Your Divine Grace {NamJin}

eleven

The small, secluded house in the middle of the lush green forest surrounded by a sea of fireflies illuminating each glowing leaf with a soft, comforting white light wrapped the homesick king, his general and his guard in layers of wood topped with a shingled roof. A bed, a bucket, a small shack in the corner, a small cave filled with ashes and an open window that allowed the dim moonlight to flow like water into the house was all that welcomed them; the four walls were rather cozy, unwilling to allow much space for just one person, much less three.

"I'll take first watch"-- both Jimin and Yoongi began, looking at each other and turning the slightest shade of crimson as their words overlapped each other almost flawlessly.

"Go ahead and sleep, Yoongi hyung. It's been a long day for you," Jimin smiled, sadness painted over his luminescent cheeks.

Yoongi opened his cracked, dry lips to protest; but, as if his body understood Jimin's words, the weight of his stress and fatigue hammered onto his body mercilessly and pushed his straight posture down into a tired slouch.

"Mm," he said, almost belting out the barely audible hum from his stomach. His limbs were weak, bending like a palm tree in the wind flowing in from the window, allowing him just enough energy to crawl out of the house, into the palanquin Namjoon came into and drop out of the fight to stay awake. Jimin wanted badly to do the same thing, but his mind refused to let his body rest -- running a mile a minute with random, quick and frankly depressing thoughts.

"Don't you want to sleep too?" Namjoon asked, looking over at Jimin. "You've been travelling for hours and"--

"I...I'm fine, my lord. Please...get some rest. I'll stand watch," Jimin lied, refusing to look at Namjoon in the eyes. He couldn't look anyone in the eye and lie -- it was as if their eyes knew the truth, and were condemning Jimin to hell for not telling it.

"Jimin-ah, look at me."

Jimin turned in complete surprise. Namjoon had never addressed him with such an informal tone before. His eyes were lit with confusion and a hint of amusement, but that disappeared with one glance at Namjoon's face.

Namjoon's once glowing, rosy cheeks were now lifeless, almost sagging lumps on his face, and lines began to form from his watery eyes down to the sides of his nose, and even starting bags from the excessive crying and lack of sleep. His silent countenance told Jimin that the entire world was sitting on his small shoulders.

"It's okay, Jimin-ah. Today was long for all of us. Let's just sleep it off, okay?"

Jimin nodded, sitting beside his bed and watching as Namjoon tore off his maple leaf crown, the top layer of his robes and his shoes. He staggered to the small bed, fell weakly onto it and began to wail into the pillow, clutching it to his chest and holding it tighter than his own life into his body. He hated having to leave the palace. He hated having to leave his friends. He hated having to leave the person he loved most with six snakes ready to bite him at any moment.

He hated himself for it.

Jimin leaned over the lamenting body of the king and slowly placed a hand on his back, tracing the imaginary outline of his spine. His back must've hurt like no other physical pain he'd felt, Jimin figured, doing his best to comfort Namjoon. He admitted to himself that it if he were in the royal's shoes, he'd be doing the same thing.

"There there, my lord," Jimin whispered, his heart dropping to his stomach while watching Namjoon cry. "We'll get out of this soon. We'll come back to the palace, and Lord Seokjin will welcome you back with open arms."

Namjoon seemed to calm a little once Seokjin's name left Jimin's lips.

"Seokjin is probably writing his first letter to you right now! Imagine it, my lord. At your desk, holding a brush in his hand, telling you how his first day as king went. He misses you as much as you miss him, my lord."