then Hoseok’s price…” 

Jungkook wordlessly raises his hand, drawing his sleeve up to expose the golden manacle glowing from beneath his skin, unmoving and unchanging, and Taehyung’s eyes widen with surprise before he whirls on Hoseok. 

“Hobi! You… you…” 

Hoseok nods at Taehyung, expression uncomfortable, and Jungkook feels the urgency racing with his pulse, the endless straw piled around them, bites his lip. 

“Please, Taehyung, there isn’t time, please…” Jungkook takes a deep breath. “I’ll be in your debt, too.” Taehyung’s gaze is almost unsettling, beautiful and haunting eyes and the slightest curve of lips, and Jungkook braces himself before holding out his arms, palms up offering his wrists. “I’ll owe you.” 

Taehyung’s gaze travels so slowly between each of his eyes, down to his wrists and back up, and he looks at Hobi for a tenuous moment before he nods. When he steps forward to grasp Jungkook’s wrists in his hands, his skin is slightly cooler than Hoseok’s just as smooth and soothing where he strokes a finger against Jungkook’s palm before he looks up at him. “Jungkook.” Taehyung breathes, his eyes flaring with a golden light that makes Jungkook shiver. “Do you place yourself in my debt in exchange for use of my magic?”

“I do.” Jungkook whispers, and the golden rings that appear to bind his wrists are identical to the first, just above them, mirrored and doubled, just as warm and just as light and just as heavy, immovable and unwavering. 

Taehyung looks unsettled, and even more so when Jungkook bows his head forwards. 

“Thank you, Taehyung.” He knows it isn’t the right thing to say, and Hoseok’s lips curl in a small smile as he shoots Taehyung a look, and Taehyung stares at him blankly for a long moment before raising a whirling hand to summon a spinning wheel from nothing and sinking onto it with a huff. 

“I’m not spinning in silence until sunrise.” Taehyung announces, his back to them both as he reaches delicately for the nearest pile of straw and begins to thread it onto his wheel. “Who’s entertaining me?” 

“Jungkook is wonderful at telling stories.” Hoseok offers innocently as he sinks down at his own wheel and avoids Jungkook’s betrayed gaze, reaching for his own straw pile. 

“Jungkook is wonderful in general.” Taehyung agrees, and Jungkook can’t help his startled giggle, clapping his hands to his mouth when they both turn at the sound and blushing at the fondness in both their warm gazes. “I’d love a Jungkook story. Please?”

He chooses a few stories he thinks Hoseok will find funny, and Taehyung is similarly easily amused, and laughs just as raucously, and it’s gratifying and makes Jungkook grin. They fit each other so naturally, it’s so clear the way they speak with each other and orbit around each other and wordlessly smile when their eyes meet, how deeply they belong together, and something in Jungkook’s heart aches and yearns. 

“But… but why does the farmer get angry?” Taehyung asks, confusion genuine, and Jungkook shakes his head with a smile. The way both of them pick up on the tiniest, most irrelevant details of the stories and question them makes the storytelling as entertaining to him as it must be for them.

“It’s his tree. The other man is stealing fruit from him.” Jungkook explains.

Taehyung stares at him uncomprehendingly. “But they’re both stealing from the tree, how can one be mad at the other for it?” 

“That isn’t how they think of it.” Jungkook bites back a smile at Taehyung’s huffing scowl as he turns back to his wheel. 

“Jungkook, do you have a story about flying? I miss flying, I haven’t been in a long time.” 

“I’ve never flown.” Jungkook points out, grinning when Taehyung’s head whips around, eyes round with shock. “Maybe you should be the one to tell me a story now.” 

Taehyung beams the suggestion, and Jungkook feels breathless at the radiance of the boxy grin, the dazzling brilliance of it. “Take my place at the wheel and I’ll do the storytelling then.”

Jungkook laughs. “I can sit at the wheel, but since I can’t spin, what will I be contributing?” 

“Decoration.” Hoseok suggests quietly with a smile from where he’s been intently spinning, and Jungkook’s cheeks feel warm as he shakes his head. 

“I don’t think any room with you in it could use any other decoration.” Jungkook murmurs shyly, and Taehyung’s eyes twinkle as he glances distractedly at his wheel to feed another line of straw in, then grins cheekily at Jungkook.

“Are you saying we’re beautiful?” 

“Of course.” Jungkook says fervently, without hesitation and unembarrassed. “You’re the two most beautiful people I’ve ever met.”

Hoseok beams at him much too fondly, and Taehyung bounds off his wheel to throw his arms around Jungkook, nuzzling their cheeks together as Jungkook’s face flushes and his heart races, this affection so foreign to him and way too much but also exactly right and settling his restless heart and perfect. 

The night swirls by in laughter and fond smiles, their beaming affection and musical voices, and too soon they’re quietly bidding him a good morning and tugging him between them for a warm embrace, holding his hand between theirs, the golden debt rings linking him to them sparking at their touch. It’s impossibly more difficult, sitting in the room, dull disinterest in the gleaming treasure heaped around him, slumped against the wall with his arms wrapped around his knees, missing the orphanage and missing the sky and his freedom and missing two dazzling creatures with honey smiles and soaring laughter. 

When the king shoulders his way into the room that morning, eyes glinting with greed, his guards don’t enter with him, standing at the entrance and yanking the gold out from within the hall, as Jungkook chews warily on his oat breakfast in the corner. The reason for that becomes apparent when they began hauling the new straw in, but Jungkook feels himself stiffen as the guards drag in pile after pile. His tray is empty and his hands fidget as the guards continue shuffling in with more straw, packing it to the ceiling and then bringing still more. The creeping heaviness of it feels cold in his lungs, because it’s impossible that this won’t be too much. Last night was a lot of straw, too much, but they did finish and maybe but could again but this much straw? When the guards finally exit the room, there are mountains of wispy heaps are scattered around him, more than double what Hoseok and Taehyung had managed to finish in time, entirely impossible, and he swallows hard and pushes himself to stand away from the wall.

