Chapter 74 || BOUND AND TORN BY PROPHECIES

A Throne of Fire

The sun sank behind the spires of the palace, spilling amber and crimson across the sky as though the heavens themselves knew a choice was about to split the realm in two. Inside the royal court, tension snapped through the air like a drawn bowstring.

 

The High Council stood arrayed in a semicircle before Taehyung, their faces carved in cold marble resolve. At their center, Lord Vareth held a scroll like a blade, his voice clipped and formal.

"The time has come, Your Highness. You must choose a queen to rule beside you. The kingdom demands clarity."

Taehyung stood still, arms folded behind him, a storm hidden behind his silver eyes.

"And the candidates?"

"Two," Vareth replied. "Princess Iravelle of Nerava. And Lady Vaelora, daughter of your aunt. A royal Bloodline." The chamber murmured. Even the walls seemed to flinch.

 

Iravelle—the pretty diplomat with honeyed lies and dangerous promises. Accepting her would forge a treaty with the Neravans. Peace, yes. But laced with poison.

Vaelora—sharp, watchful, deadly as a coiled blade. Choosing her would signal strength, but bring the wrath of Nerava crashing down.

 

Taehyung’s jaw clenched. He already knew which path led to blood.

"Tonight, at the opening of the Dragon Festival, you must announce your decision," Vareth continued. "The world will be watching."

Taehyung didn’t answer. He turned and left, his cloak a ripple of shadow and fire behind him.

 

The door to Jungkook’s chamber slammed open. He startled, standing near the balcony, brushing his hair absently. Taehyung stormed in and shut the door with a wave of his hand, locking it behind him. Magic hummed over the stone.

"Taehyung—"

"The Council wants me to choose a bride," he snapped.

Jungkook blinked. His hand paused mid-motion.

"This was coming since forever."

"Tonight. At the ball. Two candidates: Iravelle and Vaelora. The Neravan princess will be there in person. If I reject her in public, war starts before sunrise."

Jungkook breathed out, steady but slow. He looked at him, really looked—beyond the fierce eyes and coiled power. He was scared. He didn’t show it often, but Jungkook could feel it pulsing beneath his fury.

"You have to think about the kingdom," he said quietly. "This isn’t just about us anymore."

"The kingdom needs strength," he growled. "Not cowardice. Not compromise. I could crush the Neravans myself. I don’t need their poisoned peace."

He stepped forward. "But the people will suffer. You might win—but at what cost?"

He reached out, grabbing Jungkook’s wrist—not roughly, but tightly, like he might vanish if he let go.

"They want me to stand beside a snake. To dance with deceit. And what if I say no? What if I name you instead? What will you do then, Jungkook?"

Jungkook looked up at him, something raw flickering in his eyes.

"If you choose me, we will face the war together. We will fight the Neravans and the Council until the end."

His breath caught.

"But if you choose one of them," Jungkook said, voice breaking, "I’ll walk away tonight."

He stared at him like he’d been slapped.

"Don’t do this again," he whispered.

But Jungkook was already pulling away.

 

The palace transformed into a dreamscape as night fell. Banners of red and gold stretched between towers. Floating lanterns drifted across the skies like stars. Dragons swooped in formation overhead, roaring in time with thunderous drums.

Inside the grand ballroom, nobles from across the realms glittered in jewels and whispers. The floor sparkled like polished obsidian, reflecting flame and silk and secrets.

Jungkook stood near a marble pillar, dressed in a simple tunic of midnight blue. No crown. No title. Just the faint glow of his blue eye. His guardian mark.

 

Across the room, Princess Iravelle of Nerava arrived with a retinue of veiled servants. She wore silver threaded in with dark crimson silk—like blood dripping down a blade. Her smile was all charm and teeth.

Lady Vaelora followed, draped in austere elegance. Her eyes scanned the hall like a predator searching for weakness.

 

Everyone waited. Eyes turned toward the top of the grand staircase.

Taehyung appeared in a storm of fire and shadow. He descended in silence, his presence consuming the air. Every head bowed. Every voice stilled.

When he reached the centre of the ballroom, the musicians paused. The first dance of the festival—traditionally shared with the future queen—was about to begin.

He stood still.

Then turned.

And raised a hand.

"Dance with me, Jungkook."

The silence broke like shattered glass.

Gasps echoed. Dresses rustled. Someone dropped a goblet.

Princess Iravelle’s mask cracked. "You dare—" But she didn’t finish. Because in that moment, half the guests—nobles, guards, even musicians—began to shimmer. The illusion spell dissolved. Horned faces emerged. Red eyes. Fangs. Clawed hands. More than half the ballroom had been infiltrated.

 

Neravans’ assassins, wrapped in dragon glamours.

And then—the war began.

Screams. Steel. Fire.

Taehyung’s eyes flared bright blue, his form beginning to shift.

Jungkook stood tall, his eyes blazing as he summoned his own dragons.

They had been ready for this.

They had always known.

But nothing could stop what came next. 

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