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It wasn’t unusual for Namjoon to wake up to the sounds of his king screaming.
In fact, it was way too common for the silent night air to billow into an array of thunder the moment the king let out his first screech, alarming several of the servants that were cleaning the empty halls. The sound echoed, followed by a plume of fairy dust that exploded in some faraway location; no doubt the soldiers in the barracks who were new and did not know that the screams were, unfortunately, because of a silly little matter. It didn’t do any kind of help that the seniors of the barracks never mentioned it either, waking up and laughing with amused smirks at how the newbies rushed to get ready for combat.
Namjoon rose from his slumber, his bones creaking and groaning as he got up from his desk. Somewhere in his studying he had fallen asleep, face plastered on his book, glasses dangling from the tip of his nose. The words he woke up to were hovering and dangling, nonsensical in his state of mind as of now. He could only remember that he had been reading through the history of previous sages, how they came to be and what was expected of any in training. He closed the book, standing up and stretching in the consuming dark. The candle still flickered with the magic spell he had enchanted on it, burning low and highlighting the shadows curved in his face. He took his damn time waking up, completely unfazed with the screaming that everyone else was reacting to.
“He’s so dramatic.” Namjoon muttered into the night air, slipping on a long maroon robe. His bed was untouched and his bones whined, wanting to fall back into the silk sheets, to have a decent sleep in the last few days but he couldn’t just ignore the commotion outside, the screams replaced by howls and the occasional servant yelling in distress.
Namjoon was sliding his slippers on when the door to his room burst open, a panicked guard searching for him with wild eyes. “Sir..!” He calmed at the sight of Namjoon’s stinging glare, flustered at his blatant rudeness in inviting himself into the man’s chambers. “I’m sorry, but sir—“ He stammered, armor suddenly looking too big on him and his face resembled that of a kicked puppy. Namjoon took pity on him, walking over to put his hand up, effectively shutting him up.
“I know. Lead me to him.”
The hallways were much more livelier than what should be acceptable, servants dashing like mad trying to find out what exactly was happening. Namjoon hummed, rather peeved at the scene, knowing full well that they should be sleeping instead of concerning themselves with the situation. Alas, Namjoon said nothing, hands linked behind his back as his robes fluttered after him, sleep still crusted in his long lashes, a blooming red sitting on his cheek from where he has previously passed out on his desk. His glasses somehow slipped from his face entirely, now dangling from a chain around his neck. He paid no mind to his current appearance, weaving through the halls with startling accuracy in the night, only guided by the bumbling soldier and the sacred moonlight filtering through the long glass windows, somehow mocking him for being awake at this hour.
It wasn’t his fault, he glared at the moon. Technical difficulties, really. He just needed to get everything under control and then he could go back to his dreams, dreams of flowers and fields with no civilization for miles. A perfect little thought in his terribly fretful mind.
Soon enough, they came to the source of the screaming, which had long stopped. What replaced it was hordes of servants speaking in hushed tones, peeking into the room and failing to be stealthy about it. Namjoon sighed and passed the soldier who was struggling to get past them, cramming his lithe body through the mess of servants and guards, stepping through the door and firmly closing it behind him with a slam, the click of the lock following soon after.
With the pairs of eyes finally away from the scene, Namjoon turned to the situation. There, in front of him, was the King’s grand bed, where the King was sitting up, eyes sparkling with tears. The silken sheets were strewn everywhere, towels lying on the floor. The canopy of the master bed was lined with pretty baby blue veils, however, one side of it was scratched up, torn and shredded. The few servants that had rushed into the room were crowded in a corner, hands twisted all together as they cowered in fear. The whole room was a mess and Namjoon could only pity whoever was going to clean up (it was going to be future Namjoon, he could feel it).
Namjoon raised an eyebrow, a frown creasing the lines of his face. With an assertive voice, he asked, “Your Majesty, did you have a nightmare?”
Slowly, the King looked up at him. His bright orange hair stuck to the sides of his face, cold sweat on his skin, lips parting on slow and steady breaths. He looked terrified, but the angry pinch of his brows left when he spotted his royal advisor. A nervous chuckle fell out of his lips before he licked them, Namjoon unconsciously following the movement with his eyes. The silence following after was deafening, none of them moving a muscle before finally, the King made the effort to actually speak.
“Well—“ Suddenly, an explosion of fairy dust encased the whole room, the servants screaming in terror and Namjoon quickly pulling the sleeves of his robe towards his face. The magic scattered and glittered, gently billowing onto the floor and coughs were heard, sparking a scowl from Namjoon as he rubbed the dust out of his eyes and saw—
“Oh. It looks like you’ve finally found your wings, Your Majesty.”
The King’s back bloomed with newly acquired fairy wings and all he could muster was a weak, “Surprise?”
—
The Jung lineage was made out of 400 years of ancestors. All of them held extraordinary lives that not many common folk could achieve. They were heroes, leaders, strategists with hearts of gold and smiles that shone like the fiery sun hanging in the sky. They could be distinguished by the golden band surrounding their iris and a beautiful bloom of a sunflower pressed onto their left hands from the moment they were born. Their family insignia was, as such, a sunflower, the emblem designed with that same sunflower with the Ribbon of Fae wrapped tight around the stem, sun phases delicately etched into the small twisting ribbon.
