Archive of Our Own

A sweet baritone is singing in the dusty tavern, lute music accompanying it. The voice is nice, melodious and clear, but the song isn’t as good and people boo at the bard, throwing him whatever putrid food they can spare to lose.

Jeongguk sits in a dark corner, observing but unseen. You would think that people would notice him more, all dressed in black and with two swords hanging on his hip, but he’s good at blending in. When people don’t pick fights with him, anyway.

Posada is the farthest thing from a city you get without going to the south. Godforsaken and falling to pieces, Posada is the kind of place people escape to when they don’t want to be found and they don’t mind sacrificing every kind of comfort and security. A pit full of scum and the tavern is the center of it all, the hovel everyone gathers at.

There is some kind of beauty in Posada, though. No one will ask you questions and no one will bother you. Everyone is too busy minding their own business.

Jeongguk doesn’t dislike Posada. Witchers are monster hunters for hire, which shouldn’t be too frowned upon if it wasn’t for the fact that they are considered monsters themselves. Trained from a young age in killing and magic, they undergo ruthless and unforgiving magic rituals that change them, forever. By the time a witcher can be considered such, they are a human no more.

Monsters to slay other monsters.

In Posada, people see the medallion with the wolf hanging from his neck, but they don’t bother him for it. They don’t throw rocks at him nor try to kick him out of the inn when he just wants to sleep.

Jeongguk counts the golden coins he has left. Posada is a good place for him, but one where he doesn’t earn too much. If people in Posada start dying because some bruxa is tearing their throats out, no one cares. Not enough to pay a witcher to get rid of the monster, at least.

He swirls his drink around, watching the ale slosh in the mug. He’ll have to resume travelling again. Going west sounds like the best option.

He’s interrupted in his musing as someone loudly clears their throat in front of him.

“I see you have some coins, my friend! Got one to spare for a humble bard who entertained you all tonight?”

Jeongguk looks at the bard silently, taken aback by his brazenness. He looks young, in his mid twenties maybe, and he’s smiling at Jeongguk so widely that his eyes are almost completely closed. He doesn’t wait for an answer before sitting down before him, placing his lute down on the table. It’s a beautiful instrument, ornate and delicate, but Jeongguk pushes it away from himself with little care. He goes back to his coins. Thirty golden coins will last for a while-

“No? Not even a copper? I will even take requests. Whatever you want!”

Jeongguk grits his teeth and clenches his fists. He isn’t in a bad mood, quite the contrary; but the mouthy bard is slowly ruining his peace and it’s an annoyance he usually doesn’t have to deal with. Normal people don’t want to talk to witchers.

“Go away,” he grunts, not sure about the most effective way to drive the annoyance away. His unnatural, cat-like green eyes are usually enough.

“Come on witcher,” insists the bard in a teasing voice, “can’t I delight you with some music?”

Jeongguk’s eyes involuntarily go back to the bard. He’s still grinning, of course, so smug and self-assured that Jeongguk has the reflex to check he hasn’t stolen him something and mocking him about it. But his fingers, long and tan, have been tapping the wooden table since he sat down, far from Jeongguk’s pockets.

Jeongguk studies him, trying to gauge if he has some ulterior motives to approach him. It would make more sense if he has. Yet the bard keeps smiling at him congenially, making no move, and Jeongguk concludes he’s just an idiot with no sense of self-preservation.

“No,” he replies, quick and gruff. “Leave me alone.”

The bard tilts his head, one hand coming up to tap at his chin. His smile is traded for a thoughtful expression but with a hint of teasing still, hidden in the corner of his eyes and the sharp curve of his lips.

“You know witcher, I think I know who you are.”

Jeongguk stills his movements, but makes an effort to not show any hint of apprehension. “Oh, really?” he asks with a scoff. “And who am I supposed to be?”

He should’ve kept his mouth shut. This is why he talks as little as he can. Because as soon as he says that, the bard tilts his head and clicks his tongue, a glint in his eyes.

“You’re that witcher everyone talks about. The Black Shadow. The Murderer of Riveile.”

Names. Epithets drenched in blood. They are nothing more than that, but they strike a cord and Jeongguk can’t help but feel his blood boil as they are mentioned.

Jeongguk glares at him and grunts in displeasure, his patience gone. “Do you have a job for me?” he asks, hoping the bard will say yes, give him the job and then leave him the fuck alone.

The bard scoffs. “Do I look like I have a job for you?” he points at himself and yeah, he has a point. Jeongguk looks at the elaborate doublet, the delicate lute, his youthful and unblemished face. Definitely someone who has nothing to do with a witcher.

“In this case, goodbye.”

He gets up after finishing his ale in one go, the drink piss poor and terrible but better than nothing. He walks towards the door with purposeful strides, but he doesn’t get too far away before he can feel the bard following him. He adjusts the swords on his side, hoping to remind him just which kind of person he’s bothering.

The bard casually walks up to him, plucking some cords on his lute.

Jeongguk ignores him. He walks out of the tavern, goes towards the stable to get his horse, saddles her and checks his supplies. He goes as far as mounting his horse, ready to ride out of Posada and find another town to stay in for a while.

He looks down. The bard is still there, smiling at him expectantly. “So, where are we going?”.

“ We ,” mutters Jeongguk with clenched teeth, “aren’t going anywhere. I’m going somewhere. And so are you. Possibly, hopefully , in opposite directions.”

He spurs his horse in a trot, still not sure about which direction to take. He knows there’s a village not far, one near a swamp that’s infested with some nasty creatures. There’s always work for a witcher there.

“So, Mister Witcher. What does a warrior such as yourself usually listen to? My repertoire is vast and diverse, I’m sure there must be something that will appease you.”

The deep voice stuns him out of his thought and as he looks behind him, he can’t help but frown and gape. The bard is jogging behind him to try and keep up with his horse, and he smiles widely when he sees Jeongguk is looking back at him.

“Oh yes, if you could go a tad slower, that would be fantastic,” he pants, a lute in his hands and a bag slung over his shoulder but nothing else with him. “I’m sure you have no hurry to get wherever we are going.”

The bard easily reaches him, because in his shock Jeongguk stopped his horse completely. What… what is he doing?

“What are you doing?” he voices out, appalled. Why is this idiot following him? Just what is he trying to accomplish?

The bard snorts. “Isn’t it clear? I’m following you. I thought you witchers were shrewd or something.”

“I am shrewd,” is the high-pitched response and he doesn’t have to look at the bard’s reaction to know he sounds like a child at the start of a tantrum. His ears feel hot and so does his cheeks, so he spurs his horse again. He just has to get far from the stupid annoyance for a bit, the bard will get tired of him soon and leave him alone.

“Wait! Don’t speed up! I have terrible stamina, believe me. Well, not terrible if, you know, the situations call to. In that case I have excellent stamina. I’m just not good at running. Slow down!”

Jeongguk doesn’t listen to him. He speeds up even more, galloping away until he can’t hear the bard no more.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

There is work to do in the village of Kotsam, like he expected. He gets rid of a pack of vorefs terrorizing the villagers and he’s paid accordingly, but he can tell from the nervous glances of some of them that something greater worries them. It’s no problem, he’ll stay in Kotsam for a while. They’ll get over their reticence eventually, and Jeongguk will be there to take the job.

He goes to sleep quietly, the strange encounter of Posada almost forgotten.

Until he wakes up the morning after, goes to the tavern and finds the bard belting a not so terrible rendition of The Fishmonger’s Daughter, a filthy ballad about fucking a puck or something like that. Jeongguk doesn’t know. He never listens closely to the lyrics.

“Ah, my good friend! Finally! You really made me eat your dust, didn’t you?”

As soon as the attention is shifted on Jeongguk, the atmosphere gets colder by various degrees. The patrons go from clapping and cheering to quietly murmuring among each other, their eyes naturally drawn to Jeongguk’s twin swords.

The bard doesn’t lose an ounce of his buoyancy thought, and he skips towards Jeongguk like a kid spotting his favorite candy. “I had to walk all day,” he says when he’s in front of Jeongguk and yeah, his expensive clothes are dusty and ruined by the travelling. Did he sleep on the road?

“I just arrived, didn’t sleep a wink!” he declares cheekily, somewhat confirming Jeongguk’s thought. “Turns out the fear of being mugged and murdered is wonderful at keeping one up. I would like to sleep now. Possibly before I collapse.”

He can feel the eyes of everyone on them, but, frankly, Jeongguk is too stunned to care. Is the bard completely mad? The streets aren’t safe, especially for a rich-looking dandy wandering alone with only a lute as his weapon. It’s a miracle he wasn’t gutted in the way here.

He doesn’t seem concerned in the least though, despite admitting he couldn’t sleep in fear of something happening to him. Quite the contrary, he seems generally unconcerned and happy about the situation, his mood not shared by the patrons in the tavern.

The bard opens his mouth again, probably to fill the silence, but Jeongguk doesn’t let him. He grabs him, holding him by his expensive doublet, and drags him out of the tavern. If he has to make a scene, he prefers not to scare the villagers too much. They barely tolerate him as it is.

“Just what the fuck do you think you are doing?” he asks, voice low and angry. He glares at the bard in his grasp with burning green eyes, but it doesn’t have the desired effect.

The bard doesn’t lose his chipper mood. If anything, his smile widens. “Me? Nothing much. Just curious about the life of a witcher and whatnot. Is it true that you massacred a whole town?”

Riveile is still a sore spot for Jeongguk and so he winces when the bard mentions the town. Stories travel fast and this story in particular flew from mouth to mouth like an arrow shot from a well assembled crossbow. Or at least, a version of it did.

Doesn’t matter. If it helps against this particular kind of nuisance, Jeongguk will use his reputation. “Yes,” he says, growling the word in the bard’s face, “I did. And if you don’t disappear from my sight I might do the same to you.”

That gets a reaction out of the bard, but it isn’t quite the one he expected. His face falls, yes, but he seems disappointed more than scared. Like he hoped for a different answer.

“Oh.” His smile does disappear then to be replaced by his eyebrows scrunching in sadness, his mouth slightly pouting. Unexpectedly, it makes Jeongguk’s heart ache. “Ok then,” he goes on lifting his eyes from the ground to look directly at him, “did you have a reason for that?”

Jeongguk visibly recoils at that. “What the- I’m a murderer. I will cut off your throat if you keep this up. Just fuck off.”

Why would the bard care? Jeongguk killed some people, villagers of a quiet town. People much weaker than him. That’s it, that’s the story. No one cares for the point of view of the culprit.

The bard’s expression changes again then – it turns to steel, startling strong when compared to when he was following Jeongguk around with a smile on his face. It takes him a single moment, a second to turn serious, to face Jeongguk with a question in his gaze and no fear.

“So witchers are heartless creatures like the rumors tell? I don’t think so.” He says so with such conviction, such confidence, that Jeongguk falters and releases him, his hand falling down like a puppet who had his strings cut. The bard isn’t happy with just that thought and so he takes one step closer, uncomfortably near to Jeongguk’s face. “I don’t believe rumors. I want to see how you are for myself.”

The bard has pretty eyes. A deep gaze, long lashes, uneven eyelids and moles adorning his face. His eyes are a soulful brown, intense and piercing. Pretty eyes that are pinning Jeongguk with a little too much ease.

Jeongguk regains his composure quickly and as soon as he does he shoves the bard away, resisting the urge to unsheath one of his swords. He’s a simple human, a puny one at that. He won’t need neither steel nor silver with him. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t reply, because he doesn’t know what to say. So he simply grunts, “stop following me if you want to live” and retreats to the inn he has a room in. He needs to calm down, sort out his ideas. The bard just caught him off guard, it’s normal he’s a bit rattled. He’s a weird one.

Jeongguk retreats, and it feels like defeat.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Meditating and polishing his swords helped, but when he goes back to the tavern the bard is there and the simple sight of him makes him freeze in his tracks. For once he isn’t singing his heart out – he’s sitting at a table and scribbling down furiously, the table covered with sheets of paper. Jeongguk resolves to ignore him and go on with his day, but his plans are thwarted when he lifts his gaze and meets his eyes.

Jeongguk averts his eyes, but it’s too late.

“Mister Witcher! Here for some ale?”

The bard is smiling at him, his arms full of the papers he was writing on. He’s back to his chipper attitude, which gets on his nerves immediately. It feels like that serious expression on his face was simply a dream, an illusion, and it makes Jeongguk feel worse about it.

He ignores the bard and asks for some ale and some food, sitting in the corner like he usually does. It’s a strategic position – no one can take you by surprise if they can’t come up behind you, plus it’s easier to see everyone in the room from there. This time he isn’t surprised when the bard sits in front of him, his lute always with him. Jeongguk sips on his ale as soon as he gets it, needing something to do with his hands while the bard stares at him shamelessly.

“I heard you have already defeated some monsters, incredible!” he starts off, shoving the sheets of paper in his bag in the meantime. “But I heard there is something else that worries the townsfolk. Something a bit more mysterious.”

That makes Jeongguk lift his head, his interest piqued. He knew there was something else that needed his attention but the people are still reticent to talk about it and he was wondering how long he would have to wait. Maybe the bard can be useful.

“Oh really?” he asks, trying to sound as uninterested as possible. Either he fails or the bard is excited to finally receive a response that isn’t an insult, because his eyes light up and he wastes no time talking more.

“Really! Apparently young brides have been disappearing for a while. No signs of fight, no blood or bodies. They just vanish in the night, while their husbands sleep.”

“Only young ones? Are you sure?” Jeongguk leans forward, forgetting to rein in his enthusiasm. He realizes only when the bard beams at him, clearly enthusiastic to finally be having a civil conversation. Jeongguk rolls his eyes and scoffs, but does nothing to ruin his mood.

The bard makes a show of thinking about it, tapping his chin and humming thoughtfully. He keeps the act up for a while, scratching his cheek and looking everywhere but the witcher. Jeongguk feels his eyebrow tick in irritation.

Eventually, when Jeongguk is this close to losing his patience and grabbing him by his doublet again, the bard looks at him with a smug smile. “You really want to know, don’t you?” he smiles, with too much teeth to be entirely friendly. “Maybe you can reward me and I’ll tell you.”

Jeongguk glares at him. He followed him around like a puppy and now he doesn’t even make himself useful? He’s just here to be a pain in the ass, isn’t he. His annoyance only rises as the bard doesn’t speak further, only looks at him with a close lipped smile and satisfaction in his eyes. Jeongguk bares his teeth at him, almost growls before remembering that there’s a job he needs to know more about.

He reaches for his pouch, doing some math in his head. He can spare some silver coins for the bard and he’s already rolling a coin between his fingers when the bard interrupts him. “Oh, I don’t want money. You can put that away.”

Jeongguk frowns. “You were the one that approached me asking for coins,” he points out, reminding him of their encounter just a day before. He doubts the bard walked the whole night just to get a few coins from him but who knows. There are desperate people around.

“That was an excuse!” he declares, entirely too lively for Jeongguk’s mood. “I just wanted to confirm you were a witcher.”

He lifts an eyebrow at that, lifting the medallion with the wolf and widening his cat-like eyes.

“Yes, okay, it was clear you are a witcher. I’m just curious about… your profession. I want to know more.”

“This is why you followed me?” His tone is disbelieving, his eyes narrowed. “Curiosity?”

The bard tilts his head calmly, like the idea is perfectly reasonable. “That would be it, yes. I guess that’s the best way to explain.”

Jeongguk can’t help it: he laughs, a humorless chuckle that shakes his shoulders. He can tell that the bard is serious, no trace of jest in his voice. He’s a fool, but a sincere one.

“So what do you want? A guide on witchers? ‘Where to find them and how to slay them’? I’m sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have one of those on me.”

“Those tend to be unreliable, anyway. No, it’s much simpler actually. I just want to tag along with you.”

Once again, Jeongguk is rendered momentarily speechless. “Tag along? Do you think I go around having fun? It’s no place for a fragile flower like you.”

“That isn’t your business, is it? I’m not asking you to babysit me, I’m asking to travel with you.”

Jeongguk looks at him. The luxurious clothing, the fine lute. His skin, tan and smooth, unblemished. The steel in his eyes, the determined set of his eyebrows. The face of a kid who wants to do something just to prove themselves.

The bard won’t last for long following Jeongguk’s pace. Sleeping on the road, walking for days with no breaks, eating only what he can hunt – it’s hard for Jeongguk too sometimes, and he has been doing it for years. He can indulge the bard for a while, just until he’s the one to relent and leave him alone.

“Fine,” he says, clicking his tongue. “I won’t cut you down if you follow me.”

The bard sighs, but his smile stays smug. “Not exactly the kind of comradery I was hoping for, but it will suffice.” He chuckles then, and trusts his hand forward so fast that Jeongguk automatically reaches for his swords. “Wow, a bit jumpy,” he comments, eyes wide but arm still stretched forward.

Jeongguk eyes the hand before him like it’s the beheaded head of some particularly disgusting monster.

“Oh come on,” whines the bard, shaking the hand in front of Jeongguk’s face, “don’t they teach you how to shake hands? It’s really easy. You just need–"

“I know how to shake someone’s hand,” he bites in retort, eyebrows low and eyes narrowed. When he doesn’t move his hands from the table, the bard forcefully grabs one of them in both his hands and shakes it furiously.

“Nice to join you in your adventure, witcher. I’m Taehyung!”

⊱ ❂ ⊰

It’s unexpectedly useful to have a people-pleaser on his side to collect information. Jeongguk usually has to pluck the words out of people’s mouths with pliers, but with Taehyung people offer what they need to know on their own. As long as Jeongguk skulks far from them, the townsfolk chat with Taehyung and share all their worries, going into details when the bard prompts them on. It gets to the point where they approach him with already some of the money they promised as a reward, something unheard of for Jeongguk. Usually, he has to bring them proof of the monster he slayed to get his money.

This time, they simply ask him to find out what happened. To bring back the bodies, if that’s all that’s left.

“Do you know which kind of monster we are slaying?”

The bard was useful in the bargaining, he won’t deny it. But now he’s tagging along on the hunt too and Jeongguk is already feeling a headache coming.

“What are we looking at? Vampire? Werewolf? Maybe something more complex, like a stuga? strixa? That one, you know which one.”

He closes his eyes and sighs. Patience. “It’s striga . And no. Can’t be that.”

Taehyung’s face comes uncomfortably close, enthusiasm dripping from every pore. “Oh, truly? Why not? Cursed women become strigas, don’t they? Maybe someone cursed them all.”

Jeongguk has to admit, he’s surprised the bard seems to know anything at all about monsters. Maybe it’s his hobby – learning about dangerous creatures, discovering their secrets. He’s interested in Jeongguk, after all. It would make sense.

Still, he’s wrong. “Cursed people become strigas. Mostly women because they refuse old sleazebags and pay the price for that. And they are mindless killers when cursed so. Not strigas."

Taehyung makes an impressed "oooh" fall from his mouth. Jeongguk can feel his curiosity like it's a physical thing – the questions pressing against his lips, hands eager to jot down the new information. He's genuinely interested.

Jeongguk knows about nobles with strange hobbies, mostly unsavory ones. The bard's interest is not strange, but his wide and innocent gaze is. He looks more like a child eagerly waiting for a story than a madman obsessed with dissecting everything he comes in contact with. A strange predisposition to have towards monsters.

It stays silent for a while, Taehyung apparently appeased with the few words he got out of him. It's almost unsettling to hear him quiet.

It doesn't last, of course.

"So, not strigas. Which creature steals maiden from their bed silently?"

The problem is, Jeongguk doesn't know. It could be a doppler disguising themselves as a close friend or family, but something doesn't quite fit. It bothers him immensely, not to know what he's going against, and this would've been a reconnaissance mission if it wasn't for the fact that the townsfolk already gave him some money. Not a lot, but more of what he sometimes earns for a full hunt.

He decides to be honest. "No idea," he declares, deadpan and straight-to-the-point. He sees Taehyung doing a double take out of the corner of his eye.

"Wait," his voice is strangled, which Jeongguk finds immensely funny for some reason, "you're telling me we have no idea what we are going up against? Shouldn't you be careful and plan your every move? Is that not how witchers work?"

"Every witcher does whatever they want." He's a bit more irked by the bard criticism than he thought he would be. "And I've decided not to tie you to a tree and use you as bait for whatever I am hunting, so maybe I wouldn't complain so much."

That surprisingly shuts up the bard for a while, giving Jeongguk the opportunity to focus on following the tracks.

It's strange. They are following the tracks left by the last woman who has disappeared. Her husband – a man Jeongguk disliked as soon as he opened his mouth – has let them inspect the area around his house, going as far as giving them a scarf that belonged to his wife. "So the witcher can sniff her out," he had said, haughty and mocking.

Jeongguk's senses are sharper than human's, so he wasn't entirely wrong in his presumption, but the scarf wasn't of any use. Much more useful was seeing the tracks leading towards some woods – human tracks, of someone not trying to cover the traces of their passage or doing it very badly.

But the tracks are weird. Only one set of footprints, no signs of struggle. Not a creature, just a human going towards the woods.

There are creatures who use hypnosis, who can control the mind, but not from a long distance, not without seeing their victims. This looks more like the work of a sorcerer. Which is bad news.

Witchers fight creatures, not humans. Not even humans who have powers, humans who are monsters. Plus a sorcerer is always going to be a hassle, whatever their intentions are. Jeongguk grinds his teeth at the thought. He shouldn't have accepted the job without knowing more.

But he wanted to. For once, people are counting on him to save someone.

He's distracted by his senses picking up something, his instinct warning him that the air has changed. He instinctively clutches his medallion, checking if it is vibrating. It isn't, so no supernatural creatures near. No wild animals either – he isn't hearing growls or anything of that kind.

The smell. The air has a faint smell of lemongrass and honey, a scent that doesn't belong to the forest. Jeongguk takes out from his bag the scarf and brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply.

Lemongrass and honey.

If he can smell her scent, she must be near or have been here recently. He puts away the scarf and grips the handle of his steel sword, gaze darting around to try and catch something unusual in his surroundings.

"What's happening? Did you find something? Can you really sniff out people?"

The bard pops into his field of vision, his voice filling the silence once again. Of course he does that just as Jeongguk is trying to focus.

"Shut up," he growls, shutting his eyes close and concentrating his attention on his hearing and his sense of smell. Taehyung obeys, but he still fidgets excitedly – he can hear him shuffling the dead leaves at his feet, can even hear the hitch in his breath and the quickening of his heart. No sense trying to hear anything else, Taehyung is too loud for Jeongguk to pick up anything useful.

He focuses on the scent then. It's faint and when he tries to move in one direction it disappears completely. It doesn't get deeper into the forest then.

Going left gives him the same result, so he takes a few steps back and goes right. The scent remains faint but it's there, and there are some tracks on the ground. Multiple footprints now, not only the woman's.

He picks up the pace. If he's quick enough, maybe he can still save her. The scent has to be recent and it isn't tainted by the smell of death, so there is a chance. Jeongguk can save her, maybe find the other women too. Maybe save them all.

"Mister Witcher! Did you find something useful? Are we gonna find her?"

He ignores the bard, running ahead as the scent grows stronger, closer. It's persistent now, staining the muddy air with the smell of sweet citrus. So close Jeongguk can almost taste it.

There's a cabin up ahead. It's old and half rotten, but strong enough to hold prisoners. He stops in his chase to analyze his surroundings – his medallion is perfectly still, his senses not picking up anything dangerous in the area.

The only significant sound is the bard, running after him and panting.

"You," he breathes out, short-winded, "have a terrible habit, my friend. You should warn someone when you start running. What if I couldn't keep up with you? It would've- oh, is that a shack?"

Taehyung starts walking towards the cabin with confident steps and Jeongguk has to grab him by his collar to keep him from doing anything stupid. "Behind me," he grumbles, unsheathing his steel sword and approaching the cabin carefully. If the bard dares mess this up, he'll cut him up into pieces for real.

"Stay back"

"And miss the fun? Absolutely not."

Fuck, he hates the bard so much. But if he dies Jeongguk won't have to bear with him a second more, which isn't an unfavorable outcome. So he doesn't urge him to keep his distance and he gets into action, kicking down the worn out door of the cabin. He has his sword raised, ready to strike down the enemy, but what he sees makes him pause.

A group of women is staring at him with wide eyes, silent but completely unharmed. They get closer together when they see the two of them, crowding around a woman laying on the ground, her belly round and full.

"Oh. Not what I expected."

Jeongguk doesn't even flinch at the bard's words, his arms still raised to fight, but he has to agree. The women seem perfectly fine and healthy, scared but with no wounds in sight. They seem more worried about keeping their pregnant sister away from their sight than anything else.

With nothing else in sight, Jeongguk lowers his sword – he loathes the idea of threatening some poor women, trembling in fear. His gaze is naturally drawn to the pregnant one in the group, the one the others are trying to hide. Ebony skin, splendid with the glow of pregnancy, a furrowed brow and sweat rolling down her skin. Her hair is soaked but still voluminous, covering part of her face and her ears.

But she moves, trying to get away from them, and her hair moves. Pointy ears peek from her locks and Jeongguk's eyes widen, his breath hitching.

An elf. After the last big war between elves and humans, they all either escaped towards kinder shores or got slaughtered, their villages burnt down. Few of them still live in human lands – the ones who couldn't escape. The ones who watched their loved ones die and hid in the shadows.

Unsure of what to do, Jeongguk freezes on the spot. There is no evil monster to defeat and his presence is only making things worse, the air turning acrid with the stench of fear. He doesn't know how to deal with this.

"Oh dear. I see why you were trying to hide her now."

For once the bard's low voice is strangely comforting, breaking the tense silence and making the women still in their scared fidgeting. Taehyung breezes past Jeongguk to get closer to them with careful steps, getting on his knees when he's near them.

"Don't worry," he says, voice sweet like honey, "we mean no harm. We were looking for you, we have no ill intentions towards anyone."

He's calm and accommodating, hands raised to show he has no weapons. He could be convincing, if it wasn't for the almost 6 feet tall armed witcher who just tore down the door. One of the women looks at him in the eyes and seems to believe him, though. She has a gaze of steel and she doesn't flinch when her gaze goes back to Jeongguk, awkwardly standing in front of the broken door.

"Alright," she says, voice raspy and accent thick. "We are gonna trust you. Now, we need to get a baby out of her so either scram or make yourselves useful."