“I’m sorry, but… but this is too much. It’s impossible for me to spin this much in one night.” 

The king’s expression is cruelly uncaring, and the seeping chill of hopelessness is brittle and sharp, almost as cutting as the king's sneer before he nods briskly at the guard beside him. The hard-faced man doesn't hesitate before he seizes Jungkook's arm in a bruising grip and yanks him forward just in time for the king to step lazily forward and slam his wrought iron scepter against Jungkook's side. His ribs scream with it, breathless burning agony blooming as he cries out and collapses to the ground, the guard's fingers still harshly gripping his limp arm, biting into it painfully and keeping him halfway kneeling. And the tears have spilled over, hot and fast, and he's gasping but the king's voice is cold and steady when he spits, "By sunrise, or the village burns with you." 

Jungkook’s head jerks up, horrified, but the guard roughly throws him to the ground, and the door is already slamming behind them when he rasps, “Wait!” He slams himself against the locked door, and his ribs ache with it as he shouts, “Wait, wait! I - I can’t, you-” Their footsteps fade too quickly, and they’re gone, and the threat looms in their absence, just space and time and endlessly piled straw.

Jungkook sits gingerly leaned against the countless straw heaps, blinking and distantly running his hands up his arms, chest feeling numb. The king had never cared about the village, they were well acquainted with the fact, but to burn it down, to end lives and livelihoods… His hands begin to tremble, and his throat is constricting, air thin and untenable because there’s far too much at stake, bowing his shoulders over. The orphanage, and now the village, and Jungkook in magical bondage only to be burned and his village burned and for what? His eyes are burning with tears he cannot let fall, and he’s clutching at his chest against the cloying fear when there’s a now familiar shift in the air, and the two appear again. 

Taehyung’s eyes are wide as he tilts his head back to take in the piled straw filling the room, but Hoseok’s sad eyes don’t stray from Jungkook, and his voice is hushed and mournful. “Oh, Jungkook.” 

“Please.” Jungkook chokes, a tear streaking down his face at the warmth emanating from the two, the compassion in their eyes as they sink down on either side of him, as Taehyung so gently takes his hand. “Please, they - they’re going to burn the village if I - if I can’t - I can’t let them-” 

“Oh, Jungkook.” Hoseok whispers softly again, and Jungkook can’t help the tears spilling over, misery seeping down his face, and Taehyung hums a sad, quiet sound before he and Hoseok are holding Jungkook's hands on either side of him, warm and comforting. And they’re fae, they’re magic, and magic is dark and dangerous but Jungkook feels too safe, so small tucked between them like this, and he lets himself have this, grips their hands tightly and shakes and cries with the bleakness and injustice of it. Then he forces himself to sit up, raising an arm to rub across his eyes. 

“What will we do?” Jungkook rasps, then clears his throat, determined. “It’s - it’s too much, what can we do?” 

Hoseok leans back against the straw beside him, sharp eyes contemplative. “It’s too much for us, yes.” 

Taehyung’s eyes are gleaming beside him. “But we can get help.” Hoseok makes a quiet, considering sound, and Taehyung whirls on him. “Oh, don’t worry, you know they’re going to love him.” 

“That is what I’m worried about, yes.” Hoseok murmurs quietly, but he disappears with Taehyung and when they reappear a moment later, there are two more beautiful fae standing beside them, and Jungkook leaps to his feet to sink into a bow. 

“This is Yoongi.” Taehyung gestures with a flourish at the slightly taller of the two, both shorter than Taehyung and Hoseok, shorter than Jungkook himself. The new fae's eyes are wickedly intelligent, and his hair is long and fluid around his face, and his mouth is a perfect pout just above a curving jaw. He nods at Jungkook’s own introduction, gaze keen and assessing. 

“And this is Jimin.” Hoseok points to the man beside him, willowy with lovely features, though Jungkook doesn’t have much time to observe them because with a delighted cry, Jimin is flying across the room, and in just a breath, he’s thrown himself into Jungkook’s arms. Jungkook rushes to catch him, but it’s unnecessary as Jimin has already wrapped his arms and legs tightly around Jungkook’s torso. Jungkook can feel his face burning bright red as he gingerly wraps his arms around Jimin’s back, and Jimin just nuzzles into his collarbones. Yoongi sighs heavily but looks endeared and fond as the rest when Jungkook dares a blushing look up at them. 

“I love him.” Jimin exclaims, still wrapped tightly around Jungkook’s torso and beaming at Jungkook’s immediate blush. He drops long legs to the ground to take some of his weight then whirls to face Hoseok, almost toppling them both, eager and excited. “I love him! Can we keep him? We have to keep him!” 

“What price did he pay?” Yoongi asks quietly, and Jungkook sobers at this, looks over, and Jimin leans up and presses a gentle kiss to his hair before letting go and sauntering back to where the others lean against the straw across from him. There isn’t much room, hardly a few steps between any of them possible with the straw piled to the ceiling from the walls and floor. Taehyung and Hoseok tilt their heads at Jungkook, and he nods, gripping his sleeve to raise it slightly. 

“I’ll be in your debt.” His throat works around the words for a moment, feeling thick. “I’ll owe you both.” 

Jimin grins brightly, nodding vehemently, while Yoongi turns to Hoseok with a raised eyebrow. Jungkook can’t read their expressions, but Hoseok hesitates before he nods, and Yoongi huffs before nodding himself, and taking a step towards Jungkook alongside Jimin. Jungkook takes a shallow breath, another, then pushes his sleeves up to his elbows, bowing his head with deference and turning his palms up to hold his arms out, wrists together in offering. 

