Chapter 44 || BOUND AND TORN BY PROPHECIES
Tensions Ignite
The storm within the palace wasn’t confined to the skies, nor the distant rumblings of politics or diplomacy. It brewed in quieter moments, behind closed doors and veiled gazes—thunderous in silence, lightning in charged words.
Taehyung paced his chambers, his crystal-blue eyes narrowed
in contemplation, his jaw tight. The events of the past few days replayed in
his mind, each moment between Varian and Jungkook scraping against his patience
like a dagger.
He didn’t trust Varian. He didn’t trust his charming words, his easy smiles, the way he used “kookie” like it was a secret name meant for intimacy.
But what unsettled him most was Jungkook—how he didn’t push Varian
away, how he didn’t seem to notice the danger that Taehyung saw so clearly. And
now, unable to bear the weight of his anger any longer, he was going to
confront him.
He found Jungkook in the eastern hall, where the evening
light slanted through the windows, painting the walls in shades of amber and
gold. Jungkook was carrying a small bundle of scrolls, his mismatched eyes
focused on the path ahead. He looked calm, collected—a stark contrast to the
storm brewing in him.
“Jungkook,” Taehyung called, his voice sharp and commanding.
Jungkook stopped mid-step, turning to face him. “Taehyung,” he said, her tone
light but wary. “What is it?”
“We need to talk,” he said, closing the distance between them in quick, deliberate strides. Jungkook’s brows furrowed as he noticed the intensity in Taehyung’s expression. “About what?” He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he grabbed his arm—not harshly, but firmly enough to make Jungkook
drop the scrolls he was holding. His crystal-blue eyes locked onto Jungkook’s,
and for a moment, the air seemed to still around them.
“About him,” Taehyung said, his voice low and edged with
anger. “Varian?” he asked, pulling his arm free. “What about him?”
“You need to stay away from him,” Taehyung said, the words
coming out sharper than he intended. Jungkook blinked, his confusion morphing
into irritation. “Stay away from him? That’s absurd. He’s your cousin, Taehyung—he’s
family.”
“He’s a snake,” Taehyung shot back. “A charmer who smiles
too much, laughs too loudly, and acts like he owns every room he enters.” He is
not your family, I am. He wanted to add, but didn’t. “And so what if he’s
charming?” Jungkook countered, his voice rising. “What’s the problem with
that?”
“The problem is that he’s drawn to you,” Taehyung said, his
voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. “And you don’t seem to mind.” Jungkook’s
breath hitched, his cheeks flushing, though he quickly regained his composure.
“So what if I don’t mind? That’s none of your concern, Taehyung.”
“It is my concern,” he said, stepping closer, his towering
presence filling the space between them. “I won’t let someone like him
manipulate you.”
“Manipulate me?” he repeated, anger flashing in his
mismatched eyes. “That’s rich coming from you—trying to control who I talk to,
where I go, what I do. You don’t own me, Taehyung.”
His jaw tightened, his patience thinning as his emotions surged like a tidal wave. “I’m protecting you,” he growled. “From him, from anyone who will try to see you the way I do.”
Jungkook’s heart pounded as the
words left his lips, charged with an intensity he didn’t know how to process.
“And how do you see me, Taehyung?” he demanded, voice trembling.
For a moment, Taehyung’s gaze softened, the storm in his
crystal-blue eyes momentarily giving way to something warmer, something more
vulnerable. But his anger refused to yield, and his response came in the form
of action rather than words.
He reached out, his hand brushing against Jungkook’s
cheek—cold, yet gentle. The touch sent a jolt through him, his breath catching
as Taehyung’s fingers trailed down to his jaw. “You’ve always been mine,” he
murmured, his voice low and barely audible. “And I can’t stand the thought of
him touching what’s mine.”
Jungkook’s cheeks burned, his emotions a tangled mess of
confusion, anger, and something far more dangerous. He wanted to push Taehyung
away, to tell him he was crossing a line, but the vulnerability in his gaze
held her captive.
“Taehyung… it's wrong to...” Jungkook began, his voice faltering. “You don’t understand, do you?” Taehyung interrupted, his tone soft yet edged with frustration. “You don’t see how much you mean to me.”
Before Jungkook
could respond, his hand dropped, and he took a step back, his expression
hardening once more. “Stay away from him, Jungkook. That’s all I’m asking.”
“And if I don’t?” He challenged, his voice steady despite
the storm raging inside him.
Taehyung’s jaw clenched, his crystal-blue eyes narrowing as
his patience reached its breaking point. He took another step forward, his
presence overwhelming. “Then you leave me no choice.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and charged, as Jungkook
stared him down, refusing to back away. But before the tension could explode, a
voice interrupted from the end of the corridor.
“Well, isn’t this an interesting sight?” Varian said, his
tone light but his amber eyes sharp as he approached. “I seem to have a talent
for walking in at the worst possible moment.”
Taehyung’s gaze snapped to him, his expression hardening as
his hands clenched into fists. “Do you enjoy interrupting, cousin?”
“Only when the conversation seems… heated,” Varian replied,
his smile wide but his posture cautious. He turned to Jungkook, his tone
softening. “Jungkook, is everything all right?” Jungkook exhaled shakily, his
emotions still reeling. “Fine,” he said quickly. “We were just… talking.”
Varian raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t
press further. “Well, then, perhaps we can all join the others in the dining
hall. I hear they’ve prepared quite the feast.”
Taehyung stepped back, his gaze briefly flicking to Jungkook
before he turned and left without another word. Varian watched him go, his
amber eyes thoughtful as he offered Jungkook his arm.
“Shall we?” he asked, his tone light but his smile tight. Jungkook
nodded, though his mind remained on the storm Taehyung had left in his wake—a
storm he knew hadn’t truly passed.
.
.
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