Bound to Blossom

by mangust_d

Summary:

Hoseok is the first to awaken as a pistil within the last seven generations of his family. Kept sheltered since his awakening, only rumours of the pretty prince and his barren tree have made it outside the palace. When the King falls ill, he strikes a deal with a feared stamen lord who is said to be the most powerful leader of this era.

Notes:

• In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the BTS Subgender Fest collection.

Thank you for the fun prompt!!

This fic is set in a fictional land which shares some cultural and geographic similarities with the Korean peninsula. Pistilverse is an a/b/o adjacent AU in which people are separated into stamens, calyxes and pistils. When a stamen has penetrative sex with a pistil, the stamen’s flower blooms on the pistil’s back. Venomous stamens can form bonds with their pistils.

In this universe, stamens are able to impregnate others and have cocks. Some calyxes are fertile/virile and can present with AFAB or AMAB genitalia. Pistils are rare but very fertile and always present with AFAB genitalia, although male pistils have a small cock.

The Fuck or Die tag refers to the fact that Seokjin and Hoseok are compelled to have sex on their first night together due to outside pressures.

Hope you enjoy ♡

Chapter 1: The Filial Son

 

Excerpt from the Record of Royal Lineage:

 

The King: His Majesty Jung Deok, ‘The King of Daffodils’.

The Queen Consort: Her Majesty Song Hwayoung, ‘Queen Little Flower’

The Heir to the throne: His Royal Highness Jung Jungkook, ‘Protector of the Nation’

The First-Born Prince: His Royal Highness Jung Hoseok, ‘The Adored One’

 

 

Known once as a cradle of peace and prosperity, Suseonhwa, the Dynasty of Daffodils, has turned a grim leaf in its thousand-year history. The King has fallen ill, and a mightier nation, a land with no king but a group of squabbling warlords, has terrorised the kingdom since the Battle of Torn Petals. Among them, one name strikes fear twofold compared to his peers:

Lord Stamen Kim Seokjin, born to a bastard and a deceived widow. Sower of poison. A ruthless tactician and a master of trade. On the record, Lord Kim has never claimed a pistil or revealed his flower, but everyone believes that the man has his own harem of whores, tucked away somewhere in his winter palace.

Will he ever settle down like many Stamen Lords have? Who will claim his quasi-sovereign kingdom when his time comes? These are tumultuous times indeed.

 

♕♕♕

 

“Son, come here for a moment.”

Hoseok crosses the palace courtyard. His father is sitting on a raised platform – he always sits these days – watching the servants sweep fallen leaves off the stone steps. Hoseok feels chilly despite the embroidered cloak draped over his clothes. The winter is coming early this year, and the kingdom isn’t well-prepared for it. There will be shortages of rice and grain. Some may even starve.

Of course, Hoseok isn’t meant to know any of these things.

“Father,” he says, kneeling on the wooden steps to show his respect. His father, the King of Daffodils, was a tall and proud stamen in his youth, but years have eroded his posture and imposing looks. His two grooms-in-waiting hold large fans which they use to dispel the stench of rotting flowers that permeates the palace these days.

“Hoseok-ah, my miracle,” his father starts again, throwing Hoseok a slow, measuring glance. Hoseok is the first pistil in seven generations to have awakened from the direct royal lineage. The fairest sex is already few in numbers, greatly exceeded by calyxes and stamens, but the lack of pistil princes and princesses has affected the dynasty like a subtle curse – preventing strategic unions and other acts of diplomacy. A land which is plentiful in pistils sits on blessed soil. The opposite, however…

“My health is rapidly declining,” the King says, scratching his beard in an unhurried motion. “I have to make arrangements, for the good of the people.”

Something cold lurches in Hoseok’s stomach. That little creature of dread has been there from the moment he found out about his father’s illness. The end of an era, as future historians would call it.

“As you know, Jungkook is still too young to lead. Seeing that his mother was a concubine and not my precious Queen, he’ll have to win the people over first. He’ll succeed, of course. That boy has earned by unwavering trust, but there are… opposing views among my court.”

The sense of foreboding grows, but Hoseok does his best not to let it show on his face. When it was announced that his half-brother Jungkook, born to the king and a concubine from the Jeon clan, would inherit the throne instead of Hoseok, rumours started to spread. No announcement was ever made on the matter, but Hoseok was withdrawn from all public functions. His lessons on ancient languages and calligraphy stopped. His servants were swapped due to unknown transgressions.

Hoseok doesn’t know why the King let whispers of his first-born’s disposition travel across his realm. And he isn’t in any position to ask, not even when the matter concerns him directly.

He bows his head, waits.

“I have found you a stamen.”

It feels as though someone has wound a thin strip of leather around Hoseok’s windpipe. Where’s his mother? Where’s Jungkook? His brother should be here, even if there was nothing he could do to help Hoseok.

He draws a breath and says, “Who… who is this stamen, if I may ask?”

“You may,” his father says gently. In his voice, the King carries centuries’ worth of authority and the indisputable right to rule, but he’s also Hoseok’s father, a gentle gardener tending to his daffodils.  

Hoseok awaits his final judgement.

“To keep peace, I knew I should give up my greatest asset to one of the warlords up north. I am not going to mince my words this time – it’s not the ideal union I had planned for you.”

The warlords and their sphere of influence is something out of myths and legends. They’re described as fierce warriors but also as conniving, ruthless men who put the interest of their people above common morals.

There are a few stamen lords who have built shaky diplomatic relations with the Daffodil Dynasty, namely Lord Stamen Kim Taehyung and his small court in the mountains. But one glance at Hoseok’s father reveals that he’s being sacrificed to one of the most belligerent lords – ones Hoseok knows little to nothing about.

“Lord Stamen Kim Seokjin has offered to halt his campaign against us in exchange for – well, an unflowered pistil prince.”

As Hoseok’s knees give out under him, his cheeks prickle with heat from hearing something so direct out of the King’s mouth.

Unflowered.

“He’s also promising to stop the siege on our maritime ports and establish trade routes between our two capitals.”

“I… I didn’t even know we were at war.”

“It’s not a war, it’s a small skirmish,” Hoseok’s father says imperiously, but there’s desperation in his eyes. He’s old and sick, and Hoseok truly sees that for the first time.

Hoseok draws his lungs full of air, even though it feels as though most of it is leaking out before reaching its destination.

“Do you trust him?” he asks. “That Lord Kim should honour his end of the deal once he has me?”

It’s funny to talk about his own destiny – his virginity, even – as a simple transaction. Which it ultimately is.

The King doesn’t find the topic amusing. “Are you questioning my ability to judge the character of some fraudster lord?”

“No, father,” Hoseok says amicably. He wraps his cloak more tightly around himself, as the wind is picking up. The servants have stopped fanning away the King’s dying, wilting scent. Hoseok doesn’t point out that the fraudster lord in question is Hoseok’s future stamen.

Idly, he wonders what kind of stipulations the King has put on their union, if any. He doesn’t know much about how pistils are treated in the northern realms – if they’re hurt – or made to carry young until they physically can’t anymore. The moment Hoseok steps out of the palace gates, he’ll be on his own in the lawless north.

“I’ll fulfil my duty as a member of the royal family,” Hoseok says flatly.

“I knew you’d understand. My darling son. I wept tears of joy on the day of your awakening. I knew that one day you’d save us all from a grim fate.”

 

♕♕♕

 

Two days pass. Hoseok avoids his parents and withdraws even deeper into the palace, finding moments of peace within its ancient walls. The servants burn incense in his quarters and bathe him and treat his skin and hair with sweet-smelling oils. A local shaman comes to perform a ritual for good luck and prosperity.

After mulling over the situation, Hoseok grows weary of sitting still. He asks for a map of the northern realms, and surprisingly, his wish is granted right away. He receives a map drawn by the royal cartographer, which shows a detailed road network, the many bays and peninsulas, and even the names of small villages that are scattered across the coast.

Hoseok has heard that Lord Stamen Kim’s main palace is located in a town where more people fish and catch squid than farm rice. That’s where he’ll be taken first. It will be cold and windy by the time he arrives, and the sea will show its unpredictable might.

Used to his solitude, Hoseok is studying the map in the flickering light of an oil lantern when the sliding door to his chambers is suddenly yanked open. 

Prince Jungkook, still dressed in his riding leathers, has a wild look on his face.

“Hyungnim,” his brother blurts out.

“How did you get in?” Hoseok asks, calmly rolling the map and putting it away. When the King made his announcement, Jungkook had just left on a two-day hunting trip with his friends. The timing couldn’t have been more convenient for their father.

“I threatened everyone with a beheading if they dared stand in my way,” Jungkook says. His gaze circles the room as he speaks. He hasn’t been to Hoseok’s personal chamber in years, not since Hoseok had his awakening and any stamen visitors, relative or not, were deemed inappropriate.

“How can you be so calm right now?” Jungkook asks when Hoseok doesn’t say anything. The crazed expression is back on his face, behind his eyes that look molten in the light of the oil lamp.

Hoseok tuts. “I’ve made my peace with it. So should you, brother.”

“You’re only three years older than me. Stop with the condescension.”

“I’m not condescending you,” Hoseok says with a sigh. “It’s late, and father will be mad if he hears that you barged in this way.”

The moment for Jungkook’s grand intervention is long past. He’ll be King in a few months, but by then, Hoseok will have left the kingdom and thus fled from the reach of his authority. Jungkook couldn’t undo the pact even if he wanted – it would leave Hoseok ineligible for another union; he would live the rest of his days as a shunned recluse.

“I’m very happy to see you, despite everything,” Hoseok adds softly, walking up to Jungkook and squeezing his cold hands. The young stamen smells like oiled leather and wet leaves, mixed with his own, slightly spicy scent.

“I’ll write to you every month.”

“There is no postal service between us and them,” Jungkook objects, voice bitter. “Those people have no eye for art or beauty or class, they’re simpletons and war-waging brutes.”

“That’s what I’m meant to solve. To end this war, which I wasn’t even made aware of.”

Shame and regret flashes on Jungkook’s beautiful face. “It’s not a pistil’s place to stop a war which stamens and calyxes have started by themselves.”

Hoseok hums. Jungkook is still so young, even though his education has encompassed much more than Hoseok’s ever did. He raises a hand to his brother’s cheek. The gentlest touch.

“I will help you escape the palace,” Jungkook whispers. “I’ll find a rich family that will take you in and give you a good life, far away from here.”

“No, you certainly won’t do that.”

Jungkook flinches back from Hoseok’s cradled palm. “Kim Seokjin is a cruel man who has held our trading fleet hostage for months. He resents our family. He won’t be gentle and caring like you deserve.”

“I entertain no such delusions.”

Jungkook turns, and Hoseok wonders if he’s holding back tears.

“Very well then,” his brother says. “I shall miss you.”

Hoseoks’s throat constricts. He wants to say many things. In the end, all that comes out is:

“Me too, Jungkook-ah.”

 

♕♕♕

 

Three days later, a wooden box arrives at the palace. It’s filled with gold jewelry, which has been masterfully wrought into different flower shapes. There’s a bracelet which reminds Hoseok of daffodils, but the item that’s clearly the centrepiece of the collection is a pair of earrings. The craftsmanship is beautiful: thin, wispy petals made of gold, and evenly sized rubies nestled at the base.

But that’s not why Hoseok nearly drops the earring after picking it up. Even Hoseok’s servant, a mild-mannered calyx who rarely speaks up, reacts to the sight with an alarmed gasp.

“It’s…” Sweat beads on Hoseok’s forehead as he recognises the flower as one that is grown in the palace gardens. How naïve he has been, thinking that Kim Seokjin was dangerous only because of his unpredictable temper.

Red spider lily. A flower which symbolises death and rebirth. The resemblance is so striking that there is no room for another interpretation.

The servant points out the obvious: “It’s a highly toxic flower, Your Highness.”

Lord Stamen Kim Seokjin is venomous. And soon, Hoseok will have to bear his flower on his back.

 

♕♕♕

 

When Hoseok says his final goodbyes to the palace staff, his father is too weak to come outside to send him off. Hoseok’s mother, Queen Little Flower – as she’s known by most of the kingdom – stays by her husband’s bedside. She’s either ashamed that she couldn’t save Hoseok, or she has already let go of him. 

Hoseok has never understood his mother well. She is a calyx who managed to get pregnant but not provide the nation with a stamen heir, so the King rushed to bring in a concubine. But the Queen, despite steering clear of court politics, remained incredibly loyal to her husband, and now her obduracy is paying off. She will become Queen Dowager, who will rule the kingdom while Jungkook, who was born to a different woman, prepares for his role as King. It’s a dangerous game, but she has nothing to lose by playing it.

Unlike his parents, Jungkook runs to the courtyard moments before Hoseok has to leave. His brother hugs him tightly despite their earlier argument, and a few members of the court offer empty courtesies. 

The moment Hoseok can no longer see the shape of the palace roof behind the treetops, he sheds a single, private tear that encapsulates all those years spent as the adored prince.

The journey feels long, even though it looked shorter on Hoseok’s map – the map which is now carefully rolled in the wooden trunk that holds all of his earthly possessions.

They stay the first night at an inn, and the second at a property owned by the royal family. Hoseok’s travel outfit is inconvenient for the chilly weather, as it’s made of two separate parts. The first one is a long-sleeved gown which sweeps the floor, but the back of the garment cuts down to the small of his back with only a lace ribbon to hold the fabric in place. His exposed back is covered with a thin cloak that comes down to his waist, and it’s short enough that it can easily be lifted out of the way to prove Hoseok’s innocence as a pistil. Unfortunately, it also lets the damp autumn air seep into his bones.

It’s not so bad at first, when they cut through the empty fields where the summer’s yield of flowers has already been harvested. The mountains, which mark the edge of the kingdom, shield the royal entourage from the wind. The Suseonhwa people are children of summer. Their winters are relatively short, and their houses well-heated even in the coldest months because any trace of bodily discomfort is seen as a moral failure to care for one’s family.

The closer Hoseok travels to the northern realms, the weaker he feels – like he’s a spring flower caught in a late snowstorm and forced to wither before he ever gets to flourish. The men carrying his palanquin voice no complaints, but Hoseok is worried for their health, too. And the few officials and guards who travel on horseback behind them.

After a brief lunch break by a grove of pine trees, they enter a valley which leads to the town in Lord Kim’s possession. The rock formations around them are austere but strangely beautiful, and the temperature keeps dropping. Hopefully Hoseok’s stamen will be gracious enough to provide him with some new clothes. Ceremonial outfits aside, his entire royal garb is ill-suited for this climate. And in a way, he’s no longer a prince who should adhere to strict fashion standards. He’ll be the pistil of a bastard lord, bonded to his venom for eternity.

There’s something strangely freeing about the thought. Hoseok has never rebelled against his status. He didn’t despise his life at the palace. And yet…

“We’ll arrive soon,” calls out one of the palanquin-bearers. Hoseok slides the small window open to see how the views have changed since the last stop: Houses built on a steep incline. In the distance, a shimmering sea and a fast-setting sun.

The fear comes back like a crashing wave. Things set in motion. Before the sun has dipped below the horizon, Hoseok will have met his spider lily stamen and fallen under his command.

The timing couldn’t be worse, as Hoseok hears knocking on the narrow wooden door that still separates him from reality. For a few nervous breaths, he stalls for time, expecting one of the servants to step in and open the door for him. But the person on the other side waits persistently for Hoseok to come out of his own accord.

Giving him a false choice or respecting his privacy? It’s hard to say.

When Hoseok finally opens the door, he’s met with a man approximately his age. He has a round sort of face and eyes which remind Hoseok of the cat who lived somewhere on the palace grounds and hunted for mice – when he wasn’t busy basking in the sun like a self-appointed member of the royal family.

“Welcome, Your Highness,” the man says with a deep yet perfunctory bow. “I’m Min Yoongi, Lord Kim’s strategic advisor.”

Hoseok can barely mask his surprise. “Strategic… advisor?”