At the collective sharp intake of breath from the four fae, he startles, and follows their gazes to his wrists. The golden rings are unchanged, simmering beneath his skin, weighty with promise, but above them, where the guard grabbed his arm that morning, a terribly dark bruise marring his skin, the distinct, clear marks of enormous fingers wrapped far too tight. 

“Who did this?” Taehyung breathes dangerously, and Jungkook winces. 

“The king. I, um… I talked back.” 

Their expressions are thunderously dark, and Yoongi starts for the door with a snarl before Hoseok grabs his arm, shaking his head. 

“No, Yoongi.” Hoseok sighs, though there’s an anger edged into the lines of his mouth and the shine of his eyes. “No interfering with human royalty, not again, remember?” 

“Just this one last time.” Taehyung’s hands are curled into fists beside Yoongi, his eyes narrowed vengefully and locked on the bruising on Jungkook’s pale arm. 

“Did he hit you anywhere else?” Jimin asks softly, and jolts with a gasp when Jungkook carefully lifts his shirt to reveal the darkening bruising along his side. Yoongi seems to almost grow taller with rage, and Taehyung’s eyes are flashing beside him, but Hoseok steps up to him carefully, slowly enough for Jungkook to choose not to pull away before Hoseok is raising his arms and hugging him. 

“I’m sorry you were hurt.” Hoseok whispers, and Jungkook feels stunned, cheek pressed against the soft fabric of Hoseok’s chest, arms warm and safe around him. He’s frozen for all of a moment, an exhale, then he melts into it. The comfort of it is so, so nice on this wretched day, with the throbbing pain and the burgeoning panic and the steady fear. Then Taehyung is hugging him from behind, and Jimin is latching onto his side, and Yoongi’s hand is sliding into his, and they’re gentle and kind and Jungkook lets his eyes flutter closed, sighs happily as Yoongi’s fingers rise to stroke softly through his hair. 

When they step back, Yoongi’s eyes are still gentle and kind, and it feels less daunting when he clears his throat. “Jungkook.” Yoongi murmurs, gaze on his as his thumbs stroke gently along his firm grip on each of Jungkook’s wrists. “Do you place yourself in my debt in exchange for use of my magic?”

Jungkook can’t help his shiver, but keeps his nod steady when he whispers, “I do.” Yoongi’s feline-like eyes gleam with satisfaction, and the rings that snake around his wrists in binding seem to burst with that same sensation, pleased and satisfied, and Jungkook bites his lip, doesn’t step back. 

Jimin is ethereally beautiful and endlessly radiant, and his eyes curve into crescents when he smiles at Jungkook, when he runs his hands up Jungkook’s arms to his elbows. He traces delicate fingertips over goose-bumped skin until his fingers lock around Jungkook’s wrists, tugging them towards him with shining eyes. He sounds nothing less than enraptured. “Jungkook, do you place yourself in my debt in exchange for use of my magic?”

“I do.” Jungkook manages to keep the waver from his voice, and his heart pulses and races, and he feels unsteady as Jimin raises Jungkook’s wrists to his eyes, the fae's small fingers lithe bracelets around fragile bones. Jimin exhales with a smile, just a quiet sigh, and the fourth set of bindings wind around his wrists, golden and glinting. 

There’s a moment of hovering silence between the five of them, all standing unmoving, watching the flickering rings beneath his skin, before Hoseok steps back meaningfully, and nods at the others. Yoongi raises a hand to wave through the air almost absentmindedly, and the spinning wheel that forms beside him is still manifesting when he drops down beside it, yanking a handful of straw without hesitation and beginning to weave. Taehyung is already chattering excitedly to Hoseok, leading him to the corner, and Jimin latches onto Jungkook’s arm, warm against his side and beaming as he gazes up at him adoringly. 

“Will you sit with me, Jungkook?” Jimin pleads, pouting plush lips a breath away, far more than enough to thoroughly fluster him from his thoughts. “Taehyung says you’re a lovely storyteller, I’d love a story.” 

“Jungkook is sitting with me! He already loves me!” Taehyung cries from the corner where he’s already settled at a wheel, and Hoseok laughs beside them. Jungkook shifts his weight uneasily, heart fluttering and smile tugging at his lips, uncertain whether he’s meant to choose, but Hoseok shakes his head at him. 

“Jungkook met me first and he’ll be sitting with me.” 

“Oh, for-” Yoongi rolls his eyes, rising to his feet in one sweeping movement and smoothly yanking Jungkook from Jimin’s grip. “Jungkook’s sitting with me.” In a blink, Jungkook is nestled in a pile of straw beside Yoongi’s elaborately summoned wheel, and Yoongi is already seated and spinning again when he looks up at him and smiles. “Jungkook, we’d love to hear a story.” 

Jimin is pouting beside them when he summons his own wheel and sinks down to begin drawing the straw through, and Jungkook swallows as his gaze travels over the four glowingly attentive men watching him with encouraging gazes and shining eyes. And he’s told many stories to many different audiences, varying moods and tones and choosing his stories carefully, his words, the way he projects and weaves the words and draws in the listeners. 

The fae are the perfect audience. They’re rapt with attention, gasp in the right places, their eyes shine with their excitement and their lips curve with their intrigue, and they applaud him too enthusiastically when he finishes each tale. They also agree to trading Jungkook between them as the night stretches on, every one of them wanting him to sit beside them and only assenting to trading him back and forth, around and around. 

Hoseok builds him an elaborate sweeping straw throne to sink into right beside where Hoseok sits at his wheel, and Taehyung whines about the unfairness of that until Hoseok quickly helps him build Jungkook a similar one beside his own wheel. Jimin announces proudly that Jungkook will just sit in his lap, and Jungkook, face flaming, is unsure if he should protest this. When Yoongi snidely points out that Jimin won’t be able to spin that way, Jimin grins wickedly. 

