sɴᴏᴡᴛᴀᴇ│ᴛᴋ [reposting]

.xᴠɪɪ.

Taehyung woke up to an aching body, acutely protesting the shackles hindering any movement. The rolling trailer abruptly stopped, and the prince was thrown against the back wall. A whine escaped his lips as he realised all of his limbs were numb and refusing to stir. Pain, however, was a good sign. It meant he wasn't dead yet.

Outside, he heard people walking by. His two assailants were probably among them. Taehyung couldn't help but wonder why they had kidnapped him and whether he was better off with them than in jail. Seeing as he was all tied up, they were obviously not planning on giving him back his freedom. He found comfort in the thought that if they had intended to dispose of him, they would not have bothered to keep him alive until now.

A wooden hatch opened. Taehyung shut his eyes and faked syncope, a very clumsy move that still managed to fool the person who had come to check up on him.

"Il n'est pas encore revenu à lui." [He hasn't yet regained consciousness.]

"Bien. On va pouvoir discuter tranquillement de ce qu'on va en faire." [Good. We are free to discuss what to do with him.]

If they had known their captive was listening attentively, they would likely have been more careful. Or maybe not. After all, they were talking in a language few spoke in these parts, unless you were a prince with a royal education.

The prisoner was quite surprised by his ability to not only identify the foreign tongue as French, but also understand all that was being said. When and where had he learned to speak it? Another mystery that was buried in his inaccessible past. He pricked up his ears to gather clues about his uncertain fate.

One man suggested they kill him but this idea was promptly rejected. How do you preserve a dead body? They were still weeks away from the Queen's castle.

Queen?

Taehyung shivered for some reason.

The crooks rambled on. They wouldn't have to keep the corpse. Just strands of hair should do. No. That wouldn't work. It was not the right colour. A finger? Who could identify anyone with a mere finger? They had to show his face.

Another one brought up the possibility of skipping their last stop off. It would save them at least five days. Sure. Why not? But this decision wasn't up to them. They would have to convince the merchants who had hired them for one purpose only: to protect the Caravan on its final voyage. Seeing as these travelling retailers were all looking forward to gathering some of the legendary stones from the dwarf mountain to secure their upcoming retirement, it was not going to be an easy task.

Hey. They were mercenaries. First and foremost. These 'clients' of theirs should have known what they got themselves into when adding them to the Caravan's payroll.

Speaking of those mountain dwarves, wasn't it common knowledge that they had ways to keep corpses fresh? Because think about it, a living hostage was to be fed. Had they considered the cost of an extra mouth to feed for another three weeks?

"I can work for you."

Taehyung had spoken loud and clear, in flawless French.

🍎

"My smelling salts! I need my smelling salts!" Jin dropped on a chair as Namjoon started fanning him with his hat.

"Calm down, hyung."

"How can you ask me to calm down when my Kookie is behind bars and Taehyung has a bounty on his head?"

"It has to be some kind of mistake."

"I hope you're right. But who really knows what these two boys have been up to? Goodness me, I never imagined I'd see this day."

"I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all this."

"Yes, there actually is: I've raised a thug." Jin's eyes widened at the thought that his upbringing had anything to do with Kookie's present fate. "Oh no what have I done?!"

"That's not what I meant."

As the two went on with their argument over who's responsibility should be involved, Hoseok walked over to Jungkook's cell.

"Hey."

The boy did not move. Nor did he acknowledge his hyung's presence.

"You probably had your reasons. I'm not here to judge you," Hoseok insisted. "Do you need anything by the way?"

The youngster swiftly got up from his bunk to approach him. "I need to find him," he whispered through gritted teeth. "I need to protect him."

"I meant anything to make your stay more comfortable, but since you're bringing this up, then let me ask you this: how will you manage to find and protect him from your cell?"

The reality of his imprisonment hit him like a punch in the jaw which had Jungkook fall back on his cot, desperate.

In the meantime, Yoongi and Jimin had been negotiating with the Sheriff and the plaintiff and when they stepped out of the office, they both had a tentative smile on their faces. "We've worked something out. Jungkook might not like it but it's the best compromise we could come up with."

"So what's the sentence," Namjoon enquired.

"Community service."

They all shared quizzical stares. "But there's nothing to do around here."

The Sheriff coughed in disagreement. "Actually, once the Caravan arrives—and it should be here any day now, hopefully—there will be plenty of work to keep your boy busy. In the meantime, he can reflect on his actions in the privacy of our modest penitentiary."

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