Chapter Text
Taehyung was aware of his destiny from a young age. Everything in his life had already been decided before he even came out of the womb: the people he would associate himself with, the hobbies that he would pursue and even the person he would have to bring himself to cherish. His title of Crown Prince was to remain unblemished. A small problem could lead to the revolt of his people were he not to be seen as worthy of his role as the future leader.
Taehyung’s education was beyond basic etiquette and the classy subjects that wealthy people partook in. At the age of 5, he had already come to master the practice of shooting bullets dead straight into the centre of a dummy’s heart. It was only a year or two later that he advanced to using real humans as the subjects of his training. The people that fell victim to the boy’s attacks were lowlifes – those who had ended up in the palace’s dungeons because of their own misconduct and faults. He was not innocent like a seven year old should have been. Whilst killing, he felt no remorse. There was no aftertaste of guilt. His hands were bloodied even though he refused to physically get them dirty. The power he felt when he looked into the pleading and desperate eyes was over mastering. He had complete control. He could toy with their lives to his heart's content.
They deserve it.
That had been whispered to him on multiple occasions. It had been engraved into his mind. A constant reminder that what he did had a reason. He enforced a form of punishment for the evil that the receiving person had committed.
What he yearned for the most, was the approval of his father. For him to simply acknowledge him. For him not to stare in disdain whenever he approached him.
He obliged to his father’s every command. If he was to speak, he would speak. If he was to sit, he would sit. If he was to kill, he would kill. Looking at him, one might think that he was a lapdog, trained to fulfil every command that its owner bespoke upon it. He was never given a reward for his outstanding talents though. He was never good enough to earn the attention of his father.
He had no right to complain about anything. He had a personal assistant who would cater to his every need. He had extensive amounts of jewels and fine silks that lined the walls of his wardrobe. He had everything that one could wish to have. Love was something that he didn’t need. It had no worth. He was content with the mundane relationship between him and his father, where neither spoke much to each other. As long as he didn’t get angry, Taehyung was fine with remaining like his mere acquaintance.
At twelve, a man was brought to him; yet another prisoner. Taehyung took one look at him and scoffed, uttering under his breath about how he had business to attend to. Over the years, he had grown to become a lot more efficient at shooting and he immediately grabbed at the arm that was permanently attached to the loop of his belt. Sometimes he would torture the victims slowly and painfully. However, today the gun was aimed at the head, ready to blast his brains within seconds. The man writhed around, trying to escape, but his attempts were to no avail for the guards on either side had already pinned his arms down.
“Would you stop being such a stubborn pest? As you know, your fate is inevitable. There is no use trying to object to the mercy of your punishment. You will not feel a thing as I have no time to waste.”
“Please…” the man let out a choked sob, “…my son h-he is only two years younger than you. He will have no one.”
By then his pleas had little importance, as the trigger had already been pulled. The bullet sliced through the core of his head and blood splattered everywhere. Some even landed on the Prince’s white satin blouse.
The young Kim felt something that he had never felt before. It was somewhere between jealousy, longing and regret. This lowly person’s last concern, cried while at the brink of death, was about his son. He could not even imagine his own father choosing to think about him whether dead or alive.
He brushed it off, grimacing at the fact that he almost felt sorry.
With a swift nod to the guards, he instructed them to take the body away. Why should it matter? It was just like any other time he had killed someone. At that moment his feelings felt so conflicted. However, like he said, he had business to attend to.
The palace gardens were picturesque, shrubs neatly trimmed, flowers of all kinds and a great water fountain that was made in memory of some ancestor of his a longtime ago. At the edge of the fountain sat a girl, legs crossed, long, fair hair cascading past her shoulders. A rosy tint coloured her cheeks, and a youthful grin graced her features as she greeted Taehyung. To anyone else, the sheer beauty of the girl would make them fall in love at first glance but for him, she was yet another duty set by his father for him to fulfil. His interest in her was extraordinarily minute, yet he had the decency to politely engage in small talk with her.
He had only met her at the start of the year but he knew her name very well. The name Eunsil had been the topic of many conversations for she was the one he would marry at twenty. He knew exactly what marriage was like. It didn’t matter whether or not you loved the other person. All that mattered was that you were marrying into a family that was of similar wealth and power to your own. It was easy for Taehyung to grasp that concept as even as he grew older, becoming a teenager, he did not care to have someone to depend upon. His only want was to maintain the image that he had upheld for so long. He had a warped idea of perfection, which he yearned to be. Emotions had no substance to him because they were shackles that would tie him down, preventing him from being perfect.
The act of putting on fake emotions was different to genuinely feeling them. Making his eyes glisten with endearment, when out in public, strolling with Eunsil was a special talent of his. Eunsil though, was oblivious to this, basking in the feigned attention that she was receiving from the nation’s crown prince. She would giddily cling onto his arm, smile wide, eyes crinkled, admiring the handsome young man that was bound to her. The commoners and nobles alike loved the two of them, they were the golden couple: both so beautiful, that only they could be worthy of each other.
Taehyung, however, never, for a single moment saw past the contractual engagement. He didn’t care in the slightest about Eunsil, and he could confidently say that he would never feel for her. He had no idea what love actually was and he didn’t need to know. All he had to do was carry on his bloodline and strengthen their kingdom.
When the two approached the castle, they noticed a small boy emerge, rivers of tears streaking his rounded cheeks, as his small fists frantically wiped them away. The boy, noticing the sound of the confident steps, glanced up briefly despite his breakdown. Immediately his eyes locked with Taehyung, eye contact held for what felt like minutes. Not once did the boy regard the presence of Eunsil, instead he solely focused on the prince. His sobbing had paused and Taehyung had noticed his reddened doe eyes contained a blazing fire, much different from his own unreadable expression.
Finally the eye contact broke, and as Taehyung was about to make a comment on his manners and the boy’s lack of a greeting, the boy grimaced and bolted, fleeing the castle, not looking back once. Taehyung was momentarily rooted to the ground, mouth slightly ajar, eyes widened, taken aback by this ill-mannered kid he had never seen before.
Taehyung felt a small tug at his arm, glancing down, to see Eunsil, urging him to walk through the palace gates. She didn’t seem fazed at all by the situation, but why was there a chill that shook Taehyung’s bones, coming from his interaction with that scruffy, frail-looking boy.
He decided to shrug the feeling off and smiled at Eunsil, acting as though nothing just happened, walking forward with her. He just assumed that the child was born to a filthy family that never taught him how to behave. He brushed this moment off as unimportant, after all with his power and skill, he feared no one, especially not a boy even younger than him.