“I’m willing to make that sacrifice.” 

Jungkook blushes, but Taehyung throws straw at them and Jimin relents, tucking Jungkook into the straw piles beside him for his turn, continuously leaning over to drape himself against him and mourning that he can’t hold his hand while he weaves. Yoongi’s eyes are soft and kind, and he’s fond in his touches, gentle ruffles of his hair and smooth stroking down his arm and Jungkook can’t help leaning into it every time. Hoseok gazes at him with absolute attention, his clever hands reaching for straw and weaving it flawlessly without ever looking away from Jungkook, and Jungkook’s heart flutters with it, his face warm with the attention and affection and the beautiful smiles, all genuine and true and shining, all for him. 

“Do you also sing, Jungkook?” Yoongi asks after a few hours, and Taehyung and Jimin crack identical maniacal grins at the question, making Jungkook hesitate, eyes flicking between them. 

“I… I do sometimes, but not - nothing special, just-”

Yoongi’s eyes gleam with interest, and Hoseok’s excited gaze shines with encouragement, the other two fae much less subtle. 

“Sing, sing, sing!” Jimin and Taehyung chant, waving handfuls of straw above their heads to emphasize their demands, and Jungkook can’t help laughing at the exasperated shake of Yoongi’s head, at the fond way Hoseok tosses a bundle of straw at Jimin’s head. 

Jungkook sings a quiet lullaby from the nursery, and upon their urging, lets his voice build and grow into one of the harvest songs, a leaping tune about life and bounty and gratitude. When they cheer and applaud (Jimin leaping unnaturally high from his seat and drifting down far too slowly, and Taehyung hurtling over to twirl Jungkook until he giggles and collapses back against the straw piles), Jungkook lets them coax him into shyly singing a spirited ballad, then a soulful hymn, then a heartfelt, genuine love song. 

Jimin tackles him into an embrace after the last, and Yoongi blinks brighter eyes at him, steady and seeping far too many emotions, and Jungkook’s chest writhes with it, heart singing breathlessly behind his ribs. Taehyung tries to learn the ballad, to sing it along with him as they sweep the gold carelessly into a corner to tug more straw towards them. For an ageless being, his memory and grasp on the lyrics is horrendous in the best possible ways, and Jungkook’s ribs feel like cracking when he laughs hard enough to topple from the straw to the ground. 

It’s worth their concerned dives forward when he crashes to the floor, the way Hoseok fervently touches his limbs and his shoulders and his head to ensure he hasn’t sustained injury, the careful way Yoongi guides him back onto the straw, the laughter still bounding from his chest as he waves reassuringly to them and giggles, a hand over his mouth. They exchange fond looks over his head and across him and past him, and his heart glows and soars with it. 

In the lightening gloom before sunrise, they vanish their spinning wheels and kick the gold aside to make a space in the corner of the room, tug him into an embrace between the four of them again, and he closes his eyes and inhales waveringly, exhales unsteadily, reminds himself he can’t cry, not now. He blushes when Jimin and Taehyung press kisses to his fingers and palms, and when Yoongi gazes at him steadily before tugging him against him, warm and solid and endlessly reassuring, and Jungkook lets his eyes flutter shut and lets his heart beam. 

They hold his hands and wrap him into their arms and Hoseok presses a kiss to his forehead, and when Jungkook blinks the endless heaps of gold back into focus, he’s alone again. He bites his lip, and wraps his arms around himself, and paces waveringly a few steps until he slides down the wall, buries his face in his hands, and cries until the rattling footsteps of the guards begin to echo down the hall. 

The greedy satisfaction evident in the king’s beady eyes and smug delight is sickening, but Jungkook hardly has a moment to observe it before the narrowed gaze is turned to him, unsettling and uncomfortably keen. 

“Well done.” 

Jungkook doesn’t look up from where he stares mindlessly at his own wrists, at his sleeves that hide manacles that hold him in debt, that link him to the fae, that rest warm and unrelenting beneath his skin. 

“For doing so well, you’ll of course be rewarded generously.” 

A few of the guards chuckle at this, and Jungkook shifts nervously in place, then jolts when two of the guards lunge for his arms and yank him forward between them. Panic jolts through him when they drag him towards the door, and his struggles are futile, hunger and exhaustion against their broad frames and armor and weapons, but he continues to fight to pull away from them until one lifts an armored glove and slams a fist into his stomach almost nonchalantly. Jungkook gasps and squeezes his eyes shut at the burst of pain, falls limp, and they drag him down the hall without trouble. 

He’s thrown into a spacious room they throw open the doors of, and he falls hard to his knees, whirling around and gasping at the sight of an enormous ballroom, endless piles of straws in all directions, linings of spinning wheels around the elaborately carved wall borders. The king is suddenly framed in the entrance of the room, and Jungkook’s heart is pounding because this is too much, far too much, there’s no possible way they can spin this much, even with all of them, impossible. 

The king pauses in the doorway, careless and arrogant and looming over him. “If every wisp of straw isn’t gold by morning,” the king breathes maliciously, evident sick satisfaction at the desperation and terror in Jungkook’s eyes, “the village burns with you.” 

Jungkook’s agonizing sob is lost in the ringing slam of the door as it locks him in for the night, and when he crumples against the wall and buries his face in his hands, the twinkling lights of the gaudy chandelier overhead and the gleaming shine of the polished floors mock him as tears pour down his face and his hands shake and tremble. The ballroom feels colossal around him, more straw than he’s ever seen, endless horizons of it between the ornate walls and beneath the meticulously designed sweeping ceiling and Jungkook’s lungs heave and shudder with the hopelessness of it all. 