Advisor Min narrows his eyes. “Well, yes. It is beyond me why Lord Kim decided that I should have the pleasure of showing you around, but it would ill behoove me to question his orders.”

“Ah, yes,” Hoseok says dumbly. He’s never had another person speak to him like this. Apart from Jungkook, perhaps.

“Lord Kim is waiting for you at his palace,” Min Yoongi says, waving his hand at the stone steps carved into the hillside. “Shall we go?”

Hoseok feels dizzy. He’s been sedentary for days, and now he’s expected to ascend dozens of steep steps and look presentable by the end. However, the dutiful advisor is already on the move, and Hoseok can only grab the hem of his damned robes and follow suit.

“Lord Kim has governed this area for five years now,” Advisor Min offers, clasping his hands behind his back. “He has greatly stabilised the region and revitalised its traditional trades.”

Hoseok makes a vague noise of approval. If this man already thinks so little of him, he doesn’t have to work so hard to appear poised and intelligent.

“Of course, all this progress hasn’t come without cost,” the man continues smoothly. “Many stamens, as well as calyxes who can’t bear young, have been drafted to serve in Lord Kim’s personal militia. Which is why it’s important that we establish diplomatic connections with all of our neighbours.”

Advisor Min looks over his shoulder, as if to make sure that Hoseok is keeping up. They are almost at the heavy-looking gates.

“And here we are.”

The wind whips Hoseok’s hair and clothes as the massive gates are pulled open by two guards. There are multiple people standing in the palace courtyard. It’s large but nothing impressive to Hoseok who has spent his entire life within the Daffodil Palace, which is more akin to a small city than the residence of a single family.

Unlike at his palace, where people avert their gazes and bow deeply when a member of the royal family appears, everyone stares openly. They’ve been waiting for him. Advisor Min nudges him in the arm – touches him, without hesitations! How dare he?

Biting the inside of his cheek, Hoseok approaches the welcome committee, his hands clasped together.

“Prince Hoseok. The Adored One.”

The voice is smooth and melodic. A tall man dressed in plain, dark clothes and long boots. Nothing separates him from the people around him, but there are no doubts about his identity.

“Lord Kim,” Hoseok says stiffly. He doesn’t bow because while he’s a pistil on foreign soil, his rank technically surpasses his. For the time being.

Lord Kim Seokjin holds out his hand in invitation, so Hoseok has no choice but to meet him in the middle of the courtyard. The air smells like sea salt, but unlike his advisor, the lord himself has a subtle yet distinct sweetness clinging to him, which overpowers everyone else present.

“What a shame. You didn’t wear the earrings.”

Lord Kim sounds mildly disappointed, and Hoseok cowers before countering with, “Forgive me, lord, the journey was long, and I was afraid I’d lose such beautiful and unique pieces.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” Lord Kim clicks his tongue impatiently. “It’s cold, and we’ve been twiddling our thumbs for long enough. Let’s get on with the ceremony. Has the representative from your kingdom arrived?”

Hoseok searches for the court official who travelled here with them. She’s standing at a respectful distance with a scroll in her hand.

“And your two witnesses?”

“Present as well,” the official confirms, pointing at the two people appointed by the King. Hoseok suspects that Jungkook wasn’t named one of the witnesses because their father feared that he would try to make a scene. Punch the good lord stamen in the nose, perhaps.

“Splendid,” Lord Kim says dryly. “Send the King my well-wishes since he wasn’t able to join us in person. I on the other hand have brought Lords Kim Namjoon and Kim Taehyung with me to bear witness to the exchange and signing of the non-aggression pact. They’re my closest allies.”

Hoseok throws a sneaky glance at the other warlords. They don’t look quite as dangerous as Kim Seokjin. With his luck, Hoseok simply had to end up with the worst one of the bunch.

“I will now inspect my pistil,” Lord Kim says, using a tone he could apply to a conversation about the surging price of vegetables. “Please face the crowd so that I can preserve your modesty.”

What modesty is there left to preserve? Hoseok lets out a sigh of combined dread and relief because Jungkook isn’t here to witness his humiliation. He turns to the small crowd and fixes his gaze on a crack in the stone slabs that cover the ground.

Hoseok expects the stamen to touch him, even grab him roughly, but the fingers lifting his cloak are feather-light. He feels the cool breeze on his back, the slightest tug on the ribbon to reveal the branches that reach his shoulders.

A long pause.

A wave of sudden heat floods Hoseok’s core as he realises: Kim Seokjin is the first stamen to see his bare back. He’ll take all of his firsts, one by one.

Hoseok’s skin tingles. He’s tight as a wire, anticipating a touch that still doesn’t come. Never comes.

“Everything is in order,” Lord Kim says and flips down Hoseok’s cloak without tying the ribbon underneath. Hoseok sways on his feet, hoping that his entire gown won’t unravel.

“We shall go to my study to fetch my family seal. The truce officially begins at sundown, and after the word has reached my navy and the land encampments in the south, I shall lead the negotiations for a lasting peace.”

The Daffodil Kingdom’s delegation exchanges a few words before agreeing to the terms. Hoseok is led into a large chamber decorated in dark wood tones, away from the others. A guard is placed outside the door, and a servant brings him sliced fruit and a pot of jasmine tea.

His presence is no longer needed.

 

♕♕♕

 

Kim Seokjin returns for a late dinner. He doesn’t look pleased when he sees Hoseok, but his expressions have been difficult to interpret so far.

Hoseok has been allowed to change into another set of clothes – the simplest robe he owns. In the south, people would take his plain attire as a slight against them, but Hoseok hopes that he’s making the right choice, trying not to outshine his stamen or appear vain.

“Why haven’t you started eating?” Lord Kim barks. This time, his displeasure is evident. His eyes travel down Hoseok’s body and then back up to his face.

“I was waiting for you, my Lord.”

The stamen lets out a stifled laugh. “Why does that sound so silly when my own pistil says it?”

Hoseok bites the tip of his tongue. Breathes in. “What would you prefer me to call you then?”

Before giving an answer, the stamen sits down cross-legged on a cushion opposite Hoseok. He pours himself a small cup of rice wine from the pitcher and takes a sip.

“Frankly, I don’t know,” he says, smacking his lips as though the single sip of wine is the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. “We have plenty of time to figure it out, though.”

Hoseok nods, equally unsure.

“Now, eat. You’re pleasing to look at, but still too slight and pale for my liking. I’d prefer you to be a bit sturdier before the winter comes.” A short pause. “Although, I suppose you’re the slim-hipped type.”

The stamen tilts his head, and Hoseok’s insides twist on tight coils. No one has ever commented on his appearance like that. He picks up a piece of fish from the dish in front of him and chews quickly under Lord Kim’s piercing gaze.

“Send a word to the cooks if something isn’t to your liking. We season our food differently, but there won’t be an issue if you’d like them to acquire southern spices.”

“It tastes fine,” Hoseok says.

“Aren’t you a feisty princeling?”

There’s nothing Hoseok can do to stop his mouth from hanging wide open in shock.

“Easy to rile up, too. That’s good to know.” Lord Kim finishes his wine but doesn’t reach for the carafe again. It’s a relief – a drunken lord would be even trickier to handle. More unpredictable.

They eat in silence for a while. The food is spicy but not in the way Hoseok is used to. The soups and broths which Hoseok expects to be hot are cold instead, and the noodles are made out of buckwheat.

Suddenly, Lord Kim stops eating and looks directly at Hoseok. “Don’t you have any questions for me?”

Should Hoseok have questions? Perhaps. Probably. He just hadn’t expected any of them to be welcome.

“I heard…” Hoseok loses his courage mid-sentence, but Kim Seokjin keeps staring at him expectantly. “I heard that your army is stronger than ours, that you were able to besiege our ports. Why would you exchange your advantage for a mere… for a pistil?”

“Pistils are rare,” Lord Kim says curtly. “Here even more so than where you come from. I deemed it an adept sacrifice for your kingdom to make. I wouldn’t have agreed otherwise.”

So, Hoseok is his war trophy.

“Any other questions?” the stamen presses.

Hoseok lowers his spoon as well. His appetite is gone, but his thirst for knowledge rears its head. “What should I know about this land? About your customs?”

“Everyone stands on equal ground here. My offspring won’t automatically rise to power after I’m gone – they would have to prove themselves just as I did. Pistils are allowed to pursue important positions as well – to a reasonable degree of course.”

Hoseok must look disbelieving because Lord Kim laughs, flashing a row of nigh-perfect teeth.

“I must wonder,” Hoseok says, trying to disguise the trembling of his voice, “how I am expected to fit into this peculiar puzzle. You know where I come from, even if my royal station means nothing to you.”

“You’re mistaken if you think that your reputation hasn’t reached even the most uncivilised parts of this land.” Lord Kim waves his spoon like he’s scolding a little sapling. “Here it’s not uncommon to hear about pistils who carry the flowers of many stamens on their backs. We understand that situations change. But an unclaimed pistil prince whose bloodline was deemed cursed? That defies all odds, all common sense. You have become a myth in your own lifetime, Your Highness.”

“Now I think you’re putting too much pressure on me with your high expectations, and –”

“I assure you – my expectations are well-managed.”

Hoseok opens his mouth. Too late.

“However,” Lord Kim asserts, “I’ll require that you remain monogamous.”

“Just as you’ll do?” Hoseok says without thinking. He’s getting angry – a dangerous emotion to possess at a time like this.

Lord Kim lifts his brows. “Naturally that applies to me as well.”

“Why?”

Again, the stamen reacts mildly to Hoseok’s questioning.

“For one, I’m a man of duty,” he says. “I understood that I would have to put my people above private wishes and aspirations. Secondly, I am a venom stamen, so I must weigh every encounter carefully: What if my partner has an adverse reaction to my venom? What if I form a bond with someone whom I’m not happy to spend my days with? Why should I put myself and the other person at risk for so little gain? I’ve done my share with willing calyxes and even a few pistils who had the strength to deny me – but you’ll be the first pistil I’ll give my flower to.”

Hoseok’s hands shake, so he grabs the hem of his clothes and closes his fists tightly around the fabric. “You think it’s… worth the risk?”

“Very much so, yes.”

Lord Kim stands up and reaches the door in a few strides. They watch in an uncomfortable silence as servants collect the remains of their dinner and retreat with deep bows.

Only when they’re left alone, the stamen shrugs off the topmost layer of his attire, revealing a similar robe below made of a thinner fabric. The change is minute, but Kim Seokjin might as well be ripping his clothes off.

“I must give you my flower – and in order to honour my end of the bargain, it must happen tonight.” Lord Kim sounds nearly apologetic. “It ensures that you’re undeniably under my care and protection.”

“You must,” Hoseok repeats, though not in validation. He’s trying to wrap his head around the stamen’s words.

“I really do,” Lord Kim repeats humourlessly. “The moment you’ve been flowered, your perceived value will drop dramatically. I was anxious, letting you journey without me or my men by your side, but your father disregarded my offer of protection.”

“Excuse me?”

Seokjin hums. “As I told you, there are many who would want to stake the first claim in a pistil prince. Out of cunning – or sheer malice. I have my share of enemies as well.”

“Not that…” Hoseok shakes his head. “A few days ago, I could have had you lashed or executed for speaking to me this way.”

Lord Kim’s expression shifts ever so slightly. “I didn’t mean to offend you, my prince.”

The almost-apology is all that Hoseok gets. The stamen’s slim, slightly crooked fingers reach for his undershirt and begin to undo the sash which holds the garment together. Hoseok watches him in a trance-like state.

Bit by bit, the stamen – Hoseok’s stamen – bares his toned chest and arms, which have prominent veins running from wrist to elbow. Next, Hoseok spots something red on Lord Kim’s pectoral.

“Is it always in that spot?” Hoseok blurts out, drunk on the absurdity of the situation. He didn’t even touch the wine, too scared of losing his bearings.

Absent-mindedly, the stamen lord brushes his fingers over the delicate petals of his flower, which strike a contrast with his impenetrable exterior.

“Not always,” he says, more quietly than before, “but mine bloomed here after my awakening.”

Hoseok nods, continues watching, taking everything in from a deceptively safe distance. Lord Kim reaches for a small silk satchel and turns it upside down over his palm.

In a flat voice, the stamen instructs, “Chew on these, please.”

Hoseok eyes the greyish roots with suspicion. Unnervingly unremarkable.

“This will make it less likely that you’ll conceive tonight. Not impossible by any means, but I think we should take every possible precaution, as we are compelled to go all the way this time.”

“You don’t wish for me to become… gravid?”

Kim Seokjin blinks slowly before speaking. “I would think it unwise so soon.”

There’s another, even longer silence.

“And if I only wanted an heir, there would’ve been far easier solutions,” the stamen continues, offering Hoseok the remedy. He takes it. 

The roots are bitter and chewy in his mouth, and for a moment Hoseok wonders if they’ll even do anything. Lord Kim keeps his eyes on him with an uncomfortable intensity.

“I’m glad that you’re hardier than how your father described you.”

Is that truly what the stamen is coming away with? That Hoseok will give himself to a strange stamen with his head held high? That he’s not a terrified, clueless prince?

In some backwards manner, it’s insulting to him.

Lord Kim turns his back to Hoseok and begins to roll a plush sleeping mat out on the floor. Meanwhile, Hoseok has begun to tremble uncontrollably. He tries to remind himself: This stamen has already seen his most intimate place once before. The worst has already happened, and Hoseok lived to tell the tale.

“Come here,” Hoseok is beckoned. “Sit with me.”

Hoseok does as he’s told. Still fully clothed, his dignity scarcely intact.

“I’m here, Lord Kim,” he says.

“My name is Seokjin,” the stamen snaps, just loud enough for Hoseok to flinch.

Once he collects himself, he replies in a dignified tone: “I remember that, my lord.”

A hint of a smile on Seokjin’s face. The fearsome stamen lord, who’s already reaching a hand to unravel Hoseok’s clothes. He does so with respect, but he’s a man who is plainly aware of his rights.  

Hoseok is shaking once again.

“You’re afraid because that’s how they made you,” Seokjin says and brushes Hoseok’s cheek, his now-exposed collarbone; the touch sears him like heated metal. “You will let go of your old self in time. Hyung will help.”

Hoseok nearly laughs. His hyung, the warmongering stamen lord who has a strange notion of helping.

The rest of their clothes come off, and Hoseok is careful not to look too closely. He’s unsure of what to expect from his own body, what kind of pain he’s supposed to prepare for. He’s been on the road for a long time, too. He splashed his face and arms in a wash basin while he waited for Seokjin to finish signing away his rights, but that cannot have been enough.

The moment his undershirt is removed, Hoseok’s nipples start to pebble in the cool air, and he makes a half-hearted attempt to cover himself with his hands. Seokjin makes no snide remark, though he clicks his tongue as if to say: What a foolish little pistil.

Then, he instructs Hoseok to get into a prone position.

“I want to see your back,” the stamen explains when he meets Hoseok’s spooked gaze. “I won’t do anything else yet. I promise.”

Plenty of promises this stamen makes. They’re complete strangers.

Hoseok turns, and he can immediately feel Seokjin staring at his back. Brazen, greedy for ownership. It must be his lack of flowers.

“Just like that. Spread your legs a bit.”

Hoseok was expecting that much, but where to go from here?

”I’m not…” he mutters, “I don’t have the slightest –”

A heavy, warm hand lands on Hoseok’s upper thigh, fingers curling around the flesh. ”Shh. I know you don’t. I have prepared everything.”

Prepared what? Hoseok wants to ask.

”I’ll touch you now,” Seokjin warns, but it’s nonsensical because the stamen is already touching him, and… Oh. 

Hoseok hisses as the stamen’s fingers reach further, hook between his outermost folds where hair grows in dark tufts, spreading them wide to uncover the rosy slit underneath. There’s the tiniest bit of lingering dampness there, and Hoseok doesn’t know whether that is desired or not. As the stamen keeps his eyes on him, another unobstructed trickle leaks out of him, like nectar out of a flower.