Much of what came from the Jung family was nothing short of spectacular. Their people loved the family, knowing that no one would ever be left behind. Even through hard times, with the stories of Jungs staggering to find some form of solution, they rose to the challenge, not stopping until everyone was safe. With each new Jung, the people worried less and less. However, a recent addition to this new era became the gossip of the kingdom, whispered through vines and the branches of trees, high atop the candle-lit mushrooms and behind long oak leaves.
Hoseok Jung was a late bloomer. Usually, by the peak of their 18th year, royalty would get their golden wings. Every Jung has gotten them at the highest point of their 18th year. Unfortunately, there was the rare exception of Hoseok Jung, a beautiful fairy with the fluidity required to hypnotize the masses. He reached his 18th year with little qualms, already bearing the crest of his lineage and the golden band circling his warm eyes. Except, as the months ticked by, his golden wings never appeared. He was stuck with his standard fairy wings, earning shock from his whole kingdom. The King and Queen worried for their son, but did not hide this occurrence from their people; they reassured that he must just be a late bloomer, a Jung who needs a little more time.
Because of this, people began rumors. They started in pubs and in alleyways, where people uttered cruel statements of how he must be impure, how he must have been conceived in some sort of secret affair. Naturally, Hoseok caught these rumors told throughout his home, whispered by guards and seen by the way servants warily looked at him, as if expecting him to reveal the truth with enough staring. The gossip didn’t deter him; it only made him work harder, to keep his head up and to focus on being the best fairy to succeed his parents.
Time ticked by, shown through the seasons glowing and transitioning. Hoseok was in his 20th year when the tension between a neighboring nation broke, snapping into a full on war. His parents grew ill with the infestation of battles and havoc, with stress and anxiety. Humans and powerful pixies slipped through the barriers that were to keep their people safe, attacking mercilessly. The King and Queen put up a good fight, tearing down most of them before finally falling. The life slipped from them as the most powerful healers and sages desperately grasped to save them, to keep them in the world of the living. Hoseok could do nothing but weep when they finally gave away, leaving a shaking kingdom hoping for their new king to change the tide in this calamity.
That’s when Hoseok met his royal advisor, Namjoon. That’s how he was able to save his whole kingdom, leading them with a sword in hand, the other holding his crest high in the air, reshaping the barrier in a way that no other fairy has ever seen. His armor gleamed golden, as if blessed by the goddess, on that final day of trial and error. One last battle tore through the capitol, finishing with a victory for the late blooming Jung. People rejoiced to see their king live up to his title, to see him flourish even with no golden wings to back him up. It was celebrated for days, and Namjoon could remember how Hoseok had turned to him on that day once their victory was declared, smiling as if he was the sun itself. The fairy’s overwhelming power hit Namjoon like a brick at that instant, warm and safe from any more fighting. It was a promise to a new beginning, a new era that would prosper into a splendid renaissance.
That day, Namjoon vowed to stay by his side until death.
Yet, right now, he was truly reconsidering his promise.
After the craze of fairy dust settled, Namjoon had calmly ushered the servants and guards out of the room, leaving them with no room to argue. The door clicked shut and Namjoon had moved quickly to be by the King’s side, holding his hand and greeting him with the kindest smile he could muster with bags under his eyes.
“Congratulations, Your Majesty. You have finally obtained your golden wings of Hope.”
Hoseok only gave him a tired look before muttering, “They fucking hurt like a bitch.”
Namjoon’s smile only grew bigger. “Language, Hobi.”
Hoseok whined like a kid, pouting. “They hurt! Gods, I wish these wings appeared when I was still sixteen and not twenty-one already.”
Namjoon merely shrugged. “Better late than never.”
Namjoon bickered with his King as he slowly sat down on the bed, beckoning the royal to turn. Slowly, he moved so that his back was facing Namjoon. Namjoon inspected the angry red surrounding where his wings had sprouted, reaching into his robe to fish out a small square of paper. He blew onto the blank paper, an incantation leaving his lips. The paper flowed and crackled with magic, turning purple. Namjoon placed the paper on the top of Hoseok’s bare skin, right above where his wings sprouted. Soon, the purple glimmered and stretched, acting as a soothing balm for the irritated skin. He heard the King sigh, flushing lightly as the King praised him.
“You’re getting better at this whole sage thing, Joonie.”
Namjoon snorted, but thanked him nonetheless. As an afterthought, he added, “I have to be a good sage. Who would save your hide if I wasn’t around?”
He giggled at Hoseok’s blubbering protest, eyes trained on how the magic molded itself around the wings, careful with touching the delicate magic in them. He, however, grazed his fingers through the floaty material, awed by how Hoseok hissed.
“Truly, Your Majesty, you make such a scene on things that should happen beautifully,” Namjoon commented as he trailed his fingertips across the swirly patterns on Hoseok’s newly acquired golden wings. The King startled at the touch, relaxing after a moment once Namjoon posed no threat to his wings. They were glowing and sparkling with high waves of fairy magic, enough that it could power a whole town if needed.