Even with all four of them, it’s impossible, and this would have been his last night, he had just needed to get through tonight and he would have been free. It tugs dimly within his mind, the realization that the endless bales of straw surrounding him hold his freedom colder in his chest than the unrelenting magical manacles twisted around his wrists, immovable and untouchable and binding. He can’t bring himself to inhale past the cold weight in his lungs when he looks across the room at the insurmountable heaps of dull straw that will see the village set alight - it can’t happen, it can’t happen, not ever, and not because of him. 

When the air ripples around him to signal their arrival, he’s curled tightly against the door, arms wrapped around his legs and tear-stained face buried in his knees and shaking uncontrollably. He forces himself to raise his head slowly, to meet their wide-eyed gazes where they’re looking around in the room in shock, but he isn’t looking for longer than a brief moment because in the space of a breath, Jimin and Hoseok are at his sides, hushing him and clinging to him and holding him close, warm and comforting.

He blinks, and Taehyung and Yoongi have disappeared and reappeared, and standing above him are the remaining two fae he’s only heard mentioned, the final two of the coven, and his heart freezes in his chest. Jin looms over him, unnaturally beautiful as they all are but almost eerily so. His perfect features are sculpted and graceful and radiant, and Jungkook feels helplessly intimidated by him for a long moment, breathless, unable to move, unable to speak. 

Then Namjoon trips over a pile of straw and brings Yoongi crashing to the ground beside him, and Jin laughs so hard he topples over himself, his laugh high and squeaky and not dignified in the least. 

Jungkook tries his best not to laugh, but it’s impossible, and when he bursts into laughter, Jin points at him with mirth and laughs even harder and squeakier, making Jungkook laugh even harder, and he’s gasping by the time they manage to stop. Jungkook feels warm and comfortable under their glowingly fond gazes, and he’s still giggling when they straighten, when Namjoon ducks his head bashfully to properly introduce himself, when Jin shoots him a stunning grin and does the same. Jungkook is the one to step forward this time, tugging his sleeves up and holding his arms out, wrists facing up and held together, offering.

“Jungkook.” Namjoon says breathlessly when he steps forward to loosely hold his wrists, eyes darting between Jungkook and the others and the colossal heaps of straw surrounding them. “Do you place yourself in my debt in exchange for use of my magic?”

“I do.” Jungkook doesn’t look down at the fifth rings forming around his wrists, turning instead to Jin, who looks hesitant, glancing at the others. 

“Please.” Jungkook doesn’t mean for the words to emerge so raw and pleading, but everything feels urgent in this moment, and his pulse thrums in his exposed wrists beneath five immovable golden chains just under his skin. “Please.” 

Jin takes his wrists gently, holding them in the palm of one large hand for a moment, and Jungkook shivers, lets his eyes squeeze closed for a halting breath. 

Jin’s voice is solemn. “Jungkook, do you place yourself in my debt in exchange for use of my magic?”

“I do.” Jungkook whispers, and bites his lip when the sixth rings form, tugging his sleeves down over them hastily, nodding his head and determinedly not thinking of prices and magic and unshakable debts. 

“It’s an honour to meet you,” Namjoon begins with a faint smile, “I’ve heard so much-”

“Yes, yes, Jungkook is a delight.” Yoongi interrupts, waving Namjoon and Jin towards the far wall impatiently. “We have work to do.” Jin winks at Jungkook as he’s tugged away, and Jimin bounds forward to latch onto Jungkook’s side. 

“I get Jungkookie first!” 

Jungkook blushes at the nickname, then flushes darker at the visible disappointment on the others faces, the genuine way they manage to make him feel special, feel wanted, and by ethereally stunning creatures of magic who have each other and who have time and power and weave gold from straw and want him.

“Jungkook!” Jimin calls from where he’s settled at his wheel, plush lips pouted as he waves Jungkook over to a pile of straw he’s dragged right beside him, and Jungkook smiles as he steps over to drop beside him, and Jimin leans back against him with a happy sigh. 

It’s with full certainty in his heart that Jungkook knows this is the best night he’s ever experienced, the best night he’ll ever have. Their laughter echoes through the expansive ballroom, their smiles are dazzling and their touches are warm and they’re gentle and caring and kind. Jungkook sings for them, and when he’s tired, they sing for him. They sing with him and sing about him and trade him back and forth across the room, across the hours.

He sits tucked under Namjoon’s strong arms as he weaves, leans his head against Jin’s broad shoulders as he spins, presses against Jimin and Taehyung when they chime out that it’s their turns. Hoseok and Yoongi beam at him and ruffle his hair and call out compliments for his stories and his voice and his smile and the warmth of his soul.

The straw dwindles and vanishes, endless glittering gold rising above and around them in mountains, absolutely worthless in every way, duller by a hundred times than the brightness in a second of Yoongi’s gummy smile, of Taehyung’s bright grin, of Jin’s bright smirk and Jimin’s delighted smile. And it had seemed impossible that the straw might ever end, and that had been frightening, but as the night stretches shorter and the wheels clatter and spin and weave the gold from the last bits of straw, it feels devastatingly impossible that the wisps of straw should ever end, that this golden night should ever end, that the sun should get to rise on this brightness and happiness. 

It’s far, far too soon that they’re all standing again, that gold shines in every direction and the horizon past the windows is lightening with the approaching dawn and Jungkook isn’t ready, will never be ready. Jimin tilts his head sadly at the tears welling in Jungkook’s eyes, and he doesn’t know how to put words to it, what to explain. He takes a deep breath, but his voice still cracks, misery welling in his chest at the prospect of never seeing their bright smiles again, never feeling their warm holds and their gentle care. “This… this was the last night, I go back to the orphanage in the morning… I’m not going to need magic anymore, and…”

Hoseok’s smile is understanding, and Jin steps forward to tuck him under his arm again, and Taehyung’s finger lace between his. 