“Good,” Seokjin says, swiping a single finger down Hoseok’s centre. It makes every muscle in his body spasm involuntarily. He may be imagining things, but the stamen’s sweet scent grows stronger by the moment.

As if reading his mind, Seokjin continues, “Your scent will become more like mine after you have my flower. But it’s pleasant as it is, I must say.”

As an untouched pistil, Hoseok shouldn’t smell much of anything. That’s rather the point.

“I need to touch you more soon, to apply some oil.”

Hoseok produces a fairly undignified sound, attempting to clamp his thighs back together, but Seokjin’s hand is still in the way, cupping his private bits without applying any pressure. It’s maddening somehow. To be touched, but not.

“Here we go,” Seokjin mutters, withdrawing his hand for the briefest moment. When his fingers return, they’re coated in oil, rubbing lightly at Hoseok’s opening, making it slippery all over.

“Have you had anything inside you before? Fingers? Toys?”

Another incoherent noise escapes Hoseok’s throat, and he grips the silken bedsheet with both hands. Seokjin doesn’t stop to wait for his reply; he’s spreading the oil from his slit down to his asshole, and at every pass, skirting around the little nub of his cock – as the organ is called in raunchier descriptions. It has been twitching helplessly ever since Seokjin started paying attention to that area.

Hoseok’s cock used to be bigger, but after his awakening, it shrunk down to its current size and became impossibly sensitive to touch. Sometimes, when he’s alone and pictures a stamen with kind yet intense eyes, he rubs the head of his cock and basks in the tingles travelling up and down his spine.

”I asked you a question, pistil,” Seokjin reminds him.

“Uh, just… a finger. During my awakening.”

A low chuckle. “One finger? How scandalous of you, little prince. How about down here?” The pistil taps the rim of his asshole.

Out of surprise, Hoseok throws a glance over his shoulder – only to find the stamen hovering right above him. Unclothed. Hoseok’s eyes travel down to the juts of his hipbones and –

A sudden wave of curious heat overtakes Hoseok, strengthened by the fact that Seokjin’s hand is still right there between his legs.

“I take that as a no,” the stamen chuckles.

“Of course that’s a no,” Hoseok snaps, though the ending of his sentence morphs into a hiss as Seokjin keeps applying gentle pressure on his rim.

“You didn’t know that pistils can take it up the ass without having to accept the stamen’s flower? I assumed it was a commonly abused loophole in your circles.”

Hoseok shudders from head to toe.

“I’ve heard it can be fairly pleasurable for both parties, although it’s usually the stamens who get tremendously persuasive when they think that they can get away with something.”

With a sigh, Seokjin moves his hand back to Hoseok’s slit where the oil is mixing with his natural slick.

“As flattering as this is, darling, I’m particularly glad you’re slicking up for this because I wouldn’t want to hurt you unnecessarily.”

Hoseok lowers his forehead to the sleeping mat and tries to comprehend the sensations in his body. Seokjin rubs at him for a few more moments, tantalisingly slow and steady, and then he’s sliding a cool, slick finger inside him.

“Ah… I, it’s…”

“Hush.”

As Seokjin puts an end to Hoseok’s babbling with one single word, he begins to explore what he now owns. One finger, then two. Hoseok’s opening stretches and aches and then accommodates the intrusion. The head of his cock rubs against the damp silk beneath him, and Hoseok finds himself instinctively wiggling his hips until the stamen stops him with a hand on the small of his back, right where his tree grows.

“Greedy little princeling,” Seokjin comments. “I thought you’d be a blushing virgin, but here you are humping and soiling my nice sheets.”

Involuntarily, Hoseok clamps down on Seokjin’s fingers, shame and excitement coiling into something that frightens him. His muscles keep convulsing, trying to expel the intrusion, but it remains seated right there, barreling him toward something –

Hoseok is terrified of losing control of his bladder, of making a fool of himself. Seokjin prods at him with another finger, and Hoseok tries to tell him that it’s too much, but he’s drooling dumbly into the sheets, hair falling over his eyes and narrowing his field of vision.

The third finger slips in, and Hoseok whines. Pitiful noises, high and pleading. The sensation builds and builds, too large to grasp. His neglected cock throbs.

And this is nothing. This is Seokjin preparing him for his flower.

This is everything, surrounded by a vast nothingness.

Hoseok’s toes curl, his back tingles. He’s past the point of caring if he soils himself.

Suddenly, Seokjin pulls his hand away.

Hoseok’s confused muscles constrict around nothing, once, twice. The slight pressure of the cold, slimy sheets against his cock remains his only form of stimulation, but it’s nowhere enough to sustain him. He teeters on the edge of something for a few, painful moments until his body seems to give up.

Then, next to his ear: “You’re more responsive than I thought. That’s good to know.”

Hoseok makes a questioning noise, but Seokjin is already grabbing him by the hips to arrange him to his hands and knees. Miraculously, Hoseok manages to hold himself up while Seokjin pulls his legs and positions himself between them. He feels something hot and blunt at his already-stretched entrance.

“You’ll feel my venom soon,” the stamen warns. “But I promise that your body will accept it and build an immunity toward it as soon as I complete the bond.”

“Will it –” Hoseok mumbles, “will it hurt?”

Seokjin chuckles. He’s doing something with his hips, and the pressure increases.

“The venom, or my cock in your tight pussy?” the stamen asks. The crassness of his tongue barely registers in Hoseok’s mind because of the trepidation clouding his senses.

“Your venom,” Hoseok answers because it’s the truth, even if he fears Seokjin’s manhood almost equally.

“Yes, darling. But you’ll take it so well, won’t you? Maybe you’ll even like it, but that’s only my guess.”

There’s not enough time to find out what Seokjin meant. The stamen is already pushing into him, and the slide is way too fast and easy for something so evidently big.

It’s too late to turn to see, though; Seokjin’s hips meet Hoseok’s ass with a soft grunt that conveys satisfaction. Deep inside, he’s pressing into all the spots where Hoseok is already hyper-sensitive.

As he struggles to adjust, Seokjin draws himself back without fanfare. The first thrust pulls a shout from Hoseok, and the second one is followed by a spurt of clear liquid from his insignificant pistil cock. The stamen laughs again and swipes at the still-twitching head of Hoseok’s cock with his thumb, making him squeal. He doesn’t know what’s wrong – why he’s feeling so keyed up when he should be collapsing from the anxiety.

Seokjin keeps thrusting steadily, and Hoseok is so focused on the stretch that he first misses how his back is starting to burn. The pain radiates down his spine, but it’s the worst on his shoulder blade, making his arm numb and pulling his muscles unnaturally taut. The pain is also in his tummy, like a ghostly hand that wraps around his insides and squeezes, tight, tight, tight.

“Shh, it’s almost over,” Seokjin’s voice comes from nearby, piercing through the haze of pain and distant nausea. “You’ll feel better if you come for me.”

“How?” Hoseok manages to ask.

“Focus on my cock, little prince,” Seokjin croons. He grabs Hoseok by the waist and pulls him impossibly closer, so that there’s not an inch of space between them. He can feel Seokjin’s sweat and smell his lust. Warm lips graze the shell of Hoseok’s ear, pressing into the long hairs at his nape.

The stamen inhales, slowly. “Right there. Come for me, pistil.”

I don’t know how, Hoseok thinks – or yells out loud – he doesn’t know anymore. There’s a ringing sound in his ears. His entire body aches from the venom. His heart thrums like the wings of a tiny bird. Birds are so fragile, their bones, the grotesque sight of bent wings.

What if you break me? Will you care?

“I already care about you, Hoseok-ah.”

There’s no way to tell what the reality is anymore. Seokjin’s thumb, calloused yet tender, is back at Hoseok’s cock, circling the head with insistence that knocks the air out of his lungs.

“It would be rude to disobey your stamen on our first night together, hmm? So, be a good boy and come. Your body knows how.”

Hoseok doesn’t have the words to describe how it feels when everything in his body locks up and pulses in perfect unison. The tip of his cock, where Seokjin’s finger now rests like a tease, his wide-open pussy, even the spot on his back where Seokjin’s flower is blooming.

Briefly, Hoseok thinks he could pass out, but such mercy never comes. Seokjin draws a ragged breath above him, burying himself into the hilt inside Hoseok, and then it’s over.

For once, Seokjin sounds incredibly flustered: “I must… I’ll stay inside you for a moment to ensure that… the bond takes.”

Hoseok tries to nod, but the venom is still coursing through his veins, making him weak and feeble, even if his mind has sobered in the wake of their coupling.

And now, this silent intimacy is maddening. Seokjin brushes a hand through Hoseok’s hair and shifts his hips – highlighting how sore Hoseok will be in the morning.

“You did well,” Seokjin mutters as he pulls out. Something oozes out of Hoseok, messy, wet, uncomfortable. The sensation of being constantly stretched out doesn’t disappear, as though Seokjin has altered his anatomy with his cock and things will never go back to how they used to be.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine,” Hoseok croaks out. He manages to turn around, but Seokjin stops him.

“Not on that side. The flower is still fresh, you’ll hurt yourself.”

Hoseok feels dumb as he rolls onto his side and curls into a ball. He doesn’t know what to think. Everything Seokjin has done to him – after all that, his body is content, sated. The stamen was right: he even enjoyed the pain of his venom.

Seokjin disappears and comes back with a soft-looking cloth. He wipes Hoseok down between the legs, in the gentlest swipes, and inspects his flower before drawing a warm blanket over his body.

“It looks pretty on the side like that,” he comments. Hoseok turns toward his voice and instantly regrets it because the stamen remains naked. A lean stomach, a nest of dark hair, a softening cock, still glistening with the oil and Hoseok’s fluids. It’s many times larger than Hoseok’s own even like this.

“I’m glad it turned out well,” Seokjin continues in a conversational tone. “I’m not sure how occupied you are with aesthetics, but it’s the only flower you’ll ever have, so I hoped it would bloom well.”

Hoseok’s belly flips, and his spent cock twitches pathetically. He’s ashamed of his own reaction but can’t hide it from Seokjin’s eyes that see every bit of him.

“I have to leave before dawn, so I’ll spend the night in another bedchamber to protect your sleep,” Seokjin suddenly says, turning toward the door. He walks over to a large chest and picks up a silk robe, which he pulls loosely around himself. “You’ll be safe here in my palace and in the centre of the town, as long as you take Yoongi and a few guards with you.”

“Where are you going?” Hoseok asks weakly. Somehow, he hadn’t imagined a scenario where the stamen would leave so soon after claiming him.

“I have a war to end. I owe it to my people to oversee the withdrawal personally. But worry not, dear, I’m good at de-escalation.”

Hoseok draws his knees even closer to his chest. The venom is starting to make him sleepy.

“If an opportunity should arise, I encourage you to get acquainted with the two lords I’m currently hosting. They would be delighted to meet my bonded pistil.”

Hoseok hums flatly.

“I shall be back in a fortnight.” Seokjin goes to the door and slides it open. “Sleep well, princeling.”

 

♕♕♕

 

The sun has risen when Hoseok awakens. The invisible hands of servants have opened the window and collected their discarded clothes from the floor.

Hoseok turns onto his belly and takes stock of the many aches of his body. Seokjin is gone, and he’s a lone pistil once again. A prince in his tower. Perhaps it will be a good thing. He’s bonded now, and people will no longer expect anything from him.

“Glad to see you awake.”

A childish yelp escapes Hoseok as he pulls his blanket over his exposed back.

Min Yoongi is leaning into the windowsill on the other end of the room, arms crossed and hair brushed back in a way that makes him look younger.

“Advisor Min,” Hoseok barks. “Does – does Lord Kim know you’re here? In my bedchamber?”

The man laughs. “No, but he wouldn’t care either way. Stamens like him don’t view me as a threat.”

Hoseok doesn’t know what that means. The advisor must have seen his back – his flower. How indecent.

“I’ve taken the liberty to have a bath drawn for you,” Advisor Min says in a cordial tone. Hoseok thanks him just as stiffly.

The bath is amazing, just as hot and refreshing as getting to bathe at the grand bathhouse in the Daffodil Palace. Two polite servants offer him assistance, but Hoseok turns them down. In the privacy of the bath, he cleans himself out with a wince and rubs his skin with a piece of unscented soap.

When he gets out of the water, a cloud of mild, floral scent surrounds him.

It takes him a while to understand that he’s smelling himself.

Hoseok gets dressed quickly, trying to come to terms with the fact that people might be able to smell the claim Seokjin put on him last night. It matters little that smelling like his stamen will only help keep him safe. To bored nobles and officials, it will be the most titillating rumour.

He shoves his feet into slippers and combs his hair back, imitating Advisor Min’s sleek style, wishing he could fade into the background. He takes a peek at his box of jewellery and closes it again. Sighs.

Advisor Min is back, inquiring if Hoseok would like to enjoy a meal in the breakfast room – which allegedly overlooks a cliff and is filled with beautiful sunlight at this hour. Hoseok agrees because there’s nothing else for him to plausibly busy himself with.

The advisor’s stride is brisk as they traverse the corridors of Seokjin’s palace. He uses the opportunity to give Hoseok a cursory tour, but it’s clear that a lot of the rooms are left to be explored. Without asking, the man accompanies Hoseok for breakfast as well, sitting opposite him like an equal and helping himself to everything on offer.

Not a prince anymore, Hoseok reminds himself, constantly taking small bites of food to avoid active conversation. Min Yoongi seems to be a man of few words, and he doesn’t appear disheartened by the silence.

The view, however, is just as impressive as advertised, and Hoseok spends a good while gazing at the sea and the seagulls that circle the port below. The weather is just warm enough that the breeze coming from the open windows doesn’t bother him, and the food is just as tasty as the night before.

He’s finishing his second cup of tea when a young man saunters in, once again unannounced. It’s clear that Seokjin’s palace operates on a vastly different code of social conduct. The man has a striking hair colour, much lighter than anything Hoseok has seen before, and his features are delicately rounded.

“Jimin-ah,” Advisor Min grunts in greeting. Hoseok’s mouth opens at the shockingly casual tone, and even when the man named Jimin bows in his direction, he’s left speechless.

“This is Park Jimin,” Advisor Min says with a wave of his hand. “Lord Kim Namjoon’s spymaster. And the bane of my existence. And this is Seokjin’s new pistil, His Royal Highness Jung Hoseok.”

The spymaster bows again, more playfully. Jimin truly looks out of this world, and even the grumpy advisor seems quite taken with him.

“You forgot to add ‘Lord Kim’s treasured pistil’ and ‘your best friend’ to the list,” Jimin says with an easy smile. He sits down on a cushion next to Advisor Min and pops a piece of fruit in his mouth.

Hoseok follows the interaction like a sapling who knows nothing about the world.

“How…?” he blurts out, blinking his eyes rapidly.

“How am I a pistil? Or how do I have blond hair, or how did I melt Yoongi hyung’s icy heart?”

“Jimin-ah, you’re flustering him.”

“Sorry,” Jimin says, clearly not sorry at all. “You know that the bravado is a survival tactic. It’s a stamen’s world out there.”

Advisor Min – or Yoongi hyung – sighs heavily. He discards his teacup and crosses his arms in his signature way. “If you’re interested, Your Highness, Jimin’s story is an… atypical one.”

Hoseok nods and looks at the other pistil hesitantly. Having all the attention directed at someone else seems like a gift from the gods, but he doesn’t want to make Jimin uncomfortable.

“So, in a sense, I used to be a thief.”

Hoseok’s eyebrows shoot up. Out of all the things Jimin could’ve said, that wasn’t the one he was expecting.

“There’s a lively jewel trade and jewellery-making culture in the city I grew up in. I was very good at stealing the right amount from the right people to avoid suspicion – until my luck turned and I got thrown in the most miserable dungeon to await judgement. Lord Kim Namjoon came to meet me in person because he had heard about my reputation. He promised to let me go if I agreed to work for him for ten years.”

