"Hate me, hurt me, betray me. The more pain you make me feel, the more tempting you become."
Taehyung Dark Royal a.u.
MATURE & explicit sexual content 18+
Cover by me: @CallMeByYourName97
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Does he know, I'm forsaken? The original sinner But soon you'll know For if I'm going down I guess I'll take you with me"
The Fruits - Paris Paloma 🌞 Taehyung
"She's alive."
The words pour out of him like magma. Heated, and pyroclastic as they rained down onto the figure before him.
Words he wasn't supposed to say.
'Let him believe me dead. Let him think I am gone from this world.' Leila had only told him minutes before. And he had agreed because how could he not? When he was wed to the brightest of them all, with the a mind somehow hone sharper than his own.
But Taehyung could not. Not as that sensation of raw outrage blew its fiery vestiges into his lungs. His mind.
With every beat of his barely immortal heart, he had come to visit and follow the carefully laid out plan.
And when he arrived he had every intention to keep his promise. He set up a stool in front of the dungeon cell. The man had been separated a far distance from Lily. His sister.
My sister. Taehyung corrected himself contritely.
But when the man looked up, all dark eyes and white hair, Taehyung lost sight of everything. A face he no longer recognized surrounded by it's icy newness. Taking in every part of his best friend, his brother, that he could not contend with. The features of the Queen, creating a pump of fear in his chest that he had been manipulated to forget. And then the eyes of his father, the eyes they shared. Blood magic had been used to glamour the best of it, and herbs that had decorated his hair a dark color. Then, a faint shiny line of a scar right across his cheek, Another mystery that had recently come to light, once hidden.
He imagined Jimin slitting Leila's throat. Her last image of life being a friend that she could not recognize. And that fear that she must of felt, turned into a consuming hatred that left him breathless.
Jimin barely seemed to shift at his words. It had been a week since his confinement, and the man was somehow impervious to dirt. His clothes were finely pressed, his skin fair as ever. His white hair stood out even in the dim light, melted steel within fallen snow. Taehyung grimaced every time it gleamed. At the same time feeling a sweet, sorrowful relief that the Queen, that terrible woman, was not his own mother. For he did not have the bright marker of her lineage.