“Ah, but don’t forget, Jungkookie.” Jimin says quietly as he slides up to wrap his arms around him again, and as Yoongi traces a finger lightly up to six glowing magical manacles, binding and still. “You owe us.” 

“We’ll see you again soon.” Namjoon smiles, and Jungkook lets his eyes flutter closed when Hoseok leans forward to tug him into an embrace, and the sun drifts across the room as the others press in, as their hands gently ruffle his hair and hold him warm and caring, and when he blinks his eyes open again, gold gleams uselessly in every direction, and his eyes burn and his chest is numb, hollow, far too alone. 

The king’s eyes bulge when he and the guards burst in just moments later, and he’s sickeningly pleased with it, but Jungkook feels only burgeoning relief and unsettling distaste for the satisfaction the king surveys the room with, the greed and arrogance that has twisted him and his guards. The king spends several moments lauding his wealth to the guards, and Jungkook has to tune him out, teeth gritted and hands fisted at his sides, desperate to be finished with this and leave. He almost misses the king carelessly instructing the guards to take Jungkook to his room, and his head snaps up, heart stuttering. 

“No, no, I - the… the four days, it’s…” 

The king’s laugh is vicious and hard, and Jungkook’s hands tremble even before he understands. 

“A power like this and you thought you’d ever be allowed to walk away?” 

The king’s jeer is mocking, and the guards laugh cruelly with him as Jungkook struggles to comprehend. 

“But you… you said four days, I…”

The king barely deigns to lean down, contempt and smugness dripping from his drawl. “You’re never leaving this castle again. Your magic is mine. You belong to me now.” 

The swell of fear is drowned out by the crashing wave of fury, and the guards must see it with the way they latch their armored fists around Jungkook's shoulders and wrists in bruising grips, pinning him in place as he struggles. “You can’t do this.” His chest is constricting with panic. “Release me, you can’t-” 

“I can.” The king waves an arm towards the towering gold surrounding them. “I have the power and riches to buy and sell lives more important than yours ever will be.” The guard shoves Jungkook roughly when he glares up at the king, who grins cruelly at the violence and leans down further to hiss maliciously. “If you kneel at my feet and apologize, I’ll consider not chaining you up in the dungeons until the next time the farms bring me their straw supply.” 

Jungkook is shaking with fury. “The village doesn’t even have enough to eat.” 

The king scoffs dismissively, waving a careless hand. “Then maybe you should have spun them some gold. Now kneel.” 

The guards shove him to his knees roughly, and in that moment, rage searing through his chest and six magical rings of debt chained around his wrists, Jungkook has nothing to lose. Surging forward past the guards to his sides, he lunges for the king, bare fists and fiery anger and endless nights of crying children with not enough to eat, years of brokenly watching the loaded food carts roll past the palace walls and working hours and hours and hours with no prospects in sight while the king - the king - 

Instantly, two guards are crashing together in front of him, blocking his view of the king’s widening eyes, and steel grips are yanking him bruisingly back, three and four hands locked on his arms and shoulders, holding him in place even as he thrashes desperately between them.

“You dare-” The king is hard lines of fury, eyes dark and sending a jolt of fear through Jungkook when his gaze snaps to the guards. “Strike him.” 

Another guard steps forward to the side of those restraining him so forcefully, and in one swift motion, the hilt of the guard’s sword is slammed into his shoulder, and Jungkook collapses with a cry. 

“Again.” The king spits cruelly, and the guard doesn’t hesitate before he lifts the sword again and slams it into Jungkook’s chest, a terrible bursting pain that brings tears springing to his eyes, gasping and choking and hanging limp in their unyielding grasps. Then the king is stepping forwards to slam a booted leg into his stomach, and Jungkook gasps and heaves as the king yanks a dagger from its sheath on his gaudy belt.

“I should kill you right now.” There’s a sharp burst of agony where the king presses the blade into his neck, breaking skin, warm blood trickling down, and the king’s harsh fury is dark, frightening. “Apologize.” 

“N-no,” Jungkook gasps, tears streaking down his face, anger lancing through his shaking hands where they’re restrained in an iron grip behind him, lungs aching and ribs burning from the blows. “You ap-pologize.” 

He can’t prevent himself from crying out when the king’s fingers twist brutally in his hair, yank his head back hard, when the scepter slams into his side again, but he shakes his head mindlessly, everything blurring with the tears that won’t stop, the terror that’s dizzying. The knife glints even through his wavering vision as the king raises it mercilessly to plunge down, and the horror that surges through him is electric. 

“Yoongi, please!” Jungkook sobs brokenly. 

In a blink, in less than one, Yoongi is standing between the king and Jungkook, where there previously wasn’t any space at all, as if he were always there. There’s something of unspeakable, indescribable power emanating from him, corrosive waves that burst out from him, his hair floating around him and eyes gleaming and glowing and unable to contain it. With a snarl and a careless flick of his head, every guard in the room crumples to the ground instantaneously. 

The king is slammed back into the wall by an invisible force, and he falls again when he tries to scramble to his feet, clothes disheveled and expression terrified. Jungkook gazes upwards, frozen, awed, and in a moment, Yoongi has lifted him easily to his feet, has tugged him into his arms, held him warm and safe and stroked a gentle hand down his trembling arms, softly through his hair. Jungkook can feel his racing heart settling, and Yoongi’s eyes are almost too bright to look at when he draws back to look him up and down, and his mouth hardens just before he nods at Jungkook and lets go, snaps his murderous gaze to the crumpled form against the wall. 

“Pathetic.” Yoongi snarls, and his eyes are pure gold and raw power, and his tone is contempt and hatred and fury. “Arrogance and weakness, putting wealth and riches over those you’re meant to care for.” The king huddles against the wall, mouth opening and closing foolishly, shoulders hunched in fear, and flinches when Yoongi strides forward, voice lethal. “If you like gold so much, you shouldn’t be kept from it.” Yoongi growls, and Jungkook has to shield his eyes at the blinding flash of light that issues. 