Hoseok gave him a look over his shoulder. “Not my fault that the molting would happen through a nightmare.”
“A nightmare?” Namjoon prompted. Nightmares were always a rare reoccurrence when it came to the king. While his stress piled upon his shoulders with the renovations being done to the kingdom, he never once had them reflected in his dreams. Passing out or simply sleeping with a touch of fairy magic could keep him away from having a terrible morning, it also wasn’t always effective.
Sometimes, there were omens. Omens were usually only things that fairies experienced, a concept that humans could never dream of. These dreams slowly turned into nightmares, ones that twisted and weaved, images flashing and blinking, mean ideas sprouting and scowling. With every single one, the last of the dream would be a vague message that rang clear on your head once you woke up, burned into your retinas with the implication of a thunderstorm enveloping the dreamer soon.
Hoseok nodded, suddenly looking as if he aged years from just recalling his dream. “It was an omen.” His eyes dulled as he continued, Namjoon perched on the edge of his bed with one hand itching to rest on his shoulder. The King was looking away from him, eyes trained faraway, recollecting the images that still plagued his mind. “I remember our last fight with the war with the enemy...but instead of winning this time...we lost.”
He turned back to Namjoon, eyes melancholy. It always tugged at his heartstrings, to see his king deflate as memories of the past washed over him. His smile slipped and his eyes shone with glossy tears as he whispered, “I vividly saw you fall...the way the man who murdered you just...didn’t even think and stepped over your body...seeing you like that…” He turned sheepish then, blush coloring his cheeks.
Slowly, Namjoon connected the dots.
“That was what triggered your wings, I’m assuming?”
Hoseok nodded, shoulders falling in relief. “Yes. I remember waking up as the pain seared into me and the omen chanted ‘It is time to awaken, Jung..’”
“How thoughtful of them to tell you last minute.” Namjoon teased, scooting closer to his king. Carefully, his hand reached out to grab Hoseok’s fingers trailing slowly up his palm before intertwining together. The king smiled at the gesture, squeezing back and looking up at his royal advisor. They shared a careful moment together, suspended in the emotions simmering under eyelashes, unspoken words that were told differently.
Softly, Hoseok asked him, “Can I kiss you?”
Namjoon smiled. “Yes, Hoseok.”
Leaning forward, Namjoon was the first one to connect their lips. Relief and comfort flooded his mind when they touched, Hoseok’s eyes slowly closing to savor the moment, the feel of cracked lips touching his. He could sense when Hoseok reached up with his other hand, fingertips brushing the nape of his neck gently, caressing him. He couldn’t help the smile that curled onto his lips, giggling when Hoseok whined, but could only return his excitement with his own sunny grin.
Without thinking, Namjoon whispered, “I wouldn’t go anywhere that didn’t also include you, Your Majesty.”
At that, he was rewarded with Hoseok blushing a lovely shade of red, one that swept onto the apple of his cheekbones. “That’s far too corny, even for you.” Hoseok muttered, but the glow he got when he loved what he heard was present, framed by the golden fairy wings he had newly acquired.
Namjoon shrugged. “I have to match your level sometimes. The things you do at various random days can very well overmatch one single sentence I say when I’m sleep deprived.” Namjoon sighed, pulling away and rubbing at his eyes. Sleep was pulling at the edges of his sight once more, urging him to fall back onto his dreams.
Hoseok got the hint, curiously looking at his advisor. Before Namjoon could stop the mischievous train of thought he now had, he asked, “Could you sleep with me, Namjoon? After that omen, I’m terribly afraid to sleep alone.” He was bluffing, of course, seen by the way his grin turned impish when Namjoon glared at him. Dramatically, he fell back onto his pillows, fairy wings disappearing in a mist as he cried, “Oh, you would never let the King miss out on a wink of sleep, would you Namjoon!?”
Namjoon sighed, playing along. “No, I would not.”
Hoseok beamed. “Of course not! Come, join me and cuddle me on this frigid night!”
Namjoon, like the lovesick fool he was, complied. He pulled his robe off, shimmying under the covers. Hoseok reached towards him, smiling widely as the advisor took his hands. The King curled into him, orange hair tickling Namjoon’s chin as he settled on his chest. A sigh of absolute relaxation left him at the feel of his body warmth enveloping him, silk sheets smooth and cool.
“Thank you, Namjoon.” Hoseok fell into a deep sleep soon after, breathing deeply as he sank back into his dreams. This time, as he brushed his fingers through Hoseok’s hair, Namjoon wished that he would have happier dreams and less of a rude awakening after the whole ordeal with his wings.
It was a good thing, really, to finally see them appear. It’s been years since when he should have had them, since they should have been presented to him. With this obstacle finally crossed, Namjoon knows the last people that doubted Hoseok’s lineage would soon shut up. Only the Jung Family have gotten the Golden Wings of Hope, and now, Hoseok would be strong enough to finally put the barrier that once protected their kingdom in the past.
With that in mind, Namjoon fell into a fitful sleep.