Yoongi scoffs. “The fool made you sign a slave contract because he was that smitten with you.”

“Well, I would’ve escaped easily if I hadn’t found the position intriguing enough.”

Hoseok tries to remember how the stamen lord had looked out in the courtyard, but his memories of the ceremony are tinted with nerves and self-consciousness.

“In the end, he claimed me, yes, but his good looks and agreeable personality weren’t among the biggest reasons why I stayed.”

“Namjoon has the personality of a sack of rice,” Yoongi objects.

Jimin’s singsong laughter fills the room. Still giggling, he says, “Tell us, Hoseok… I mean Your Highness… How do you find your own stamen lord?”

Hoseok stares at them. “I – Lord Kim hasn’t treated me unfairly.”

Jimin nods encouragingly, but Yoongi has fallen into a pensive silence.

“Well, is he as stoic in private as he appears in public?” the pistil continues. “I’ve always assumed that war-waging and such stresses him out, so he has to put on a brave face.”

“I wouldn’t have any insight on that, as we’ve only known each other for a day. And that isn’t subject to change any time soon,” Hoseok explains, shivering at the memory of Seokjin lying on top of him, spewing obscene things into his ear.

“It’s true,” Yoongi interjects. “Seokjin left this morning.”

“And left his gorgeous pistil all alone so soon after you met?” Jimin asks with a frown. “I could tell Namjoon to smack some sense into him.”

“I doubt it would help, coming from someone else,” Yoongi says, looking pointedly at Jimin as if there’s more to his words than he wants Hoseok to understand.

“Very well,” Jimin says and drops the subject altogether. They discuss the town and the surrounding waters for a few moments, but then Jimin excuses himself just as suddenly as he appeared. Yoongi wishes him a good day but makes no move to get up himself.

Hoseok doesn’t move, either.

“I’m sure you’ll run into the other lords soon enough,” the advisor says, looking out of the window. “Despite the shared family name, Lord Kim Namjoon has no familial ties with your stamen. However, Lord Kim Taehyung, who oversees a mountainous region to the East, is distantly related to Seokjin and uses that familial bond to his advantage whenever needed.”

Yoongi almost smiles, but soon his face goes back to his usual, slightly disgruntled expression.

“That makes him a part of your family, too.”

“What is he like?” Hoseok asks quietly.

“You’ll see for yourself soon enough. But he’s the least serious out of the lords. He won’t pry on your personal life but prepare for him to talk your ear off if he’s in one of those moods.”

The servants come to clear the table, and their conversation dies down once more.

Two more weeks of this.

Hoseok closes his eyes for a moment but opens them again when memories flood back to his mind: Seokjin’s demanding hands, his mouth, his cock. Jungkook sending him off, his father on his deathbed. Being bonded but not understanding what it means.

When he was younger, Hoseok read stories about bonded pistils and stamens. It was supposed to be this magical connection between two souls, but this feels like nothing at all. He was flowered and discarded. The only proof he has is the fact that his body stopped reacting to Seokjin’s venom. From what Hoseok has gathered from various sources, if Seokjin hadn’t brought the flowering to completion, he would be in a lot of pain right now.

“Are you well, Your Highness?”

Hoseok glances at Yoongi. “I’m just a bit tired from my travels. I suppose I ought to rest more.”

“I’ll escort you back to your chambers,” the advisor immediately says. “I should inform you that I have called a tailor to come to the palace and fit you for some winter-appropriate clothes, but that can be postponed until your condition improves.”

“That won’t be necessary. I would like to update my wardrobe as soon as possible, as I feel that mine is a tad too flashy anyway. I have some jewellery I can exchange for the tailor’s services.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “How eager you are to prove your humility. Naturally, Seokjin pays for any purchase or amendment you wish to make to your garb. He also has set no expectation for you to conform to a specific style of clothing. He’s a typical, simple-minded stamen who will deem you the most beautiful pistil who ever lived regardless of your personal fashion.”

Hoseok feels himself blushing.

“Furthermore, if you require any other services – a healer for example, I shall arrange you one. I have been authorised to spend as much of Lord Kim’s money as I deem fit, so he won’t have to know of any appointments – if you so wish.”

The hidden meaning behind Yoongi’s last statement is so obvious that even Hoseok understands it. He throws a horrified glance at the advisor, who despite just revealing that he’s open to committing treason, is smiling serenely at the sea.

“So…” Hoseok searches for words, his heart hammering in his throat. “If I had a minor request, you could fulfill it without reporting back to Lord Kim?”

“Depends on the request,” Yoongi says with a shrug. “As long as you’re not planning to harm yourself or the people at the palace, I have no personal qualms about it.”

“Can you find a way to send a letter to the Suseonhwa?”

A smile tugs at one corner of Yoongi’s mouth.

“I have my ways, yes.”

 

Chapter 2: The Prince and the Lord

Summary:

Hoseok falls ill, forcing Seokjin to return early.

Notes:

The Fuck or Die tag somewhat applies in this chapter as well, though this chapter is quite a bit softer than the first one (at least after 2seok stop arguing about everything).

Hope you enjoy the conclusion ♡♡♡

In the evenings, Hoseok treks down the palace hill and goes to the port to watch fishing boats return to the harbour after a long day at sea.

The fishers are rugged-looking men and women with thick arms and sun-weathered faces, and they mostly pay him no mind as he passes by.

The smells are intense in the port, carts full of fresh fish and fermenting fish, bundles of seaweed laid out to dry in the sun. The fishing port naturally continues inland as a bustling market area, and the palace cooks get their ingredients from the stalls just like everyone else.

Hoseok loves the place because at its busiest, he can disappear into the crowd, accompanied by Yoongi and two guards in discreet armour. He takes leisurely strolls through the market, stopping to offer a few coins to saplings who seem worryingly thin or walk around in dirty clothes.

The allowance he draws from Lord Kim’s personal coffers seems to have no upper limit, but Hoseok hasn’t pushed his luck just yet. He has only gotten himself a modest rotation of winter clothes: thick socks and leather mittens, woollen cloaks with fur trim to shield him from the wind, and robes that can be layered according to the temperature. Hoseok has also ditched his silk slippers for sturdier leather boots that everyone here seems to wear regardless of their designation or societal status.

Since the first morning, Hoseok has mostly kept to himself. He’s not strictly avoiding the other residents of the palace, but Seokjin’s absence has unmoored him – even if he hardly knows the stamen.

Hoseok doesn’t know how to act around the people with influence, whether to lick the boots of the other stamen lords in hopes of building useful acquaintances, or to dismiss them entirely. Yoongi has offered him no counsel on the matter, and Hoseok has been too prideful to ask.

Of course, he couldn’t skirt around the stamens forever. His luck was bound to run out eventually.

Late at night, Hoseok tiptoes through the corridors of the palace. His hands are stained with ink; he has written countless versions of the letter which means everything to him. Hoseok must ease his brother’s mind and find out how things are back in the kingdom.

Seokjin promised many things when he accepted Hoseok as a tribute of peace, but he can’t help but worry that something could still go wrong, either of the parties walking back their noble claims.

And if Hoseok’s father is already dead… Hoseok clutches the letter more tightly in his hand. He finds the door to Yoongi’s quarters and knocks despite the inappropriate hour.

“Come in,” Yoongi calls out through the door.

Hoseok takes a deep breath and enters – only to find out that Yoongi isn’t alone.

The strategic advisor is standing in front of a round table, studying a giant map that doesn’t look all that different from the one Hoseok has in his chambers.

Another man with broad shoulders and dragon eyes, sits on the edge of the table with one leg on the floor, a cup of rice wine in his hand.

“Your Highness,” Yoongi says evenly, glancing at his other guest. “I suppose you haven’t been formally introduced to Lord Stamen Kim Namjoon.”

Hoseok performs something between a bow and a nod. He suddenly feels like a sapling caught in the middle of something naughty.

“What did Seokjin hyung do to deserve such a pretty pistil?” Lord Kim wonders out loud, flashing him a strangely affectionate smile. The stamen reaches for the wine carafe and tries to pour more into his cup with his tongue between his teeth.

Nothing comes out.

Hoseok’s stomach lurches with nerves, but Namjoon keeps smiling brightly.

“Hyung, you’re being a terrible host to our dear prince.”

Yoongi doesn’t even look up from the map. “I’m in the middle of something, Namjoon-ah. You should be perfectly capable of striking up a conversation without making a fool out of yourself, tipsy or not.”

“Ah, what a spoilsport,” Namjoon grumbles, patting Yoongi half-heartedly on the shoulder. “What brings you here, Prince Hoseok?”

“I just…” Hoseok hesitates even as he moves across the room on socked feet. “Advisor Min asked me to fill out an order for… for fish?”

Why is Hoseok such a poor liar?

“Fish?” Namjoon quirks an eyebrow. “What do you need fish for?”

“For a banquet,” Hoseok blurts out and instantly panics. “I’m planning a feast in celebration of the truce.”

“That’s a wonderful idea! Yoongi hyung, why did you keep this from me? Jiminie is going to be beside himself – he loves to dance.”

Grumbling, Yoongi takes Hoseok’s letter and puts it in his pocket without taking a look.

“His Highness wanted to personally take care of the preparations,” the advisor says without missing a beat. “And I have better things to do than plan an event where all of you will get wasted. Do you remember the time when Taehyung regurgitated his seventh cup of wine out of the palace window, and his sick landed on that poor guard’s head?”

“Oh yes, I remember that,” Namjoon says with a chuckle. “I’ll keep a closer eye on him next time.”

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. Unfortunately, Namjoon doesn’t witness his frustration because he’s opening the various chests and drawers in the room, possibly looking for more to drink.

“Ah ha,” the stamen lord says as he pulls out a glass bottle filled with amber-coloured liquid. The alcohol looks expensive, imported, so evidently Advisor Min enjoys a drink when he’s in the mood.

“Speaking of Taehyung, we had a bit of a fight recently,” Namjoon continues after offering Hoseok a cup of Yoongi’s mystery drink. He accepts it out of curiosity but doesn’t dare take a sip while Namjoon is talking.

“He already has established trade relations with the Suseonhwa, and he thinks I should follow suit now that Seokjin hyung is officially switching sides like a traitor. But why would I ever do that? No offense to your homeland, Prince Hoseok, but I have the stronger economy and plentiful access to rare metals. Why should I grovel at their feet when they haven’t even given me a pistil?”

Yoongi scoffs, finally abandoning his map and pouring himself a cup of alcohol as well. “You don’t need any additional pistils, Namjoon-ah. And you’d see that it’s the smart thing to do if you only let go of that massive pride of yours. Taehyungie is smart and he has people skills. You should listen to him more often.”

With that, the advisor raises his cup in a toast. Hoseok follows his lead and takes a sip of the drink. It burns his throat and makes him cough so vigorously that water leaks out of his eyes while the other two drink until their cups are empty.

“Do you agree with Taehyung about the other thing, too?” Namjoon asks forlornly, smelling like wilted violets.

“What other thing?” Yoongi deadpans. He hands Hoseok a silken handkerchief without looking in his direction.

“Well, he apparently hates that I cut my hair short,” Namjoon says. His voice borders on whiny, and Hoseok is… endeared. He didn’t know he could find a tall, muscled stamen endearing in any capacity.

“Taehyung complains about everything, though,” Yoongi says. “You and Seokjin have spoiled him way too much just because of who he is. You both say you wouldn’t let that cloud your judgement, but that’s horse manure.”

Hoseok pats his mouth and cheeks with the handkerchief, trying to follow the back-and-forth.

He’s lost, though.

The conversation meanders on, and Hoseok listens to the banter, wondering if he could one day share a connection like that with Seokjin.

 

♕♕♕

 

“I’m afraid you’ll actually have to host that banquet you mentioned,” Yoongi leans to whisper into Hoseok’s ear. They’re on their usual evening walk, and Hoseok has wrapped a blue shawl around his shoulders to shield him from the sea wind.

“Namjoon has already shared the joyous news with everyone at the palace.”

Hoseok winces. “It was all I could think of in the moment.”

“All you could think of was… fish?”

Frustrated, Hoseok gestures at the sea. “It’s all that I can think of in this place. Fish at every meal, fish as a currency – you love fish so much that I swear Seokjin would have dragged a tuna fish to his bed if he hadn’t received me as a nice little reward for ending his war against my kingdom!”

Hoseok slaps a hand over his mouth when he realises that he said all of that out loud, his chest still heaving and blood heating up his cold cheeks from the inside out.

Yoongi regards him with a slightly amused look. “Are you upset that he ran away like a coward, or was it a relief?”

Hoseok wasn’t expecting a question of that nature. It feels too intimate for them. But he still says, “He shouldn’t have left like that.”

“No, he shouldn’t have,” Yoongi agrees quietly. The tip of his nose is pink, and his hair falls over his forehead instead of staying slicked back as usual.

“I think he had preconceived notions about what you would be like, but then he realised that he’d met his match and got frightened.”

“How can you possibly draw so many conclusions from one evening spent together? I do not know Kim Seokjin at all, and he doesn’t know me.”

“Oh, but I know him very well indeed,” Yoongi says and gazes out to the sea. There’s a sharp rock jutting out of the water close to the shore, and Yoongi told Hoseok that many vessels have perished there, trying to approach the harbour.

“And now I know you, Hoseok-ah. Well enough to judge your character, at least.”

It’s the first time Yoongi addresses him by his given name. Hoseok finds that it doesn’t make him feel uncomfortable.

Yoongi’s lips twitch when Hoseok doesn’t correct him.

“So, about the banquet…” Hoseok twists his cold fingers. “What should I do?”

“Just tell the cooks to prepare food for… let’s say one hundred people. I will take care of the invitations, as you don’t know yet which families take priority. You’re free to form your own alliances and preferences in time, but it would be ill-advisable to incur the wrath of people who still regard you positively.”

“Why would I form my own connections with the townsfolk?” Hoseok asks without thinking. “Surely I’d be there to represent Lord Kim and his opinions.”

“I don’t think you’re the kind of pistil who hides behind their stamen. You can wield plenty of power around here – should you want to. It’s possible that there would be some pushback from Seokjin, he’s very particular about how he runs this place, but he would adapt to shared rule.”

Hoseok blinks. The sun is setting behind them, giving the sea and the cliffs a beautiful, golden hue.

He doesn’t know how to respond, and luckily, he doesn’t have to, because someone is hopping down the stone steps and waving at them.

It’s the youngest of the three lords, Kim Taehyung. Seokjin’s distant cousin and Namjoon’s… something.

“Yoongi hyung! Hyung!”

“What now?” Yoongi grumbles as Taehyung reaches them. “Where are you going so close to dinnertime?”

Taehyung’s expression falls slightly. “I was invited to a gathering at the local tavern. Jiminie is coming too, he was just distracting… I mean, he had some important business to attend to.”

Yoongi puts his hands on his hips, and Hoseok’s eyes nearly bug out of his head at the advisor’s tone. Kim Taehyung reigns over a city of his own. He’s a stamen lord who is, in theory, just as powerful as Seokjin on his home territory.

“Invited by whom?” Yoongi asks and then keeps interrogating him. “Does Namjoonie know you’re dragging his pistil out of the palace at odd hours to meet strangers who could be up to all sorts of devilry?”

“They were just some palace workers, I’m sure you know them. And Jimin can do whatever he wants, he’s not anyone’s lapdog merely because he’s a pistil.”

Hoseok glances at Taehyung’s bright pink cheeks and inhales tentatively. He expects to catch some of the stamen’s scent, but instead he’s met with a hint of violet.

Yoongi shakes his head at Taehyung but steps aside so that the stamen can continue his journey to the village. Before he goes, Taehyung bows deeply at Hoseok and adds, “I would love to sit down and get to know you, hyungnim. Please join us at the tavern if you fancy a drink.”

With that, he’s gone.

“Taehyung is… a handful,” Yoongi says.