If Jeongguk wasn't trained to show as little emotions as possible, he would've blanched and stuttered out a weak "what?". Taehyung, who's best point is being extremely dramatic about everything, does exactly that, except that he shouts a strangled "excuse me?" that pierces Jeongguk's ears like an arrow.

"You dumb or what? She's in labor. We were preparing her before you idiots interrupted us."

"I see," says Taehyung, and it sounds very faint and not at all comfortable. He looks back at Jeongguk with desperate eyes, but the woman grips his chin and turns his face back towards her.

"Listen up, pretty boy." She's all business now, and slightly scary if Jeongguk has to be honest. She must be the midwife among the bunch, because the other women all turn their attention to her. "We need her upright, lying down won't help. Honey? Honey, you need to get up."

The pregnant woman seems to respond to the nickname, turning her head so she's looking at the midwife. She stretches one hand towards her, deep dark eyes pleading; the midwife says nothing, only squeezes her outstretched hand and nods.

"Pretty boy," she calls and Taehyung straightens his back, listening to her carefully. "You and your friend can keep her upright. She's too tired to do that on her own."

Taehyung looks at her in the eyes for a few seconds. "Pardon?" he finally utters, voice high and an awkward chuckle following.

Another woman shoves a bucket of water towards him. "Wash your hands and take off your bags. And tell your friend to get rid of his armor."

Taehyung opens his mouth to argue, but he's immediately silenced by the steely frowns of the women around him. They all get into action, probably getting back into whatever they were doing before being so rudely interrupted.

It takes a few beats before a few women turn towards Jeongguk. He's still frozen by the door, watching them fret around and making no sound in the hope that he will be forgotten. It doesn't happen, of course.

"Are you deaf? Take off your armor."

Jeongguk doesn't exactly stutter, but he comes close. "Why?" he asks, voice small and unsure. He tries not to visibly cower when the whole group turns to glare at him.

"You're gonna hold her upright," says a woman, rolling her eyes, "do you wanna hurt her? That armor is not gonna feel good against her skin. Also the swords, of course. Get rid of everything pointy."

"Does his personality count?"

Taehyung gets a smack upside the head for his joke, but there are a few chuckles in the group. Of course the bard puts out his charms even in this kind of situation.

The midwife yells at Jeongguk, urging him to come and "fucking help us, goddammit", and he finds himself obeying before he can think about how absurd the situation is. His job description is killing living beings, for fuck's sake.

He gets rid of his armor in a few motions, so ingrained in him that they take just a few seconds. He's reluctant, but his swords go too, carefully put within reach but far enough from the pregnant woman.

They are making her squat, every woman focused on their own task. The midwife barks at Taehyung to take off his doublet and shoes too, and he obeys wordlessly. Jeongguk takes off his own shoes before they can yell at him again.

Blankets and towels are spread under the woman, the midwife talking to her softly. The elf is listening, nodding her head, but every now and then she whimpers and cries out, her focus taken away by the pain.

"What do–" Jeongguk doesn't manage to finish his sentence before he is dragged down to the woman's side. He and Taehyung are on either side of her and Jeongguk is momentarily distracted by the bard.

He's looking at the woman now, still awkward but apparently determined to help. His soft curls fall down on his eyes, slightly wet with sweat. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up, showing off toned biceps, and the collar is open. A necklace with a stone hanging from it, cobalt blue in color, draws his gaze to his chest – unexpectedly wide and sturdy for how delicate he looks when dressed in pretty doublets made of silk and pearls. Not that his shirt isn't pretty – it looks too flimsy to be truly useful against the weather and Jeongguk shyly averts his gaze when he realizes it's most likely part of Taehyung's undergarments.

"Now, you keep her up. Honey, let the two boys take all your weight if you need. They are strong enough."

The elf nods at her and before Jeongguk can realize what's happening, she winds an arm around his shoulders and claws at one of them, her blunt nails piercing even through his shirt.

Jeongguk recoils at that, but he doesn't dare touch her to shove her off. He doesn't like being touched, especially without warning. His skin crawls with the sensation, his hands suddenly clammy and his stomach closing up. The woman yanks him even closer and he's assaulted with her smell – pine needle sap and cedar wood, plus something slightly citric that he can't identify. It isn't a bad scent, far from it. It smells like sitting near a fire during winter, like watching the snow falling.

But it's too close, too much. He feels a sense of nausea as a slight dizziness hits him, and he has to turn his head to the side to avoid swaying on his feet. He takes a few deep breath, but it helps only marginally.

Just when he thinks he's gonna faint or do something equally embarrassing, a sound distracts him. A cry of pain. But not from the woman currently trying to get a baby out of her body.

"Ow, please- milady! Please, Honey, careful!"

The bard has his head tilted back, his neck bared in a way that he would find distracting in a different scenario. His face is scrunched in pain and he's grimacing, his hands moving around but not doing anything.

The elf has one arm around his shoulders, similarly to how she has Jeongguk trapped, but her hand is curved around the bard's nape. Not only his nape – now that he looks closely, her fingers are gripping some of his locks, his hair long enough to be within reach.

Taehyung is trying to gently detach her fingers now and Jeongguk is momentarily transfixed by his hands. He has very pretty hands – tan and willowy, delicate in a way his own hand will never be again. He fixates on how his hand moves, how the tendons flex and relax. It's strangely centering.

The woman is still digging her nails in his shoulder and now she's cursing like a sailor, mostly in Elder Speech but also in the common tongue. She's definitely too taken by her own task to pay attention to Taehyung pleading for mercy.

It's weird how he gets so engrossed in Taehyung that everything else just disappears from his sight, as if there is a thick fog enveloping everything except the bard. All of Jeongguk's senses fixate on him – his sight, tracking every move; his hearing, trying to hear his heartbeat; his smell, suddenly hungry for the scent of balsam and musk and ink.

Taehyung must sense his gaze because he lifts his head and their eyes meet, forest green against warm brown. He doesn't seem too perturbed by the piercing scrutiny he's under – he's a bard, after all. Bards live to have all the eyes in a room fixed on them. 

Taehyung looks at him straight in the eyes, unafraid and bold, like he did when Jeongguk was spitting harsh words at his face. He doesn't avert his gaze, doesn't cower in fear, and Jeongguk doesn't know quite how to deal with it because few people look into his unnatural, bright green eyes for longer than a heartbeat. 

But the bard does. He does and then, as his ocean-deep gaze keeps unraveling Jeongguk like a ball of yarn in the paws of a mischievous cat, the bard smiles. Unabashed and wide, his smile is filled with childish excitement. He must feel like a hero from the myths, meeting an elf and helping her give birth on the same day. What a ridiculous man.

The woman claws at his shoulder again, shaking him out of the weird trance he fell into. The pain, however minuscule, settles him and brings him back into his body, his senses quieting down. The rest of the world comes back to him in a rush – the women encouraging the elf, her screams and curses, the stench of blood and body fluids. Soon after, the cries of a baby.

The elf loses every ounce of strength and she slumps down, her body collapsing on Jeongguk. The contact still makes him wince, but he bears with it for her sake. She deserves the rest after all.

His gaze darts to the bard, but only for a second. It's enough to see that he's still smiling.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

The baby is a male and he's strong and healthy. Taehyung welcomes the news with loud applause and a whoop. Jeongguk, sitting cross-legged and back in his armor, merely nods.

He asks for explanations. The women answer.

A pregnant woman asking for help. Years of prejudice and hatred graving on everyone's mind, wives bitter because they have lost husbands and sons in the war. A younger generation who sees nothing but a sister needing help. Young women disappearing in turns and bringing towels and food and water to the cabin in the woods.

The elf talks only when necessary, too busy looking at her baby. The other women call her Honey.

"What will you do now?" asks Jeongguk, somber. He doesn't know how to handle this and it unsettles him.

Honey looks at him straight in the eyes, orbs darker than a night sky without moon. "I'll go away. Find a place to live quietly," she's speaking quietly and yet her words are loud, sure.

"It won't be easy wherever you go," interjects Taehyung, voice strangely solemn. He seems to grasp the seriousness of the situation in a way Jeongguk didn't expect from the carefree bard. He did find him in Posada. Maybe there is a history behind his easy smile.

Another woman puts her hand on Honey's shoulder, squeezing it in a sign of solidarity. "She won't be alone," she says, voice unwavering. "We'll be with her."

Jeongguk looks at her. She has a swollen eye, the bruise still fresh. She doesn't smell like blood but her wrists are purple, her back hunched, her eyes full of fury. She smells like lemongrass and honey.

He understands.

"Not all of us want to run away," she continues and some women nod. They are mothers and wives, people who love their families, people who have no reason to run. "But some of us do. We have no reasons to stay. A lot of reasons to go."

Jeongguk doesn't say a word. He keeps his cat eyes on them, stoic as a statue, and the women look back. Not an ounce of fear in their stance, not anymore. He proved himself trusty. They won't forget easily.

The witcher reaches for his side then, where his swords are. They lie there, sharp and perfectly polished, harmless as long as they stay inside their sheaths. One steel, made to cut flesh. One silver, created to slice monsters.

He reaches for none of them. Instead he grabs a pouch on his belt, untying it so he can hold it in his hand. Taehyung recognizes it: the townsfolk gave it to him, offering some coins to find the missing women.

Jeongguk extends the pouch to the women. The coins inside clink together.

"He's right, it won't be easy," he points to Taehyung with a tilt of his head, "but this might help. You should go north. Disguise yourselves as men, if possible. And seek help from sorceresses if you can't do it alone – most of them are kind. But all of them will understand and lend a hand."

Honey reaches for the leather pouch with trembling fingers. It almost falls from her hands as she cradles it, but the others cover her shaking hand with their own. They all crowd around her, murmuring sweet words, and they look like a painting, their hands and fingers and arms  intertwining together until it's difficult to tell them apart.

"Thank you witcher," whispers Honey, eyes big and glassy. She smiles, and her teeth are blinding stars among the ebony of her skin. "Your kindness won't be forgotten."

He simply nods.

He and Taehyung sleep in the cabin with the women that night. Well, Taehyung does. Jeongguk finds a way to fix the door and then sits cross-legged outside, waiting for the moon to rise.

The next morning, Taehyung finds him awake in the same position.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

"What will we tell our families?"

The question is posed by a woman with straight black hair and dainty hands. They are on their way back to the village with the women that wanted to go back home. They've left Honey and the others in the cabin, bidding farewell and wishing them luck.

The witcher, the one guiding the group, doesn't make any signs of having heard her. Taehyung, some steps behind him, notices him fidgeting with the handle of one of his swords.

Uh. He probably didn't think so far, did he?

Neither did Taehyung, to be honest. He's more of an "act first think later" person. Luckily the women are clearly more cautious.

"Luck is smiling upon you, my fair lady," he declares, twirling the lute in his hands. "You just happen to have a marvelous storyteller with you."

All the women look at him with curious eyes and he preens under the attention. He's a bard, after all. He craves attention for a living.

"Dear witcher!"

Not expecting to be summoned so loudly, the witcher flinches quite noticeably. Taehyung doesn't pay any attention to it and runs forward so he's walking beside him. The witcher neither stops nor looks at him, but Taehyung knows he's listening.

"Tell me, which creatures can deceive their enemies? Confound the senses?"

He receives no answer at first, but he tries to wait. Despite his tendency to be reckless, he can be remarkably patient.

"Fiends. Lure their victims by hypnotizing them."

The reply is gruff, almost too low for Taehyung to hear, but the bard has good ears. His grin only widens as his mind starts working. Fiends, uh? That works. He read some about them. Dangerous creatures that look like huge, ugly deers. He can work with that.

He falls back a few steps, leaving the witcher's side to join the women who are looking at him expectantly. 

Creating a tale about a creepy creature calling them from the woods and trapping them in a cave isn't difficult, especially since he's sure the villagers have no idea what a real fiend looks like or can do. It's easier to trick people if they have no proof he's spouting bullshit.

In his tale, the witcher heroically slaughtered the creature and saved the women from being eaten alive. To make it more believable, he asks them to roll down in the dirt and try to look as haggard as possible. They easily comply, giddy to be part of his story. Maybe even a song, in the future.

The tale he puts together is violent and bloody, so it would make no sense if the witcher arrived at the village spotless. He glares at Taehyung when he approaches him with some red berries and glinting eyes, but he relents unexpectedly fast and lets Taehyung smear red on his armor. He tries to paint a red stripe on his cheek too. His attempt is stopped by the witcher growling at him like a wolf ready to tear his hand out.

Taehyung raises his hands in surrender and steps back, pouting at the cold response. Sure, he and the witcher aren't friendly yet, but surely they are closer now? They held up a woman giving birth together. It must count for something.

"Your friend. He's kind. Not like the stories."

The woman who bought up the topic of what to tell the villagers is the one who spoke the words. Taehyung straightens up his back at her words. His friend. See? They do seem close. The witcher will accept it too, sooner or later.

He hums, unsure on how to reply at first. "Well my lady, you just saw how easy it is to create a believable story from lies," is what he settles on, flashing her a conspiratorial smile. She chuckles in response, a pale hand coming up to cover her mouth.

Her words make him think, though. He read about monsters and witchers, listened to as many stories as he could. Few things seem to be right.

He plucks a few cords of his lute, trying different sounds, before speaking again. "You know, I heard a lot of wrong stories too. Maybe it's time someone put some real ones out there."

The woman tilts her head prettily, an inquisitive tone in her eyes. Taehyung doesn't elaborate, choosing instead to try some notes on his lute and humming a few melodies, his mind working fast.

His eyes stay on the dark, broad back of the witcher for the rest of the way.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

The story made up by the bard holds up. Jeongguk lets him and the women narrate the story, knowing that his voice would be just white noise, his version the wrong one.

He stands in a corner, having no plan to join the ruckus until he needs to ask for his payment. In truth he did nothing, sure, but the townsfolk believe he slayed a monster and saved their wives and daughters. He might as well get the reward.

Of course, not everyone is satisfied with his job.

"Where is my wife?"

Jeongguk doesn't even have to look to see who's speaking to him. He already knows from the voice, rough and grating on his ears, and the stench. Earth and manure from working on the fields, but also stale beer and leather and sweat, a rancid smell. So different from lemongrass and honey.

He lifts his gaze and there he is, the hateful man. Jeongguk scoffs automatically as soon as he lays eyes on him. Surely the man isn't bright enough to notice the way Jeongguk's frown deepens.

He tries to be level anyway, unwilling to start a fight.

"There was no body to bring back home. I have nothing to give you."

He barely finishes his sentence before he's drenched in ale. It drips from his hair, getting into his armor and wetting his shirt, but he doesn't make a move. His face stays stony, brow furrowed but arms relaxed.

"You can't even drag a fucking corpse back. Witchers, useless lot, all of you. A dog would do a better job than you. At least they can bring back the bones you throw them."

The words aren't new and they don't exactly hurt, yet Jeongguk still tenses his jaw and clenches his fists so tightly that the leather of his gloves creaks. He should be used to it. Getting upset over those kind of words is just stupid at this point.

"And don't think you're getting a single coin out of this. Actually, you should give back what we gave you."

Predictable, but not doable. He needs to buy supplies since he clearly won't be welcomed to stay in the village anymore and what he has left will barely suffice. He doesn't regret helping the women, but he has to look out for himself too.

He's opening his mouth to calm the man down, when someone interjects.

"Oh come on, this is ridiculous."

He can't say he's surprised to see Taehyung needing to stick his nose in Jeongguk's business, but his tone catches him off guard. It's defensive, irritated. Angry on Jeongguk's behalf, it seems.

"He brought back the women we found and he defeated the fiend. I'm very sorry for your loss, but we did everything we could."

Jeongguk has heard Taehyung being sincere, and this isn't it. His words are polite, but his tone is sharp and blunt, his words dishonest and lacking any real warmth. Jeongguk  has called him crazy and a fool, but the bard isn't stupid. He must've connected the dots the same way Jeongguk did, and he knows that this man doesn't want his wife back out of his love for her.

"I'm truly sorry for your loss," he repeats, as insincere as before, "but your wife is in a better place now. Definitely happier."

He says it with so much vitriol and conviction that it's impossible to miss the implications, even for someone as bullheaded and obtuse as the man before him. Jeongguk sees as the man's face changes, fury taking over and making his feature grotesque.

His hand shoots forward and he grabs the bard by the collar, not differently from how Jeongguk did just some days before. The only change is how Taehyung reacts: he's clutching at the man's hands, his eyes wide and blinking rapidly, gaze frantically darting everywhere.

"Watch your mouth, bard." The man spits the words out with disdain and barely repressed rage, his face too close to Taehyung's to be comfortable in any way. 

Taehyung scoffs and glares with as much venom as he can muster. "I will watch mine if you watch yours, kind sir," he says, trying for a sarcastic and flippant tone but with hands and voice trembling too much to really deliver.

He's scared. That isn't strange; a livid man is holding him up, clearly about to hurt him. But Taehyung wasn't scared yesterday morning, when Jeongguk held him in the same way, when he was being threatened, and it makes Jeongguk feel something similar to a stab in the stomach, to see him like this now.

His reaction is more instinct than reason and he's quick to shove the man away from Taehyung, standing before the bard so that his body is shielding him. Taehyung is quick to regain his usual wit, it seems, because as soon as he's safe behind Jeongguk's shoulders, he goes back to spitting some harsh words.

"You're a terrible man with no honor at all!" he screams, one hand gripping Jeongguk's shoulder and the other vehemently pointing at the man. "There's no reason not to pay the witcher, unless you just want to stir up some trouble."

The man doesn't dare to rebuke now, not with Jeongguk standing before him, arms crossed and cat-like eyes glaring at him. The man is big, made strong by working on the fields, but Jeongguk is just as tall and sturdy, and his swords and strange features evoke more fear than simple strength. The man retreats, running away with his tail between his legs, and Taehyung yells a "coward!" at his retreating back.

Jeongguk watches him leave the tavern before turning to Taehyung. The bard is glaring at the door with his arms crossed and a pout on his face, looking more cute than threatening. To be honest Jeongguk was much more scared by him when his gaze was level and firm, his eyes cold as ice. More than when he's angry, the bard is scary when he's calm.

"I can't believe he had the gall to say those things. God, I wish you would've punched him or something," he says in a grumble, clicking his tongue in annoyance. He must feel the gaze of Jeongguk's eyes on him, because he turns his head towards him with a smile.

"Whatever, all's well that ends well.The townsfolk have your money ready, by the way. So what's next, Mister Witcher?"

"Jeongguk."

Taehyung widens his eyes, visibly surprised. "Pardon?"

"Don't call me 'mister witcher'," he replies, his stormy gaze on Taehyung. "It's annoying as fuck. At this point, my name is better. I'm Jeongguk."

The bard is stunned for a few seconds, his mouth gaping like a fish's. What, did he think that he had no name at all? Not many people ask, sure, but he does have one.

The bewilderment doesn't stay long on his face though, and it's quickly replaced by one of his blinding grins. The smile looks even warmer than usual, filled with so much joy that Jeongguk feels embarrassed to be the recipient of it.

"Jeongguk, uh?" he rolls the name of his tongue like it's an exotic dish, something new and wonderful to taste. "It's a pretty name. Jeongguk. I like it."

He repeats it a few times before Jeongguk gets fed up with it and hits his shoulder with a glare. Taehyung dramatically clutches at his wounded arm, but the smile doesn't leave his face.

It has been a while since someone called him by his name and not his monikers.

He doesn't know how to feel about it.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Giving shelter to lost souls

oh, wouldn’t it be kind?

Offering my bed to sleepless bodies

oh, I wouldn’t mind

And please, do take your time

⊱ ❂ ⊰

They travel together for a while and Jeongguk kind of gets used to it.

He isn't less annoyed by it, of course, nor does he like the bard. He's just... bearing with him. Suffering through the endless chatter and the constant questions.

Taehyung is curious. Not the kind of morbid curiosity he expects from someone so keen on knowing more about murderous creatures, just some sort of childlike wonder. He asks about ghouls and drowners and kikimoras with stars in his eyes, jotting down notes in the chaos of papers he has in his bag. When he isn't doing that, he strums some melodies, sings some songs. Jeongguk knows some tunes, but more often he doesn't. He wonders if it's because those are Taehyung's own compositions or if he's just ignorant when it comes to the musical art.

"You have a good voice when you don't grumble and mutter," tells him Taehyung one time as he fiddles with his lute. He says it offhandedly, not even looking at Jeongguk as he declares it, and doesn't mention it later on. It's just one of the things he blurts randomly, just to fill the silence.

Jeongguk doesn't reply. He never does when it comes to these random thoughts voiced out loud.

Later that day he finds himself trying to hum a song.

He misses the silence, the peace, the quiet. He misses being able to spur his horse whenever he wanted – now he mostly walks, holding the reins and letting her trot leisurely. There's no use to ride if he has to go a snail's pace anyway – there is no way he's letting the bard on his horse. So matching his stride it is.

He can tell that the bard doesn't exactly love sleeping on the road and walking all day long, but he also takes it way better than he expected. Even if he grumbles and complains about it, he bears with it for the most part.

Taehyung is weird. Not only for his interest in monsters and witchers, but for the strange dichotomy he represents. He's from a well off family, that he can tell from his clothes, the way he stands. Yet he found him in Posada and he seems used to life on the road. The son of a travelling merchant, maybe. Or a rich brat in his rebellious phase.

It's confusing, unusual. For Jeongguk, who has spent most of his life relying on predictable patterns to defeat dangerous creatures, it's unsettling enough to be worrying.

He wants to be unaffected, to ignore the bard until he eventually gets tired of him and leave him be. And yet, Jeongguk can't help but be curious. Taehyung is a puzzle to figure out, like a creature in his bestiary that hasn't been studied yet and all Jeongguk knows about him it's a name and his face. Maybe that's why he lets him tag along.

Taehyung has a fascination with monsters. Jeongguk may have a fascination with Taehyung.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

"Rannvaig? We are going towards Rannvaig ?"

Jeongguk turns at the disbelief in Taehyung's voice, one eyebrow raised. "Couldn't you tell?"

"What was I supposed to do, foresaw it? Gain the knowledge out of nowhere?"

"No," is the reply, dry and deadpan, "you were supposed to get it from the path we are travelling and the several signals we found on the way."

The bard scoffs and crosses his arms in response but, strangely enough, he doesn't reply. He seems to be mulling it over for a while and Jeongguk leaves him be, even if his gaze is inevitably drawn to him as he doesn't utter a single sound.

"Isn't it a long, arduous way until Rannvaig?"

"Yes." 

"Then shouldn't we go somewhere else? Somewhere warmer! And pleasant."

"I don't see why." Rannvaig is up on the mountains and the road to it isn't the easiest. It's a big city surrounded by clean towns full of nobles, yet close enough to the wild to have to worry about monsters. Jeongguk thought that Taehyung would actually be happy to abandon small villages in the middle of nowhere in favor of somewhere bigger and less rural.

"Because I don't have a horse and I'll die on the way!"

"Didn't stop you from following me all the way here."

Jeongguk doesn't pay much mind to the bard's complaints. After all, he frequently protests about how tired and dirty he gets, how uncomfortable his bedroll feels, how terrible the weather is. He's sure whining about everything is just part of his personality.

But it feels slightly different today, more sincere. Well, that would be good. He would finally get rid of the bard.

Yes, there's no reason for Jeongguk to be disquieted. He's just eager to get rid of this thorn in his side.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

"Are you sure about climbing up a mountain just to find some weird mountain goats you can slay?"

Jeongguk already knew that Taehyung is stubborn as a mule, but his disdain towards the uphill path is borderline suspicious now. He has kept blabbing about how bad and tiring it is going to be for the whole day, being worryingly dismissive of the lute slung on his shoulder. Usually, he never goes on too much without strumming some melody.

He doesn't quite know what to say in response, so he keeps his mouth shut. It isn't unusual for him to ignore the bard, anyway.

"Why can't we find a nice village at the foot of the mountain and stay there for a while? Instead of, you know, dying on the road."

Jeongguk grunts. "You should be happy. You can finally perform in a decent place, maybe even for some noble."

It isn't something he actively thought about, but now that the words have left his mouth he finds them true. Shouldn't Taehyung be ecstatic at the thought of singing for more than tone-deaf townsfolk and rowdy villagers with "no appreciation for the arts", as Taehyung himself put it? Jeongguk might not be an expert, but he can tell that Taehyung puts some effort in his craft and he's proud of it. Nobles should be his preferred audience.

"Nobility is overrated," he states with a grimace, hand scratching his neck nervously. Ah. Did Taehyung get in some troubles with a few nobles? Considering his wit and lack of self-preservation, Jeongguk doesn't find it hard to believe. 'Annoy thy neighbor' could be Taehyung's personal life motto.

"Really? Hard to believe, considering how you dress."

"What's wrong with how I dress?"

Everything. Taehyung is not dressed for comfort but for show. His doublet is gaudy, bright blue with puffy sleeves and red inserts, that is now dusty from the road. It's the same Jeongguk saw on him the first time. He expected him to change outfits after a while – Taehyung is self-assured and vain, which he has to admit isn't completely unwarranted with how handsome he is. Not that he will ever say it out loud.

"You look like a peacock."

He didn't mean it as an insult, actually. Taehyung is just... colorful and vibrant, visible from a mile away. From the outraged gasp, he figures the bard doesn't take the comparison well.

"How dare you," he hisses, putting his hands on his hips. He looks pretty affronted. "For your information, my clothing is incredible. Plus I would love to change but I don't have a matching outfit with me so excuse me for offending you with my slightly dirty high-class fashion."

Jeongguk is not hiding a smile. It's just his mouth having some kind of spasm. "Sounds like something a noble would say."

Again, Taehyung falls silent. Arms crossed and pout on his face, he kicks the stones he finds along the way and grumbles, but it's too low for Jeongguk to hear what he says, even with his witcher hearing. 

It isn't often that he manages to outwit Taehyung or stun him into silence. He walks with a spring in his step and his back a bit straighter, carefully hiding the smirk that threatens to stretch across his face.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

"Maybe I should stay here for a while."

Jeongguk stops at that. He swallows down the bite of food he was chewing, his eyes fixed on the bard.