When he blinks, he stumbles back in shock at the sight before him, at the scale of it, at the gleaming edges and absolute stillness. Yoongi’s lip is curled in disgust, and the king is nothing more than a huddled form against the ground, a carved shining statue, immortalized in the gold he so desperately sought his entire life. Gold had been everything to him, and now it was all he had, all he was. Jungkook steps back shakily, unsteady and uncertain, but the guards on the ground don’t stir, and when Yoongi turns to envelop him in his arms again, when Jungkook presses his face into Yoongi’s chest with a shuddering sigh, his heart is slowing and settling. 

“Why don’t we get you home?” Yoongi murmurs gently, and Jungkook is nodding, an emptiness in his chest and a numbness in his hands because he doesn’t have the faintest idea what now, what now? 

 

The orphanage gets the news in bits and pieces, overheard at the post office and carried from the butcher’s wife and spotted at the grocer’s, information from the palace splintering and seeping slowly over the days that pass, rumours and gossip.  The king is dead, they proclaim from the palace immediately, dead with no heirs, and many of his guards had immediately vanished or fled upon hearing the news. 

The regent, who the king had imprisoned so long ago for disagreements about farming trade agreements, so smoothly transitions into power and immediately prosecutes nearly half the castle’s remaining guards for corruption and abuse of power. A better man, a better ruler, he’s already sent out waves of palace support to the outlying villages, and begins to direct assistance to those around the castle itself within the week. The orphanage funding that arrives from the palace has been immense and overwhelming, and the castle has provided nursemaids, actual staffing for the facility beyond Jungkook and the others who had aged out and couldn’t leave the younger children alone. And it’s better for the village, better for the families living under the castle’s protection and under its rule, it’s better food and better care, safer and more free. 

But Jungkook is free now too, and freedom means he isn’t needed at the orphanage, has never been needed or wanted anywhere else, has nowhere to go. Gazing up at the clouds that drift so carelessly overhead, Jungkook closes his eyes and sighs at the sun caressing his cheeks, raising a wrist to hold over his eyes. The golden manacles simmer just below his skin, debts solid and waiting, and Jungkook bites his lip, sitting up slowly. “Um… Jimin?” 

And as if they were there all along, the six of them are standing before him, and he scrambles to his feet just in time for Jimin to fling himself into Jungkook’s arms with a delighted cry, and for Taehyung to do the same as Namjoon shakes his head fondly. Jin steps forward to ruffle his hair, and Yoongi smiles at him widely from beside him, and Hoseok tugs Jimin away to pull Jungkook into a warm embrace, and his heart flutters and sings. But there’s a strange air to them, an undercurrent to the way they’re looking at him that seems intentional, and when he looks at them questioningly, Namjoon nods, stepping forward slightly. 

“It’s time, Jungkook.” Namjoon says simply, and they all seem to straighten at that, something solemn in their gazes that makes his heart beat faster. 

“Time for what?” Jungkook asks slowly, and their gazes drop as one to where his fingers twist together uncertainly. The rings around his wrist are pleasantly warm as their glow sparks and gleams, a clear gold against his skin, and he tilts his head at Hoseok’s serious expression. 

“Repayment.” Taehyung whispers quietly, and Jungkook stiffens.

“All magic comes with a price.” Hoseok reminds him, and Jungkook feels a prickle of suppressed panic, but Jimin’s gaze is soft and Jin’s eyes are caring and Namjoon shifts beside them and Jungkook can’t bring himself to fear. “And you owe each of us a debt.”

“I…” Jungkook’s voice breaks, weak. “What do I owe you?” 

Hoseok turns to look at the others, at Yoongi’s firm nod, at Jimin’s encouraging smile, at Taehyung’s raised eyebrow, before he turns back to face Jungkook. When he takes a step towards him, there’s a finality to it that makes Jungkook fight not to step away from, not to step back, but this is them, and they wouldn’t hurt him, they would never hurt him. 

Hoseok smiles as he steps close enough for Jungkook to touch, though neither of them reaches out, and Jungkook feels his heart begin to race, but Hoseok looks calm. 

"Jungkook, no mortal has summoned us in longer than you can imagine." Hoseok looks back at the others who nod, smiles. "Your heart is good, Jungkook, your soul is pure. Magic was drawn to the warmth of your kindness, to help you in your time of need. Of course, all magic comes with a price." 

“What do I owe you?” Jungkook whispers, and Hoseok’s voice is soft.

“A kiss.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen, but Hoseok is watching him carefully as he leans up so, so slowly, and too gently, he presses his lips to Jungkook’s forehead. His cheeks flush, and a helpless giggle escapes him, and Hoseok looks endeared as he lightly brushes a strand of Jungkook’s hair behind his ear before stepping back. When Jungkook glances at his wrist at the faint sensation of heat, the debt has been settled, the deal complete, the magic repaid: there are five rings remaining. Taehyung has stepped forward to take Hoseok’s place when Jungkook looks up again. 

“What do I owe you?” Jungkook asks shyly, and Taehyung grins. 

“A kiss.” Taehyung doesn’t have to lean up to press a kiss to Jungkook’s forehead, and it’s so caring and so light that Jungkook can’t help sighing happily, and with a ripple of heat, another ring vanishes from his wrist. Jimin bounds forward, beaming when Jungkook asks again, and closing his own eyes before leaning up to press a kiss carefully to Jungkook’s forehead just above his eyebrow, and Jungkook beams in response, turning to Yoongi beside him.

“What do I owe you?”