“How is he as a leader?” Hoseok asks, hoping the question isn’t too obvious. He’s still thinking about how Taehyung called him hyungnim without asking first. It’s more common to quickly adopt familial terms when the speakers are of the same subgender. Between unrelated stamens and pistils, it’s deeply frowned upon.

Yoongi chuckles lightly. “Taehyung is actually great. He’s fair and kind to his subjects, and he always looks at the bigger picture. It’s only when he’s visiting Seokjin or Namjoon that he takes a break from his duties and turns into a menace.”

Hoseok nods. “Should we go meet them in the tavern?”

“Absolutely not,” Yoongi says.

They keep walking.

 

♕♕♕

 

Hoseok wakes up next morning feeling strange.

He goes through the motions of washing up and getting dressed, but he’s slow and sluggish, and not even a big breakfast lifts his spirits.

Yoongi picks up on his sour mood immediately, fussing over Hoseok’s clothes and making a poor servant girl prepare him all sorts of teas and remedies that hope to improve his condition.

By the time Hoseok has drunk five different liquids, each more bitter and unpleasant than the last, he feels more like himself and convinces Yoongi to leave him alone for a while.

Jungkook’s response to his letter hasn’t arrived yet, and Hoseok doesn’t expect it to any time soon, so he throws himself fully into the banquet preparations. He talks to the kitchen staff and the people in charge of maintaining the palace, and it soon becomes clear that a feast for one hundred people won’t be anything too extravagant.

He sees Jimin and Taehyung, too, and they gladly share their opinions on decorations and their favourite dishes.

When Hoseok inquires on their night out at the tavern, they become giggly and secretive, telling Hoseok to join them if he wants to see for himself what it’s like to drink with the locals.

After the encounter, Hoseok has to sit down on the steps leading to one of the many private balconies which take advantage of the breathtaking sights on the west side of the palace. Hoseok fans his face with his hand even though the door to the balcony is open, and cold air is rushing inside.

In the morning, he felt cold and weak. Now it’s the opposite. Hoseok gets back to his feet, swaying back and forth as his heart races like it’s trying to break out of his chest. He goes to the balcony and breathes in the refreshing air until his pulse evens out and the strange feeling ebbs away.

Down below, waves crash into the rocky coast and seagulls circle the shallow waters in hopes of catching fish.

Maybe it’s nothing, Hoseok thinks, feeling relatively normal again.

 

♕♕♕

 

“Hoseok-ah, you look flushed.”

Not again.

Hoseok touches his forehead and finds it burning hot. It’s late, and Hoseok and Yoongi are enjoying a nightcap in Yoongi’s quarters. It has become a sort of a ritual for them.

The alcohol no longer makes Hoseok cough, but he never drinks more than one cup. In other words: him feeling hot and feverish couldn’t possibly be caused by excessive drinking.

Yoongi sets his cup down and reaches to touch Hoseok’s forehead with his large palm, and Hoseok doesn’t react in time to get out of his reach.

“Oh, ten ploughing pistils. You’re burning up.”

It’s not the first time Hoseok hears him use crass language, but his tone takes him by surprise. Yoongi is frowning deeply, and suddenly Hoseok can’t bear it any longer. He grabs Yoongi by the wrist and wrestles his hand down with too much force.

Yoongi winces in pain but doesn’t call Hoseok out. He just looks worried. Compassionate.

“I wouldn’t have let you drink if I realised you were still sick. Come with me.”

Without a word, Hoseok follows Yoongi out of the room and into the chambers which he has inhabited alone ever since Seokjin left.

Hoseok wants Seokjin to come back. He needs Seokjin.

The thought is so sudden and intrusive that Hoseok feels as though it’s coming from somewhere outside of his own mind.

“Lie down, I’ll alert your maids and call for a healer.”

“I don’t need a healer,” Hoseok protests, slumping to sit at the edge of his sleeping mat which he was too lazy to put away in the morning. There’s so much space in the room even with it spread out that he doesn’t see the point.

“You don’t decide that,” Yoongi says.

“Who does then? You? Or Kim Seokjin, who cares about me so very much? He can go compost himself!”

Hoseok is yelling and cursing, spit flying everywhere, and Yoongi just watches him calmly.

“I understand that you’re upset, but Seokjin left me with the task of keeping you alive and well, so yes, I am authorised to call for a healer even when you deem it unnecessary.”

Hoseok throws himself childishly onto the mattress. When he was young, he was always the healthy child while Jungkook nearly died from a fever that made him delirious and covered his skin in blisters. Jungkook still has small scars on his face and arms from that experience.

Would Seokjin mind if Hoseok became visibly disfigured, or would he simply toss him around and mount him from behind…?

Hoseok despises that even at a moment like this, his thoughts stray back to the stamen, and in such a lewd, unwelcome manner. He lies stubbornly on his back, arms and legs spread out, until the healer comes and gives him more herbs to lower his fever.

She puts a cold cloth on Hoseok’s forehead and asks if he’s in any pain. Hoseok says he’s well enough, and Yoongi grits his teeth in the background at his dismissiveness.

“I’m worried about his symptoms,” the healer tells Yoongi when Hoseok feigns sudden deafness. “I would very much like to monitor him overnight.”

“Of course,” Yoongi replies, infuriatingly polite. “We are hosting multiple guests at the moment, but perhaps you wouldn’t mind sleeping at the old guard commander’s quarters.”

Yoongi continues to ramble on about the accommodations when Hoseok’s stomach cramps; the pain is tolerable at first, but he has to clench his teeth together to ride out the waves in silence.

The healer leaves with many bows. Yoongi stays.

“Bring in the local shaman and an obituary writer while you’re at it,” Hoseok says lamely. He feels miserable, sweating through his day clothes and staring at the ceiling that’s supported by large beams of wood. How many trees did they have to cut down just to make this one roof? What a waste.

“You’re not going to die, Your Highness.”

The formal address is somewhere between affectionate and mocking; it rekindles the displaced anger inside Hoseok. He tells Yoongi to go away.

Yoongi doesn’t go. Hoseok’s stomach twists again, and the pain is harder to mask this time.

“I don’t want you here,” he repeats.

“Fine, I’ll go.” Yoongi goes to the sliding door, and for a moment Hoseok wants to stall him. Then he changes his mind.

“Good night, Your Highness,” the advisor says.

 

♕♕♕

 

When Hoseok regains consciousness, he thinks he must have gone blind.

But it’s just the middle of the night. He has somehow rolled off his sleeping mat, and he’s lying down with his face against the wooden floor and legs tangled in the sheets.

Hoseok’s stomach feels like it’s filled with hot coals, but the pain is worst in his back. The most outrageous part of his condition, however, is that Hoseok is wet between his legs. Sticky with it.

He pushes a hand between his body and the floor and gasps at the mess.

It’s almost like when he awakened as a pistil, but he’s more aware of all the aches and sensations of his body, and that makes it all the more terrifying.

Crawling back to his sleeping mat takes tremendous effort. The slippery sheets provide nothing for him to hold onto. The darkness is disorienting. Hoseok rolls onto his side and pants through his mouth, hands on his cramping belly.

That’s how Yoongi finds him moments later because of course he would come back to check on him without bothering to knock.

“Oh, plough me… Hey, Jung Hoseok…” Yoongi pats his cheek roughly to catch his attention. “Are you with me?”

“I’m right here,” Hoseok mutters, and it’s almost like Yoongi breathes out a sigh of relief.

The healer comes, and she’s by Hoseok’s bedside in a flash. When she hears that his back and stomach are aching, she starts shaking her head in disbelief.

“You’re having a reaction to your bonded mate’s venom.”

“What does that mean?” Yoongi asks sharply.

“Well, this is such a rare condition that I’ve only read about cases like his in medical literature. As far as I understand, his body is fighting the venom because he hasn’t gotten adequate exposure to it. I think this mostly happens when a venomous stamen dies almost immediately after a bond has been established.”

Yoongi lets out a long, colourful litany of curses that Hoseok has only read in books – after which he asks, “How dangerous is this?”

“His Highness’s body still knows how to produce the antidote,” the healer says, “but it’s the fever I’m worried about.”

“Don’t…” Hoseok rasps, trying to grab a hold of Yoongi’s ankle, but he ends up pawing uselessly at the top of his bare foot.

“Don’t tell Seokjin about this,” he pleads.

“Too late,” Yoongi says. “I already sent my fastest messenger to fetch him last night.”

Hoseok grits his teeth. It’s embarrassing to think that Seokjin will see him like this. Vulnerable, desperate – so utterly dependent on a stamen he barely knows.

“The faster he returns, the better,” the healer says amicably. “Close contact with the stamen will help much more than any herbal remedy I can offer.”

Hoseok clenches his thighs together. Close contact, indeed. Despite himself, Hoseok would be willing to beg, he would open his legs and open his mouth, whatever Seokjin wanted – only because the stamen did this to him.

The healer makes him swallow more concoctions that do nothing to relieve his symptoms, as the healer warned. They make him drowsy, though, and Hoseok drifts away into scary, shapeless dreams.

Yoongi appears in his dream just as he appears in real life, unexpectedly and without shame. He tells Hoseok that Seokjin has moved to the other side of the world and Hoseok has to go back home to the Daffodil Palace. When he arrives, Jungkook is nowhere to be found; there’s only his father’s decaying body slumped over his throne, and young daffodils are growing out of where his eyes and mouth used to be.

Hoseok wakes up to his own scream.

To soothe his burning throat, Yoongi makes him drink water and more medicine. Hoseok tries to touch himself because the unnatural need is driving him mad, but then he remembers that Yoongi never left the room. He’s facing the window to give Hoseok privacy.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok mutters in the advisor’s direction.

“It’s alright, Hoseok-ah. You’re not yourself currently.”

“No, it’s… I’m sorry I yelled at you earlier. I wanted to scream at Kim Seokjin, but he wasn’t here.”

“I know, darling.”

Hoseok sleeps more. He’s Yoongi’s darling.

Seokjin is on his way home.

The light is different the next time Hoseok regains his senses. He opens his eyes and realises that his body is covered with a thin sheet, but underneath he has managed to remove all of his clothes. Or did someone remove them while he was unconscious?

A hand reaches for him from above, and Hoseok’s scream gets stuck in his throat because he smells him.

“You came,” Hoseok breathes out. Seokjin’s hair is wind-beaten, his face splotchy from the cold.

“I left the encampment as soon as I got the word.”

Hoseok uses what little strength he has left to roll over and lift his head. Using his muscles, even if just a little, has a sobering effect on him.

“How dare you show your face here?” Hoseok demands, staring at the stamen from the floor. “After everything you put me through?”

“I – I swear I didn’t know this could happen.” Seokjin blinks his eyes – red-rimmed – like he’s been weeping for his rudely disrupted military campaign. “No one told me that you could reject my venom after we were already bonded. Had I known there was even a slight chance of adverse effects, I would have stayed by your side and let my commanders handle things down south.”

“Sure you would have,” Hoseok huffs. It’s a losing battle, he knows it. The stamen’s presence, his scent. Is that the bond or something else? Seokjin’s venom lurking in his veins.

“It hurts,” he adds, accusingly, when Seokjin doesn’t move.

“What do you want me to do, sweetheart?”

“What do you think I want you to do, my Lord? You will fix this.”

Hoseok is beyond tired; he lets his legs fall open, his naked, burning flesh right there. He pulls the sheet fully off and waits.

Seokjin doesn’t touch him right away as he expected.

“I’m not sure you’re able to voice your wishes in this state,” the stamen says, his eyes lingering on the flushed expanse of Hoseok’s chest, his darkened nipples and the dusting of hair under his arms, which he has spread shamelessly to the sides.

“In that case, what do you propose? Would you like me to die for the sake of your moral integrity?” Hoseok curls his fingers into fists in a pathetic display of wilfulness. “Or would it simply amuse you to watch me suffer for a while longer?”

“Of course not,” Seokjin huffs, tugging at his clothes that smell like damp outside air and the remnants of a campfire. “You are my bonded mate, and thus your untimely death would be quite devastating. Furthermore, I’m hardly one to enjoy the pain of others.”

Hoseok lets out a weak laugh. He’s fully nude under the stamen’s gaze, there’s nowhere to hide.

Seokjin removes more of his clothing. Hoseok is watching him, half-lidded. He’s not so delirious or drugged out that he’d lose time, but it’s hard to gauge how long has passed since Seokjin stepped into the room.

“Beautiful,” Seokjin murmurs, his voice so quiet that he may have intended the compliment to never reach Hoseok’s ears.

Seokjin is beautiful, too, Hoseok muses.

Out loud, he says, “I hate you.”

“Me?” Seokjin questions softly as he looms over Hoseok, placing a hand on his abdomen.

“You’re the reason I’m…” Hoseok’s sentence trails off as a new round of cramps overtakes him. “You’re so… do you not have any shame?”

“Shame is a symptom of a sense of self that’s bound to the opinions of others,” Seokjin says, effortlessly dodging Hoseok’s hand as he tries to swat at him.

“Are you going to debate philosophy or help me out?”

Finally, Seokjin kneels over Hoseok’s feverish body and slips a hand between his thighs to hold them open. His cunt aches, coming in contact with the cooler air of the room.

At least Seokjin manages to look somewhat uncomfortable with the situation as he lowers himself between Hoseok’s legs and throws a stern glance at where he’s pink and hot and swollen.

“You need help, yes?”

Hoseok groans, pressing his hands over his eyes, but it’s a terrible mistake because he misses the moment Seokjin attaches his mouth to Hoseok’s cunt.

He’s greedy and imprecise, like he wants to eat Hoseok for dinner, lapping at his puffy folds while his nose bumps into the underside of Hoseok’s stiff little cock like it’s just something unnecessary that’s in the way of the main prize.

The stamen swallows Hoseok’s nectar in greedy gulps before plunging his tongue inside, as though he wants to drink right from the source. His thumb is pressed against Hoseok’s pubic bone, close to the root of his cock.

An undignified squeak escapes Hoseok before he can move his hand to cover his mouth instead. Pleasure builds inside him, quick and urgent, and he reaches his peak so fast that it’s almost underwhelming. Hoseok’s cunt pulses and drools more slick into Seokjin’s waiting mouth, but his pleasure is muffled.

First, Hoseok thinks it’s because Seokjin has been rudely ignoring his cock, but the real answer comes to him in a humiliating flash. He grips Seokjin by the hair, forcing the stamen to face him – his slack jaw and shiny lips, drunken eyes.

A useless stamen, Hoseok thinks as anger swells anew in his chest.

“You know this is not enough,” he hisses without letting go of Seokjin’s hair. “Your venom.”

Seokjin blinks sluggishly but then seems to come back to himself. Hoseok wasn’t aware that his natural slick could have such an effect on a stamen. There are many things he doesn’t know.

“There’s venom in all of my bodily fluids,” Seokjin says, licking his lips in a way that might seem seductive to an outsider. “My seed, of course, is the most potent option.”

Hoseok lets his hand drop. He feels miserable in the aftermath of his orgasm, like it never happened.

“The simplest way would be to swallow it.”

A vague image of Hoseok on his knees in front of Seokjin flashes through his mind. He has never regretted his busy imagination more than he does now. As a sapling, it would keep his mind occupied within the confines of the palace walls, but then the world opened up to him in the most vulgar manner.

“I shall take that as a no,” Seokjin says in a neutral tone. “Though it’s really not as bad as it sounds – I’m not a complete stranger to a cock in my mouth – but I’d never pressure you into doing something you weren’t ready for.”

“What is this chivalrous nonsense?” Hoseok asks tiredly, drawing his legs up without lifting his feet off the bed roll. It’s an unmistakable invite, but Seokjin still asks him for permission as he presses himself over Hoseok’s form, his trousers undone and pushed down to his thighs.

His cock is dry and thick, but Hoseok is so wet that there is little resistance, only a slow push and a sensation of being stretched to his limits.