They are in a tavern in a village that is one of their last stops before they start climbing the mountains – it's bigger than other places they stopped in, but it's still rustic and uncouth in a way Taehyung clearly doesn't appreciate. 

Is the prospect of a long climb so dismaying that Taehyung would settle for this kind of environment? Jeongguk is used to push his body to its limits since he doesn't need as much sleep as normal humans do and his body is trained for the harshest conditions, but maybe the way up to Rannvaig is really too much for a regular person like Taehyung. That, or his dainty attitude finally caught up on him.

Well, if it's so daunting for him there are different paths to take. Ways that are longer but not as steep, not as grueling. Jeongguk never took them, so it can be an occasion to check them out. It wouldn't be too much of a problem to change his plans a bit.

"I'm just tired of the road. I want to have a roof over my head and sing my songs for an audience, you know? And the way to Rannvaig is too long."

Oh. That makes a lot of sense. After all, wasn't Jeongguk surprised by his resistance? It's only natural that he would get tired after a while

This is fantastic news, actually. He won't be weighed down by the bard any longer and he can climb up to Rannvaig as quickly as he wants. It's a blessing from the heavens.

Jeongguk only grunts in response, using his fork to push around in his bowl the pieces of meat in his stew. He takes another bite and the food seems a bit blander now.

"You're coming back here anyway, aren't you?"

Taehyung's deep voice, filled with hope, demands his attention once again. Jeongguk looks at the bard with a frown on his face, expression even darker than usual.

"Why should I," he asks without making it really sound inquisitive. His face is so stormy that some people sitting near try to scoot further away, wary of what someone with two swords and murder in his stance could do to them.

Taehyung scoffs, like Jeongguk is the one saying absurdities. "Isn't this the only way down anyway? I'll wait for you! Recharge with some good food and good songs, maybe even a few good beds. Then we can be on the road again!"

"That implies that I actually want you around."

"Don't you?" Taehyung poses that as an actual, genuine question, seemingly surprised at the mere notion that Jeongguk might answer with a sound "no". He gives him the time to do that (because he was going to do that, there's no reason for him to answer yes), instead leaning on the table so that his face comes uncomfortably close to Jeongguk's. "I know you actually like my songs! I caught you humming them under your breath once or twice."

He did not . Or fine, maybe he did, but that's only because Taehyung sings all the fucking time, getting melodies stuck in Jeongguk's mind that do not leave until another replaces it. He doesn't reply at first, too affronted to do that, but after seeing Taehyung's shit eating grin he realizes that not speaking is admitting defeat and he is not going to do that any time soon.

"I'm not coming back here," he says, mostly to spite him. There are alternative roads to come down from the mountains that do not contemplate making a stop in the town they are right now, mostly roads that normal humans do not want to, or simply can't, travel.

Taehyung's grin falls, replaced with a frown. He bites his lip and Jeongguk tracks the motion with his pale green eyes. He has a mole on his lip, a little dot that disappears under his teeth like he's trying to eat it. His face is full of moles – on his lip, on his cheek, under his eye, on his nose. Dirt and dust cover them from time to time but Taehyung takes care of himself with vials smelling of oil, honey, myrrh and cardamom. Jeongguk has his fair share of concoctions stored in his bag, but none for beauty and cosmetics. Almost every morning Taehyung laments his dry skin and rubs the oil on his face, and Jeongguk watches curiously as the oil uncovers his moles and makes them shine like little stars. They fit him in a way he can't explain. His fingers are always stained with black from the way he holds his pen when he writes and his face is dotted with beauty marks that look like spilled drops of inks left by a distracted amanuensis. A strange creature, made of paper and words instead of blood and bones.

Taehyung's mouth moves again to speak and Jeongguk tears his gaze away from the mole on his lip to look at him in the eyes.

"But why not? I'll be here and we can go on on our adventure together," he says, his head tilted to the side and his eyes wide. He looks like a puppy. "I just need a pause. A little one, I swear."

"I have no reasons to pass through here. I don't have to." He also has no real reason not to pass through the town again. In fact, it's the quickest way. And yet, Jeongguk feels like bending so easily would be like admitting defeat. To what or to whom, he doesn't quite know.

Taehyung fixes him with that deep eyes of his. They are a warm chocolate brown, nothing special when compared to Jeongguk's green irises and slit pupils but they are cutting and intense when Taehyung focuses his gaze on someone like he's doing with Jeongguk now.

The bard is playing with the string of his necklace, the one with the blue gem on it. He has never seen him take it off but he gets glimpses of it every time Taehyung unbuttons his doublet to let his skin breathe. Which is quite often, by the way. Taehyung has no problems flashing everyone his undershirt – the thin, lacy thing Jeongguk has seen in its entirety when they were helping a pregnant woman giving birth. The fact that the bard has no qualms about opening his doublet fully and letting everyone see his undergarments is very telling, Jeongguk thinks.

Maybe Jeongguk is just a prude. Or maybe Taehyung is an exhibitionist.

"But it doesn't cost you anything to do that, right?" His voice is imploring, his hands nervous as he keeps rubbing the necklace between his fingers. He often touches the pendant when he's nervous, but he's rarely nervous. It's weird for people not to be nervous around witchers, but Taehyung is the epitome of 'weird'.

Jeongguk feels a pang in his heart looking at him, so hesitant and meek, but he pushes it aside. What is he, a nanny? He has no time to look after the bard.

"Listen," he says, looking at him straight in the eyes with a narrow gaze, "I didn't want you around in the first place. Just stay here and forget about me."

He stands up with an abrupt movement, startling a few patrons. He collects his stuff and makes his way towards the door. The sooner he gets out of here, the sooner he won't have to think about the bard and his flashy clothes and his soothing voice.

"Wait!"

A hand clasping his bicep makes him stop in his march towards the exit. He turns around, slapping the hand away from himself, and finds Taehyung looking at him with something akin to desperation. Either a melodramatic fool, or a splendid actor.

"You have to come back."

"I don't have to do anything–"

"No, you do. To give this back to me."

Taehyung reaches with both hands behind his neck and it takes a second for Jeongguk to realize he's unclasping the necklace. It isn't a smooth process, the clasp is old and not opened often, but he manages in the end and he looks at the gem with a gaze too deep for Jeongguk to decipher. With trembling hands, Taehyung holds up the necklace before him. He doesn't understand.

"Oh come on," he mutters under his breath, sounding almost annoyed. He takes a step toward Jeongguk, making him step away in reflex. Taehyung raises an eyebrow as if to say 'really?' but he doesn't mutter a single word and for once Jeongguk is ticked off by his silence. What the hell is he doing?

He opens his mouth to ask just that, but Taehyung steps forward again, reaching for his neck.

His survival instinct makes him grip his steel sword on reflex – someone or something going for his neck has never good intentions. But what could Taehyung do? He isn't strong enough to strangle him. Hell, he struggles when opening a particularly heavy door.

So he resists the instinct to reach for his blade, knowing that Taehyung isn't physically able to hurt him and somewhat trusting that he doesn't want to. After all, if he really wanted to try and kill him, this – facing him and in plain sight – would be the dumbest way to do it.

He manages not to react violently, but he can't help flinching when he feels Taehyung's fingers grazing his skin. The bard either doesn't realize or doesn't care, his hands fiddling at Jeongguk's nape until he hears a click.

"There." Taehyung takes a step back and pats Jeongguk's chest with a satisfied hum, his gaze set on his own hand.

His necklace is now hanging from Jeongguk's neck, the gem clinking against his medallion. Jeongguk can't possibly feel the weight over the layers of armor, and yet he feels like Taehyung just tied an anchor to his neck, the burden pressing down on his ribcage.

The bard exhales slowly, his gaze not moving from the blue gem, so foreign lying on Jeongguk's chest. He lifts a hand to his own neck, rubbing it nervously when he feels the empty space left by the missing pendant.

"This," he starts, his voice feeble and unsure, "is very important to me. It's the only thing... it's an amulet. A protection. You must return this to me."

Jeongguk could simply retort 'if this is so important to you, why give it away' and he almost does but Taehyung lifts his gaze then, eyes wide and beseeching, utterly enthralling. They make him pause, allowing for Taehyung to speak again.

"I told you, I want to see for myself how witchers are. And I'm not done learning about you, Jeongguk."

He says it with such conviction that Jeongguk is stunned into silence, left to lose himself in the steel assurance of Taehyung's expression. ‘Curiosity killed the cat’ goes the saying, and Jeongguk doesn't doubt that Taehyung's inquisitiveness could one day be his downfall. He's so eager to know more, to discover every little thing, hungry for every new notion and secret Jeongguk reveals to him. Swallowing down every new piece of knowledge, voracious and insatiable like a creature hunting for blood.

And Jeongguk has found himself unable not to indulge him. His eyes are too big and bright, his smile too innocent, and so he finds himself feeding his curiosity, answering every question with few words and a rough, gravelly voice that Taehyung thinks sounds good enough for songs.

Taehyung wraps a piece of him around Jeongguk's neck, looking at him with pleading eyes, and Jeongguk doesn't find the words to deny him anything.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Here I stand, staring at the sun

Distant lands, staring at the sun

You’re not here, but we do share

The same one

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Half up the way to Rannvaig there's another city, smaller but important for traders. The town is controlled by a few noble families and it's well protected, which usually means it's a meaningless stop for Jeongguk but his provisions are low and he needs to restock. Travelling with Taehyung depletes his resources faster, another reason why theirs wasn't a good arrangement at all. Not for Jeongguk, at least.

(He elects to ignore how it feels too silent now, the clatter of the hooves on the path sounding much lonelier than it should.)

He decides to buy what he needs and then find a herbalist. He's running low on potions and he doesn't know the territory well enough to pick up the plants himself, so he has to resort to that. There is a shop that just suits his needs and he marches inside, a cloak covering most of him.

It turns out to be a terrible idea.

The clerk turns out to be a chatterbox, the gossiping type, and he's either stupid enough not to realize he's a witcher or just careless enough not to care.

"You've come in a very good period, mister! There hasn't been a better climate in Drore in the last two decades, let me tell you. And I'm not talking about the weather. Tragedies have shaken the core of the city over the years."

"Oh really?" drawls Jeongguk, absolutely not interested in the slightest. There is a smell in the air that reminds him of the bard, just a taste of it. It must be myrrh and cardamom, or some other ingredients he uses to keep his skin smooth and soft. Not that he would know how his skin feels like.

The clerk apparently can't read the disinterest in his stance and the downward curve of his mouth.

"For sure! It all started when a whole noble family was slaughtered! And in mysterious circumstances, no less!" he declares, definitely too chipper to be talking about murder. It’s probably humans killing each other out of greed, and that is nothing new. He couldn't be less invested. The clerk doesn't care, and he goes on with his narration, "it was ten? Fifteen? Well, some years ago, I was nay but a young boy. But it shook the city, truly."

"Terrific," answers Jeongguk as he tries to find something more interesting to do, like counting how many bottles of alcohest the herbalist has on his shelves.

"And the way the economy dropped! It was rough for a while. But now, you can buy all these herbs for such a small price! You know that Drore is the only city–"

Jeongguk stops listening altogether, figuring out the herbalist won't tell him anytime soon how many coins he needs to cough up, instead babbling away the history of a city he doesn't care about in the least.

With nothing better to do, his mind wanders. Inevitably, he thinks about the bard.

It's just, was the difficulty of the path the only reason why he decided to stay behind? He clearly has no intention of letting Jeongguk go for good, the pendant around his neck serving as a reminder of his stubbornness. Jeongguk can't help but mull over it, over him, because Taehyung is so capricious and unpredictable that he keeps catching him unaware. And being caught unaware is just a death wish for a witcher.

As the clerk rambles ahead, he gets an idea. Maybe he can make use of the chatty attitude of the man behind the counter.

"Have you ever been to Rannvaig?" he interrupts, not really worried about being rude. He doesn't have much of a reputation to protect, being a witcher and all.

The herbalist takes no offence, it seems. "Of course! It's the only city that compares to us when it comes to trading, truly a–"

"Yes, yes, sure," he urges on, unwilling to bear with another hour of history lesson. "I'm certain you know a lot. So, is Rannvaig... a good place for bards?"

His awkward question seems to stun the clerk into silence, but only for a few seconds. "For bards? I guess so. A lot of nobles there, so many artists offer their services at court. Are you perhaps interested in the arts?"

"Let's put it like that," he replies with a forced smile. He isn't made for small talk. This is excruciating. But he's too curious to drop the bone now. "Any interesting facts? Maybe some... scandal you can tell me."

The clerk's eyes twinkle then, and Jeongguk knows he has hit the jackpot. "Oh, there was! You have a good nose for these things, mister!" Jeongguk lets out a real chuckle, genuinely amused. He does have a good nose. Usually not for gossip.

The clerk taps his chin with two chubby fingers before going on. "You see, it seems that the daughter of the countess there has recently had a baby... the virgin, unmarried little noblelady! According to the grapevine, nine months ago they had a banquet and some minstrel was making sweet eyes at the miss."

That sounds exactly the kind of trouble Taehyung would put himself into. He can already picture him in an elegant doublet, playing his lute in a noble court. Curly hair covering bright eyes and a mischievous smile stretched on his face as he winks at a young countess who blushes and stutters but can't wait to spend a few hours away from the yoke imposed on her by her strict, narrow-minded parents. Taehyung is a firm believer of personal freedom, so it wouldn't be too strange if he angered some nobles with that.

There's no way to know if that was Taehyung, though. Bards in general are free spirits and lovers of any pleasure; it isn't uncommon to hear one of them causing some kind of disruption with their dislike of rules.

Jeongguk doesn't ask himself why he's so keen on discovering why Taehyung didn't want to go to Rannvaig. It's simple curiosity, after all.

He ignores whatever else the clerk says, his mind wandering. He closes his eyes and focuses on his other senses, enveloped in the scents of herbs and oils that remind him of tan skin and dazzling eyes.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

He arrives at Rannvaig quickly enough and he immerses himself into his work even more than he usually does.

Taehyung's pendant is a sapphire. He recognizes the gem after fiddling with it and scrutinizing it on the way up to Rannvaig, as if the pendant itself could give him any answers.

He keeps the necklace around his neck, because Taehyung put it there and he doesn't go through the trouble of taking it off. It's clearly important for the bard, so why did he give it to him? Now Jeongguk feels bad about taking it and he finds himself checking if it's still hanging from his neck unconsciously.

He slays some monsters in Rannvaig, filling his pockets so life will be a bit easier for the next months. He takes as many jobs as he can, officially because Rannvaig is just as against witchers as every other city and he doesn't like stopping anywhere for long. So he finds as many creatures as he can, tracking them with his supernatural senses and his equipment.

The sapphire necklace gets intertwined with his wolf medallion and it vibrates with it every time magic is near. It's impossible to forget it's there.

Or at least, that's the reason Jeongguk gives himself for reaching for it every now and then.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

We’re together, even when we’re apart

I’m connected to your face, flow into my heart

Out in the distance, I see you off somewhere

I’m headed in your direction, I’ll meet you halfway there

⊱ ❂ ⊰

When he was a child, Taehyung had someone he greatly admired.

She was a serious woman, with eyes slanted upwards and her full mouth set in a line for most of the time. She wasn't mean, far from it, but she had that kind of unapproachable air that scared coward men more than the daggers strapped to her thighs.

Her hair was pitch black, like a night without stars, but she was warm. Her smiles were rare, never misused. You knew that when she smiled, close lipped and cheekbones even more prominent than usual, she was sincere. He always liked that about her.

Taehyung doesn't know when she appeared in his life, nor why. His childhood memories are foggy, confused. He has never been good at remembering things, not unless he made songs about them.

(And he did. He does. He sings about how many vials he still has in his purse, about which herbs he needs to buy soon. He makes lists into rhymes, finger strumming his lute. When it's night and it's quiet, he'll mutter names he's afraid to forget, tasting them on his tongue like honey candies. He wishes there was a way to reproduce voices, so the sound of them wouldn't have faded away and disappeared.)

He doesn't remember how it started: just that at some point, she was there hanging in their garden and having tea with his parents. And Taehyung, not even 10 years old and curious to the point of impertinence, was too enthralled to leave her alone.

He was her little shadow, even if she was the one silent and decked in black while he dressed with every color of the rainbow and talked until his voice was hoarse. Her melodic voice was rarely heard, but Taehyung didn't mind. He was more than enough to fill every silence, especially as he started learning to play the lute, pudgy fingers clumsy but strong with his determination.

She scared people, and Taehyung never quite understood why. She let him do pretty much anything – touch her blades, follow her around, sit on her lap and braid flowers into her long hair. Sometimes she even carried him around on strong, sturdy shoulders, and maybe she didn't smile but her face was soft, eyes tender.

Taehyung may have forgotten a lot of things from his past, but he remembers her starkly, some moments stuck in his mind like paintings he sees every day. He doesn't remember the sound of her voice or her story, but he remembers her name, how she looked like.

Ahn Hyejin had eyes yellow like corn-silk, and a medallion around her neck with the shape of a wolf engraved on it.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Jeongguk stays away for a month, more or less.

Time passes slow, like when you tilt a jar of treacle and it takes ages for it to drip out. Minutes, hours and days dragging their feet, refusing to move any faster. Jeongguk doesn't understand why everything feels so dull and boring, why he's so eager to go away.

And if he does understand, then he doesn't want to admit it.

Finally, time comes for him to leave Rannvaig and descend the mountains. He has all the time in the world to make the climb down, but he finds himself impatient, almost frantic to reach the village he left the bard in.

Spring is in full bloom now and the smell of flowers distracts him every now and then, their sweetness permeating the air and almost making him pause. He finds himself with his nose in the air – searching for something, seeking for a scent that will leave the taste of winter on his tongue, of balsam and parchment.

He's disappointed when he finds nothing.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

He arrives at the town near dawn and for some reason the place looks more lively, sounds more noisy than when he left it. 

There is only one place it makes sense to go to – Jeongguk needs a real dinner, some ale. His feet bring him towards the tavern and it has nothing to do with the fact that he can hear music drifting out of the open door.

If there's something Taehyung does better than anyone, it's creating more noise.

As Jeongguk suspected, there he is. He’s singing a song he vaguely remembers him humming during their time together and when he listens closely he realizes the word “witcher” is part of the refrain.

Taehyung is full of energy, jumping around as the pace of the song picks up. His frantic movements only make his doublet open up more, the chemise he’s wearing underneath on display. Interested gazes follow him as he moves and Jeongguk is pretty sure most of them aren’t entranced by the music.

The bard ends the song with a flourish, the last note ringing and his voice drawling out the last syllable. Cheers and applauses welcome him as he bows down to his public, and it’s as he goes around to collect shiny golden coins that he notices Jeongguk.

He was so distracted watching him that he didn’t think about moving away from his sight and he regrets this as Taehyung lays his eyes on him.

“My witcher! The hero of Kotsam!” he declares loudly and everyone in the tavern turns towards Jeongguk, clapping and howling and generally being a nuisance. He doesn’t like to be so noticeable – most people don’t wanna see witchers unless they have a job for them and being the center of attention makes his life difficult more often than not. Plus, it usually deters people who actually want to hire him from approaching.

Taehyung is in front of him in a few seconds, his long legs easily carrying him to Jeongguk. He’s still panting from the lively performance, his brow dripping with sweat and his eyes glinting with that kind of gratification that Jeongguk finds in killing monsters and Taehyung in singing to people. It’s a good look on him, Jeongguk notes. Satisfaction fits him.

“Who the hell is the hero of Kotsam?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. He never heard any songs about Kotsam, it’s too much of a backward village to hold any interest for any kind of artist.

Taehyung scoffs, but even then he doesn’t lose his smile. "Don't be shy, savior of the people. You slayed a monster, saved a dozen damsels. You should be praised as you deserve to."

“Wait, you’re talking about me ?”

The possibility of Taehyung singing about him makes him queasy, but he can’t deny that there’s a part of him that warms, flowers blooming over his heart. Jeongguk lowers his gaze, feeling the blood rush towards his face. He has pale skin, and the red is immediately noticeable.

“Come on, lovely witcher,” says Taehyung, grabbing his wrist and tugging him towards a table. Jeongguk grunts at the ‘lovely’, but lets the bard carry him to a seat. “We should offer some ale to the hero of my songs, shouldn’t we?”

Surprisingly enough, people cheer at that.

Now that Jeongguk is in the middle of the crowd, he realizes the whole atmosphere is weird. He’s used to people either freezing in fear or distrust when they see his two swords and the medallion. But people are clapping their hands, chanting “witcher, witcher!” and being… enthusiastic about his presence. It’s definitely a first.

He gets offered some ale and he sips it slowly, in a slight daze. It tastes good, better than ever.

As he lifts his eyes from the drink, his gaze meets Taehyung’s. His eyes are bright and so is his smile, wide and square-shaped. He seems so pleased to see Jeongguk surrounded by the drunk, giddy patrons of the tavern, and Jeongguk feels the warmth of his gaze like it’s a blanket covering his shoulders. It’s a good feeling. It settles low on his stomach, like hot tea during the winter months – comforting and thawing him from the inside.

A drunk woman on his side starts to chant something in rhyme and other people join her before Jeongguk realizes it’s the song Taehyung was singing just before. Someone wraps an arm around his shoulders and makes him sway with the crowd, following the rhythm of the song. Usually, he would snarl and shove them away. But he’s too stunned to react and so he lets them – lets them near, lets them touch him, lets them sing in his ear and spill their ale on his clothes.

In front of him, Taehyung throws his head back and laughs loudly, and it’s as if he is the epicentre of the music and the joy, even if he isn’t singing.

Jeongguk drinks his ale to hide the curve of his lips, the crinkle of the corner of his eyes.

The tavern is too loud, the people too close, everything too overwhelming.

It doesn’t feel so bad.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

The witcher is back.

Taehyung is so happy about that, so elated that he didn't lose something precious just because of his stupid fear. He has always been good at running, his feet even faster than his tongue. He spent some days agonizing over it, almost packing everything and following Jeongguk towards Rannvaig.

He had stood in front of the door of the room he has in the inn, bag and lute slung over his shoulder and ready to go. He never reached further than that door, turning around and unpacking his bags soon after.

But now it doesn't matter. Now Jeongguk is here.

Taehyung stumbles into his room, dragging Jeongguk behind him. Not for anything uncouth of course, no matter how Taehyung wishes it was for that. Jeongguk is one of the most stunning men he has ever had the pleasure to put his eyes upon and he wouldn't mind exploring him in a more intimate manner.

Unfortunately no, they aren't in his room for that. Taehyung's voice is hoarse and his fingers stiff from playing the lute all night, so he decided to bid goodbye to his patrons and retire. Before Jeongguk could even think about taking a room for himself or, worse, leaving the town, he had pulled him towards the stair until they were both crossing the threshold of his rented room.

He is slightly inebriated, more from his own exuberant performance than the drinks that have been offered to him during the evening. There's adrenaline rushing through his veins, his feet still tapping to music that is not playing anymore and his heart beating like crazy, but now that they are trapped in the silence of his room he doesn't know what to do anymore.

Embarrassment overcomes him. He tries to fix it the only way he knows how: talking until the silence isn't so oppressing anymore.

He lets go of Jeongguk's wrist like it's burning his palm and he hopes the flush on his face will be attributed to singing and jumping around until now. He takes out two cups he found in the room and starts filling them with water, chuckling and stumbling over his words like the idiot he is.

"Glad to see you're safe and sound! Not that I ever doubted you. Did you have any fun adventures? I bet you enjoyed the silence, didn't you. Did you find the path as atrocious as I know it is?"

"Taehyung."

His name on Jeongguk's lips is an unusual sound and so his attention is immediately grabbed, his hands trembling and moonlight bathing Jeongguk in silver.

Taehyung looks at Jeongguk, at his dark hair and unnatural pupils. His eyes are green, but the shade of them depends on the weather. If the sun is shining they are jade green; if it's cloudy they are paler, almost teal. Taehyung has seen such colors only when gazing in the depth of the prettiest lakes, their waters shining green and light blue, reflecting the sky.

Jeongguk's gaze is intense. Not when he tries to glare at him or scare him, that's actually extremely ineffective because Taehyung knows that he is all bark and no bite. No, the witcher is not scary despite the swords and the harsh words.

But from time to time he looks at Taehyung – really looks at him, studying and scrutinizing him, and then his eyes are piercing and his focus almost too much to bear.

He's looking at him like that now.

Taehyung feels breathless, hesitant and eager at once. He doesn't understand the witcher, not yet, and so he doesn't know what to expect.

Jeongguk blinks at him. He's flushed too, cheeks and ears tinted red, probably from being squished by the patrons during the nth rendition of his latest song. Taehyung feels like drowning in the pools of his green, bright eyes.

The witcher doesn't say a word, but he lifts his hands, reaching behind his own neck. Taehyung watches him, enthralled, and it takes him a minute to realize Jeongguk is untangling a chain.

It's his necklace. The amulet that he had since he was a little kid, the one he had taken off only twice in his life. Once when he was only 10 years old, then the second time only a few weeks ago when Jeongguk walked towards a path he was too much of a coward to travel again. The first time it didn't end up well.

Like Taehyung, Jeongguk struggles with opening the clasp. He's surprised to see the sapphire gem still hanging from his neck – he thought he had lost it or simply thrown it away. After all, Taehyung forced it on him like a collar. There was no obligation for him to keep, and there is nothing stopping him from wrenching it from his neck and throwing it back at him.

Instead, he's taking his time unclasping it carefully, twirling the chain so he can untangle it from his medallion. Did he keep the pendant on the entire time, so much that it got tied up with his own necklace? For some reasons, the notion makes his heart skip a beat. The sight of his sapphire near the wolf is pretty and feels natural, like they are meant to be near.

A second later Jeongguk is holding Taehyung's necklace in front of him, the sapphire dangling and swaying with every motion. A fragment of the sky, small but so precious to him. He told Jeongguk it was important and he brought it back, didn't even think of removing it from his neck.

He tries so hard to convince everyone he's rough and evil, but he's so gentle. He's all apple-green eyes and rumbling voice, swords strapped to his side but hands clenched to the side, head bent low as everyone tramples on him.

The pendant hangs between them like a barrier, or maybe like an olive branch.

