(JJK - 전정국 | PJM - 박지민)
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❝A true king doesn't give a fuck about the scars he'll have to bear to bring his people safety,❞ Jimin scowls at the vile man in front of him, his eyes aflame with fury.
❝And a true king never asserts his power...
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The next morning you rise and shine, breathing in air that comprises freedom and alights the forthcoming days.
After several weeks—which actually felt like years—your eyelids aren't heavied by the weight of an initiating insomnia that was a result of constant prudence. The sunbeams that scatter into the hut appear golden as your eyes cherish the vibrance of the outside world after being trapped in the prison cell for so long.
You stretch, the knots of stress that were clogged in your muscle fibres finally breaking even as you feel stinging pain shoot through your body. You make a mental note to ask Jimin to massage your shoulders a bit later if he has the time.
Turning to your side, you see your sister still fast asleep. Her face is the representation of her resting—as languid as the azure ocean in bright daylight. Heart filling with fondness, you smile to yourself and cover Yureum with her blanket so that she gets into a cozier position.
You step out of the hut after getting freshened and are greeted a bunch of women staring at you with blank faces. You bow and then smile. The women return the gestures, and you feel a lot of your anxiety gush away at the acceptance.
At a distance, you spot Jimin speaking to a man who seems to be in his middle ages. You walk over to Jimin and as he acknowledges you, you wish the man a good morning. He reciprocates the wish.
"Y/n, meet Mr. Song Si'u. He's the tribe's medic." Jimin introduces.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." You give him a slight bow of the head. "Thank you for helping us the previous night."
"Please don't mention, Your Majesty. 'Tis nothing but my duty. It's an honour to serve you."
The smile of respect on his lips sends a wave of contentment and dignity through you. Oh, how you've missed being called Her Majesty.