And just like that, they melt into each other. Hoseok feels out of sorts, barely lifting a finger after the stamen sets a good pace and starts moving Hoseok confidently, rocking him onto his cock.

They’re face to face, and it soon becomes too much to witness the blend of worry and lust on Seokjin’s face, so Hoseok closes his eyes. His pleasure mounts again. Seokjin takes note; he kisses Hoseok’s jaw and tells him to give into it.

It’s so much better with Seokjin inside him. The walls of Hoseok’s cunt flutter, and his cock spills something watery onto Seokjin’s abdomen. While he’s still shivering in the last wave of his climax, the stamen abruptly pulls out, leaving Hoseok’s cunt painfully, disappointingly clenching around nothing as a slick noise fills his ears.

Moments later, something hot spills all over Hoseok’s stomach and hips, even trickling down over his mound and aching pussy. Seokjin groans, and Hoseok feels his long fingers on him, spreading the release around, teasing the seam of his cunt with it, just barely dipping inside while his other hand plays with the overly sensitive tip of his cock.

Hoseok isn’t sure what kind of relief he’s supposed to experience, but it’s a bittersweet sensation. Something so close yet far away.

“Why?” he brings himself to ask.

“As I said before, I don’t think you should be burdened with carrying my heir so soon, especially when it’s my fault that your body craves me so.” Seokjin’s brows furrow as he regards Hoseok’s sprawled-out form.

“Aren’t you being considerate,” Hoseok breathes out, flashing him a sarcastic smile. “Or is it that you think my delicate princely body couldn’t handle the pains of labour?”

Seokjin pinches Hoseok’s chin between his fingers. “Why can’t you believe that I’m being earnest for once? You’re my pistil, not some broodmare.”

Hoseok’s belly twists on tight knots, half of them arousal and the rest – something far murkier than that. He’s forced to meet Seokjin’s gaze for a while longer.

“Will you leave now?” Hoseok asks, hating how vulnerable he sounds. He’s still in pain, and the stamen must know it. He has to; the bond cannot be that useless.

Seokjin shakes his head gently. “Not before you feel better, my prince.”

 

♕♕♕

 

Come morning, Hoseok’s fever has lowered somewhat but hasn’t gone away. Seokjin feeds him by hand, tiny morsels of meat and fruit, washed down with two cups of cooled-down tea that settles in his stomach without making him ill.

The stamen doesn’t give up until Hoseok has eaten everything and he’s begging for relief once again.

Seokjin’s earlier words have haunted Hoseok for hours, drool in his mouth, too much to swallow all at once. Since he can finally support his own weight, Hoseok kneels on the sleeping mat, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders while Seokjin feeds him the blunt head of his cock, frustratingly slow in his movements.

By all accounts, it should be a mortifying affair. Daylight spills into the room from the slats in the window shutters, and the sounds of palace workers remind Hoseok of how thinly separated they are from the rest of the world. Still, Hoseok is hungry for the tangy, salty taste, and he tries to take the stamen deeper even though he’s clearly not expected to.

Seokjin moans out loud when his cock presses against the inside of Hoseok’s cheek, pinned there by the length of his tongue. The stamen spills his seed soon after, some trickling down Hoseok’s throat and the rest filling the soft, hollow space below his tongue.

There’s something harrowingly erotic about the way Seokjin’s thumb comes to rest on Hoseok’s throat, petting the taut muscle, encouraging him to keep it all in. When a tiny bit of seed escapes the corner of his mouth, the stamen licks it off with the pink tip of his tongue, too fast for Hoseok to comprehend.

“Good boy,” Seokjin croons when Hoseok shows him that his mouth is empty. “Told you it wouldn’t be all that unpleasant.”

“So, whose cock have you sucked?” Hoseok asks in a heady rush of self-assurance.

Seokjin doesn’t reply, so he repeats the question, adding, “Is it someone we both know?”

“Yes,” the stamen admits tersely, reaching for his pile of clothes. Hoseok’s head spins, and this time it’s not because of his strange withdrawal symptoms. He watches idly as Seokjin dresses himself in the same robes he arrived in.

“As I told you – I was young and angry about my designation as a venom stamen and fooled around with people in ways that wouldn’t risk forming a bond.”

“Was it a calyx or a pistil?”

Seokjin deadpans him.

“Or another stamen?” Hoseok blurts in realisation. “Why did you lie to me last time? Did you think I’d be disgusted?”

“I didn’t know how you southerners would regard those types of… relations. Your culture seems rather rigid to me.” Seokjin finishes tying the sash on his robe. The slight hesitation in his voice gives Hoseok pause.

He doesn’t understand Seokjin, his softness nor his cruelty. A stamen warlord who acquired a pistil prince because he wanted his enemy to lose something – to be humiliated through a sacrifice. A lord who does not want said prince to carry his young. A lord who’s concerned about his pistil’s opinion of his character.

It dawns on him that Seokjin is still waiting for Hoseok to speak. The stamen is looking at him with his brows knitted together.

“Your inclinations are not relevant to me,” Hoseok finally says, looking away because he’s worried that Seokjin would catch something in his eyes. “It’s not my place to express disgust or any other negative sentiment.”

Seokjin lets out a ragged breath: disappointment, resignation.

“But for the record, I am not. Disgusted, that is.”

“I – I see.”

Hoseok enjoys the slight stutter. It makes him feel powerful. Of course, the sensation is short-lived. The stamen asks if Hoseok feels invigorated enough to get dressed and follow Seokjin to his study or if he should bring his work to their bedchamber instead.

When Hoseok asks why, Seokjin reminds him: “I won’t leave your side before you feel completely like yourself.”

 

♕♕♕

 

Hoseok ends up trailing after Seokjin. He’s dressed in soft, maroon-coloured robes and a loose-knit scarf because the stamen doesn’t want him to catch a cold when he’s already feeling the effects of his venom.

Servants prepare him a comfortable spot to doze in while Seokjin works, but he ends up just watching the stamen attend to his war correspondence with unbreakable concentration.

Hoseok is sipping on his third cup of tea, wondering how he could smoothly excuse himself to relieve his bladder, when Seokjin looks up from his papers and asks:

“What are your thoughts on the Battle of Torn Petals?”

Wanting to be truthful, Hoseok replies that he doesn’t know much about it. The famous battle was the first open conflict between the Daffodil Kingdom and the northern territories that ended up in major bloodshed. Hoseok was taught that the north was utterly defeated, which obviously turned out to be a lie.

Seokjin listens to him attentively until he’s finished speaking.

“That battle was a turning point because it proved that the great Suseonhwa wasn’t as impenetrable as was once thought,” the stamen explains. “I did not fight in the battle directly, but Namjoon did. I looked up to him a lot because he was so much more accomplished than me despite being a few years younger.”

Hoseok swallows the lump in his throat. Knowing that Namjoon has slain soldiers from his homeland somehow hits deeper under his skin than Seokjin’s trade blockage, which has affected his people for a lot longer.

Seokjin must see something on Hoseok’s face because he adds, softly, “I do not enjoy violence, either, my flower.”

Hoseok is fairly certain that his face flushes deep red, like a field of poppies. He makes sure to look away until Seokjin has gone back to his work.

The silence lasts for a few, tantalising moments.

“Why did you ask me?” Hoseok blurts out, immediately biting his lip to reprimand himself.

“About what?” Seokjin mutters.

“About the battle.”

Seokjin scratches his chin at the clarification. “I’m not sure. I suppose I hoped I could justify some things I’ve done in the past. Among my many crimes, spreading propaganda hasn’t been one of them.”

Hoseok nods even though he’s not sure what Seokjin means.

“But I’m not so sure that it matters,” the stamen adds quietly.

 

♕♕♕

 

The next few days blend together, but Seokjin stays by Hoseok’s side at the palace. They sleep next to each other, breathe the same air, share their meals, too. Seokjin treats Hoseok as if he could fall ill at any moment, even though the healer insists that he has made a full recovery thanks to his stamen’s presence.

Seokjin is, for the lack of a better word, self-flagellating. He averts Hoseok’s gaze when they’re together but seeks him out when Hoseok tries to keep his distance. While the healer was too tactful to suggest anything of the sort, Seokjin seems to think that the reason for Hoseok’s strong reaction was the fact that his flower is particularly potent and dangerous.

When they can’t sleep – which has happened once or twice – Seokjin rolls on top of Hoseok in the dark. It’s not easy to tell who initiates their couplings. They’re quick and raw and fuelled by the tiniest drop of genuine resentment for one another, but Hoseok whines like he’s being hurt when fucked, and Seokjin pulls out at the last second to spill his release all over Hoseok’s belly and thighs.

In the mornings, they can hardly look each other in the eye, and Hoseok swears to stop succumbing to his need. It’s probably not even his own. He’s being tricked by the bond between them, and besides that, Seokjin is unfairly handsome. In bedtime stories written for little saplings, the heroes are always young and beautiful while the villains are ugly old hags and vengeful spirits, so it only makes sense for Hoseok to make that unconscious association.

After discovering this weakness within himself, Hoseok tries to keep his distance. He takes more responsibilities around the palace and regarding the banquet preparations. Seokjin hasn’t questioned Hoseok’s decision to hold a feast, though he hasn’t openly approved of the plan, either.

The preparations still leave Hoseok with plenty of spare time. He goes down to the port to watch the fishing vessels like he used to before Seokjin’s return and strolls the streets with a chaperone. It doesn’t give him the strength to push Seokjin away at night, but it provides some much-needed perspective.

A few nights before the banquet, Hoseok is curled up in a spot where the under-floor heating radiates the most warmth. dressed in a sheer sleeping gown – he was supposed to go to bed early but decided to go over the finalised guest list one more time. Once he was done with that, he no longer felt sleepy and started drafting another letter to his brother, asking if his original one had gotten lost somewhere on the way. Hoseok refuses to consider the possibility that Jungkook would’ve simply not cared enough to reply.

Seokjin steps into their bedchamber without a word, and Hoseok lowers his writing tools. The stamen’s eyes drag over Hoseok’s partially exposed form before he starts undoing the laces of his boots.

“How was your day?” Hoseok asks because he assumes he’s expected to ask his bonded mate such questions.

“Busy,” Seokjin grunts. They had lunch together earlier, but the stamen was forced to cut it short because of an emergency meeting. Hoseok doesn’t know the specifics, but he’s under the impression that a small faction of soldiers has broken off from Seokjin’s militia because they’re protesting against the peace deal. There’s more money to be made in waging war, especially for someone dishonest.

“Do you need to go –?”

“No,” Seokjin snaps. “I’m not going anywhere because some ungrateful weeds think themselves high and mighty. My commanders will nip this in the bud, mark my words.”

“Fine,” Hoseok says, rolling out the sleeping mat and stretching his arms above his head. “You just seem tense, that’s all.”

“Are you offering to help me with that?” Seokjin asks, quirking one brow.

He looks outright dangerous, and Hoseok’s heart skips a beat. Much too late, he manages to shake his head with an exasperated huff. True to his character, Seokjin doesn’t pressure him on the matter; he washes his face and gets ready for bed, putting out the lantern beside their sleeping mat before crawling under the covers.

Of course, that’s when the true test begins. The stamen’s knees brush against the backs of Hoseok’s thighs, and his breathing tickles his neck. Hoseok clenches his fists and pinches his tongue between his teeth.

It’s unfair that Seokjin smells so enticing, that he hides behind a charade of respect instead of taking Hoseok whenever he wants to. It would be so much easier to hate him if he were callous.

“What do you want, Hoseok-ah?”

It’s the second time ever that Seokjin has addressed him so familiarly. Not that Hoseok has kept count.

He clutches the blankets tightly, still facing the other end of the room as he says, “I do not know what I want.”

Seokjin just hums thoughtfully at his non-rejection.

“Every time, it’s disappointing,” Hoseok explains. They never go all the way, not like the first time Seokjin was inside him.

“You want my seed inside?” the stamen says bluntly.

It’s embarrassing to admit to something like that, but Hoseok makes a small noise of agreement. To his surprise, Seokjin doesn’t laugh. He touches Hoseok’s hip, rubbing the jut of bone there before sliding his hand toward the place where Hoseok is already getting needy.

“If you wanted, we could…” Seokjin mutters as his fingers slip under the hem of Hoseok’s sleeping gown, never reaching his wetness but –

Hoseok tenses up as he feels Seokjin’s fingertips on his rim.

“What do you think, darling?”

Against his better judgement, Hoseok asks, “Would it hurt a lot?”

“Not at all, if things are slick enough. Some enjoy a bit of a sting, but that’s due to their own depravity rather than anything else.”

“Is this an area that you have personal experience in as well?”

Seokjin lets out a dry chuckle. “Now wouldn’t you like to know that?”

Whilst Hoseok processes Seokjin’s words, the stamen has already reached for the same pot of oil that he used on Hoseok on their first night together, more as a precaution than out of actual need.

This time, though, Seokjin takes his time rubbing the mildly scented oil into his crease and then, pushing some of it inside with the tip of his thumb. The penetration is far less shocking than Hoseok anticipated. It’s a blunt sort of pressure, a little foreign, but there is in fact no pain.

Seokjin keeps Hoseok comfortably on his side while he works him open with one finger and then two. He doesn’t touch Hoseok’s cunt much, leaving it to tingle in jealousy, making Hoseok question why he agreed to it in the first place. Did the bond make him desperate, or eager to fulfil the twisted desires of his stamen?

Would it be terrible if it turned out to be true?

Just then, Seokjin presses his fingers against the thin wall that separates Hoseok’s cunt from his rear. It makes him clench, his little cock twitching in interest.

“That’s it,” the stamen croons. “Your body listens to me so well.”

It’s one of those things that Seokjin would never tell Hoseok in clear daylight, face to face, but the stamen’s earnestness sends shivers down his spine.

Dripping wet and pliant, Hoseok accepts a third finger easily, like he was born to take Seokjin’s cock in each and every hole.

“I could make you come like this,” Seokjin offers, finding that tingly spot again and reaching around with his other hand to play with Hoseok’s cock.

Hoseok has to focus on gathering his lungs full of air. “You know damn well that it’s not what I was asking for.”

“Feisty princeling.”

Hoseok groans, part embarrassment and part trepidation when Seokjin removes his hands to oil up his cock. Refusing to look back, Hoseok only knows what he’s doing because of the lewd, slick noises of the stamen wetting his length.

“You still want it?” Seokjin questions. The tip of his cock slots between his cheeks like it’s the most natural thing in the world, prodding at the slight gape of his rim.

“Just do it,” Hoseok says impatiently. The more considerate Seokjin becomes, the more it irritates Hoseok. He wants to be so full that he doesn’t have to think, he wants Seokjin to shut up and –

Hoseok lets out a low, overwhelmed sound as the stamen pushes in. As a sensation, it’s close to being fucked the normal way, but it feels deeper, like there’s nothing in the way to stop Seokjin from burying himself right in his guts.

Scary, arousing feeling.

Hoseok cries out and bites his hand, almost relieved that Seokjin is solely focused on thrusting in and out of his tight, slippery hole. His world narrows to that repetitive motion, his arousal suppressed and contained.

Eventually though, Hoseok gets used to this new type of fucking. He starts to squirm impatiently, noticing how the dull stretch and pressure in his ass makes his cunt clench and clench.

Seokjin murmurs something into his ear, but Hoseok can’t make out the words. He’s nearly frantic, twisting his neck so that Seokjin can press a sloppy kiss to the corner of his mouth, so close to a real one that Hoseok wonders if he must count it as their first proper kiss.

What a sad pair they make.

Seokjin’s hand reaches around him again, pinching his nipples through the thin material of his sleeping clothes. The sharp pleasure harmonises with the rest of the sensations, somehow bypassing the throb of his cunt, the issue of his supposed fertility.

Hoseok is so close. The oil has spilled everywhere, his pussy a leaky mess, nipples sore.