Taehyung lifts his hands, touches the chain gingerly. His fingers brush against Jeongguk's when he takes back his pendant, the slightest touch making him shiver. He blushes at his own timidity.

Having the sapphire back is like being able to breathe again, a weight upon his heart crumbling and turning to dust. It's his amulet, his only protection, and being without it for so long felt like roaming around with a dagger held to his neck all the time. His fingers tremble minutely, the relief flowing through him so powerful that he almost feels dizzy.

His hands refuse to cooperate now and he struggles to fasten the necklace behind his neck. Every time the clasp misses its goal he gets increasingly more frustrated and then his hands shake even more, creating a vicious circle that makes tear spring to his eyes. He wants to have its reassuring weight upon his chest so desperately that he bites his lip until he tastes blood.

Another pair of hands cover his own, taking the necklace back. Taehyung freezes, inhaling slowly and lifting his eyes.

Jeongguk isn't saying anything, but is it a surprise? He isn't good with words. He tends to lie when he speaks, anyway.

He grips Taehyung's shoulder, making him turn so that his gaze sweeps over his shoulders. He feels Jeongguk’s eyes on him like a caress, like a blanket covering his back. Taehyung wills his breath to be steady, his heart to stop beating so fast. It's a battle lost before it even begins.

Jeongguk often wears leather gloves, since he likes to cover himself up from head to toe. But now his hands are bare and his fingertips brush against his nape, so soft it feels like petals tickling his skin.

It's shockingly intimate – his breath on Taehyung's neck, the fingers brushing against it like slow caresses, the warmth of his body seeping into Taehyung's back even if they aren't touching. The only point of contact is where the necklace is being fastened.

"Stay still," comes the low tone of Jeongguk's voice and Taehyung realizes he has been fidgeting, moving his weight from one foot to another. He stills, his neck flushing hotly.

The click of the clasp is as loud as swords clashing together. Taehyung expects Jeongguk to move away as soon as he can – he has noticed his distaste for touch, the way he always flinches and moves away when someone touches his skin.

He doesn't. He smooths the chain on Taehyung's neck, checking it isn't untangled. The metal is cold on his nape, but Jeongguk's fingers are unbearably warm. And they linger, brushing against his skin. Taehyung has never been sensitive to the cold, and yet goosebumps rise on his arms and a tremble takes over his body. Jeongguk is so scorching hot behind him that he feels ice-cold in comparison.

"There," he says, voice like gravel, his thumb tracing the chain on Taehyung's neck one last time. Then his hands drop, the heat is gone, and Taehyung this oh, I kinda miss it now .

He swallows silently before forcing out a chuckle, still reeling. It feels like his bones are rattling inside his body, like his skin is holding a storm trapped inside him. He takes a step away from Jeongguk, his hand coming up to grab at his necklace automatically. The shape of the stone under his hand calms him down. He missed it.

He turns, injected with a fresh wave of confidence. The adrenaline is going down and he feels more settled now, brave enough to give his usual smile to the witcher.

Jeongguk doesn't reciprocate – Taehyung doesn't think he's able to smile, his facial muscles probably too stiff from disuse. Yet his eyes soften, crinkling at the corners. It lasts just one second, too quick for Taehyung to be sure of it.

Taehyung looks at him, his dark attire and tourmaline eyes. He came back. Maybe because he was going to come back to this town anyway, maybe because he forgot there was a mouthy bard waiting to bother him again. But maybe, just maybe, it was because he remembered there was a mouthy bard waiting for him.

Taehyung's heart is warm, like his smile, like Jeongguk's palms on his nape. He feels so grateful he can't help but say it out loud. "Thank you," he says and it isn't a whisper but it's soft and small, just for the two of them. "Thank you for bringing this back to me. Thank you for coming back."

They look at each other, green vs chocolate brown. Jeongguk nods once, curt and quick, but Taehyung can read the "you're welcome" hidden between his motion.

It might be a bit vain of Taehyung to think, but he's almost sure that the witcher is happy to see him. Maybe he missed him, too.

But they've indulged in this soft mood for too long. Taehyung is afraid that if he makes it go on any longer, he might do something atrociously stupid like hugging the witcher, burying his head in his neck and letting the smell of leather and campfire envelop him. That would get him a dagger in his stomach and no matter how brave or reckless he is, he is not being gutted because he felt clingy.

"So," he starts, clearing his voice once and flashing a bright smile at the witcher, "did you hear my new song? You should be happy, I sang your praises for almost a month straight."

Jeongguk scoffs, but it's amused instead of irritated. A fleeting thought passes through Taehyung's brain, something like I wonder if I can make him smile , but it's gone before he can dwell on it.

Jeongguk huffs again before speaking, sounding almost teasing. "New song? Are you talking about that terrible screeching you were doing earlier?"

"How dare you. It's a highly requested piece, you know? I think it might be my best work yet..."

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Toss a coin to your Witcher

O Valley of Plenty, O Valley of Plenty

Toss a coin to your Witcher

A friend of humanity!

⊱ ❂ ⊰

They don't stay in that town for long, mostly because Taehyung is "tired and bored of staying in the same place for so long, it's torture Jeongguk, pure torture".

Jeongguk doesn't have to listen to him of course. But he packs his stuff and gets on the road anyway, immediately regretting having Taehyung trailing behind him when he starts to sing.

"Toss a coin to your witcher–"

"If I hear that song one more fucking time," he hisses, squeezing the reins of his horse in his hand and pretending it's Taehyung's goddamn lute, "I will take that lute and break it over your head."

Taehyung blinks at him, eyes round. The dumbfounded expression is immediately replaced with a shit-eating grin and Jeongguk knows exactly what he's gonna do even before he opens his mouth.

"– ooh valley of pleeeenty, oh valley of– FUCK!"

Admirably, Taehyung actually moves quickly enough to dodge the stone thrown at his lute, almost tripping on his own feet but not actually falling on his ass. Jeongguk raises an eyebrow, impressed.

"Don't ever do that again!" screeches Taehyung, clutching his lute like it's an infant. He glares at Jeongguk before cradling his lute tenderly and he's pretty sure he catches something like ‘ my baby, don't worry I'll protect you’ slipping from his pouty lips.

Jeongguk's lips almost twist up in a smile, but he manages to control it before it happens.

His gaze is on Taehyung now and he finds himself studying him. His skin is glowing even more than usual, clearly pampered in the time he was allowed to sleep on a real bed and not on dusty roads. His hair is messy as ever, long and wavy and looking so soft. And his doublet is open, showing off his underwear like usual.

Taehyung got a new doublet while Jeongguk was away, he realizes after some staring. It's a stunning thing, half teal and half blue with puffy sleeves and made of a material that looks soft to touch. Jeongguk looks at it as Taehyung catches up on him, walking on his side instead of behind him and humming something under his breath.

It's almost automatic when Jeongguk inhales, searching for his scent among the smells in the air. He's used to it by now, the smell of balsam and ink familiar, but there is something slightly out of place about it. Like the doublet used to smell of someone else.

Jeongguk is too curious. For once, he's the one asking questions.

"Pretty doublet. Did you steal it?"

Taehyung initially seems ecstatic at being spoken to, even more when there's some kind of praise slipped into it, but his face sours immediately when he registers the question. "Stole it? I don't steal things."

Jeongguk quirks an eyebrow. "So that new dagger you have just came out of nowhere."

"That man didn't need it. He left it on the table! Terribly negligent."

"And that scarf also was dropped in your hands by accident."

"She was wearing it with a purple dress, Jeongguk. I did her a favor ."

If he were a man with less self-control, Jeongguk would chuckle. Instead he coughs in his hand and sighs. "Sure, Taehyung. You're a real friend of humanity ."

"Wait a minute, is that a joke? Oh dear witcher, I didn't know you had any sense of humor."

Jeongguk turns to glare at him and at his impish grin, but doesn't reply. Sometimes it's easier to let Taehyung get away with it.

To be honest, Jeongguk doesn't really mind him playing a bit fast and loose with the law. He never steals anything absolutely necessary to the owner, mostly little trinkets and pieces of clothing from the occasionally rich snob that they meet during their travels. All very easily replaceable if you have money, and Taehyung's victims usually have them in abundance.

Jeongguk himself would never steal. He doesn't have the subtlety required to do that, anyway. That doesn't mean he can't look the other way when Taehyung slips a new kerchief into his own pocket.

He's almost happy at the thought of Taehyung stealing the doublet from someone else, but the bard speaks again and shatters his fantasies.

"Truly, I didn't steal it. Someone actually gifted it to me," he says, pouting slightly. "A sort of patron of mine."

It almost makes Jeongguk still. It isn't an especially outrageous thing, but for some reason it doesn't sit well with him - like there's some information that's escaping him but unsettles him on a deeper level.

"A patron? In that town?" he asks, losing the amusement in his voice and trading it for something more inquisitive and serious. Taehyung doesn't seem to realize.

"Maybe patron isn't the most apt word," he hums, looking straight ahead and tilting his head in thought. "Client, maybe? He bought me for a night."

That definitely makes him still, his feet digging in the ground as he pulls up short. He whips his head to the side to look at the bard, eyes wide and mouth gaping, face stuck in a horrified expression. His gaze inevitably falls to the open doublet, showing off Taehyung's lacy undershirt.

Taehyung notices Jeongguk has stopped and turns back to him with a puzzled expression. "What's happening? Did you sniff out some..." he trails off as he looks at Jeongguk's aghast face, following his gaze until he notices him ogling his body, the skin that peeks out from his unbuttoned chemise.

Immediately, Taehyung blushes crimson, mouth opening and closing but only a strangled sound coming out. Jeongguk would find it amusing in other circumstances, but his mind is still reeling.

"As a bard , you gigantic oaf! He requested songs!" Taehyung stomps his foot down like a petulant child, cheeks blazing red and voice a shrill scream. Jeongguk feels himself blush in response and he tears his gaze away from the bard, looking at the bright blue sky and the dusty path.

"I just– I thought– you worded it wrong!" Jeongguk genuinely wants to stop just to find a nice place where he can start digging a hole to bury himself. Maybe under a willow tree or something equally poetic.

There's an incensed gasp from the general direction of the bard and Jeongguk steadily ignores it, grabbing his horse's reins and stomping forward with his face set in a frown and his ears burning in embarrassment. 

Unfortunately Taehyung is just as tall as him (maybe even an inch taller, but he’ll never admit it), so his long legs easily allow for him to catch up with Jeongguk.

"No, no, let's talk about it. What kind of idea do you have about me?" he asks, tone petulant and a bit offended, too. "I know we bards are considered more dissolute than most, but you, listening to these kinds of rumors? How very conservative of you."

Jeongguk thinks about when he heard the story of a bard seducing a countess and immediately thought about Taehyung, and decides it's better if he keeps his mouth shut.

Taehyung seems even more irked by his silence. He's getting angry for real, his frown prominent and deepening by the second, and Jeongguk realizes that he's getting kind of intimidated by his cutting gaze. He doesn't start to fidget (witchers don't fidget) but it comes close to that.

He doesn't know what to say to placate the bard and it's a worryingly scary prospective to face him as he is now, stony and clearly irate. The worst part is, Taehyung speaks again and he sounds hurt .

"Do you really think I'm not good enough at my craft that I would resort to that?"

The angry rasp of his words isn't enough to hide the meek undertone of them, how he presses his lips in a line and frowns, more disappointed than heated. Jeongguk tries to steady himself and ignore it, but he feels guilty for making him think he doesn't hold his talent in high regard.

He bites the inside of his cheek, glancing at Taehyung out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't know how to handle this kind of emotional talk, doesn't know how to deal with the vulnerable emotion in it. It makes him a bit nauseous, to be honest.

But he feels so bad. Taehyung has his lips turned down and it's very different from when he acts dramatically sad just for the sake of complaining. His eyes are cold but dejected, his whole demeanor composed but lacking the usual spark he brings with him anywhere.

"I didn't think that," he mutters, keeping his eyes on the ground because he can already feel his ears turning hot, "and it never crossed my mind that your singing wasn't good enough. I'm sorry for insinuating that."

It feels like he has talked for hours, like he had to spout out a whole rehearsed speech. He isn't used to having to apologize and he isn't even sure it worked. Taehyung is still looking at him coldly.

"So do you think my singing is good?"

Fuck. Does he have to answer? Because, yes, Taehyung's singing is good. Splendid actually, to the point that Jeongguk actually makes an effort to listen to him when he hums under his breath. He has a good voice and good lyrics (from what he can tell) and he likes listening to his deep, lilting tone, getting lost in the raspy quality of it. But just the idea of admitting being so smitten with his singing makes him swallow nervously.

So he grunts and lets out a very generic "it's good" that doesn't encompass in the slightest how he feels about Taehyung's singing.

Clearly Taehyung sees something in Jeongguk that betrays how much he's understating his opinion on him - maybe it's the red ears, the lowered gaze, the muttered and embarrassed way he said those words. Whatever it is, it makes Taehyung light up like a newly lit fire.

"You do like my singing! I knew it. You absolutely adore it."

"I didn't say that," replies Jeongguk, cheeks getting hotter because he does like listening to him. He doesn't adore it, but it is entertaining and lovely. He admires his talent.

Taehyung seems to think otherwise. "You clearly admitted it," he declares cheekily, his spine straightening and his good mood coming back like it never left him. Strangely enough, he drops the topic and goes back to strumming the lute, nonchalant in a way that leaves Jeongguk dizzy.

Because he is curious now, questions piling up in his head and the foreign scent on Taehyung's clothes bothering him more than he wants to admit.

"But why did they gift you clothes? Didn't they have money to give you?"

Taehyung turns to him, eyes wide. It takes him a beat to answer, as if he didn't expect the question at all. "No, they definitely did have money," he replies, trying to find the best words to explain, "it's just a... tradition of some kind? It's the life of a bard."

That doesn’t answer his question. "Life of a bard?"

Taehyung nods. "I have to count on the kindness of others for food and shelter, for clothes too. Nobles like to dress us bards up like we are their dolls, so they gift us  clothes and cosmetics a lot of times. Did you never ask yourself how I could wear such expensive stuff?"

He did, but his brain somehow convinced him that it was something Taehyung just managed to do on his own. He looks so comfortable with his lavish doublets and high-class creams that he didn't stop to think that maybe they aren't something he buys on his own.

It really doesn't sit well with him. Taehyung doesn't seem fazed in the least, but now his clothes look suffocating, shackles made of silk. It makes him uneasy. That doesn't give him any right to judge Taehyung's lifestyle, though.

"So you have to wear what they want?"

Taehyung smiles, blind to Jeongguk's discomfort on the matter. "If I'm performing at their court yes, absolutely. When I travel around I just bring whatever I have on me and most times, it's those clothes. Bards depend on patrons to flourish. It's like a mark of ownership, in a way"

"That sounds stupid," he replies, fiddling with the reins he's gripping in his hands.

"Extremely," agrees Taehyung, but the shrug of his shoulders indicates that he doesn't care that much.

"Can't you just wear your own clothes?"

Taehyung snorts. "I don't have clothes that are mine, Jeongguk. I'm very flattered that you think I'm some kind of rich artist, but I'm not. Yet," he adds, almost as an afterthought. "Money is for eating and having a bed to sleep in. Occasionally for taking care of my lute."

"Isn't it... uncomfortable?"

"It can be," he admits with his lilting voice, "especially since these clothes are rarely fit for travelling. But eh, they are clothes. And pretty ones at that, so that's more than enough."

Jeongguk grunts in acknowledgement and the conversation fades out like this, Taehyung returning to humming under his breath and plucking the strings of his lute. They walk leisurely, side by side, and Jeongguk is too absorbed in his thoughts to complain when the bard inevitably starts singing about tossing coins.

Jeongguk's thoughts swirl around a single concept: Taehyung should be able to wear whatever he wants. The bard clearly likes the luxury, but Jeongguk can't even conceive the thought of dressing based on something other than practicability. His own clothes are the most comfortable he finds and even his armor is built so it doesn't bother him.

The thought of Taehyung not choosing his own clothes stays with him for the rest of the way as he mulls it over and dissects it, trying to understand why he's so perturbed by it. 

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Sometimes I'm weak

You know I'm kind of a freak

Baby I realize

You are a gentle soul

Always in control

You keep my heart behind your eyes

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Everything is dark and smells of putrid blood.

Trees all around him, and there is no moon in the sky. It's all dark, dark. There's blood on him, slick and cooling on his skin. Human's or monster's, he doesn't even know anymore.

And then there are the people – screaming, attacking him, blades trying to hurt him.

He runs and runs, the forest and the night swallowing him whole.

Jeongguk wakes up from his light sleep, a sheen of sweat on his skin. He's disoriented for a second, but he stands up with a hand on his sword immediately after, the vestige of his interrupted dream plaguing him still. He wouldn't have woken up if his senses didn't pick up something and he looks for the source of whatever he felt.

There's a sound of leaves being crushed and moved around, like someone rolling on the ground.

Immediate annoyance takes hold of him as he gets closer to the noise slowly, ready to defend himself if necessary. It isn't uncommon for bandits to attack defenseless people in the night, slitting their throats and stealing their coins. He's far from helpless, but his travel companion sleeps like a log and stealing from him, plunging a blade in his neck as he sleeps, would be easier than stealing candies from a child.

It's when he comes upon the source of the noise that he realizes it's Taehyung himself that woke him up.

He isn't having a restful sleep, that much is clear. He's trashing in his bedroll, kicking his legs and clawing at the ground with his arms. A normal human wouldn't be able to see it in the dark, but Jeongguk's catlike eyes notice the sweat lining his brow, the grimace in his expression. He can even hear some pained whimpers, hissed through gritted teeth and muffled when Taehyung turns his head towards his pillow.

He lets his hand fall away from the hilt of his sword. There is no danger near them, not one he can defeat with sharpened steel at least. He can't even fight his own bad dreams; surely he can't help Taehyung with them.

He turns around and walks away with every intention of going back to his own bedroll and sleep another few hours, but his feet stop on their own accord as another cry escapes the bard's mouth. His voice takes an uncharacteristically high pitch as he whimpers and there's no way Jeongguk will be able to sleep with him making those sounds. He scoffs, but turns back and stomps towards the curled up figure under the blanket.

He should wake him up. But what if he goes back to having a nightmare as soon as he falls back asleep? He isn't keen on the idea of having to drag a sleep-deprived bard, so he can't keep him up. What do people do to sleep better?

He looks around, getting steadily more uncomfortable as Taehyung keeps making miserable sounds. Something to sleep better... something to hold, maybe? Children have stuffed toys to cling to while they sleep, right? That should work.

They don't have a stuffed toy with them, naturally. Jeongguk considers giving him his own pillow, but that would stain it with Taehyung's scent for a long time and there's no way he's doing that. No, absolutely not. Taehyung's lute? No, that must not be too pleasant to hug in his sleep and Taehyung would be devastated if he accidentally damaged it in any way.

Taehyung's bag, then. It's filled mostly with paper sheets, so it should be soft enough, and Jeongguk won't have to sacrifice any of his own stuff. Seems like a good plan.

He locates the bag easily, his vision not hindered by the dark. He's just as quick to snatch it away and he's careful not to shake it too violently, knowing there are vials and flasks inside. He just has to wake up the bard now.

He walks towards him and kicks his foot lightly, but Taehyung doesn't seem to realize. Frowning, he tries another time. His eyes stay closed.

Third time it's the charm: Jeongguk kicks his leg a bit more rudely and Taehyung jolts awake, his head jerking up and his eyes blinking wearily.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to," he says, voice flat. Taehyung murmurs a sleepy "what", his eyes almost slipping closed again. Jeongguk doesn't lose a second and speaks again before he can fall asleep. "I think some thugs are in the area. Do me a favor and keep your stuff safe. Hold it tightly. Cuddle it or whatever."

He shoves the bag in Taehyung's arms, arm outstretched and eyebrows lifted up expectantly. Taehyung doesn't reply though, nor grab the bag. He just mumbles something and lets his head fall forward, ignoring Jeongguk.

Of course he isn't listening to him. He doesn't do that even when he's awake.

Taehyung is stubborn in his quest to fall back asleep, but Jeongguk has a mission now. "Hey, listen to me," he says as he shakes him. Taehyung whines in return, mumbling random sounds instead of coherent words. Jeongguk shoves the bag in his arms again. "Do me a favor and hug your damn bag, Taehyung."

It seems that the message finally reaches Taehyung's brain as he stretches his arm forward, making grabby hands towards the witcher. Jeongguk grins in triumph. Taehyung will finally grab the bag, fall back asleep and let him go back to sleep as well.

Taehyung does grab the bag, but Jeongguk should've known that he would be a greedy bastard. He drags the bag into his arms but he grips Jeongguk's arm too, his hold surprisingly strong, and he yanks him down.

The bard always wants more. More songs to sing, more people clapping at him, more answers about monsters. So it shouldn't be a surprise when Taehyung's hands climb up on his arm, nails digging in his muscles like a kitten clawing at his skin. When he has hold of most of his arm, he lets out a satisfied purr. He clings to his forearm like it's a stuffed toy and Jeongguk is momentarily frozen.

This is a nightmare. This is horrible and Jeongguk doesn't like it, not a single bit.

Taehyung is extremely good at falling asleep absurdly quick, wherever he is. So as soon as he's comfortable enough, he starts snoring right away. Bastard.

Jeongguk tries to shake him off, but Taehyung only whines and holds his arm tighter. He looks so young like this, cheeks full and soft and eyelash brushing against them. Taehyung is always so full of energy and sound that it's weird to see him so peaceful, so quiet. 

There is something immensely childish in Taehyung – something that makes his eyes sparkle in curiosity, that drives him to believe there is good in anyone. Even in witchers. Even in Jeongguk.

His hair is sweaty and messy from his nightmare and Jeongguk doesn't really think before using his free hand to brush it away from his forehead, threading his fingers through his wet bangs and silently marveling at how soft they feel, even now. His nose can pick up the smell of his sweat but, strangely enough, it doesn't disturb him – it's masked by his usual scent of balsam and musk, ink and firewood. It's a good scent, as soothing as his voice. He would never admit, but sometimes Jeongguk would be close to Taehyung (guarding his shoulders because the bard is just too careless) and he would focus on the smell, using it to calm his nerves.

Taehyung snores without a care in the world, way different from how Jeongguk found him. Maybe he could extricate his arm from his grip, shake himself free so he can go back to bed, but he hesitates.

There is no real need to make a fuss out of it – he has none of the dramatic tendencies Taehyung possesses in abundance, so he doesn't like to complain unnecessarily. He'll meditate for a while, getting in that state when he's neither awake nor asleep, and he doesn't need his arm for that.

Jeongguk shuts his eyes and centers himself, focusing on sound, smell, and touch – the quiet breaths and soft snores; the scent of the forest, balsam like a syrup on his tongue; soft skin, warm fingertips against his arm that feel like holding a hot cup of tea between freezing hands.

His shoulders relax, the tense set of his brow smooths out. Jeongguk spends the next few hours letting his body recharge, an ear unconsciously monitoring the pattern of Taehyung's breath.

During the night, their fingers intertwine.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

If you forget me,

I’ll remind you

When you’re far away, 

I’m beside you

Put your hand out, you can heal me

Reach out and touch me, 

can you feel me?

⊱ ❂ ⊰

"...and then the monster swallowed him! Whole!"

The people around them gasp, covering their gaping mouths with their hands. The crowd is listening avidly to the man narrating the story, entranced by his horrified expression.

"Wonderful! Fantastic. Jeongguk tends to be stingy with the details. Please do continue. Tell me more."

The man looks at the bard with dismayed eyes. "More? There is no more to tell. The witcher... is dead."

"Naaah, he's fine" disagrees Taehyung, never lifting his eyes from his furious scribbling. "Now, what did the monster look like? He never lets me near drowners."

The man sighs in pity, thinking that the bard surely is in denial over the death of his friend. Witchers are scary creatures, but that death was horrifying even for their standards. What a horrible way to go.

"I'm sorry, I don't think–"

The door of the inn slams opened, a dark figure dragging himself inside. He's truly fear-inducing: completely covered in dark gunk, he looks more monstrous than the severed body of the drowner he's hauling behind him. The liquid covering him, putrid and smelling awfully, drips to the floor and causes most people to move away as the witcher marches towards the man.

"Drowner's dead. My coins," he grunts at the man who commissioned him. He shakes the corpse in his hand to make his point.

"Jeongguk! You were quick."

Taehyung springs up from his seat with bright enthusiasm, smiling at the dark shadow of Jeongguk like he has never seen something so lovely. The crowd is still gazing at the witcher with dread and Taehyung clears his voice once before intoning his most popular song, the people joining in with cheer soon after.

"Toss a coin to your witcher, oh valley of plenty!"

And they do just that – the man tossing a purse full of coins in Jeongguk's direction, smiling and crooning the song. Jeongguk catches the coins easily and sure, he might be tired of that fucking song being sung every single time he appears, but it does make things easier. People are more willing to pay a witcher if he's the hero of a song, it seems.

Taehyung stands before him, grimacing when he smells the gunk left on his body by the creature. "You smell absolutely awful, my friend. Ma'am, we'll need some bath water!"

As Taehyung drags Jeongguk upstairs, where their room is, the innkeeper nods, screaming at her workers to draw a bath for the Hero of Kotsam, the witcher with eyes like a dragon's.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Taehyung unceremoniously dumps a bucket of water over Jeongguk's head, trying to wash out the drowner's gunk from his hair. It has little effect.

"This god-awful, disgusting stuff just clings to you, doesn't it? You'll need a dozen bars of soap."

"I don't like soap," laments Jeongguk, trying not to swallow any murky water when Taehyung just throws another bucket over his head. It isn't like he doesn't like being clean, quite the contrary. But usually soaps are made with sweet scents, too strong for Jeongguk's senses. It's like having his nose perennially stuck in a basin of perfume.

Taehyung scoffs, leaving Jeongguk's side to go rummage in his bag. "Don't worry, I'll help you scrub that sludge off," he yells from the other side of the room, completely disregarding what Jeongguk just said. He glumly looks down at the filthy water, pondering whether it's worse to smell awfully or to have his nose clogged with saccharine scents. Taehyung will probably choose for him anyway.