“A kiss. May I?” Yoongi asks softly when he steps forward, and Jungkook’s nod is fervent as Yoongi reaches out to link their fingers together before cupping Jungkook’s face so gently that Jungkook lets his eyes flutter closed. Yoongi presses a kiss to his forehead, and Jungkook’s cheeks are bright and warm and his chest is leaping with happiness as the manacles on his wrists flicker out of existence. Namjoon shuffles towards him, and Jungkook’s heart glows.

“What do I owe you?”

“A kiss.” Namjoon’s dimples gleam as he smiles brightly at Jungkook and steps up to him, and Jungkook beams back as Namjoon leans forward, eyes shining, and presses a kiss to his forehead, a hand smoothing over his wrist above where the ring glows and disappears. The others are quiet as Jin steps forward, looking contemplative.

“What do I owe you?” Jungkook tilts his head suspiciously at the way Jin is gazing down at him consideringly. 

“Actually, I’ll have a piggyback ride.” 

Jungkook bursts into laughter, and Jin’s smile is soft even when Jungkook’s giggles quiet. Jin presses his lips to Jungkook’s forehead and doesn’t remove them until Jungkook is giggling again, and he can see the others’ fond smiles as they all step forward to crowd them, as Hoseok tilts Jungkook’s wrist gently back and forth, free of all magic manacle markings, free of any debts or deals. 

“You’re free.” Jimin whispers, and Jungkook wraps his arms around him at the sadness tilting his mouth down, weighing down Jin and Yoongi’s shoulders, heavy in the sparkle of Hoseok and Taehyung’s eyes.  

“Now what?” Jungkook asks, lost, and Namjoon shakes his head. 

“You don’t… you don’t need us anymore. You don’t owe us anything.” 

Jungkook lets his gaze travel across them, to these powerful, beautiful, kind men who are warm and gentle and caring, who saved his life, saved his village, saved the kingdom. 

“Maybe…” Jungkook says slowly, dropping his gaze before looking up at them beseechingly. “Maybe now you can owe me.” 

There’s a smile beginning to spread across Yoongi’s face, and Jin’s eyes gleam as Namjoon tilts his head. 

“What can we owe you?” Taehyung asks eagerly, and Jimin smirks.

“I can think of some things.” 

Jungkook laughs, and Jin steps closer to him, raises a hand to gently stroke down his arm. 

“Can I owe you a hug?” Jin murmurs, and Jungkook’s beam splits his face as he nods, and immediately Jin is tugging him close. Jungkook feels tears spring to his eyes even before Yoongi steps up to hug him from behind, face pressing into the back of his neck. Then Jimin is pressing against his side, arms wrapping around his waist and face pressing to his shoulder, and his whisper is kind and soft. 

“I’m so sorry all of this happened to you, Jungkook.” 

And the others are pressing in, and Jungkook is held and warm and safe in the best way, and he had been so, so afraid, had been terrified, and he’d really, truly thought he was going to die before he’d ever really lived, and the emotions are surging and roiling. His eyes burn, his chest feels thick, and his heart is bursting with it all. Then Jimin leans up to press a kiss to his cheek, and suddenly, he can’t hold it back anymore, and the anguish is flooding through his chest in sobs, tears pouring down his face. 

Years of loneliness and choking solitude and aching sadness shudder through his chest and seep down his cheeks, but warm bodies press around him, and gentle kisses are pressed to his hair, to his hands, and quiet, musical voices soothe him and hold him close and it’ll be okay, love, it’ll all be okay. Yoongi’s face is pressed into his shoulder, and Jimin’s arms are wound tight around his waist. Namjoon’s cheek rests on his hair, and Jin’s hand strokes gently down his arm. Taehyung is wrapped around his back holding him tightly, and Hoseok tips their foreheads together, smile kind and warm. The sun rises slowly, stretching shadows across the fields and swirling dust in the meadow, and Jungkook clings tightly, and breathes deeply, and tilts his head back to an endless blue sky, and safely tucked between six others, he smiles. 

He smiles breathlessly the next day, tugged from room to room in an enthusiastic tour of their meadow home by an excitable Taehyung, and cries just as breathlessly when he’s presented with his own room, his walls woven flowers and vines, soft and fragrant and just for him. 

He smiles brightly the next week, visiting the orphanage with the six of them, watching Hoseok and Taehyung fly across the new playground with kids streaming after them, Namjoon and Jin patiently allowing children to climb all over them as Yoongi and Jimin paint the entrance a cheery new shade of violet and blow him kisses and laugh as he blushes relentlessly every single time. 

He smiles when he wakes to musical calls to breakfast, when he falls asleep to quiet lullabies and gentle hands stroking through his hair and down his back, when he spends his days traveling with them and studying with them and laughing and singing and dancing together. 

 

There’s magic at the core of almost everything dark in the world, and rarely does it bring good. But not this magic, not their magic. Fae magic is said to be drawn to desperation, blood. But fae magic is older than desperation, old as blood itself, older than greed and cruelty, old as fear. Fae magic is drawn to warmth, to true kindness, to the strength and magnitude of love and its selflessness. And fae magic is bright and kind and warm, and it latches, when like finds like. Magic is at the core of almost everything light in the world, and rarely does it bring love, but when it does, it’s the lasting kind. When it does, it’s forever. And forever love is dazzling and radiant. Love is Jimin and Yoongi’s blinding smiles, and Jin and Taehyung’s bursting laughs, and Namjoon and Hoseok’s soaring hearts, and Jungkook’s warmth and kindness and love. Love is a cherished soul glowing between six beaming fae in a small flower-strewn meadow nestled between the mountains, magic rippling through the walls and the grounds and singing through the air. 

Notes:

A bit different but I really liked the idea and hopefully it turned out alright, thank you for reading!!
hmm are these kinds of fics best as one shots? I was going to split it in half or something, is it harder to read when it’s all in one chapter like this, or better not to have to wait for an update?
Thanks so much for your comments and thoughts and for reading <3 I appreciate you a lot!