Prophecy (medieval!ateez au)

eight

It wasn't until the next afternoon that a pair of guards you hadn't met before came to collect you for your meeting with the king. They said nothing to you as they took your arms, pulling them behind your back and tying them in a fasion you'd become much too familiar with. 

"What's the king like?" you question as they guide you through the same route you were taken through yesterday.

They maintain their silence, so you opt to imagine what the king is like instead.

You picture a rather plump, older man, probably in his 50s. He's got short, snowy white hair and a inky black beard speckled with tawny brown and silver. You imagine him to be stocky and built, but years of war have slowed him down considerabley; he's wise, but a complete dick. It would make sense for him to have such a youthful kingsguard, (Seonghwa can't be any older than 26, you guess), a king worn by age wouldn't be able to protect himself as well as he could in his prime.

Instead of taking you to the study, the guards manoeuvre you past the room and up a spiralling flight of stairs, leaving you wondering just where they're taking you.

You get to the top of the staircase, and you're pushed immediately to your right. One of the guards raps loudly against the hard wood of the door, and waits until a voice unknown to you shouts for you to enter. 

The guard opens the door, and they shove you in harshly, your shoe getting caught on the worn, patterned rug and almost losing your footing. The door slams shut behind you, and you realise the guards haven't followed suit; you're alone.

The room appears to be both a study and a miniature library, considerably bigger than Seonghwa's room downstairs, but you assume it's far from the biggest room in the castle.

To your right, the three walls are lined with around a dozen ceiling high bookcases, each shelf packed full of books or stacked high with parchments. Two wooden benches are placed back to back in between the bookcases, each one has a soft-looking blanket thrown over the seats. You can only wonder what magnificant beasts those pelts came from. Above the benches is an extremely luxurious chandelier made from a dark, wrought iron, the only spattering of colour being a small but beautiful collection of assorted jewels dangling from the center, and the lit candles in each placeholder make them glitter softly. 

Shifting to your left, is a fairly large, mahogany desk, except this one isn't cluttered with notes and books; it's clean, bar one unrolled piece of parchment that you can't read from your position at the door. There are two, plain, high-backed chairs on your side of the desk, and a much grander, intricately carved seat on the opposite side. The wooden seat is hidden by a velvety soft, navy blue cushion, and the back is covered by a fur similar to that on the benches. That one is clearly for the king.

Just behind the royal seat, is a lit hearth, enveloping the entire room in an inviting sunset glow. There's a mirror hanging above the fireplace, the golden frame embossed by rubies, sapphires, emeralds and other precious stones you couldn't even hazard guessing the names of. 

The room exudes wealth, and you feel disgusting even just standing in it, adorning your shoes, caked with dried mud and your borrowed clothes from Yeosang. They're simple but any of these royals wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything of the sort.

You want nothing more than the ground to swallow you up whole. But you take a deep breath and compose yourself. After all, you're about to lie to the king of one of the most powerful kingdoms on the planet.

Speaking of the king, where is he?

"I don't give a shit, Hongjoong!" You hear an all too familiar voice suddenly shout.

"Excuse me?" 'Hongjoong' seethes back. "Who do you think you are to address me like that?"

"I'll address you however the fuck I want until you give he-"