The bard kneels by the side of the bathtub again, a bar of soap in hand. Before Jeongguk can try to protest, he starts furiously rubbing it on his shoulders.

"How the hell did you manage to not look like a walking pile of grime before I came along?" he grunts out as he tries to get rid of the stubborn gunk clinging to Jeongguk. From the corner of his eye he can see he has his face scrunched, endearingly pouting like that can scare off the filth. He's so focused that Jeongguk lets a smile slip on his face, genuine and wide.

Taehyung doesn't notice.

"I didn't really care about that to be honest– oh, wait. This soap smells nice."

He's so surprised by the delicate scent of the soap that he misses the triumphant expression on Taehyung's face. But he's fixated on the soap – it smells like vanilla, but just barely. It almost has no scent and Jeongguk has never been so happy to be covered in bubbles.

Washing has always been perfunctory, just a chore more than anything. He doesn't have enough water to do that most of the time, plus the smell of blood and other stuff usually helps him blend in when he needs to hunt some monsters with a fine nose. He usually resigns himself to be disgusting all the time, which he absolutely hated but was necessary.

Since Taehyung joined him, it has been different. The bard would die before smelling like "a corpse dipped in shit" (his words, not Jeongguk's), so they frequently took some detours to either find a body of water that wasn't infested with bloodthirsty beasts or an inn with a bathtub. Jeongguk was forced to join in sometimes, but he rarely stayed long into the water and he never took off his clothes completely.

This time, Taehyung basically tore his shirt off him. Jeongguk relented then, undressing only when Taehyung promised to wait in the opposite corner of the room, his eyes fixed on the wall.

Not that it mattered, since he came back near the bathtub as soon as he heard Jeongguk submerging himself in the water.

"I did a good job, didn't I?" exclaims Taehyung, interrupting Jeongguk's train of thought. It takes him a beat to realize he's talking about the soap. "I found it in the last market we went to, when I went to buy the ink. A poor darling was trying to sell it, but no one likes unscented soap."

He tilts his head so he's in Jeongguk's field of vision, his curls half covering his eyes. He's smiling widely, clearly proud of himself. "Well, no one except you," he adds, going back to scrubbing Jeongguk's back. He reaches for something on the ground and smacks it in Jeongguk's hand. It's another bar of soap and he urges Jeongguk to use it. "There, wash your legs or something. I bought almost a dozen bars, that lovely miss was basically giving them for free at that point."

Jeongguk's gaze is fixed on the bar of soap in his hand. It's a foreign sensation and he's in a trance as he starts running it across his submerged thighs, then on his knees. It's a pleasant feeling and his enthusiasm only rises the longer he spends lathering himself in soap. The foam starts to pile on the surface of the water, creating more and more bubbles.

He doesn't remember the last time he had a real bath like this and he momentarily sets aside the soap bar to gather the foam in his hands. He blows on it, watching the bubbles detach from the white foam to fall back on the water. He giggles, delighted, and scoops up more foam to repeat the process.

The sensation on the soap rubbing his back stills for a second and he turns his head to look at Taehyung. The bard is looking at him with a bewildered expression and Jeongguk frowns, wondering what caused such a reaction.

"What's wrong?" he asks, wondering if maybe Taehyung has been looking at the scars on his back. Jeongguk's body is pretty much ruined because of hastily sewed up wounds and deep cuts that oozed blood for days. It isn't a pretty sight to see, he wouldn't be surprised if Taehyung is repelled by it.

But Taehyung smiles, so wide that his eyes close. His mouth opens in a throaty laugh, and maybe Jeongguk should be worried that he's laughing at him, but he looks too delighted and sincere for that. Taehyung isn't that type of person.

"Ah, nothing. Nothing at all," he chuckles out, blinding Jeongguk with his smile. His eyes are filled with so much tenderness that Jeongguk feels himself leaning towards him, magnetized, but he stops himself when Taehyung nods towards the abandoned soap bar. "Go back to washing yourself, Gguk."

Jeongguk nods, picking up the soap to obey. There's something light and bubbly that is floating in his chest, as if his heart is flying away towards the sky, freer and lighter than a feather.

Satisfied with the level of cleanliness of his limbs, Jeongguk moves to his hair. They are long, covering his eyes completely now that they are wet. He should probably cut them since he has to tie them in a ponytail when he's working or they'll be a nuisance, but his long hair is one of his features he actually likes. He'll indulge himself for a bit longer.

He raises his arms to start scrubbing them with the soap, but Taehyung swats his hands away. "Let me. You have wonderful hair and you maim them daily."

Jeongguk opens his mouth to retort, but he's rendered speechless when Taehyung starts threading his fingers in his hair.

Until now Taehyung wasn't exactly touching him – he scrubbed him down with the bar of soap, his hands not coming in contact with Jeongguk's skin. But after lathering his hair with a satisfying amount of soap, Taehyung dropped it in favor of just using his hands.

Jeongguk freezes up immediately, but Taehyung ignores. He combs his hair back with his fingers, nails lightly scratching his scalp, and then he lathers them with more soap. He goes slowly, as if not to spook him, and when the silence is on the verge of becoming oppressive, he starts humming one of his songs.

He can't move. Jeongguk is still as a statue, limbs locked up and his hands grabbing the edge of the bathtub like he's trying to rip them off. The wood actually creaks ominously with the force of his grip, so he forces himself to peel off his fingers from it, instead gripping his knees.

"Try to relax, hm? You're tenser than my lute's strings."

Easy for him to say. Jeongguk is acutely aware of every twitch and twist of his fingers, how they comb his hair and try to untangle them. Taehyung is careful, never yanking at his hair like Jeongguk himself would do from time to time when his hair tie gets stuck between his raven locks. The humming soothes Jeongguk until he feels his limbs unlocking, until he leans his back on the bathtub. He stretches his legs and relaxes his arms, tilts his head until it's leaning on the edge of the bathtub.

Lying like this, he can watch Taehyung's face. The bard is looking down at him, playing with his wet hair so that the soap can remove all the filth from them, and when he locks gazes with Jeongguk he smiles, pretty and wide, full of gentle affection. His fingers rub at his scalp – near his hairline, on his temples, behind his ears and then lower, massaging the parts of his neck that he's able to reach until Jeongguk feels his eyes close on his own accord.

The sound of Taehyung humming in agreement and then: "there you go. Don't worry, my dear witcher. I'll take care of you."

Jeongguk doesn't like the name "witcher". It has been spit out at him with venom and hatred, because no one cared for his real name, because you don't give a name to a wild beast. But it sounds so sweet in Taehyung's mouth, like a term of endearment. Something like honey, darling, something like "my lovely witcher" and "Gguk", and Jeongguk, eyes closed, wonders how it’s possible for Taehyung to ruin him with a few syllables, just with the sound of his deep, delightful voice in his ear.

Maybe that's what a bard is – a slayer of the mind, cutting down Jeongguk's defenses like they are the paper-thin skin of a creature lurking in the woods. Way more dangerous than a witcher because sewing up a wound is easy, but Jeongguk's heart is cracking open, overflowing, and no matter how desperately he tries to stitch it together, Taehyung keeps worming in.

Taehyung croons a line of some sweet melody and Jeongguk doesn't hear the words, too enthralled by his voice, his hands. His fingers are so gentle, so tender and Jeongguk thinks about him – sweat lining his hairline under the moonlight, curls wet as he jumps and sings, teeth all out every time he smiles.

He cracks his eyes open for a second, looks up at him. There's a mole right under his eye and his gaze gets stuck there, watching with half-lidded eyes and mouth slightly agape as Taehyung blinks, the mole hiding and coming out in the light again.

Taehyung's eyes are deep brown, the color of mahogany and the kind of ground where flowers bloom every season, the color of autumn when every shade is warm and splendid. His eyes are beautiful, but they would be nothing without the fire that burns bright in them, without the curiosity glinting in them. And now they look down at him, gentle like the sun in the morning, crinkling at the edges and so kind.

"Just relax, Gguk. I'm here," he says and Jeongguk feels a wave of affection and devotion slamming down on his chest, filling his lungs until tenderness taints every exhale. He doesn't dare to name what he feels, but he thinks that maybe he knows.

Jeongguk was abandoned when he was 13 years old, dumped in front of the witchers' keep and stripped of every affection from then on. There were no gentle caresses, no tender kisses – the only touch was the wood of the training swords hitting his skin, arms around his limbs to teach him how to strike back and survive.

Taehyung threads his fingers in his hair, tracing gentle paths on his scalp. Hands in his hair not to yank and tear, not to fight and hurt, just to help him, take care of him.

Jeongguk's eyes close again and they burn, his throat burns, his eyebrows scrunching together and his mouth twisted as water slips from his closed lids. He thinks there's a sob waiting to escape from his chest but he restrains it, gritting his teeth and his breath coming out in shudders.

He feels Taehyung coming closer in response until he's close enough for Jeongguk to hear the slow, rhythmic thud of his heart. He listens to it, letting his breath follow the same pattern until he feels like he's not bursting at the seams anymore.

Eyes still closed and barely aware of his own body, he thinks he mouths a "thank you", head still tilted towards Taehyung. And he thinks he can feel a gentle pressure on his forehead, petal lips near his eyebrow, but maybe it's just his imagination.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

I know you could cut me

and let me bleed

Let it drip onto your feet

Don't worry, I'm not afraid

I know

I fell in love with a sword,

gave my heart to a blade

⊱ ❂ ⊰

There is something in the forest.

Something dangerous, with eyes hunting for blood and fingers ready to claw and maim. Mouths, screaming and crying.

And limbs, claws, hands holding him down. Is this a nightmare or a memory? Is he human or monster? He doesn't know.

But they know. They scream “monster” and “kill it”, and are they right? Is it true?

He looks down at his hands and it should be too dark to see but they are red and wet and the smell is metallic and familiar.

There is a name then, screamed in the night, but he can't discern what it sounds like.

Jeongguk is woken up by a sharp sound and he immediately knows that it's Taehyung rolling around in his sleep.

His own dream is quickly forgotten as he rises from his bedroll and walks towards his travel companion, used to his restless sleep by now. Taehyung sleeps like a log most nights, but every now and then he trashes so hard in his sleep that he wakes Jeongguk up. Not that it takes a lot, he's a light sleeper.

After the first time, he took the habit of waking up Taehyung when it happened. As revenge for disturbing his sleep, of course.

This time Taehyung isn't moving too much, just his leg kicking out as his arms stay wrapped around himself. He looks tiny like this, all curled up and silent except for a muffled whimper that escapes his petal-pink lips, and it's strange, disquieting. Taehyung is always so vast and loud, like a bird that puffs out his chest to attract all attention. Curling up and whimpering doesn't suit him.

Jeongguk takes a hold of his shoulder and shakes him energetically, not to be mean but because Taehyung doesn't wake up easily. And sure enough it takes him a few tries before Taehyung stills and blearily opens his eyes.

Most of the times, Taehyung is confused upon waking up, the dreams fleeting from his mind as soon as his eyes open. On one side it's a good thing, nightmares are never nice to remember. But on the other side, Jeongguk wishes he could ask him what plagues him – are they memories or something created by his mind? Are they about the monsters that Jeongguk slays and that he sees from time to time, more up close than anyone should?

(Because Jeongguk has a hard time remembering his dreams too, but he thinks he dreamed of that. There is a part of him that knows for certain that the image of Taehyung, wounded and pale, plagues his worst nightmare. And worse, it plagues his daydreaming, too.)

But Taehyung can't answer. He said so himself to Jeongguk once, complaining about the fact that it doesn't feel like he has bad dreams at all if not for that split seconds he wakes up from them, heart thundering and hands clammy. He doesn't know what kind of monster inhabits his dreams or if he knows, he pretends that he doesn't.

Jeongguk wonders if Taehyung is clueless, or if he's just trying to forget something his mind doesn't let go of.

"Woke you up again?"

Taehyung mutters it with eyes still half closed, voice raspy from sleep. He always looks so soft after waking up – hair rumpled, eyes and cheeks puffy, voice throaty and whispering. Jeongguk looks at him as he grunts out a "yes", bewitched by the sight of Taehyung baring his neck as he stretches. So vulnerable, so tender, and his implicit trust tastes so sweet.

The bard mumbles something else under his breath and Jeongguk sits down more comfortably, legs crossed and leaning his weight on his arms, stretched behind him. The nights where he's startled awake frequently end up with them talking and then resting, bodies close, and it's so surreal. In the light of the day Jeongguk would never consider brushing his hand against Taehyung's shoulder, brushing his matted hair away from his forehead. But in the night, the moon and the stars their only witnesses, it feels almost natural to do so and he basks in the way Taehyung tilts his head to follow his touch.

Brown eyes blink open again, now more awake. His expression is still sleepy but Jeongguk can tell this is one of the nights when he won't fall back asleep immediately, the adrenaline from his dream keeping him up for a while. And Jeongguk's heart beats a fraction faster, because in nights like this Taehyung is more touchy, seeking affection, and Jeongguk used to hate touch but now he anticipates the way Taehyung holds his wrist, snuggles up to him.

This time, Taehyung plops his head on Jeongguk's lap, big eyes looking up at him. He squirms and wiggles until he's lying on his thigh, face squashed in Jeongguk's belly, seeking his heat like a cat getting ready to take a nap.

Jeongguk feels warmth bloom in his heart and his mind goes to the time Taehyung washed his hair, how gentle and comforting that had been. How immensely loved he had felt with such a simple act. How the shadow of lips against his forehead had felt like salvation.

He doesn't hesitate to thread his fingers through Taehyung's curls, trying to untangle the capricious locks. Taehyung makes a pleased sound, leaning in the touch and smiling contently.

He blinks his eyes up at Jeongguk, yawns and then petulantly asks, "can you tell me a story? So I'll fall asleep."

He looks so innocent and small, the request so infantile, that Jeongguk can't help but let out an amused snort. "You are like a kid," he says, voice carrying a hint of laugh in it.

Taehyung raises his eyebrows. "Loud and annoying?"

"I'm glad you're self-aware."

That gets him a slap to his chest, so light that he barely feels it. Taehyung doesn't consider that punishment enough and so he swats at Jeongguk's face with his hand, making him sway left and right to evade his attacks.

The witcher grunts at him to stop, but now he's set on annoying him so he keeps trying to reach for his face. Jeongguk huffs out a laugh, taking Taehyung's hand in his own so that the bard can't slap him. Taehyung chuckles then, lets his arm go limp until Jeongguk's is supporting the weight of it alone.

He keeps his hold on his hand, barely restraining from intertwining their fingers together.

Taehyung's laugh quiets down and as he looks at him, Jeongguk is struck by the need to explain why he finds his childishness so endearing, so precious.

"What I meant," he starts, catching his attention, "is that you have this childlike curiosity. It's..." he wants to say cute, but he stops before he can. He mulls over the word to find a synonym that makes him sound less smitten, but he fails and so he leaves the sentence hanging, mouth set in a line and cheeks pink.

Taehyung looks up at him with a frown. "It's what? Boring? Irritating? Absolutely lovely?"

Jeongguk scoffs, disbelieving. "You've never heard about 'the truth stays in the middle', have you?"

"Never. Being moderate is dull and platitudinous."

Why does he always have to speak like they are rewarding him for every pretentious, fancy- sounding word he manages to throw in a sentence? Taehyung's speech is so elaborate and roundabout that it's ridiculous at times. Jeongguk glares at him in reflex.

"... Platitudinous means banal, by the way."

"I know what platitudinous means."

"Oh wow, I've never heard you say a word with so many syllables before."

"I know what words mean, Taehyung."

"Never said you didn't."

Jeongguk is on the verge of retorting but it takes him a single glance at Taehyung's barely repressed smile to see that the bard is simply baiting him, eyes glinting with mischief.

"This is what I was talking about. A child."

Taehyung chuckles, high and unabashed. He smiles a lot, almost all the time, but this kind of chuckle is more rare, reserved for quiet moments when he can't keep his amusement for himself. Jeongguk likes hearing him laughing like this. He likes it a lot.

"You seem like the type of person to be wary of children," comments Taehyung with his usual nonchalance. He says most things like an afterthought, blabbering what's on his mind as if he can't stop his tongue from voicing his thoughts, and it wouldn't be unsettling if his guesses weren't so spot-on.

Jeongguk tears his eyes away from him to look at the night sky. "I like children," he murmurs, low enough not to be heard. His mind goes back to a memory in the past – soft little hands, a gentle and high-pitched voice. The things that happened after, the fire and the blood.

"Where's Hyeongjun?"

But that's in the past, dead and gone. The problem is, Jeongguk has always struggled with letting go and forgetting.

"I never said you didn't like children," comes Taehyung's voice and Jeongguk shouldn't be surprised about him having heard him because the bard is always listening, always attentive, and yet Jeongguk never stops feeling startled when he does. "I just feel like they scare you someway," he continues, casually spewing out truths about Jeongguk’s hidden feelings, "because they are straightforward, you know? Blunt and honest. Hard to handle."

"You look lonely."

"They are," he agrees, keeping his gaze on the stars. Tonight the moon is just a sliver in the dark mantle of the night, the stars more bright since she isn't stealing the spotlight.

"I think you would be good with children, though."

"Me?"

"Yes. You're kind, you always help other people. They would love you."

Jeongguk doesn't know what to reply and so he says what's on his mind, too. "I think you would be good with children too."

There is a glint in Taehyung's eyes then, a tremble in his voice, and Jeongguk wonders if Taehyung has little siblings somewhere, maybe in a place he can't go back to no more. His face isn't distressed or sad - just melancholic, tinted with something lonely. 

"Yeah. I think I would be."

⊱ ❂ ⊰

There is a town near the east border, a small city of rice farmers. Big enough to be a bit more than a village, but not enough to be considered a real city.

Its name is Riveile.

Jeongguk was 15 when he was done with witcher training, and he was 17 when he stepped foot in Riveile, already toughened up and unwilling to deal with humans more than necessary. Humans, greedy and rotten. Witchers may be monsters because of their mutation, but humans are worse.

Jeongguk arrived in Riveile like he arrived in every other city: with disgusted gazes eyeing him  warily, with distrust and fear hanging off him like a cape. He was tall enough, muscular enough and unnatural enough to hide his young age. No one cared anyway.

Walking the muddy streets of Riveile wasn't a novel experience – after a while all the cities and towns and villages started to blend together, because it was always the same old story. Slay monsters, get the payment. Ride to another city, do it all again.

It was like that in Riveile too. Adults gave dangerous jobs to him, because he had sharp swords strapped to the side and eyes that betrayed he was human no more. He took the jobs, like he always did, because that was going to be his life until he died.

And then Hyeongjun started following him around.

Barely 10 years old, with pudgy cheeks and a lame leg, Hyeongjun had no fear of him. He had wide eyes that glinted with curiosity and he had accosted him one day, starting off with a simple:

"Are you the monster boy? You look lonely."

Jeongguk had looked at him, grunted and then he went his way, forgetting about the child the moment he was out of his sight. He had to hunt and kill and so he did, coming back to the town dripping with black blood and the head of a creature thrown in a bag.

Hyeongjun was waiting for him when he came back.

"You look lonely," he repeated, his lame leg dragging behind him, and Jeongguk didn't know how to say 'you're right' without sounding pathetic, so he kept quiet.

It went on like that for a while. Hyeongjun was lively, always talking and eager to play like every 10 year old boy. Well, like every 10 year old boy who wasn't raised in a witchers' keep.

"Why do you have two swords?" he asked once, touching the handles of Jeongguk's blades. He was the only person who had ever touched his swords, because he was the only one to come near.

"One is silver, for evil magic monsters. One is steel, for normal creatures," he explained, finding himself willing to share his witcher's knowledge as long as Hyeongjun was willing to listen. The child nodded, solemn and serious, and Jeongguk smiled down at him.

Riveile was near a forest plagued with beasts to slay, so Jeongguk stayed there for a long time. He didn't have anywhere else to go anyway and the innkeeper was even starting to be gentler with him, maybe because she had a 16 years old daughter with hair the same black as Jeongguk.

His life was tiring and grueling, but at least he had a bed to sleep on and a little friend in Hyeongjun.

And then, people started disappearing.

There was a sorcerer in Riveile with a taste for experiments. He was trying to create some kind of powerful creature, a hellhound made to serve him and obey his every command so that he would be feared by other sorcerers, so that his power and talent would be acknowledged. To create life is the biggest power of them all, after all.

And he did. He created life. But he had no control of it.

The hellhound was powerful and dangerous, with eyes burning crimson and teeth sharp like blades. And most of all, it was hungry.

It started taking people – young men the sorcerer sent to retrieve it at first, then whoever got close enough to the cave the hellhound declared its home. Every night, at least one person was taken. And the sorcerer refused to admit his mistake, so he forbade everyone from telling the witcher in town that there was a new monster to hunt. No, he decided he was going to deal with it on his own. He just needed something to bait the hellhound in his trap and then it would be under his control again, his little pet, his wonderful experiment.

He asked the town for a sacrifice, someone they could throw away with no regrets.

And the townsfolk thought, who would miss a child with a useless leg, destined to drag himself around with crutches forever?

Jeongguk ran as fast as he could, ran until his legs went numb. He found men trying to stop him, the townsfolk blocking his way.

"Where is Hyeongjun?" he asked, face heartbroken.

The townsfolk was silent, looking at him with empty, cold eyes.

The hellhound was hungry, always hungry. And Hyeongjun couldn't run.

There was nothing left.

Jeongguk saw the blood, drenching the earth and tinting it red. He stood there, eyes wide and unseeing, looking at scarlet stains on the ground and trying to stop the smell of blood from reaching his nose.

Humans: greedy and rotten and cruel. Silver was for evil magic monsters, steel for normal creatures.

Jeongguk looked back at them, at their dead eyes and their lack of regret. He thought about Hyeongjun and his missing tooth, the gap in his smile, and then he thought about the ease with which the people of Riveile had taken him to his death.

Jeongguk unsheathed his sword. The silver one. 

The next day, Riveile was empty.

And so the Black Shadow, the Murderer of Riveile, was born.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

And as the world comes to an end

I'll be here to hold your hand

'Cause you're my king 

and I'm your lionheart

⊱ ❂ ⊰

"The most refined cottons! The most beautiful silks! Come and let your eyes feast on these rarities, if you wear these you'll be the talk of the town!"

The market is lively and full of color, immediately putting Taehyung in a good mood. There's the fresh smell of fruits in the air and the mix of different voices trying to sell their products, loud but somehow pleasant, bursting with energy.

A great contrast to the figure of Jeongguk beside him, dark as the night and silent as a wolf awaiting its prey.

"Look Gguk!" he says, tugging the witcher towards a stand selling wooden figures. The nickname slips easily from his lips, sweet like the sugar-coated almonds he can smell in the air. Jeongguk never showed any disdain for it, so Taehyung indulges himself and uses it whenever he feels like it – which turns out to be quite often, the sight of Jeongguk's pink ears too delectable and heady to resist.

Taehyung points to the little wooden statue that caught his eye. "It looks like you!" he smiles at him excitedly, so full of energy that he starts jumping up and down.

Jeongguk looks at it with a deadpan expression. "That's a rabbit," he grunts out, eyebrows low on his forehead and looking more and more unimpressed by the second.

It is a rabbit – a cute one, depicted while standing on his hind legs, with ears standing up to attention and cute round cheeks. It's so adorably lovable that Taehyung squeaks as he takes it in his hands, while Jeongguk glares at it and scoffs.

"That does not look like me."

"It absolutely does," remarks Taehyung without missing a beat. "Look at these big round eyes, and this scrunchy nose! And these adorable cheekies! It has to be modeled after you, my lovely witcher. Never seen a more accurate depiction."

If a simple gaze could set things on fire, the bunny would be a pile of ashes. Jeongguk glares at him with such force that the seller visibly gulps and starts arranging his products so that the other rabbits are far from the witcher and his bubbly companion.

Taehyung is not deterred in the least. He holds the adorable statuette in front of his face, smiling so widely that his eyes are twin crescents. "It has your eyeees," he singsongs, waving the rabbit in front of Jeongguk.

Jeongguk glares even hard. "It does not," he hisses crossing his arms.

"You can't deny the evidence. You even scrunch your nose like a bunny when you're annoyed."

"That is a filthy lie," he replies, annoyed, scrunching his nose like a little rabbit. Taehyung coos in response and he has to restrain himself from pinching his cheeks. Now that Jeongguk is more comfortable with him, he shows his emotions more and Taehyung is enamored by the variety of expressions he conveys when he isn't busy grunting like a caveman.

"That's it. I'm buying this." He calls for the seller, who's as far away from them as he can without abandoning his stand, but Jeongguk puts a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head.

"Don't waste your money on it," he scolds, remembering the time they talked about Taehyung's clothes. Didn't he tell him that he doesn't actually have a lot of money? Spending them on a stupid rabbit statuette feels extremely dumb and unnecessary.

Taehyung simply rolls his eyes. "It is not a waste of money!" he declares, loudly, cheeks puffing in an angry pout. "You're gonna keep it with you so you can think about me when you look at it."

Oh, thinks Jeongguk, his gaze naturally falling to the ground. He doesn't quite know how to reply, nervously playing with his fingers as Taehyung yells at the seller and asks how much it is for the little bunny that apparently looks like him.

Jeongguk doesn't know how to tell him that he doesn't need any reminder to think about him. That the image of his hands on the lute, his soft gaze at night, his mouth open in a laugh – they are all branded on his eyelids and coming to him at the strangest of times, appearing before his eyes every time he blinks.

But he has never been good with words, never needed them, and so his cheeks turn pink but he doesn't say anything.

Taehyung comes back to him with his usual wide smile, the statuette standing proudly in his open palm. "I almost got it for free, you grumpy witcher," he announces with a flourish, his grin sharp and boastful. He thrusts the bunny in his hands and then he skips away, his gaze inevitably drawn to anything colorful or pretty.

Taehyung's mood is soaring high for some reason – maybe because he gets to see Jeongguk blushing and as he looks back he notices the witcher gazing at the little rabbit in his hand, something similar to a smile curving his lips.

He remembers hearing his laugh for the first time as he played with bubbles, so innocent and young that he wondered for the first time how old he is. Witchers live for a ridiculous long time, don't they? But Jeongguk still looks so young, plagued by something dark but also incredibly innocent. Just a child that had to build a wall around himself because it was the only way he could survive.