“You know, if I were a worse man, I could keep you indefinitely suspended on the edge like this,” Seokjin says. “Take away your orgasms and then give them back when you deserved them…”

Suddenly, Hoseok feels a hand on his cock, applying pressure. Hoseok comes, and the centre of his pleasure is just a bit farther back than usual. A moment later, his muscles start contracting with renewed vigour, milking Seokjin’s release in that leaves him dripping before the stamen has had a chance to pull out.

“Gods, you look…” Seokjin clears his throat, examining the mess he made with his fingertips. “I’ll have to clean you out soon, but for a moment…”

Hoseok hums tiredly. This is the first time he feels full and sated after their first night together.

It’s difficult to hate Seokjin when he’s like this.

 

♕♕♕

 

“Hyungnim?”

Yoongi glances in Hoseok’s direction. He looks as if he’s expecting Hoseok to ask a stupid question.

“I just, well.” Hoseok knows he’s blushing. He stares into his cup of liquor, realising that he can’t blame the small amount of alcohol for loosening his tongue.  “Do you know why Lord Kim is so opposed to me uh… giving him an heir?”

Yoongi blinks slowly, his work forgotten. A few droplets of ink drip onto the paper from the tip of his brush.

“Has he told you that?”

“Not in so many words. He – he wants to wait for a more opportune moment, but I don’t know what he means by that. It sounds like an excuse.”

Yoongi’s lips purse. “So, he hasn’t, since…?”

“No, no.” Hoseok must be blushing furiously. “He can be quite… creative.”

“That pervert,” Yoongi grumbles. “Look, Seokjin is a coward who has deluded himself into thinking that everything is fine as long as he does the right thing.”

“Whatever is that supposed to mean?”

“He thinks it’s a testament to his moral righteousness – stalling for time, supposedly giving you a choice.”

“Well, it’s much too late for that,” Hoseok argues. “I was a transaction to him, so it’s always confusing when he doesn’t treat me as one.”

Yoongi’s eyes soften with something like empathy. But before the advisor can say anything, a demanding knock on the door steals their attention.

“Must be Namjoon,” Yoongi mutters reluctantly. “He wanted to borrow a book from me.”

Hoseok tucks his hair lazily behind his ear. Despite having learnt more about the stamen lord’s past, he’s quite used to Namjoon’s presence at the palace – so much so that it saddens Hoseok that their guests are planning to leave soon after the banquet.

As Yoongi pulls the sliding door open, he expects to hear some good-natured banter.

Instead, the advisor freezes in place.

“Good evening. I’m looking for Advisor Min Yoongi.”

Hoseok nearly drops the cup he was holding. The voice is painfully familiar but out of place.

“Well, you found him,” Yoongi says flatly, staring at the cloaked figure in front of him.

Finally, Jungkook lowers his hood and offers Yoongi a charming smile that drags on for a tad too long.

“How did you get in through the gate?” Hoseok blurts out, springing to his feet. That’s when Jungkook finally acknowledges him with a single look that conveys so much.

Yoongi takes an uncharacteristic sidestep out of the way as Jungkook rushes over to Hoseok, pulling him into a tight embrace. It’s wonderful and confusing all at the same time. Hoseok prays that his brother can’t smell Seokjin on him or somehow sense what Hoseok lets the stamen get away with behind closed doors.

Mortifyingly, he still feels strangely open after what Seokjin did to him last night.

“You look – well,” Jungkook breathes out as he holds onto Hoseok’s shoulders for a long moment.

“You too, brother,” Hoseok mutters. Jungkook must have been caught in an autumn rain because his hair is damp, but his eyes are bright as they study the simple decorations of Yoongi’s quarters.

“I received your letters some time ago,” Jungkook says, presenting Hoseok with a slightly crumpled scroll. “You know how much I hate pomp and circumstance, so I simply decided to arrive at night and present Lord Kim’s seal to the guard.”

He shows Hoseok his original letter and then another, shorter one which Hoseok doesn’t recognise.

“I thought it might come in useful,” Yoongi explains. The advisor has closed the door behind Jungkook and is now watching the two of them closely. “Hoseok is hosting a celebratory banquet tomorrow, so you’ll have to make a public appearance by then, Your Highness.”

Jungkook’s lips twitch. “Technically, you should be calling me ‘Your Majesty’.”

“My apologies, Jeonha,” Yoongi corrects himself, performing a bow that’s deep but nowhere courteous enough. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind – his eyes linger on Yoongi until the advisor has fully straightened his spine.

“Does that mean –?” Hoseok breathes out, tugging at Jungkook’s sleeve like he’s the little brother who’s desperate for attention. He can’t help himself. Jungkook seems to have grown up overnight, and the way he carries himself is so… regal.

“Father passed five nights after your departure,” Jungkook says with a sigh. “He was very pleased with the deal he’d struck – I think that to his last breath, he was convinced that he’d saved the entire kingdom by sacrificing his first-born.”

Hoseok fights against the tears that sting in his eyes – though the emotion has little to do with their father’s demise.

“Jungkook-ah, how could you come all this way? You’re King now, you have your duties.”

“Well, I was supposed to travel to one of our coastal towns to meet Kim Seokjin in person to finalise the peace terms. He cancelled the meeting on the grounds of ‘personal circumstances’ and sent representatives to our palace instead. I had to come see for myself if those circumstances had anything to do with you.”

Hoseok draws a shaky breath, staring at his brother. Seokjin never told him about his plan to meet Jungkook in person, nor did he reveal just how impactful his return to the palace had been.

He risked everything for Hoseok. All that he has relentlessly worked for. And yet he omitted something so important – perhaps reasoning that Hoseok was too unwell at the time.

Hoseok’s voice nearly breaks as he says, “I’m fine now, brother.”

“But you weren’t fine before?”

“For a time, no.” Hoseok looks away. “Please do not be offended that Lord Kim went back on his words. He was put in a difficult situation.”

If Jungkook is surprised that Hoseok is defending his stamen, he doesn’t show it. He simply asks if there’s a room he could stay in for the night.

Yoongi bestows him an unimpressed look, explaining that all guest rooms fit for a king are currently in use, and that His Majesty is welcome to stay in the small room between Yoongi’s quarters and Hoseok’s and Seokjin’s bedchamber.

“That room was last used by Hoseok’s healer when he…” Yoongi stops talking when Hoseok raises his finger in warning.

Hoseok is well. Making Jungkook worry over nothing will only make his encounter with Seokjin more volatile.

Yoongi calls for a calyx-in-waiting who goes to check the room ahead of them, but Hoseok feels impatient, so he tugs his brother into the hallway soon after, holding onto his arm in the dimly lit space.

“Does that handsome pistil have any suitors?” Jungkook whispers, a restless bounce in his step as he follows Hoseok deeper into the palace.

Hoseok stops walking so abruptly that Jungkook crashes into his back.

“What pistil?”

“Advisor Min,” Jungkook says in a tone that better matches the memories Hoseok had of his tiresome little brother.

“I didn’t…” Hoseok swallows. Truth be told, he’s never paid any mind to Yoongi’s designation beyond assuming that he wasn’t a stamen.

“I don’t think he’s been actively looking for a partner,” he says lamely. “He’s Seokjin’s most trusted advisor.”

Jungkook cocks his head. “Is that so?”

Hoseok continues walking because he doesn’t want to run into Seokjin like this; the two stamens sizing each other up with Hoseok stuck between them.

Possibly having a physical altercation.

Thankfully, the room is clean enough that Jungkook can settle in right away. Someone has already brought in his saddle bags – because of course Jungkook, the de facto ruler of the oldest kingdom in the entire peninsula, would have travelled to see his brother on horseback.

Hoseok lingers at the door as Jungkook washes his hands in the basin of warm water brought over by another servant.

“What is it?” Jungkook asks, undoing the clasp of his cloak. There’s no red nor gold on his clothes. Nothing to mark him as above the rest.

“I’m happy you came here,” Hoseok says. “I missed you.”

“I had to make sure you weren’t ill,” Jungkook says in a rough voice, staring at Hoseok as though he wishes he could see through his loose robes and check him for bruises. “Tell me, does he treat you poorly?”

“He’s not unkind. He’s – it’s hard to explain but there’s no actual hatred in my heart for Kim Seokjin. It’s more complicated than that, what I feel.”

“And yet he makes you arrange feasts and banquets for his entertainment?”

Of course, Jungkook would have picked up on that.

“The banquet was my idea,” Hoseok says softly. “It’s a long story.”

Jungkook looks unhappy with the explanation, but it’s too late in the evening to stay and reassure him. Hoseok makes sure that someone will bring his brother a meal, after which he makes his way back to his own bedchamber just two doors away.

Seokjin is already inside, wearing only his dark breeches. Hoseok stares openly at the flower mark on the stamen’s chest as he closes the door behind him.

“Arrowwood,” Seokjin mutters, frowning deeply. “Have you spent time with a stamen today?”

Hoseok curses Seokjin’s sensitive nose. “I was helping the servants with the final preparations. One of them must have been a stamen.”

It’s the truth, which is convenient because Hoseok is incapable of pulling things out of thin air.

Still, Seokjin looks slightly disbelieving as he pulls his trousers down and reaches for his sleeping clothes. Despite everything, Hoseok’s cunt clenches at the sight of Seokjin’s mostly soft cock, flushed at the tip, nestled in a patch of dark hair.

Isn’t it beyond twisted that this arouses him – Seokjin’s misplaced jealousy that’s the result of Hoseok hugging his younger brother?

He comes close to opening his mouth and coming clean. He almost confronts Seokjin about all the things he learned.

“Would you suck my cock if I asked you to?”

Seokjin’s voice is dark, and Hoseok feels a trail of slick running down his leg – because of this silly misunderstanding.

He must have lost his mind.

“I would cut off the hand that tried to touch what’s mine,” Seokjin says as Hoseok kneels obediently at his feet.

“I know, hyungnim,” Hoseok says softly, licking his lips. He remains fully clothed while Seokjin is nude. There’s something exhilarating about it.

Seokjin’s cock isn’t fully erect, so it’s easier to take all of it, easier to strip the stamen of control. He hollows his cheeks and looks up at his bonded mate, batting his lashes oh-so-sweetly.

The noise Seokjin makes is one of pure resignation.

 

♕♕♕

 

Hoseok wakes up sore from all the orgasms that Seokjin wrung out of him late at night. He accompanies the stamen for breakfast, constantly glancing at the door, but Jungkook doesn’t step in unannounced as people of the north tend to do.

He socialises with Jimin and Taehyung who have matching grins on their faces because they’re excited for the banquet. In their words, ‘Seokjin hyung hates parties and always leaves them early if he’s forced to attend any type of social function’.

Since his bonded pistil is the host, however, he can’t flee the festivities even if he wanted to.

Hoseok is past worrying about whether or not Seokjin enjoys himself, though. He just wants the night to pass without bloodshed.

Unfortunately, Jungkook doesn’t reveal himself for the rest of the morning. When Hoseok goes to look for him in the guest room, he finds Jungkook’s things but no trace of his brother. Yoongi muses that he must have gone to the town to find suitable attire for the banquet – even if it’s exceedingly unlikely that the merchants will stock clothes that a southern royal would be willing to don.

Hoseok sends the palace tailor after Jungkook since there are only a handful of shops his brother could have visited. That’s as far as he can go to help him, though, as he still has to oversee that everything goes where it’s supposed to.

He also has his own outfit to worry about. Even though the main event will begin at sundown, a select few guests, mostly notable townspeople who have funded Seokjin’s military campaign, will arrive for an earlier reception where they can rub shoulders with Lord Kim and find out more about his new bonded pistil.

Hoseok lets his servants doll him up, his hair combed in airy waves around his head, his lashes oiled and lips tinted a shade pinker. His robes are the most elaborate thing he has worn since moving to Seokjin’s palace, but they still pale in comparison to the silks and pastels he wore back home. The darker green of the fabric suits him better, though, and the golden accents are a nod to his past as an adored southern prince.

Once the servants helping him have left, Hoseok fetches his jewellery box. It’s impossible to tell what is expected of him – or what sort of reaction he’s looking to get out of the guests or out of his stamen.

He slips a golden daffodil bracelet around his wrist. Then, he reaches for the earrings. If he wore them, it would make a clear statement.

Everyone would know what kind of stamen he’d bonded with – one with venom so potent that his absence rendered Hoseok bedridden.

Hoseok attaches the earrings and takes a deep breath. He knows he looks beautiful. Desirable but so clearly spoken for.

He makes his way through the palace alone, pinching the hem of his robes between his fingers to prevent himself from stumbling over the heavy fabric.

In a rarely used sitting room on the northern end of the palace, Seokjin is already entertaining a handful of guests. He still stops speaking mid-sentence as Hoseok steps in.

Their eyes meet, and Hoseok braces himself, tries to tap into his anger. This is the stamen who didn’t tell Hoseok about his father’s passing. The stamen who made irreversible decisions in his stead but keeps hiding behind a veil of moral superiority.

Yet, all Hoseok feels is a burst of pride as Seokjin notices the earrings and seems to be at a loss for words.

“This is my lovely pistil,” Seokjin eventually says, standing up to offer Hoseok his arm. “His Royal Highness, Prince Hoseok,” the stamen continues. He’s under no obligation to point out Hoseok’s former title, but he does so with the utmost respect.

The guests shower them with compliments, telling them how handsome a pair they make, asking Hoseok polite questions about the weather and the food and other things he has had to adjust to.

After a round of drinks, Seokjin leans to say into Hoseok’s ear: “I’ve hated my flower for as long as I remember, but you wearing my mark has changed everything.”

This is the person Hoseok is supposed to loathe. Is it so terrible if he cannot do it?

 

♕♕♕

 

After the successful reception, they move over to the main banquet hall, a space with four, long tables with sitting cushions placed on both sides. Seokjin and Hoseok are seated at the end of one of the tables, though their cushions are the same, plain design as everyone else’s. This is not a court – there are no thrones to elevate Seokjin above the rest – but the stamen still commands attention as the guests move across the space, greeting acquaintances and finding their seats.

Hoseok has made sure that Yoongi is seated close to him, and the two lords as well as Jimin are on the other side of the table. The seat next to Yoongi remains empty, but Seokjin has yet to comment on that. He’s busy congratulating one of his military commanders, a fierce-looking woman who pats Seokjin on the back like an old friend.

“You look absolutely arresting tonight,” Jimin says to Hoseok across the table, pulling his attention away from his mate. “Namjoon was dying to compliment you himself, but he was too cowardly to do so.”

Hoseok’s cheeks heat up as he glances at Lord Kim who appears equally embarrassed.

“Namjoon hyung has always been greedy for pretty pistils who pull their own weight…” Jimin giggles, taking another swig of his rice wine. Taehyung snatches the cup out of Jimin’s hand, coughing loudly. It feels very much like Hoseok is missing an important revelation, too nervous to focus on anything. More of the guests are trickling in, and Seokjin is making his way back to his seat.

“Everything alright?” the stamen asks, lowering his hand briefly on Hoseok’s shoulder: a gesture which should be completely natural to them by now, but it sends a tingling sensation down his spine.

“Yes, Lord Kim,” Hoseok mutters in reply. Seokjin frowns at the formal address but says nothing. Perhaps he’s nervous, too. They’ll soon have to hold a short speech to welcome everyone.

Once people are settled in their seats and the chatter of excitement quiets down enough for Seokjin and Hoseok to stand up, dozens of heads turning in their direction.

“Welcome everyone,” Hoseok says awkwardly when it becomes clear that Seokjin wants him to go first. He did organise the banquet, after all, though he’s still Seokjin’s pistil. At the Daffodil Court, that inherent pecking order would be enforced regardless of the circumstances.

“It’s an honour to officially greet you all tonight. As you may know, my union with Lord Stamen Kim is a fresh one, and I’m still getting settled in my new home.” Hoseok allows himself to smile in Seokjin’s general direction.

“I hope you enjoy the food and entertainment. I have picked dishes that remind me of my homeland, and the cooks have enhanced them with the delicious flavours of the north.”