But he doesn't have to hide anything from Taehyung, doesn't have to bury his feelings and his weaknesses. Taehyung will treasure them, if Jeongguk ever entrusts them to him.

There's a stand selling jewelry and the bard goes in that direction, knowing that he won't buy anything anyway. His ears are pierced and he has a collection of earrings, but they are mostly gifts from nobles and merchants that want to thank him for his songs, maybe hoping he'll sing about them in the future. A lot of people have the impression that he's easily impressed by glinting gems and fancy clothes, that he is so enamored by riches that he'll make his voice hoarse praising whoever gifted them.

Maybe he should stop singing about topazes, jades and emeralds when he's thinking about gentle eyes the color of grass. People don't understand metaphors, apparently. They think he's in love with gems, green stones.

But the green he seeks is much more precious.

A sweet smell distracts him from his musing and he turns away from the jewels on display. He goes from stand to stand with a bounce in his steps, energy bubbling over and dripping from every pore. He bumps into a few people in the way, excusing himself but not losing his smile. If anything, it gets wider as he looks at the sweets displayed before him.

"Gguk! Come here, they have candied orange slices! Oh, they have them covered with chocolate too..."

He runs to the witcher to drag him towards the candied treats, the people around him glaring when he enthusiastically bumps into them. Jeongguk puts a hand on the curve of his waist to tug him closer so he doesn't annoy more people, the touch so feather-light he almost doesn't feel it, and Taehyung's cheeks bloom like red roses.

Jeongguk is more casual in his touches now, careful but less hesitant. It makes Taehyung stutter and blush, and he hopes the witcher never realizes how much power he actually has over him. Even if the way he raises an eyebrow at him sometimes reminds Taehyung that his hearing is good enough to pick up the quickening of his heartbeat.

"You like those?" he asks, voice gravelly and genuinely curious. Taehyung likes when it's Jeongguk asking him things, it makes him smile like a fool when it happens.

He nods, eyeing the chocolate-covered oranges with eager eyes. "They've always been my favorite, even when I was little. My mom used to love them, too."

The mention of his family makes his voice shake the slightest bit. It has been years and still he can't think about them without sorrow engulfing his heart. He doesn't think he will ever get over it.

Jeongguk either doesn't notice or chooses to not investigate any further. Instead, he reaches for his purse and takes out some coins. "A bag of those chocolate oranges, please," he says, gruff but gentle. Taehyung lets his mouth fall open at the amount of coins in his palm.

"I don't need an entire bag of them!" he stutters, cheeks blazing red. "You just told me not to waste my money!"

"I'm not wasting them," retorts Jeongguk, voice surprisingly level, "and I never said that the candies are for you. I've never tried them."

Taehyung falls silent at that. Well, he can't stop Jeongguk from buying himself some treat, can he? And can't complain, especially since he gets to taste his favorite candied food again by stealing some pieces from him. The vendor hesitantly hands them a bag full of delicious chocolate-covered orange slices, and Taehyung doesn't wait a second before he sticks his hand into the bag.

It's just as delicious as he remembers – the sweetness of the candied orange, the slightly bitter taste of the dark chocolate. He closes his eyes and moans at the taste, a few people turning his head towards him with owlish eyes.

Jeongguk is holding the bag with both hands and he seems happy to watch him eat, despite his earlier claim. But he said the candies were for him, so Taehyung is not gonna let it go.

"Try it," he urges, taking out an orange slice and holding it in front of Jeongguk's mouth. The witcher hesitates, his nose twitching as if he's sniffing it, but he obediently opens his mouth to chew the treat.

Taehyung watches him as he eats, cheeks puffed and lips in a pout, and he thinks that yes, buying the bunny for him was absolutely the right choice. He looks just like one, eyes wide and glinting even if a different color. Even his teeth are rabbit-like, in the cutest way possible.

The witcher munches the sweet and his eyes light up, scrunching at the corners in a way that's just too endearing for Taehyung to handle. He giggles at the look of wonder in Jeongguk's face and he doesn't wait for him to open his mouth again to hold another slice up to him. He doesn't hesitate this time, diving for the sweet treat so voraciously that his lips touch Taehyung's fingers. The bard laughs out loud as he takes a slice for himself, humming happily as he eats it.

The bag held in Jeongguk's hands serves as an excuse for Taehyung to loop his arm around the witcher's one, gluing himself to his side to keep eating. Jeongguk makes no sign of being irked by his clinging, so he just keeps hanging from his arm.

The lack of protesting actually spurs him on, making him bolder in his affection. "Come on. Feed me. Aaaah," he encourages, opening his mouth and waiting patiently. Jeongguk huffs, sounding more amused than annoyed, and indulges him, feeding him a slice that Taehyung chews on happily.

They explore the market like that, drawing some gazes and ignoring all of them, stuck in their own world. At some point Jeongguk leaves him the bag and disappears, claiming to have an errand to run alone. Taehyung doesn't question it, simply waits for him near the inn they are staying in.

It takes Jeongguk a while. An hour or so, judging from the way the sun is dipping behind the horizon. When he comes back his cheeks are blazing red – whether from the running back to him or from something else, he doesn't know. He mumbles some apologies under his breath, but Taehyung dismisses them with a wave of his hand.

"I kept some for you," he announces, offering him the almost empty bag of orange slices with a boxy grin. Jeongguk takes it with a huff and a roll of his eyes.

He eats them anyway and when his hands are completely free, Taehyung only hesitates for a moment before gripping one of his hands with his own. He intertwines his fingers as a blush appears on his cheeks, praying with all his might that Jeongguk won't just shake him off. Jeongguk has such pretty hands, strong and warm, so safe when they comb through Taehyung's hair as he wakes up from a nightmare he doesn't remember. Taehyung would gladly spend the rest of his life with their palms touching, their thumbs brushing against each other.

Jeongguk squeezes his hand, and doesn't let it go.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Jade green, you mean so much to me

For all eternity

I've been in captivity

Then you called me

Captivated by your blinding light

I will find you, my dear

Wherever you may be

⊱ ❂ ⊰

There's the forest, the night and the blood, like always. Hunting him, swallowing him.

He's running with legs, running with paws hitting the ground. Paws and claws and feet and fingers, all drenched in blood, slippery and terrible.

Fire. Blades. Arrows, near his head. Aiming to kill, to crush his spine and rip away his skin, he's so scared, he doesn't want this, it's not his fault.

Pain tearing at him – somewhere, anywhere. And he screams and cries and howls and growls like a beast, like a monster.

And then, someone calls his name.

"Taehyung!"

Taehyung wakes up with a start and he still feels someone trying to crush his ribs, still hears the sound of arrows whizzing around him. His hands are slick with blood and his eyes are too glossy with unshed tears to really see anything, but there is darkness and the shape of someone over him, trying to kill him.

"Taehyung."

It's a whisper, but he hears it loud and clear. He stops struggling then, heart still hurling itself against his ribs like it's trying to break them from the inside but his limbs frozen, eyes unseeing.

He blinks, tears overflowing and tracing moonlight streaks on his cheeks, over his temples. His vision clears.

Jeongguk's pale green eyes are the first thing he sees. They glow like twin moons upon him and Taehyung is immediately bewitched, his mind wiped out of any thought until it's all green, all dazzling bright and magical.

"Taehyung," says Jeongguk again, voice low and raspy but tender, feather-light and lovely. He loosen his grip on Taehyung's arms, held down on his sides, and a part of him feels better but another protests, clinging to anything, anyone at all.

Don't leave me alone. Don't go. I've been alone so long.

Taehyung scrambles to get a hold on Jeongguk, fingers pathetically dragging on the leather he wears as armor. He claws and paws at it, trying to dig inside and find something human, someone human, someone to hold him.

He hears sobs and pitiful wails and he realizes it's himself letting them out only after a few beats. His brain is giving him a thousand inputs at once - run away, find a hiding place, bite and scratch, fight. But most of all, triumphing over anything, the need to make sure he isn't alone, that the night might be dark but there is nothing out there to hurt him.

He hooks his fingers on the strap of the leather armor above him and he pulls, yanking it towards him with all the strength he has left in his trembling arms. The body is solid above him but he tugs and sobs and it relents, lowering so it's pressed to him, blanketing him.

It should be suffocating but he only feels relief. No part of him is exposed to the dark, evil night. Every inch of his body is covered, protected. He squeezes his eyes shut.

There's a memory then - not of an image, but of a feeling. The coldness of tiles under his back, his damp skin, an arm holding him against a chest. Soothing words, murmured right in his ear like the sweetest of songs.

He doesn't remember anything else. Just being scared, and cold.

He tries to make himself smaller, sliding down so he can bury his face in the body holding him close. His mind is still disconnected, the pressing need to be hidden and covered the only thing relevant.

There's someone calling his name. Not screaming, but whispering softly, asking him questions he doesn't register. A hand then, touching his arm. First barely grazing it with fingertips, then with a whole palm warm on his bicep.

The voice is telling him something, but he can't listen. "Please, 'm scared," he weeps. He doesn't know what he wants. He's just scared.

Suddenly it gets darker and Taehyung startles, eyes opening wide. There is a blanket covering them both, like a tent, like a shield. It makes his breath slow down, his heart pit-patting less frantically. His senses adjust, his mind settles.

This time he looks at Jeongguk's eyes and he fully realizes it's him instead of just registering his presence and dismissing it immediately. The witcher has lifted himself up, one of his hands by Taehyung's head and the other still caressing his arm, trying to bring him back. Taehyung's blanket is draped over them, resting on Jeongguk's shoulders like the cape of a knight. No one can enter their little sanctuary.

"Breathe, just breathe," he whispers, his voice steady but frail, as if it would take the smallest thing for it to break. As if he's just as scared as Taehyung is.

Taehyung nods but his breath comes still erratic, too quick for him to calm down. The fear for the dream, of the night around him, still fills him up, drips from his eyes in salty tears. He feels like he's crumbling to pieces, collapsing, barely held together by the hand on his arm, the warmth around him.

A sob makes his way through his chest, spilling out of his mouth. "Hold me, please," he pleads, needing something to ground him, needing Jeongguk closer. Closer and closer, until their skin touch and their breaths mingle together, until he can hide inside Jeongguk's chest, slither between his ribs and stay where his heart is.

He hears and feels Jeongguk moving further away and he panics, hands clawing at him desperately, but he's simply removing his leather armor, leaving only his thin black shirt between Taehyung's hands and his skin.

Jeongguk uses a hand to brush away the hair from his forehead, their gazes meeting and clashing together. Twin green orbs like benevolent creatures, sharp and dangerous but beautiful, stunning. And they feel so protective now – like a snake wrapping itself around its eggs, hissing at whoever dares come near. Jeongguk's hand doesn't stop moving through his hair, combing it with gentle fingers, and Taehyung feels like he can breathe a little easier.

But Jeongguk still has worry on his face. How does Taehyung look, for him to be this open with his emotions, displaying them in his big eyes for everyone to see? He must look like a wreck. He would laugh, if he didn't still hear the sounds of arrows flying near his head, aimed to kill.

"Closer," he breathes out, daring to be greedy. He wonders if Jeongguk understands his broken whispers. If he'll indulge him.

He does. Jeongguk lowers himself so their bodies are connected, touching everywhere. He buries his head in the curve of Taehyung's neck, nose tickling his skin, and makes a sound like he has been granted the sky, stars wrapped for him and scattered on Taehyung's skin. Taehyung immediately wraps his arms around him, his heart expanding and filling with warmth so tender it brings tears to his eyes.

There are lips on his neck, not kissing but just brushing against sweaty skin, the gentlest of pressure. Butterfly touches to the base of his neck, under his ear and then on his cheek, where his mole is. The pressure disappears one second just to return a second time, this time feeling more like a proper kiss, and it isn't sexual, it isn't heated and passionate. It's intimate, yes, but only because Jeongguk does it so slowly, so carefully, that it feels like he's pouring affection straight into Taehyung's heart.

Taehyung had kissed Jeongguk's forehead during that bath, to comfort and soothe. And Jeongguk does the same – his lips a bit clumsy but so genuine, and Taehyung is flying through petal-rose skies, away from dark nights and terrible forests.

Jeongguk leans his forehead against his temple, rubbing their cheeks together like he's a puppy, and Taehyung laughs, airy and wet, crystal clear and full of love.

They stay like that, intertwined like woven threads, and sleep comes to them, easy and sweet.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Feels like a river's rushing through my mind

I wanna ask you if this is all just in my head

My heart is pounding tonight, I wonder

If you are too good to be true

And would it be alright if I

Pulled you closer

⊱ ❂ ⊰

"I have something for you."

Taehyung immediately whips his head to the side where Jeongguk is sitting on the floor, sheathing his sword after sharpening it. He has his gaze lowered to the ground, which in Jeongguk's Language means he's embarrassed about something. Taehyung's eyes are immediately drawn to his ears and yes, red and cute. Jeongguk is so shy, it's the most adorable thing ever.

And apparently Jeongguk got him something. It makes a pleasant feeling bubble in his stomach and he can't stop a blinding grin from taking over his face.

"That's great! Give me." He extends his hands, palms outstretched and ready to hold whatever Jeongguk has for him. 

Taehyung likes gifts. He likes the materialist side of it, just receiving something meant for him; but he likes even more the idea behind them – a person having him in mind, seeing an object he might like or need and giving it to him.

He wonders what Jeongguk got for him. A weapon? He's always grumbling that Taehyung isn't his responsibility, that he should learn how to defend himself. Or maybe some candies? By now, Jeongguk knows he likes sweets. Maybe he got him a treat.

Jeongguk fiddles with his fingers for a while, biting the inside of his cheek. His hand jerks towards his bag, but he hesitates.

Taehyung is too impatient to wait.

He grabs the bag's strap, dragging it towards him to rummage through it and hopefully find his present. He's stopped when Jeongguk yanks his bag back, tearing it away from Taehyung's grip with a growl.

"You're such an impatient brat."

Taehyung rolls his eyes. "You were taking forever. Now I'm curious, let me see!"

Jeongguk tries to glare at him, but it's immensely ineffective with his pink, puffed cheeks. Seeing him so worked up is a gift itself, honestly, and Taehyung doesn't even care about the present anymore if he can see Jeongguk tripping over his words, determined but painfully shy at once.

In the end, he seems to get over his embarrassment as he opens his bag, carefully looking for whatever he bought for Taehyung. He takes his time, probably to delay the actual gift-giving for as long as possible, but Taehyung doesn't pressure him. It's too fun watching him so flustered, so he doesn't mind waiting.

But Jeongguk can't pretend to search in his bag forever and so with a deep inhale, he thrusts something towards Taehyung, eyes closed and face blazing crimson.

Taehyung tilts his head, confused. Definitely not a weapon, not sweets either. It looks like... fabric?

He takes it from his hand, holding it gently. The fabric is soft, but it doesn't look like a scarf. It's bigger, but not a blanket either.

Taehyung unfolds. Oh. Did Jeongguk buy him clothes?

It seems so. He's holding up a doublet, deep green with black decoration. It's tasteful, not gaudy or flashy as his usual wear, and Taehyung smirks when he sees a pair of pants with the same pattern and an undershirt too, simple and black.

The doublet is more in the style of the witcher than his own. It doesn't have whalebone sewn into it to keep his back straight, his waist slimmer. It doesn't have pearls and gems, it isn't stiff, it isn't suffocating. It's beautiful, but not in the way that draws everyone's attention, and most of all it's soft, comfortable.

He doesn't know what to say. He didn't expect a gift like this, not from Jeongguk, and he's hit at once by the thoughtfulness and the care clearly put into it.

"This– I'm– it's wonderful, Jeongguk. I love the color," he stammers, uncharacteristically speechless. He doesn't quite get why Jeongguk would give him such a precious gift – the stitching and the fabric is high-class, he can tell, so it must have cost him a small fortune.

Jeongguk is keeping his gaze away from Taehyung's, face red and brows furrowed together. "I know it isn't what you usually wear," he starts explaining, fiddling with the strap of his bag, "but I thought– well, you need comfortable clothes travelling with– uh, travelling. In general."

Taehyung quirks an eyebrow. "Do you think my usual clothes are inappropriate?"

"They are uncomfortable," is the reply, strangely firm considering how flustered he sounded just a second ago. But now his eyes are steely, determined, and Taehyung's heart skips a beat. "They are too stiff, especially the ones that look like corsets. I know it's because you don't choose them, but you should have something different to wear when you're not, you know. Performing at court."

Jeongguk gets closer then, crawling on all fours towards him and plopping on his side. His face is serious but he gets enthusiastic as he speaks and Taehyung is enthralled by his fervor.

"This is the softest thing they had– I know because I checked. And it's good for this season too, it'll keep you warm when nights get chillier. You see the double stitching? It's so it doesn't rip as easily," he demonstrates by taking the cloth from Taehyung's hands and stretching it with a jerk of his arms. Taehyung gasps in protest, reaching for the doublet – he doesn't want to see it ruined just as he got it. But Jeongguk is right – it's sturdy, perfectly fine even after getting manhandled.

Getting clothes as gifts isn't a strange concept for Taehyung. The figure of the bard is a strange one – part of noble courts as much as seedy inns, their appearance is just as important as their music. They offer a show, after all. Rich people gain a strange satisfaction from seeing bards as their little puppets, dolls to dress up and have power over. 

Rich people tend to be weirdos. Taehyung got used to it.

So getting clothes from someone else isn't terribly novel, but the way Jeongguk clearly put so much thought into it really is. These are clothes bought entirely thinking about Taehyung's comfort and it makes something soft bloom in his heart, warm and soothing. He can picture Jeongguk taking every piece of clothing in his hand, rubbing his thumb on the fabric and using his supernatural senses to determine which one is the softest, less likely to hurt Taehyung's skin. Taking his time, debating which style would be closer to Taehyung's.

"And I liked the color too."

Taehyung lifts his head from the cloth to look at Jeongguk. He's looking at him with sweet, soft green eyes, the color not so different from the fabric held in his hand. He wonders if it's a coincidence, or if maybe Jeongguk likes to see the same color, when he looks in a mirror and when he lays his eyes on Taehyung.

Taehyung smiles. "I like this color too."

And Taehyung said it because it's true – green is so pretty to him now, his gaze always drawn to the grass and the trees and the lovely emerald behind Jeongguk's eyelids. But Jeongguk smiles when he hears that, wide and unrestrained, and Taehyung thinks that he could say it ten times more if this is the result.

There's an uncontrollable energy coursing through his veins and with red cheeks and heart light as a feather he starts unbuttoning his clothes, hands clumsy in his excitement.

"What– what are you doing?"

Taehyung frowns, lifting his head from the stupidly stubborn laces holding part of his doublet. "I'm undressing. Obviously."

Jeongguk squeaks. "Why?"

"Because I'm trying it on! I need to see if it fits."

"It does," replies Jeongguk, so quick it's almost scary. "Plus it stayed in my bag for weeks. You can't wear it now."

Taehyung tilts his head and narrows his eyes. He has become adept at understanding Jeongguk's terse sentences, but the witcher still poses an enigma every now and then. Like now.

His bewilderment must be apparent, because Jeongguk elaborates. "The clothes smell like me now," he admits with red cheeks, "so you have to wash them before putting them on."

Taehyung blinks. "Does it bother you if I smell like you?"

"Uh. No? But–"

"No problems then!"

Jeongguk squeals again as Taehyung keeps undressing, but the bard is deaf to his protests now. He thinks he sees him covering his eyes with his palms as Taehyung takes off his doublet and then his undershirt, just to replace them with the clothes Jeongguk bought for him.

They feel wonderful on his skin. The black undershirt is as soft as a cloud and the doublet is just as pleasant, cozy and snug. He stands up to see himself in the mirror hanging on the wall and as he twirls with a giggle escaping his mouth, he promises himself to never get a tear or a hole in it. This might be the best thing he has ever got in his life.

"These look fantastic Gguk," he says, not moving his eyes from the mirror for a single second. The sight of green is just too enthralling. "What do you think? Am I looking good?"

When he turns, Jeongguk's gaze is already on him. He's looking slightly dazed, eyes glued to the way the clothes hang from Taehyung's frame. His pink mouth is agape, petal lips so inviting and Taehyung blushes at his own train of thought, scolding himself for getting distracted.

The witcher stands up, walking until he's in front of Taehyung. His eyes are piercing, taking Taehyung apart carefully, deliberately. He drinks it in, the sight of him in the clothes he bought him – lovely in green, like he is in every color. Tan skin glowing, moles scattered on his face like stars he yearn to kiss again, like that night under the moonlight. And maybe this time he'll be brave enough to kiss the one right under his lips, bite it gently and drink in Taehyung's breath.

"It looks good." He flattens the wrinkles in the fabric, brushing Taehyung's shoulders with his palms. He can feel the warmth even through the clothes, addicting just like the scent of Taehyung's skin mixing with his own. Jeongguk is a weak man, getting dizzy with such a simple thing. But when Taehyung is involved, reason abandons him so easily.

Jeongguk might be spellbound, watching Taehyung with close lips and yearning in his eyes, but Taehyung isn't so different. Jeongguk is close, stealing his breath and devouring him with his eyes, and he trembles with something that doesn't resemble fear in the slightest. He clears his voice then, tries to take the conversation in a different direction.

"I kinda want to go find a place to perform right now, you know. Show off my new clothes."

There's a flicker of something in Jeongguk's gaze at his words, his eyes eyeing his open doublet and the skin on show. His cheeks turn red, his ears following soon after, and his hands slide from Taehyung's shoulders to his chest, making the bard gasp quietly.

Then Jeongguk starts buttoning up his doublet.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

Jeongguk is fully blushing now, eyebrows furrowed. "Making you decent. Why do you always wander around half naked?"

Taehyung quirks his eyebrow. "I'm wearing two layers of clothes."

"Yes, but this is- these are... undergarments. They should be kept private."

It's the way he says it. The stutter, the hesitancy, the lowered gaze. There's a mischievous glint that starts shining in Taehyung's eyes

"Jeongguk. My lovely witcher. Are you, perhaps, a prude?"

If possible his face flushes even redder, cheeks and ears deliciously scarlet. Taehyung puffs his chest and wiggles his eyebrows because ooh, this might be fun.

"I am not," he protests, fumbling with the buttons and laces of the doublet. It's gaze is noticeably stuck on the part that is already closed up, as if the exposed skin of Taehyung's neck is personally offending him.

Taehyung chuckles, full of mirth. "I think you are. You are always complaining about my state of undress as if I actually go around naked."

"It's a near thing."

There is a trace of amusement in the witcher's words, the embarrassment receding to leave space to their usual banter. For someone who doesn't speak that much, it's astoundingly easy to talk with Jeongguk. Maybe because he listens to Taehyung – not just passively taking in information, but remembering the pieces of him that Taehyung gives away in conversation; he's always there, head slightly tilted as if he's waiting for him to talk, ready to catch any word. His ranting when he's babbling excitedly on the road, his careful words at night, the humming and singing that colors his everyday life – Jeongguk is always ready to catch any syllable, attuned to Taehyung and his voice.

Jeongguk grumbles and huffs as he fumbles with Taehyung's new clothes, hands rough and calloused but delicate, careful. Taehyung can't look away from his face, thinking how lucky he was to have followed him that time back in Posada. For once, he had run in the right direction.

It's increasingly difficult to hide his feelings for Jeongguk, to keep them close to his chest instead of pouring them out. Their affectionate gestures are growing in size and frequency, their hands now accustomed in finding each other, their fingers eager to intertwine. But Taehyung is greedy, hungry. Always curious, he wants to explore Jeongguk and trace every inch of his skin.

And he wants to kiss him. He wants to feel for himself if those lips are soft or rough, if they open gently or move fervently, impatient to taste. Jeongguk is hesitant with touches, always waiting for him to take the first step, and Taehyung doesn't want to do something Jeongguk doesn’t feel comfortable with, doesn't want to see him retreat in himself just because he was too selfish.

The problem is, Taehyung is selfish. And impatient and avid, always craving for Jeongguk's hands on his skin, for everything the witcher can give him – words, touches, those gorgeous green eyes on him. Because Jeongguk watches him, Taehyung knows. And so he waits for him and tells himself not to act recklessly, to be patient.

But Taehyung is not patient, he has never been. He looks at Jeongguk's full red cheeks, at his sparkling eyes, at the way his hands button up his doublet so gently. He doesn't want to resist – he wants to fall into the temptation head on, wants to know if Jeongguk's mouth tastes like the mint reflected in his eyes, or like orange slices dipped in chocolate.

He leans forward quickly, laying on his lips nothing more than a peck. It's a flash of lighting, lips coming in contact and then apart again, over so fast that he wonders if it ever happened, if he did truly find the courage to cross that line.

From the look on Jeongguk's face, he did.

Jeongguk's eyes are so wide that Taehyung could get lost a thousand times in there, looking disoriented and aghast. Not necessarily in a bad way – he looks dazed, slightly drunk, eyes alert with surprise one second and then glazing over. His cheeks are dusted pink, not blazing red but blushing tenderly, like rose petals lying on his cheekbones.

It's a good look on him, Taehyung decides. He wouldn't mind seeing it for the rest of his life.

Jeongguk blinks once, then twice. His eyes are more focused now, piercing green directed on him and making him shiver. He leans forward, closing the gap between their faces and breathing out shakily, his hands clenching the folds of Taehyung's doublet from where he was tying it closed.

He gets impossibly closer, eyes pleading. Like he wants to ask for more but doesn't know how to word it. Taehyung waits, wants to see if maybe he isn't the only one hungry, eager and greedy.

Jeongguk leans in. His nose brushes against Taehyung's cheeks, his breath hitting Taehyung's lips. His mouth is a shadow, a phantom touch, as he hesitates and wavers, not touching but not leaning away either. Taehyung can feel his dark locks tickling his face, his forehead touching his temple, so close but not kissing him, making Taehyung yearn and setting him on fire with the simple idea of his touch, the hint of it.

Taehyung doesn't move. He can't or he doesn't want to, doesn't want to break this moment – he doesn't know which one it is. He waits, with bated breath and his heart almost bursting, his hands trembling by his sides.