A few noblestamens cheer, which would also be a terrible etiquette violation back home. Hoseok bows, ready to let Seokjin speak, but Yoongi stops him with a single pointed look. He points a finger at the door and narrows his eyes.

Hoseok swallows.

They can’t cause a scene, surrounded by so many people. It has to be now.

“There’s one more thing,” Hoseok says, hands clasped together. “To celebrate the newfound bond between the north and south, and to look after me like the dutiful brother he is… please welcome His Majesty the King, my dongsaeng Jungkook.”

While Hoseok spoke, Yoongi had moved to the side entrance.

Jungkook isn’t wearing his royal headdress nor the heavy, ceremonial garb of a Suseonhwa ruler, but he manages to look regal in the most understated way. His hair is neat and shiny, and he’s wearing black robes with golden accents.

He looks angry, but it’s noticeable only because Hoseok has known him his whole life. The banquet quests merely look at him in awe. Despite all that the kingdom has lost in terms of influence and respect, these people look up to Jungkook.

Hoseok’s brother has always lived his life as though there’s a golden glow emanating from him – something that separates him from the rest. Jungkook doesn’t bow to Seokjin but he acknowledges him politely as he takes a seat next to Yoongi.

It seems that Seokjin is speaking to the crowd, but Hoseok can only stare at Jungkook who stares defiantly at Seokjin. There are more cheers. Yoongi is leaning forward to say something into Jungkook’s ear. The two of them seem oddly comfortable with each other.

“Hoseok-ah,” Seokjin’s hushed voice keeps repeating.

Hoseok grips his cup.

“How long has he been here?”

“A day,” Hoseok says. “I wasn’t expecting him, either – I just...”

Surprisingly, Seokjin doesn’t press him for details when Hoseok’s sentence trails off. He’s looking at Jungkook with a bewildered expression on his face.

“Arrowwood,” the stamen mutters under his breath. The tips of his ears turn a deep shade of pink as he clearly thinks about their night of passion fuelled by misplaced jealousy.

Jungkook of course interprets his silence as acquiescence of guilt.

“What do you keep looking at, Lord Kim?” he huffs, crossing his arms. “Are you waiting for me to call you brother-in-law and ignore all the ways you’ve slighted my hyung and our entire family?”

Seokjin’s jaw clenches dangerously. The other lords are watching their interaction keenly.

“I’m simply wondering, Your Majesty, how someone can be such a brat even though their brother is the most wonderful person.”

Despite himself, Hoseok snorts. Nothing about this makes sense – Jungkook being here, Seokjin praising his character, Yoongi throwing his brother small, curious glances.

“Furthermore,” Seokjin continues, pouring wine into Jungkook’s cup, “you must admit that the peace terms I drafted were beneficial to us both. I never intended to starve your people over the winter or push your administration deeper into crisis. It would be unwise to live beside a hungry dog that’s desperate for scraps.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw but accepts the wine. He does wait until Seokjin drinks from his own cup before taking a sip, though.

“Are you going to introduce me to your lapdogs or will you insult me further?” Jungkook asks.

It makes Jimin laugh tipsily, and some of the tension breaks. They eat and listen to the musical acts. Seokjin picks the best bites of fish and meat, carefully placing them on Hoseok’s plate with his chopsticks.

Hoseok eats everything. Drinks a bit of wine. He feels warm and soft by the end, subtly leaning into Seokjin’s shoulder, watching Jungkook befriend Jimin and Taehyung with little effort. Even Namjoon seems quite taken with Hoseok’s brother.

“Are you full, sweetheart?” Seokjin whispers in his ear.

Hoseok nods before he remembers that he was supposed to be angry with Seokjin. He gets up from his cushion and excuses himself. But instead of going to the lavatory in the courtyard, he heads to a moonlit balcony and enjoys the cool air on his flushed cheeks.

And when he hears his name being called, it’s hardly a surprise.

“I knew you’d follow me,” he says as Seokjin leans into the railing next to them.

“We haven’t had a chance to speak in private,” the stamen says casually, keeping his gaze on the horizon, the vast, dark sea. “I wanted you to know that I was quite impressed by how you carried yourself today. Thanks to you, everyone will leave the palace tonight feeling less hostile toward the other side.”

The compliments are unarming. Hoseok shakes his head to clear his mind. “So, you want me to play the role of a friendly diplomat?”

“You’ve misunderstood. I don’t expect anything from you – I was purely making an observation.”

“Of course you don’t need anything from me,” Hoseok says. It comes out more bitter than he intended. Seokjin waits for him to continue.

“You let me dally about seemingly without restrictions, but at the same time you keep me in the dark about things. You fancy me enough to use me for pleasure, but you do everything in your power to ward off any – any natural consequences there may be. Forgive me, Lord Kim, that it makes me wonder if I’m more than a mildly amusing pet to you.”

Hoseok’s chest is heaving. Seokjin is silent for a long while.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you of your father’s passing,” the stamen eventually says. “In my defence, if you’re willing to entertain any excuses at all, I was also operating on incomplete information. I knew that the King was either very sick or dead because the correspondence no longer was signed by him, but I wanted to verify it myself before bringing up something so important. Then, you got sick and I had to rush back.”

“So, it’s my fault?”

Seokjin’s mouth twitches. “It’s not your fault, darling.”

Hoseok sneers.

“How do you feel, knowing your father is dead?”

“I’m not looking to weep on your shoulder,” Hoseok says, wrapping his arms around himself because it’s cold and windy outside. “I’m more worried about Jungkook. Members of the court, as well as my mother, will be eager to seize any power they can. It will be a difficult time for him.”

“I can help him, if you want.”

Hoseok raises his brows, so Seokjin continues, “I’ll make a statement that I’ll only consider myself allied with the Kingdom as long as Jungkook holds absolute power. They’re not foolish enough to wish for another war they’ll lose.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Again, it’s in my best interest that our neighbours are stable enough to trade with and keep in check. But in addition, I have a more personal reason to back your brother.”

“What is that?”

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Keeping you happy. And everyone you love, including your obnoxious little brother.”

Hoseok lets out a frantic giggle. “I think your advisor likes him enough.”

“Yoongi? He thinks he’s above his subgender, but he very much has a penchant for younger, charismatic stamens. Don’t mind him. He’ll get over it.”

“I didn’t know he was a pistil before Jungkookie pointed it out to me,” Hoseok says. “How was I so blind?”

“Then you probably didn’t know that Taehyung is also one,” Seokjin says in a light, almost teasing tone. “Imagine the scandal if it ever came to light – he’s bonded to Namjoon and everything.”

“But he… he…” Hoseok tries to gather his thoughts, but everything seems incomprehensible to him. “I thought that Namjoon and Jimin were bonded.”

“They are,” Seokjin says. “Venom stamens can form bonds with more than one pistil, though I always knew that wasn’t for me.”

“But Taehyung is a lord,” Hoseok keeps insisting. He has started to shiver from the cold, but this is a conversation that must happen outside the palace walls.

“He was the only child of a powerful ruling family. They raised him to hide his designation so that he could one day prove himself as a leader.”

Hoseok bites his lip because he doubts that anything insightful would come out of his mouth. There are powerful, competent pistils all around him and he never noticed.

Seokjin wraps his arms around him, shielding him from the cold.

“And what comes to your last complaint – I truly was just trying to be courteous because leaving your home has been such a major adjustment. If I’m making you genuinely unhappy by holding back, I can rectify that tonight. I desire you more than I could have ever predicted, Hoseok-ah.”

Hoseok lashes flutter as Seokjin reaches to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

“May I kiss you?”

Hoseok lets out a soft, pleased noise that’s cut off by Seokjin’s warm lips on his cold ones. The stamen’s mouth tastes wine-sweet. Their first proper kiss, in a place like this.

The kiss is determined, nearly demanding, bullying past any walls Hoseok could have built between them. Seokjin cups his cheek and licks into his mouth, slow and languid but completely inevitable.

And when they finally part, Seokjin presses his forehead against Hoseok’s for a long time.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s the bond or just you that makes me feel this way,” Seokjin whispers. “It shouldn’t be like this, so soon after I got to know you, after I tried to hold back and give both of us space. I’m terrified, Jung Hoseok. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Hoseok admits easily. “It’s scary.”

“I thought – thought we’d be lucky to tolerate each other. Perhaps even find a sense of kinship in our unusual lives and destinies.” Seokjin strokes Hoseok’s cheek with his thumb, ear to jaw.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he says quietly. “Like those tacky poems, like you’re my moon and the mountains and the soil which I walk upon. How banal is that, hmm?”

“Seokjin…” Hoseok pronounces his mate’s name softly, without honorifics.

The stamen seems to like it. He’s smiling.

Hoseok is smiling, too.

To kiss in the moonlight, to forgive, to slowly learn what it means to love. None of those things would Hoseok have imagined for himself – the coveted prince, the filial son, the war prize.

Miraculously, Seokjin can look at him and see none of those things.

 

♕♕♕

 

Two days later, Hoseok and Seokjin are on their way to breakfast when they get spooked by Advisor Min who barges through a side entrance and almost slams into Hoseok elbow-first.

“Yoongi-yah, is everything alright?” Seokjin inquires while making sure that Hoseok is unhurt.

“Oh, I’m doing wonderfully,” Yoongi says in an uncharacteristically loud voice. “Your brother, however…” the advisor turns to Hoseok. “Tell him that he’s being utterly ridiculous. You’re the older brother, after all, maybe he’ll listen to a voice of reason.”

“What is it that needs reasoning?”

Before Yoongi can reply, Seokjin lets out a disbelieving laugh that echoes in the sparsely decorated corridor.

“How bad is it? Did you take his flower and everything?”

“I did no such thing,” Yoongi protests in a squeaky voice, wagging a finger at Seokjin’s face. “And even if I did, you’d be the last person on my list of confidants.”

“Yah, with Jiminie gone, I’m your only confidant.” Seokjin’s voice twists into something sugary-sweet. “You can tell your hyung what exactly happened in the dead of ni–”

“Impossible stamen,” Yoongi groans, “you are all one and the same – not a single rational thought to be found in those heads.”

The distraught advisor leaves them without a goodbye, and for a moment, Seokjin and Hoseok just look at each other.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Hoseok says. “Perhaps there’s an innocent explanation for how hyungnim was acting.”

Seokjin shakes his head disbelievingly and presses a kiss to Hoseok’s brow. They may be alone in the corridor, but public displays of affection still make Hoseok tense, as though he’s doing something he shouldn’t – blooming openly when he should remain a bud.

Noticing his hesitation, Seokjin pulls away quickly. He’s an impossible stamen, yes, but he has his moments of tactfulness.

At least outside their shared bedchamber.

Hoseok shivers at the thought of what the stamen somehow made him enjoy last night.

Deciding to skip breakfast, Hoseok rushes in the direction of the guest wing. After Namjoon and his two pistils – which is still mind-boggling to think about – left the palace for Namjoon’s residence which is located to the northeast, conveniently close to the mountainside town in Taehyung’s control, Jungkook was moved to one of the better guest rooms on the other side of the palace.

At Jungkook’s door, Hoseok knocks thrice. He steps in at the first, vague sign of life.

Hoseok’s brother is lounging by the open window. He’s wearing a simple robe, and his face has a pink sheen on it, as though he has just stepped out of a steaming bath.

“What did you do?” Hoseok asks, crossing his arms.

“Whatever you may be referring to,” Jungkook starts, sounding somewhere between amused and offended, “­how are you so certain that I am at fault?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Do you remember that one time when you climbed the crooked tree in the garden and broke your wrist?”

“Of course I remember. I was forced to languish in bed for weeks.”

“I told father that I dared you to climb the tree so you wouldn’t be punished for it.”

Jungkook must have been about to say something, but his mouth snaps shut.

Hoseok thinks about how their father had made him kneel in a candlelit room for hours on end while Jungkook was doted on and fed sweet snacks. The King never raised his hand directly against Hoseok – his unblemished appearance too important for the nation’s future – but he tried to build his character by making him docile and obedient. Unfortunately, it grew Hoseok’s resolve instead.

“I did not say this to make you feel bad,” Hoseok says, studying his brother’s face, his boyish handsomeness that’s been untarnished by their strange upbringing. Often, Hoseok was the one who was put on a pedestal simply because his mother was the queen consort, while Jungkook had to work diligently to prove himself in their father’s eyes.

“What do you mean, then?” Jungkook asks airily.

“I have my obligations here, beside Seokjin hyung. I want to support you, but I can’t while I’m away, and the people who oppose you are constantly looking for ways to paint your actions in an unflattering light.”

“I don’t need a lecture from you,” Jungkook grunts, clearly peeved by the mention of Seokjin. While he no longer stares at Hoseok’s stamen as if he’s the root of all evil, Jungkook isn’t exactly polite with him, either.

“I did not intend this as a lecture. But Yoongi hyung seemed extremely frazzled by something when we bumped into him earlier, and he begged me to act as the messenger.”

“Yoongi hyung is the quiet type, though. He doesn’t beg much.”

It takes a moment for Hoseok to make a scandalised noise. Impossible stamens. Where is Jimin when they need him the most?

“Sorry, hyungnim,” Jungkook says with a faux lisp. “I just terribly needed this holiday, needed to make sure you were in good health. Father’s funeral rites alone took a long time, but behind closed doors, people are talking nothing but politics.”

“What does that have to do with… with seducing Lord Kim’s strategic advisor? And making him upset?”

I just told him he’d make a great queen,” Jungkook says. “It was a joke, mostly.”

“Jung Jungkook…” Hoseok shakes his head. “How did you know he was a pistil in the first place? He has hardly advertised his designation.”

“He just has a pistil sort of face,” Jungkook explains dreamily. “You see, it’s very… soft.”

“I don’t have a soft face and I’m a pistil,” Hoseok argues.

Jungkook’s expression sours. “You don’t. I don’t know what Kim Seokjin sees in you.”

“Are you insulting me to protect my non-existent honour from the stamen you chose to loathe?”

Jungkook nods and suddenly stands up. “Do you know what’s Yoongi’s favourite flower?”

“I don’t know if he likes flowers,” Hoseok says, watching his brother move restlessly through the room, collecting empty cups and items of clothing.

“Nonsense, everyone likes flowers.”

Hoseok tries one more time: “I don’t think Seokjin hyung will let you turn his closest advisor and friend into a southern queen.”

“Luckily it’s not for him to decide.”

“He’s too old for you,” Hoseok adds, watching Jungkook dart around the room like a bee looking for the sweetest nectar. The servants would gladly clean the room for Jungkook, but his brother has always enjoyed doing things on his own.

“You are too narrow-minded, hyungnim.”

Hoseok frowns but stops talking. He goes to the window and breathes in the cool air that already tastes of winter. When he turns, Jungkook has put on his overcoat and fixed his hair. He’s been wearing the sheer gat of a southern noble with a string of beads hanging below his chin. It suits him better than the ceremonial headdress of a king.

“Would you like to go down to the harbour tonight?” Hoseok asks.

“Will your stamen come, too?”

“Possibly. Unless he’s very busy.”

Jungkook’s lips twitch. “Will Advisor Min come?”

“Almost certainly.”

That makes Jungkook smile like the sun itself, even though the weather outside is cloudy. Hoseok breathes in and out before closing the window.

“Jungkook-ah,” he says. “Seokjin told me that he loves me.”

His brother stops fiddling with his outfit. “Do you love him back?”

“It’s likely that I do,” Hoseok replies earnestly. “But I haven’t said anything yet. I do not know how these things work. I was a pistil prince, that was my whole reason for existing.”

“You still are a prince, hyungnim. And he’s just a lord.”

Hoseok nods. He is a prince.

And Seokjin is just a lord.

 

Notes:

Thank you for being patient with me! ♡ I also think Advisor Min would make a great queen but maybe that's just me...

Also, who was the person Seokjin fooled around with? Place your bets in the comments :3

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