There's a touch on his cheek, Jeongguk brushing his nose up and down, angling his head the right way. And then there are lips on his, open and warm, taking Taehyung's bottom lip and sucking on it.

It's like an electric current goes through Taehyung then, awakening him. His hands shoot upwards to grab Jeongguk's face, his head leaning forward into the kiss. Not that he has been granted permission he's too eager, fraying at the edges and burning so hot that he's afraid he'll burn Jeongguk too.

But witchers are strong, resilient, and Jeongguk isn't afraid to singe his palms, to burn with him. If anything he's happy to delve into the flames, a moan escaping him as Taehyung moves his mouth against his, and Taehyung drinks it down, swallows it and pries his lips open to find more.

Jeongguk is pliant under his hands, losing himself into the sensation and letting Taehyung lead him deeper into the kiss, and Taehyung groans low in his throat, something scorching hot settling in his belly. Jeongguk is clumsy, lips moving not quite the right way at times, but every breathy whimper that leaves his lips is enough to make Taehyung's legs buckle, to make him moan in response.

They break apart, more to start breathing again than for any desire to be apart. Taehyung tilts his head back for a moment, eyes closed and breathing erratic, his heart threatening to break free from the cage of his ribs with how violently it is beating. Jeongguk exploits the tantalizing, bared skin of his neck, letting his lips rest there. Not kissing, biting or licking – it's the simple weight of his lips there, like he can't bear not to be touching Taehyung even for a second.

Taehyung exhales slowly, feeling himself tremble like a leaf in the wind. Jeongguk's hands let go of his doublet to glide down, settling on his waist. Taehyung brings his head back down then, his eyes burning like melted steel, reflecting the light and with danger sparkling in their depths. And as soon as his mouth is within reach Jeongguk is leaning back again, following his lips like a lost child, like their mouths are connected with a string.

Taehyung doesn't deny him anything, doesn't have the will to – he lets him take his mouth again, lets him drink every soft exhale and whine as he does the same. They stumble towards the bed and their clothes stay on that night, but their lips turn cherry red, bruised with kisses, hands scorching hot and delightful even through the thin layers of their shirts.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

But your big brown eyes

Keep me hypnotized

Please say that you're here to stay

I'm addicted to you

I'm praying that you

Will come home and give me a taste

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Jeongguk doesn't mind Taehyung singing, not anymore.

To be fair, he never really minded. He was so used to silence that it felt weird and unsettling at times, to have some music always around him, but it's not like he ever disliked Taehyung's voice. He doesn't even try to pretend it bothers him anymore, it's just wasted time.

But this time, Taehyung starts strumming some chords and Jeongguk growls at him, bares his teeth.

"If you have to stay here, you must make no sounds Taehyung. No. Sounds."

The bard huffs but complies, taking his hands away from the lute and crossing his arms. He leans his back against a near tree, rustling the leaves of some bushes as he does that. Jeongguk glares at him with the sound, but Taehyung simply rolls his eyes and stubbornly looks away.

They are near a swamp, the ground muddy and the air humid. Jeongguk is trying to do his job, hunting a surviving kikimora from a nest another witcher eradicated and Taehyung, the stubborn fucking idiot, followed him just to be a nuisance.

He knew one day Taehyung's curiosity would bring him some kind of problem. He told him to stay back, not to follow because it was going to be dangerous. A lone kikimora wasn't going to be a problem for Jeongguk on his own, but when he heard steps behind him and whirled around to get rid of the threat, only to find Taehyung with his hands held up and a sheepish smile, he knew that things had gotten way more complex.

Kikimoras are blind but equipped with a decent sense of smell and an extremely keen hearing, so he can't even scold Taehyung because he's afraid of luring the creature to them, put him in danger. No matter how much he insisted, he never let Taehyung follow him. He can't get distracted when dealing with bloodthirsty monsters, he can't be anxious about Taehyung if he wants to do his job well.

They are stuck behind some bushes, waiting for some signs of the creature. Jeongguk is torn between trying to bait it near them and get rid of it as quickly as possible, or making no sounds at all so it doesn't come near Taehyung. Similarly, a part of him wants to get as far as possible from the bard so the kikimora will attack Jeongguk and him only, but what if the moment he leaves Taehyung alone, something happens? He can't risk that. He won't risk that.

The situation is making his blood boil with anxiety and anger, his teeth clenched so tight he can hear them grinding. Worst of all, Taehyung doesn't seem to be remotely aware of the mess he put him in.

"Shouldn't we lure the monster?" he says, voice at normal volume. His words reverberate in the air for anyone to hear and Jeongguk slaps a hand on his mouth, immediately tensing up and trying to sense if there is any danger near. Taehyung, stubborn as a mule, only huffs and pries his hand away.

"If we get it to come here, wouldn't that be easier?" he goes on, voice only slightly lowered. He's looking at Jeongguk with a frown, as if he isn't the reason why Jeongguk can't do his job as usual. The murderous expression on the witcher's face doesn't deter him in the slightest and he keeps speaking, apparently no worry in his tone. "I've heard that if it's distracted, a kikimora isn't a difficult enemy."

Roughly guessing where he's going with that, Jeongguk frowns even harder. "I'm not using you as bait, Taehyung."

"I don't like seeing you coming back all bleeding and hurt," admits Taehyung, eyes soft, and Jeongguk feels his heart clenching in his chest, his frown losing some of its anger. He knows what Taehyung means – he sees the concern in his eyes, the fear and the powerlessness when he drags himself back from an arduous fight. 

It's somehow sweet that Taehyung wants to help him. But Jeongguk cares about him too much to ever see him near anything that could harm him.

He breathes out slowly, his gaze turning soft. "Tae, this is my job," he says, holding his face between his hands so he can't look away. He feels a strange urge to be completely honest, to be blunt so Taehyung will understand. "Me dying here wouldn't be strange. But I can't let you be harmed. Not now, not never. You aren't going to put yourself into danger."

Something fierce and angry lights up in Taehyug's eyes, so similar to that time he looked at him straight on and said I want to see how you are for myself. "So it doesn't matter if you get hurt, is that what you're saying?" he hisses, and now their roles are reversed – Taehyung angrily accusing him and Jeongguk stubbornly ignoring the issue.

"I don't care about what happens to me–"

"But I do," interrupts Taehyung and he looks hurt, he looks like he might cry. "I do. And I don't want you injured."

A part of Jeongguk breaks with the tender concern in his voice, but he won't be swayed. Not when it comes to his safety. "You aren't going to be involved and that's final. You can't do anything to help me anyway."

It comes off as harsh, unnecessarily rude. Jeongguk didn't mean to speak to him like that, didn't want to, but he holds his ground and keeps his lips in a tight line because if this will convince Taehyung to stay back, so be it.

He should've figured out long ago that Taehyung is not the type to back down from a challenge.

"So I can't help you, uh?" he says, voice sharp. Jeongguk can tell that he's angry, bitter about his retort. He doesn't back down.

"No. You can't."

"Too bad, I'm doing it anyway."

Catching Jeongguk unaware, Taehyung pushes him away and jumps over the bushes, standing in the middle of the clearing. His gaze is determined and stubborn, and before Jeongguk can properly react, Taehyung starts singing.

His lilting voice rings in the air clearly, carrying deep into the forest. The sound of the lute accompanies him and in a different circumstance Jeongguk would stay still and listen, but now pure terror, so powerful it makes his knees tremble, encompasses him, makes his blood freeze in his veins.

He takes a step forward to run towards him, grab his arm and drag him away, but Taehyung's stormy eyes keep him rooted to the spot.

Taehyung is right, even if Jeongguk detests to admit it. Luring kikimoras with sound is usually a safe method to kill them off – they don't attack if they don't sense danger and they will come close if you don't scare them off. They are vicious once they are close enough to recognize the scent of a human though, and Jeongguk breaks into a cold sweat at the thought of a monster getting that close to Taehyung.

But now it's safer to hide and wait. If the kikimora comes out and smells Jeongguk, his scent tainted with potions and steel, it will be more aggressive from the start. There is a bigger chance that it won't attack Taehyung if Jeongguk stays further away.

Taehyung keeps on singing, his low tone letting him focus more. He tries to stop the trembling of his hands, knowing that he needs to be at the top of his game when the monster is inevitably lured by the sound.

And it is, of course Taehyung's plan works. The kikimora appears between the trees, dragging its insect-like legs forward. It's a horrifying sight, with its human-like thorax and its gaping mouth, but Taehyung doesn't falter for a second, staying still as his fingers keep plucking the chords. His voice fades out, leaving space for the music of the lute.

It's a terrifying, strange sight: the kikimora is advancing slowly, with a nonthreatening sway, as if simply enchanted by the music. It's one of the smaller breeds, one that usually doesn't attack unprovoked, so it shouldn't be so mind-blowing to see it calm. And yet it's eerie, abnormal.

He wonders if maybe there’s something magical about Taehyung and his lute, if maybe there’s an explanation why Jeongguk can’t ever take his eyes off him when he sings with his ocean-deep voice.

Jeongguk unsheathes his sword very slowly so that there is no risk of the kikimora hearing him. He meets Taehyung's gaze and the bard shakes his head slowly as he sees the sword in his hand.

Normally, Jeongguk would have agreed with him. The kikimora is still far from Taehyung and there's a risk of Jeongguk being detected as soon as he steps forward. But he has no time to circle the clearing so he can attack it from a safer angle and he isn't letting it get closer to the bard. Reasoning with a clear head is impossible with Taehyung standing there, helpless and exposed.

He approaches them slowly, careful not to make any sudden sound and alert the monster. He sees Taehyung's eyes widening and him shaking his head again, but he ignores him.

Jeongguk is almost upon the kikimora now, ready to slash it into two, when another sound distracts him. He turns to the side for a single second, just in time to see another kikimora charging at him. It's easy to bring his sword down and cut it in a single movement, but he has been surprised by the attack and that is never a good thing.

The kikimora that was calmly crawling towards Taehyung sees Jeongguk and immediately recognizes the danger, its behavior switching from tamed to aggressive in the blink of an eye. It charges Jeongguk, taking advantage of his lowered guard.

He barely parries the blow, the monster screeching at him. Panic takes over him as he's forced to take a step back, another slash of the razor sharp claws coming way too close to his neck. He stumbles as he backs down, green eyes wide as he realizes that he made a huge mistake, one that's gonna cost him his life.

The kikimora is ready to attack and Jeongguk knows that he won't have the time to deflect the blow.

"Jeongguk!"

Taehyung screams his name to warn him, desperate and scared, one hand reaching for him like he can grab him and take him away. But he can't do that, he can't protect Jeongguk more than Jeongguk can protect him.

Because now that he screamed, the kikimora realized there is another presence, one that is a potential danger. And like every animal that ever existed, when there's a danger it has to be eliminated.

The kikimora sweeps one of its legs towards Taehyung, slicing the air too quickly for anyone to react. Taehyung feels something hard hitting his stomach, tearing part of the skin at his side, and then the blow lifts him up, throws him a few meters back. The air is knocked out of him forcefully when his back impacts with something solid, his spine rattling so loudly his ears rings even when he slumps on the ground, the lute slipping away from his grasp. The sight of Jeongguk, the sound of his name – everything is blurred and confusing, vision swimming and his ears feeling like they are filled with cotton. Consciousness leaves him, the pain too great.

And Jeongguk is left to battle the kikimora, his hand still outstretched and his face stricken with horror. The image of Taehyung tossed as a rag doll, hitting a tree and slumping to the ground lifelessly is replaying in his mind, so terrifying that Jeongguk can't believe it happened for real.

No. That couldn't have happened. No. Not Taehyung.

Please, not Taehyung.

He tries to take a step forward towards him, but he has to jump back as soon as he attempts too because the kikimora is set on him now, having eliminated one threat and now moving to another.

Jeongguk screams Taehyung's name, hoping for any sign of him being alive and well. A sign that Jeongguk hasn't irremediably fucked up, that he didn't ruin the only thing that ever felt like a blessing in his life.

There is no answer.

Terror and fury grip him in equal measure as he attacks the kikimora blindly, with no plan or thoughts, just pure agony tearing at him.

In normal circumstances, a kikimora wouldn’t be a problem – he can get rid of them easily, as they are much less vicious than other creatures he has to face. 

But now Taehyung is lying not far from them, bleeding and in pain or worse, much worse. Jeongguk takes his eyes off from the creature too many times, gets lashes on his arms and his legs in return. The gashes aren’t deadly, they wouldn’t even disturb him normally – but distraction, that’s lethal. The blood pouring out of the wounds slows him down, making him weak.

Mighty witcher, took down by the easiest creature to kill.

No, not the easiest. The easiest to kill is the one who doesn’t have any armor, doesn’t have any weapons, the one who followed him for what? Adventure? Tales? He does not know.

The easiest creature to kill: a bard with no protection, with nothing but his voice and his lute.

And those can’t help him now.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Fuck, it hurts like fucking hell.

Taehyung comes back to consciousness unwillingly, the pain in his side and back making itself known immediately. He is lying on his side, one hand curled near his wound and the other near his face, and he doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that the wound is so close to the ground. Will it get infected like this? Or is the pressure of the earth keeping the blood from pouring out? He has no idea. He is not a witcher. The dangers he usually faces are entirely of different nature.

The witcher. Is Jeongguk fine? He has to be, that man is unbreakable when on a hunt.

He peels his eyes open slowly, struggling against the wish to just give up and lay motionless until something either picks him up or eats him. He manages after a few tries and the return of the sight makes everything worse, somehow. Maybe it’s the realization that he’s still in the shitty muddy swamp he was mauled in and didn’t magically teleport anywhere. Fuck, he wish he was a sorcerer.

He hears the clang of a sword and the sound makes his ears perk up. Sword clashing against something, then the cry of a kikimora. If Taehyung had the energy to, he would sit up in disbelief.

Jeongguk is struggling against the kikimora. He’s still fighting against it.

Taehyung didn’t expect to wake up and find him gone – even if the witcher would have his reasons, after the bard proved to be more of a nuisance than any kind of help – but he did think he would find him done with the hunt. The kikimora was distracted by tearing Taehyung to shreds. Surely Jeongguk took advantage of that.

But the bard directs his gaze to the sounds and the kikimora isn’t only alive, it’s winning . He can see in the way the witcher stumbles, in the moment he pauses. Why is he pausing? He shouldn’t pause.

Once Taehyung had asked him “what about retirement? When do witchers retire?” and the answer was “when they are too slow during a hunt and they pay the price”.

Witchers never slow, never pause. Not during a hunt.

(And not during the rest of their lives, if Jeongguk has to be taken as an example.)

Yet Jeongguk parries, hits the monster one time and then his movements slow down enough for the kikimora to hit him again. He repeats the pattern and Taehyung is just dumbfounded.

Jeongguk is losing. Jeongguk could die.

The thought sends him in a frenzy – more of mind than body, because every single motion hurts a whole fucking lot. He needs to help him, needs to rise and do something but he doesn’t have a blade, a knife, nothing but his lute-

His lute. The kikimora was lured by the music, it was intrigued , Taehyung could tell. Maybe… maybe he can…

The instrument isn’t far from him, but it feels like it’s unreachable. It sits there almost mockingly and in another situation the bard would’ve cheered for its unbroken state. Now he just wishes it was closer .

He cannot crawl towards it, but if he could just stretch his arm…

It’s a herculean task. The arm closest to it digs in the dirt as he moves it and the process is so damn slow. His wound gives a twinge and it’s like a flash of lightning, but directly in his gut. He moans in pain, has to stop for a moment. Teeth gritted, he can feel sweat running down his temples.

Maybe he should just stop. Jeongguk is a witcher, he’ll manage. The idea is tempting and rational too, and he feels his eyelids drooping in assent. He should just… relax…

He hears a howl of pain and it isn’t from the kikimora.

It makes his eyes widen, wakes him up like a bucket of icy water thrown on his body. That was Jeongguk and yes, he’s a witcher, yes, he’s basically immortal, but he still needs help, needs Taehyung’s help because it’s the only one he can get right now. He digs his fingers in the dirt, so viciously that his nails hurt with the force of it and he feels the filthy mud getting stuck under them.

He stretches his arm as far as he can reach, keeping in any noise not to distract the witcher from his already perilous situation. His clothing is a useless source of friction and he has never wished for his doublet to disappear into thin air but he does so now. It’s even one of his favorites, pale blue and expensive, but right now he hates it with a passion.

(He’s glad it isn’t his favorite – green and comfortable. He’s so glad that it is safe, washed and dry in the room he and Jeongguk share at the inn. Ruining that would’ve been like tearing off one of his limbs.)

It feels like centuries but finally, his hand bumps against something other than the cold, dirty ground. It’s the neck of his lute. He almost cries in relief but he doesn’t have time for that.

Taehyung can’t really play a whole ballad on it, but he makes do with plucking some strings. At first his grip is so weak that he barely moves the cords, and it feels like his arm is detached from him, unwilling to follow his commands. Is he dying of blood loss? He probably is.

After a while, the lute makes a sound loud enough to be heard by the kikimora. He really hopes it didn’t distract Jeongguk, that the silence is the monster being distracted and not the other way around.

His eyes are closing so he can’t know what is happening, can’t see if the kikimora has decided to make him her snack.

He keeps plucking at the strings until darkness claims him, the mantra of help Jeongguk, help Jeongguk burning in his mind until his body shuts down every thought.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Jeongguk is pretty sure the kikimora is going to strike him down, hit him with the fatal blow, when the creature just… stops.

It’s such a strange thing. One second ago he was collapsing under the onslaught of blows, his mind divided between trying to keep him alive and unable to forget about the unconscious body off to his left.

And now the kikimora is here, talon raised but frozen in the air. It tilts its ugly head on one side, the movement jarring and unnatural. Just as suddenly, the kikimora turns away from Jeongguk – the body still facing him, but its eyes pointing somewhere else.

In the silence, the note rings loud.

Jeongguk’s heart jumps in his throat and his eyes are frantic as he scans the ground and there, there he is. Taehyung isn’t moving, body still as a statue, but Jeongguk hears another note and sees his hand moving sluggishly to extract some sounds from his lute.

Stupid bard. He insisted on following Jeongguk, he got himself almost killed and now there he is, stubbornly trying to help.

He doesn’t dare to name the feeling warming up his chest, but if he did maybe he would call it relief, so powerful it makes his knees wobble.

The notes travel to him more clearly now and it’s with a start that he realizes it’s because the kikimora isn’t making any sound. Its horrifying face is pointed towards Taehyung and the monster looks enraptured for a second. Again, Jeongguk wonders if Taehyung’s lute is enchanted, or if his hands are.

The stillness doesn’t last forever. Just as quickly as it got stock-still, the kikimora gets back into action and jumps forward, getting further from Jeongguk.

Running towards Taehyung.

“The fuck you will,” growls Jeongguk, already cursing himself for letting relief cloud his mind, for not using the opportunity the bard gave him. Because Taehyung has to know, he must’ve figured out that the kikimora likes his lute and it won’t hesitate to attack Taehyung once it gets closer to it.

He runs after the creature at a pace that is too fast for his tired, sliced up legs. There is nothing in his mind except the need to protect , to succeed where he failed just before.

Taehyung is luring the kikimora to help him. The witcher won’t let him down a second time today, not ever again.

The kikimora is almost upon the bard when Jeongguk reaches it and he doesn’t waste a single second before slicing down with his silver sword. The blade hits the monster right where its head meets the rest of its body and Jeongguk uses the last energies left from his potion to make the sword cut deep, decapitating the creature in a single hit. The body doesn’t stop immediately, the momentum bringing it closer to Taehyung but not close enough to crush him when it collapses.

Jeongguk pants and his fatigue hits him like a dagger in his knee, making him crumble to the ground. His silver sword, buried in the ground, is the only thing keeping him upright. The adrenaline leaves him, bleeding out of his body as his wounds do the same.

There’s nothing he wants more than plants facedown on the mud, letting his body regenerate the strength he lost, but without the kikimora the swamp is silent and Jeongguk realizes, it’s silent .

Please no, not because of me, not here, no no no it’s a litany inside his brain as he crawls towards the bard. Taehyung has tan skin, honey-tinted and glowing, but now he looks so pale. Dead. He’s still and quiet and witchers don’t have emotions, but Jeongguk feels frantic and desperate like he rarely did before.

“You aren’t my responsibility,” he said to Taehyung once and the bard had just laughed, that deep chuckle that makes his smile wide and his eyes all crinkled. “I know,” was the answer, “but you are mine” .

Jeongguk had scoffed at the time, sure it was just the bard babbling nonsense.

But as time passed, Taehyung proved to be stubborn in keeping his promises. And so he started to take care of Jeongguk in a way the witcher didn’t know was possible, didn’t know he needed so desperately. Because there are things that Jeongguk can’t slay with a sword and Taehyung makes them better, makes them bearable. The crushing loneliness Jeongguk lived with all his life is a distant memory now, his days filled with music and smiles and touches so sweet they bring him to tears.

He touches Taehyung’s cheek with trembling hands and he cries out in relief as his eyes flutter open. He’s breathing and alive and Jeongguk buries his face in his neck, needing to feel his pulse against his skin. It beats strong and self-assured, just like Taehyung, and he feels faint with the realization that he isn’t dying, he isn’t in peril. Injured and battered, but not in danger.

“I’ll take care of you” had said Taehyung as he threaded his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair. He had promised it, voice just as sure and confident as when he had declared that Jeongguk was his responsibility.

And Jeongguk realizes it now – Taehyung was telling the truth.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Stay up there, my love

beside the moon

in the clear sky of  June

I'll move away all these clouds

so stay up there

even if I'm far, I'll love you from the ground

I'll love you out loud

Stay up there, my love

where the stars are

Stay here, my love

inside my heart

⊱ ❂ ⊰

There is a pretty man looking down at him and asking him something with a high, lilting voice. Or maybe it's just an hallucination. Taehyung isn't sure.

"How do you feel?" the pretty man asks again, plush lips moving slowly. There is something about him that puts Taehyung on edge, and he doesn't know why.

The pretty man smiles before repeating himself and well, he seems real enough to warrant a reply from Taehyung, so he gives him just that.

"I feel like a carriage ran over me and then Jeongguk jumped on my back a few times."

There is a thud somewhere not far, muffled by the closed door, then the sound of someone rushing up some stairs. The door of the room Taehyung is in is slammed open and he can't hold back a smile as Jeongguk appears, panting and rushing towards him as soon as he sees him awake.

Taehyung should be ashamed by his own dopey, lovesick grin but he can't quite manage to tear it off his face as Jeongguk shoves the pretty man away with a worried frown, half climbing on the bed to brush Taehyung's hair away from his face.

"I heard you saying my name," he murmurs, eyes scanning his body and his face to look for any pain. Damn him and his witcher's senses – how long has he been waiting for him to wake up, his hearing focused on him even through the walls? His witcher can be so ridiculous at times. So utterly ridiculous. 

Taehyung raises a hand to caress his face, thumb brushing Jeongguk's cheek, and he gets lost in his puppy eyes, green and dazzling as ever. The witcher leans in the touch, basking in the affection, at least until someone clears his throat and reminds them of his presence.

The pretty man is looking at them with a raised eyebrow. "If you're done being disgusting, I was trying to see if the patient is well."

"Are you a doctor?" He doesn't look like one, at least in Taehyung's perspective. His clothes are extravagant and he's decked in jewels, from his ears to his wrists. Seems a bit too luxurious to be a doctor.

And indeed the man starts laughing, throwing his head back and lifting a dainty hand to his mouth. "A doctor? Oh dear, no," he replies, chuckling with eyes full of amusement. "I did heal you, but I'm a sorcerer. My name is Seokjin. Nice to meet you."

Taehyung lets his mouth fall open, curiosity and wonder taking over his face. He has never met a sorcerer – they tend to be private, closed off people, easily angered and not very willing to be gentle with anyone who pries in their affairs. Or at least, that's what Taehyung has heard. By now, he knows not to believe in baseless rumors.

"Gguk, you know a sorcerer and you never told me? That's just mean."

Jeongguk looks at Seokjin with a stormy expression, apparently irritated. "I don't see why I should've. He's nothing special," he huffs out, covering the hand Taehyung has on his face with his own, nuzzling his palm and kissing it. Seokjin makes a retching sound behind him.

"Not special? That's a blatant lie." Seokjin makes a gesture with his hand as he says this, a vial appearing on his palm a second later. Taehyung lets out an excited sound as Jeongguk scoffs and rolls his eyes.

The sorcerer steps closer to them, momentarily setting aside the playful banter in favor of scrutinizing Taehyung. His eyes are a piercing violet, a bit intimidating when stripped of all the mirth and so focused on him. Taehyung is suddenly nervous when Seokjin reaches for him and Jeongguk must sense it, because he shifts so that his body is between Taehyung and the sorcerer.

Seokjin snorts, the amused glint coming back in his eyes. "Calm down, guard dog," he scoffs, looking at Jeongguk pointedly, "I just need to check on him. No need to go all growly on me."

"I didn't growl," points out Jeongguk, not moving an inch.

"You did kinda growl."

Jeongguk glares at the grinning bard. "You're supposed to be on my side."

Seokjin ignores their banter and bypasses Jeongguk to put a hand on Taehyung's forehead, his hand feeling unusually cold. Taehyung doesn't feel like he has a fever, is he sick? But then the hand gets warmer, until it's a normal temperature. Magic, he's sure of it.

The sorcerer hums under his breath, apparently satisfied with whatever he found. He drags his thumb under Taehyung's eyes to make him open them wide, checking them as if they would hide some sort of secret. Maybe they do. "Seems like my magic didn't have any weird side effect. It's good that the traces you have didn't interfere."

Taehyung blinks, confused. "Traces? Traces of what?"

Seokjin seems taken by surprise by his words, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow. "You don't know? Traces are remains of magic – from a cured curse, a magical object, something like that. You have them. I thought you were aware of it."

No, Taehyung was not aware of that. He never had anything to do with magic, unless you count the times he saw Jeongguk use it. But the witcher uses it very sparingly and Taehyung never got to ask him about it.

"Is it because I've been around Jeongguk for a long time? He has magic. Maybe it stuck to me."

Seokjin shakes his head. "No, that's not it. It's something deeper," he declares, strangely sober now. The change of moods is giving Taehyung whiplash. "But don't you worry your pretty head about it – it doesn't bring any harm to you. If anything, a bit of magic might help you out every now and then."

The sorcerer winks at him, almost flirtatiously, and Taehyung doesn't know how to take it. He's usually good at flirting, but Seokjin exudes power and that intimidates him more than he wants to admit. He fidgets nervously and it's then that he feels Jeongguk getting closer, his mop of black hair tickling Taehyung's neck. He giggles at the sensation, threading his fingers through the black locks and feeling the weight of Jeongguk's head settling on his chest.

And to think he used to avoid every kind of touching.

Seokjin steps back from them with a huff, clearly annoyed by the way Jeongguk keeps interfering with his check up. The sorcerer puts the vial he summoned on the bedside table, the liquid inside sloshing between the glass. 

"You seem to be recovering well from the injuries," he informs. His lips stretch in a cheeky grin then, his eyes suddenly mischievous. "You know, from the way the witcher brought you here, I thought you were on the verge of death. He was all panicky and crying, I was sure he was gonna puke all over my oak wood floor just from how worried he was–"

"How long before we can travel again?" interrupts Jeongguk, his ears flushing scarlet. Taehyung is tempted to coo at him, but he doesn't want to bully him too much. Not to mention, hearing how worried he was makes Taehyung feel bad and extremely happy at once – he knows how ugly it can be, to see the other injured, and he's sorry he put Jeongguk's through that; on the other hand, hearing proof of just how much Jeongguk cares will never tire him, it's never gonna be enough. He knows the witcher cares for him, but it's nice to be reminded of that.

"Just a few days, my potions worked." Seokjin motions to the vial he put on the bedside table. The liquid contained in it is light blue with purple hues and it doesn't look like something you're supposed to drink. Taehyung frowns at it, but Jeongguk only nods thoughtfully.

"You just need some more rest, to keep taking my healing brew and then you'll be as good as new," is Seokjin's final diagnosis, tilting his head with arrogant confidence. Taehyung gets the impression that Seokjin is the type of person that is bold because he just knows how good he is, and if Taehyung wasn't so amazed by his magic he thinks he would be ticked off.

Taehyung might be a bit too competitive for his own good. Putting himself against a sorcerer just to prove he's better might be a bit too much.

"Now, I'll be a wonderful host and leave you two lovebirds alone. It was a pleasure to know you, Taehyung."

Seokjin waves as he turns his back on them, closing the door behind him. Taehyung hears him going down the stairs, but the sound gets too faint for him to hear after a while. He and Jeongguk are left alone in the bedroom.

Now that Seokjin and his loud presence are gone, the room plunges in a heavy silence. Taehyung is reminded of what brought him here – his stubbornness and his carelessness. But he had wanted to make Jeongguk understand that his life is valuable too, that if Taehyung can help then he gladly will. Not that it had turned out so well, but. Details.

He can see that Jeongguk is nervous too, that he has something on his mind, and Taehyung shuffles on the bed so that he's sitting rather than lying down. It feels like they are on more equal ground like this. They both have things to say to each other, but Taehyung isn't too eager to be scolded so he breaks the silence. Like he usually does.

"Gguk, I'm sorry. I put you in danger and I was a nuisance–"

"No," interrupts Jeongguk, looking at him with soft eyes. He doesn't seem angry at him and Taehyung is stunned into silence, willingly leaving him space to speak.

The witcher exhales, as if to prepare for a long speech. Maybe not long, but something important and meaningful, something he thought about as Taehyung was lying in bed and recovering from his own mistake. Taehyung's heart starts beating frantically for some reason and he curses it, knowing that if Jeongguk concentrates, he'll be able to hear it.

"What you did was stupid and reckless and I do not approve of it," he starts and Taehyung cowers and lowers his head, anticipating more scolding. But Jeongguk doesn't do that. He doesn't do that at all, instead surprising Taehyung again when his voice loses its stern edge, becoming softer and understanding. "But I get your point," he says, voice almost a whisper, "and I understand what you were trying to tell me. I'm sorry for being so stubbornly obtuse."

It's a lot of words for someone like Jeongguk, who struggles to explain himself. More than that, they are genuine and Taehyung can't stop his mouth from hanging agape as Jeongguk keeps on speaking.

"I didn't understand why you were upset with me getting hurt, but after seeing you... I think I got it. If you feel like I feel, I think I know now."

There's just something in the way he says that that makes tears spring to Taehyung's eyes. The honesty in it, the way he truly feels like Jeongguk understands him now. The sweet confirmation that they feel the same. He feels overwhelmed with affection and he doesn't stop to think about it as he takes Jeongguk's hand in his, intertwining their fingers and kissing the back of his hand. Jeongguk was sincere with him. He can return the favor.

"I love you, Jeongguk," he says, simple and soft. He has known for a while and as he watches Jeongguk's face, he's sure he was aware of it as well. It doesn't stop the witcher from smiling, sweet and honest, green eyes twinkling like emeralds. Taehyung smiles back in response, but he isn't finished talking and he won't let happiness stop his words.

"I love you and I feel so utterly useless every time I see you hurt and bleeding. I'm sorry I was so idiotic about it, I just wanted to help. I wish I could do something for you."

"Don't say that," is the reply, Jeongguk's eyes filled with affection but blazing with fire. "Don't speak like you never help me, Tae. You do so much more than you think, even when you aren't throwing yourself at a 6 feet tall monster with razor-sharp talons."

Taehyung chuckles at that, his side twinging in pain as his chest shakes with laughter. "That was stupid, wasn't it?"

"Clearly," replies Jeongguk, voice teasing. "I wonder how you stayed alive for so long without a single ounce of survival instinct."

"Rude." Taehyung tries to playfully hit his shoulder with their intertwined hands, but he's stopped by Jeongguk squeezing his palm, his eyes turning serious again, the playful taunting slipping away to give space to something heavier.

"I'm serious Tae," he says, voice painfully honest, "you help me in ways that go much further than trying to stop me getting mauled."

"Fantastic, because I'm clearly not very good at that."

Jeongguk doesn't let Taehyung distract him. He pauses, lets silence hang between them once again. He's clearly mulling something over, wondering if he can talk to him, if he can ask. He's always so careful with Taehyung, handling him as if the wrong motion can break him. Taehyung appreciates it, he does, but he thinks that it has come time for Jeongguk to feel free to ask him whatever he wants, just like Taehyung has always done with him.

"You can ask me," he encourages him, squeezing his hand. "You can ask me anything."

Jeongguk looks at him then, eyes green like fresh grass and sparkling. Taehyung is sure that if Jeongguk asked him the moon, he would climb up a mountain trying to reach it, hand fruitlessly stretched towards the sky. Jeongguk's gaze is on him, heavy and searching, and Taehyung basks in it.

"There is something I've been wondering about," he finally says, voice low but sure. He lifts their linked hands, bringing them near his face, and he leans his cheek on the back of Taehyung's hand, resting there. Taehyung stays silent, but nods as a way to encourage him, prompting him to go on.

Jeongguk takes a deep breath before speaking again. "I know you are curious and a meddling idiot," he receives a light shove for that, his lips quirking up in a smile for a second, "but I think there's a reason why you started following me. A reason why you stuck with me."

There was something in the way Taehyung followed him at first, almost desperately thirsty for knowledge. His eyes scrutinizing Jeongguk, trying to study him from the inside out, asking question after question about monsters and witchers. He thinks it changed after a while – Taehyung's curiosity turning more genuine and less frantic, more focused on who Jeongguk is rather than who he represents. But he still wonders: why did he start following him in the first place?

“This is why you followed me? Curiosity?”

“That would be it, yes. I guess that’s the best way to explain.”

Jeongguk had settled for that at the time, not too interested in meddling in the bard's reasons. But now he wants to know, he needs to know. Taehyung has a story he hasn't sung yet, a tale he keeps to himself. And Jeongguk has learned to be greedy, always hungry for more when it comes to him.

He wants to know. And so he asks.

Taehyung is silent after the question, a trace of surprise on his face but also something more. Resignation, maybe, but not in a bad sense – just the acknowledgement that it's time to let go of his secrets, even if they have never felt like something he desperately tried to hide.

Jeongguk asked. So Taehyung will answer.

He settles in a comfortable position, knowing that this would probably take a while. Before starting, he sighs. There he goes. 

"Do you remember Rannvaig?"

Jeongguk is taken back by it, but he nods. It was when they spent some time apart, when Taehyung gave him his sapphire and Jeongguk realized he was already too wrapped around him to let him go.

"It wasn't the road I was scared of, or Rannvaig itself," he admits, playing with the chain of his necklace. Jeongguk already guessed it wasn't the hard climb to Rannvaig that posed a problem to him, but he has no idea about the real reason for his hesitance. 

Taehyung lowers his eyes as he reveals it. "It was another city on the way there. Somewhere I wasn't ready to return to. There's a city, there are a lot of nobles and it's a trader point–"

"Drore," breathes out Jeongguk, his memory coming back to him. He remembers the blabbering herbalist that plagued him with useless gossip, but more importantly he remembers thinking that the air smelled familiar. That it reminded him of Taehyung. 

Taehyung's surprised face is enough confirmation. "So you know it. Then maybe you've heard about the Kim family."

He wishes he had stayed longer in the city, listened to that damn gossiping man that had been telling him any kind of story about the city. But he didn't, so he shakes his head and motion for Taehyung to go on with his story.

The bard takes a pause, playing with the necklace lying on his chest. Jeongguk waits, knowing that he can't pressure him.

Taehyung takes a deep breath, and then he starts his story.

"I was born in nobility. The Kim family was powerful in Drore, my father pretty much had control over the whole city. My mother was a lover of the arts, so I was used to seeing guests of any kind going in and out of our house. But then, I think I was 8 or 9, there was a guest that was different and, you know me, I'm curious. I wanted to learn more about her."

"Who was she?"

Taehyung taps a finger on Jeongguk's chest, where his medallion lies. "Her name was Hyejin. She had one of these."

Jeongguk takes a sharp breath at that, not expecting it. "A witcher? At a noble's court?"

"Yeah, you're not a fan of those so I'm confused too," replies Taehyung, his tone amused. "I still have no idea why she was there. But she was a big presence in my childhood, she was around frequently and I followed her anywhere."

His voice takes a quieter volume, his words still clear but the tone somber, reminiscent. There's a faraway look in his eyes and it hurts to see him so distant, his gaze lost and his face drained of any emotion.

"She was quiet, but gentle. I really liked her."

The look on his face – it's nostalgia and old wounds that still hurt when you press over the scars. Jeongguk knows that look. He wore it for a long, long time. He still slips into it, every now and then.

"What happened?" he asks, knowing that the answer isn't going to be a pleasant one.

Taehyung looks at him, just briefly. There's sorrow in his gaze, but anger too. Not the fresh one that makes you see red, but the one that settles and stays with you no matter how much time passes. "You want the truth?" he scoffs, fingers trembling around the necklace, "I don't know. I have no idea what really happened. What I know is that one moment my family was completely fine and happy, and the next I was hiding under the table as they were being murdered."

He knew it was gonna be a sad story, but that doesn't stop his face from crumbling as Taehyung says that, voice trembling and eyes glazed over. Jeongguk swallows and then he remembers something the man in Drore said to him, something his brain took in but he never thought about it until now. 

"It all started when a whole noble family was slaughtered! And in mysterious circumstances, no less! It was ten? Fifteen? Well, some years ago..."

The timing fits. So Jeongguk did hear about the Kim family, he just didn't know about that. His mouth is dry as he opens his mouth to speak, unwilling to leave Taehyung with the oppressing silence.

"Who– was it–"

"I told you, I don't know," he says right away, knowing what Jeongguk was hinting at. Witchers don't involve themselves in human affairs, at least that's what they preach. But Jeongguk knows better than anyone else how fickle that rule is.

Taehyung goes on with his story, his voice feeble. "I ran away that day, as far from Drore as I could, and my memory is foggy, blurred. I just– I remember someone being in that room. Saying something about witchers, how they are all the same, all murderers and bloodthirsty. But I don't know who said that. I don't know if it was true."

Taehyung lifts his gaze, his eyes meeting Jeongguk's bright green eyes. "Well, now I know for sure that not all witchers are like that. But I didn't know before."

"Is this why you were so hellbent on getting to know me?"

The bard hums, nodding his head. The motion shakes his brown curls, making them fall over his eyes, and Jeongguk doesn't hesitate before brushing them away, tucking them behind his ear. Taehyung smiles before answering his question. "At first, yes. There are so many stories about you witchers, most of them not flattering in the slightest. But in my memories Hyejin was sweet. She helped me with my nightmares."

His hand doesn't stop playing with Taehyung's hair, the action relaxing for them both. "You had them back then too?"

"Yes, that's when they first started," he confirms, his shoulders loosening from their tense position. "They were really bad and I used to remember them very well, unlike now. As if I was living through them."

Jeongguk frowns. He has seen first hand how bad those can be, how Taehyung's body shakes and trembles when he has them. He thought that maybe they were caused by the trauma of losing his family in such devastating circumstances, but now he wonders what could've caused them. But Taehyung himself doesn't seem to know, so maybe he's just unlucky when asleep.

So Taehyung had a reason to follow him. It makes sense, in some way – witchers are mysterious creatures, just as enigmatic as the monsters they slay. There was no place or person Taehyung could've turned to to ask about them. Except witchers themselves. 

“Why didn’t you just ask around for her? Wouldn't that have been more direct?”

Taehyung snorts and it carries every ounce of snark and wit he usually speaks with. “Oh, you’re right! I should’ve just walked over to every witcher I saw and asked them ‘hi, sorry, do you know about a lady witcher with dark hair and yellow eyes? She possibly murdered my whole family’. I mean, you are all so friendly! Why didn’t I think about it. Jeongguk, you are a genius.”

If he wasn't injured, Jeongguk would've shoved him off the bed. Or maybe not – Taehyung has this incredible talent of annoying people to death but getting away with it with little consequences, looking at them with his big brown eyes, his lashes fluttering in a way that's almost hypnotic. That's probably a thing that saved him once or twice, before Jeongguk came along to act like his guard dog.

With him injured, Jeongguk doesn't even think about handling him roughly. He allows himself to flick his forehead though, Taehyung howling in pain and showing off every bit of his usual theatrical overreacting. Jeongguk smiles, relieved to see him like his usual self.

Taehyung notices Jeongguk looking at him and he grins in response. He lays his head on his shoulder and Jeongguk shivers with the warmth of it, still unused to the casual way Taehyung touches him. He feels how hot Taehyung's skin is, even through the layers of their clothing. His cotton shirt is open at his neck, enough for him to feel Taehyung's breathing on his skin like a warm southern wind, bringing spring and blossoming flowers with him. 

Taehyung's necklace clinks softly as he moves. Jeongguk is hyper-aware of the sound and he reaches for the sapphire, taking it in his hand and feeling its weight in his palm.

"She was the one who gave me this, you know? She said it's an amulet. I believe it, even now."

Jeongguk blinks, his gaze shifting from the necklace to Taehyung's face. "She said that?"

"Yes. Is that strange?"

Jeongguk shakes his head, but there is a frown marrying his brow. "It's just... Witchers aren't superstitious. And there is no magic stored in this, so why would she–"

The rest of the words die in his throat as his gaze gets stuck on the pendant, the blue searing itself in Jeongguk's vision. Witchers aren't superstitious. They know that most myths and stories are just misunderstood events twisted by the retelling of people – a demon living in a cave and punishing people for their sins is just a creature hunting for blood, a lake cursed by the gods is just the habitat of hungry drowners. There is no reason to believe in those kinds of stories when they know most of them are false.

What witchers do is offer practical solutions to stories that were born from actual problems. Slaying monsters and offering their knowledge, protecting people who don't know how to protect themselves.

And Jeongguk can think only of one reason why a witcher should give someone a sapphire pendant. Only one creature it is effective against.

He swallows audibly, unsure about how Taehyung might take the information. He can't be absolutely sure, but an idea is forming in his mind.

"Taehyung, in your dreams... you feel strange, right? Like your body, does it feel like your own?"

Taehyung tilts his head with a frown. His gaze gets lost as he thinks about the question, turning it over in his head to give the best answer. "My dreams are weird, it's hard to describe how I feel," he settles on, pensive and unsure, "I just... I don't feel like myself. It's like I'm a monster, like someone is hunting me."

It only proves Jeongguk's theory further. It's so obvious to him now that he almost wonders how he never connected the dots – Taehyung's nightmare, the sapphire pendant. An unusual jewel, especially when so unrefined and simple.

He takes Taehyung's face between his hands, exhaling slowly. "Sapphire... it has some properties. And remember what Seokjin told you? That you have some traces of magic in you."

Taehyung's frown only deepens. "Is– is the sapphire magical?"

It isn't, and Jeongguk tries to explain it to him, still reeling from the realization. "No, not truly. A bit, but not enough to leave its traces on you. But, you remember all the stuff I told you about monsters and creatures, right?"

During their time together, Taehyung has learned a lot about the creatures witchers fight against. His curiosity was genuine and he remembers the things Jeongguk has shared over time. He made plenty of songs about the monsters and the stories Jeongguk told him, even if the number of those doesn't come close to the melodies he has written about jade eyes and hair as dark as the night.

But he doesn't get where Jeongguk is trying to lead him, what he's trying to say.

"Of course I remember, but I don't understand–"

"Once you asked me about strigas. Cursed people turned into mindless monsters, but they can be cured, they can be turned back. Sapphire... it's used to keep the cured people safe. To keep them from turning back again."

A part of Taehyung is slowly accepting what Jeongguk is trying to say. He has a bright mind and he's smarter than people give him credit for, so it doesn't take a lot to connect the dots. But still, part of him denies it. It's too far-fetched.

"I– I don't understand."

Jeongguk's hands are warm on his cheeks and his gaze is sharp, but kind. "Witchers don't hang out with nobles... unless they are paid for a job. Like hunting a monster terrorizing the people, or maybe– maybe helping a cursed child. One that was turned into something foul."

Jeongguk sees the realization dawning on Taehyung, his eyes incredulous and terrified at once. His dreams where he felt like a monster, hunted down by the people – those weren't simple dreams. They were memories.

Jeongguk doesn't pause in his explanation, needing Taehyung to hear what might be the truth. "That witcher saved you, and then she kept her eye on you. I think your family treated her well, maybe too well. People... people tend not to like witchers."

"And they don't like monsters either. Or children that can turn back into one at any time," Taehyung breathes out in response, face horror-struck and voice a whisper. His eyes are lost, his mind trapped in the world he inhabits when he dreams – a world where his hands are dripping with blood, the ground soaked in scarlet.

Jeongguk's gaze turns cutting. "I hope you're not thinking you were somehow responsible for what happened."

"Aren't I?" Taehyung scoffs, the slightest hint of venom in his voice. But he's trembling too much to be anywhere near threatening, the vitriol he spits sounding too much like fear.

Jeongguk thumbs at his cheeks, caressing him until Taehyung's gaze is back on him. His eyes are so big – oceans the color of wood, glazed with tears. Jeongguk swears that no one will ever make Taehyung feel like this again, powerless and guilty, carrying a sin he didn't commit. When Jeongguk speaks, his voice is stronger than steel.

"Someone cursed you and then someone killed your family. I don't see why it should be your fault."

Jeongguk doesn't tear his gaze away from Taehyung's own until he feels like his words get to him and ring true. Taehyung blinks, lashes getting wet with unshed tears, and Jeongguk feels the urge to help him, anyway he can.

"It wasn't you, Tae," he murmurs, leaning forward so that their foreheads touch. He hears Taehyung exhaling shakily and then it feels natural when Jeongguk feels his cheek with his lips, pressing a kiss to the mole there. "It wasn't your fault," he repeats and then Taehyung surges forward, searching his mouth with his own and kissing the corner of it when he misses his mark.

It doesn't matter – Jeongguk is there to correct his aim, tilting his head and melding their lips together, their breaths mingling together. He tries to pour in the kiss everything he's too clumsy to say, tries to tell Taehyung that he did nothing wrong using his lips and his hands. Taehyung whines and it sounds too much like a sob, like he's in pain. Jeongguk moves their lips apart only to pepper his face with innocent pecks, tasting salt where a few tears have slipped out. He does so until Taehyung is breathing more easily, his chest not trembling with repressed sobs anymore.

He moves away and his heart stutters when he sees Taehyung with his eyes still closed, cheeks wet and lips cherry red. He's so breathtaking with his messy hair and tan skin, so stunning as he trusts Jeongguk completely, turning pliant under his touch. Jeongguk kisses him one last time, a quick peck, before waiting for him to open his eyes again.

He does, warm brown meeting jade green. Jeongguk keeps brushing away the remains of his tears and Taehyung smiles, duller than usual but still better than the haunting gaze he had earlier. Jeongguk's heart feels lighter.

Not one to wallow in self-pity, Taehyung clears his throat. His gaze gets faraway again, but this time more pensive than sorrowful.

"You know, if that's what happened then I think I was an excuse. My father had a lot of power, and a lot of enemies."

Jeongguk hums in understanding. "Lots of people trying to get rid of your family."

Taehyung nods. "I don't know if– how many people I hurt. Maybe it was revenge. But maybe it was just people being greedy."

Silence follows. Jeongguk doesn't quite know what to say, but it's a comfortable lull in their conversation. He can tell Taehyung is still mulling over the new information, turning it over in his mind until it makes sense. It's a lot of puzzle pieces to fit in a single day.

Suddenly Taehyung widens his eyes, one hand grasping at the sapphire. "Wait– so I'll turn back into a bloodthirsty monster if I take this off?"

"No, there isn't any danger of that anymore," reassures Jeongguk, one hand coming to rest on his nape and playing with the long, curly locks. "That can happen only the first years after you get turned back, you're safe now."

Taehyung sighs in relief. "Oh gods, thank you. I don't want to risk eating you in your sleep or something."

A strange silence follows and it takes a beat for Taehyung to see why – Jeongguk pressing his lips together, desperately trying to keep himself from laughing. In the end he doesn't quite manage and his lips quirk up, before he opens his mouth in a grin.

"Well," he says, voice full of amusement, "I'm not completely opposed to you eating me."

"Holy– Jeongguk, is that a racy joke?"

Jeongguk is blushing, but that doesn't wipe out his smirk, nor stops him from laughing loudly at Taehyung's stunned expression.

And Taehyung feels so giddy, simply from seeing him happy. He remembers how he was when he met him – so curt and dark-looking, sitting in a corner and glaring at other people but looking so lonely too, so young. Seeing him relaxed is the best gift Taehyung could ever receive. Even better than chocolate covered oranges and green clothing that feels soft on his skin.

"I can't believe you, my lovely witcher," he declares dramatically, covering his mouth and feigning an horrified gasp. "This is all because of me. I've ruined you for good."

Jeongguk laughs even louder, eyes crinkling at the corners. His smile is soft, full of love. "You did," he says, voice tender, "and you're right. It's all because of you."

Taehyung chuckles, so endeared he feels like bursting from all the joy. He circles his arms around Jeongguk's neck, throwing himself in a hug. The witcher is ready to catch his weight and does so effortlessly, giggling as they roll on the bed. Taehyung basks in the warmth, burying his face in the corner of Jeongguk's neck.

"Tae?"

"Hm?"

"I love you too, by the way. In case it wasn't clear."

The words are whispered close to his ear and they make him fully shiver, from the tip of his toes to the top of his head. He kisses him, needing to feel the lips that said such sweet words. He kisses Jeongguk's lips, then peppers his face with kisses until he gets him to giggle, face deliciously pink and eyes crinkling with joy.

From downstairs comes Seokjin's voice. "Do not fuck on my bed!"

They indulge him, but only because Jeongguk refuses to make a move on Taehyung while he's still injured.

(When he's all healed and recovered... well, there is nothing stopping them then.)

⊱ ❂ ⊰

Time is wasting, I need you here and now

I got to keep on chasing, to get to you somehow

You’re the one that I see in my sleep

I hold onto you, just don’t let go of me

⊱ ❂ ⊰

It takes a few days for Taehyung to recover completely.

They stay at Seokjin's house since Jeongguk has no intentions of letting Taehyung get off the bed before he's completely healed – he doesn't even let him pick up his lute at first, surrendering only after the bard pouts, whines and gives him the cold shoulder, denying him kisses and glaring at him with hurt puppy eyes.

Taehyung is used to moving around, jumping and singing. Forced bed rest does not sit well with him.

But Jeongguk brings him sweet treats and lets him braid his hair, so Taehyung acquiesces and bears with it until his wound is closed and the massive bruise on his back disappears.

The pause in their travels isn't too appreciated, but it gives them time to talk. They share bits of their lives and experiences, discovering each other both with words and (to Seokjin's utter disgust) with their hands. 

And it's because of their talks and the time spent reminiscing that Taehyung decides that it's time he faces his fears.

He has been away from his hometown for 15 years. His worst memories originated there, but some good ones did too and he doesn't want to forget, or run forever.

They go back to Drore then. Taehyung’s legs tremble every step of the way, threatening to buckle and leave him on the ground, but Jeongguk is always by his side, ready to catch him.

They go back, stand in front of the castle Taehyung used to live in. No one lives there anymore – it's a cursed place, tainted with death. They go inside and Taehyung finds that it doesn’t feel like home anymore, just a place from his past.

He shows Jeongguk the gardens where he used to play with Hyejin, he shows him his old room and all the places he used to hide. As he drags him around, their hands tight around each other, he thinks that now his home is way different – sparkling and bright, the color jade green.

They leave Drore and Taehyung doesn't necessarily feel lighter, his nightmares don’t stop, but now he doesn't feel quite as lost, as if he got rid of the uncertainty and the thousand of questions that used to plague him.

He's still curious as ever, eyes filled with wonder. Jeongguk is his promised land, unexplored and unknown, yet filled with happiness and hope.

They travel together – wherever they want, no one telling where to go. Jeongguk still slays monsters. Taehyung still follows him into danger.

And if you want to know more about their adventures, you just need to go to a tavern, sit in a corner with some good ale, and keep an ear out for their songs.

⊱ ❂ ⊰

The minute I met you, the colours of my life began to pour

I’m scared of the dark

But now, even if we get old 

and these memories fade away

That's okay

'Cause then I get to meet you for the first time 

every single day