Chapter 83 || BOUND AND TORN BY PROPHECIES

 

Shattered Thrones and Silent Bonds

 

A week had passed since Jungkook’s final farewell.

The world had turned quieter, colder.

 

In the royal dragon chamber, Mili lay still—so motionless she could be mistaken for stone, or worse, dead. Her shimmering scales had dulled to a chalky grey, her breaths shallow and far apart. Curled around her were Niki and Spark, small dragonlings who had once been bundles of mischief and flame. Now, they lay still and protective, their soft growls barely above a whisper, their wings draped over her as if to shield her from the cruelty of the world.

 

Taehyung was not with her.

He had not left Jungkook’s chamber in seven days. Not once. Not for food, nor for rest, nor even for courtly duties. He had stayed beside the bed where he once lay, his scent still clinging faintly to the linens. He did not speak. He did not cry. He merely existed within that space, a dragon prince without a flame.

 

But today, for the first time, he had been forced to leave.

 

Mili had grown so weak that even Taehyung, with all his ancient magic, could no longer delay the inevitable on his own. He had to move her to the dragon chamber, to where Niki and Spark waited. When he stepped into the chamber, Mili did not stir. Her eyes remained closed, her soul flickering low.

 

He knelt beside her, smoothing a clawed hand along her side.

“Stay with them,” he whispered. “I’ll return soon.”

 

And then he stood, his jaw hard as iron, and walked toward the council chamber.

 

The council room was heavy with tension.

 

The marble floors gleamed coldly beneath their feet. The nobles sat along the long obsidian table, eyes filled with apprehension as Taehyung entered, his long coat trailing behind him like shadows. His steps echoed, sharp and precise.

 

“Your Highness,” the elder councillor began, bowing slightly. “We grieve with you. What happened to Lord Jungkook is a tragedy none of us can deny.”

 

Taehyung said nothing.

 

The man continued. “But the people grow restless. The dragon eggs have been dormant too long. The skies lack their protectors. Without a properly completed bond and heir, instability will bloom like wildfire.”

 

Another council member leaned forward. “We understand your pain, truly. But it’s been weeks. The people need reassurance. A future. A mate.”

 

Silence.

 

Taehyung’s eyes flickered dangerously, but still he didn’t speak.

 

Then Vaelora stepped forward.

She wore a ceremonial gown of silver and blue, her golden hair coiled like a crown around her proud head.

 

“My Prince,” she said softly, almost kindly, “I offer myself not for love. Not for affection. But for duty. For the sake of our people. I would never ask you to forget him. I would never dream of replacing him.”

 

Her eyes shimmered with practiced emotion.

“But let me stand beside you. Let me help you shoulder the burden. Let me be your mate in title alone, and together we’ll bring peace back to this realm.”

 

For a moment, the room was still.

 

Then Taehyung moved.

 

A violent gust of icy wind burst from his body, spiraling into the room like a blizzard. The walls trembled. Frost spread across the floor. The table cracked down the center with a hiss of splitting stone.

 

The nobles stumbled back in fear.

Vaelora gasped as her feet froze in place.

 

“You speak of duty,” Taehyung growled, voice low and primal, “as if my soul is not already in ashes.”

 

She tried to step forward, to touch his arm, but his eyes flashed.

 

“Don’t.” he snarled.

 

Vaelora hesitated.

 

In the next breath, ice surged forward, encasing her from neck to toe in a crystalline prison. Her gasp echoed through the chamber.

 

“No one,” Taehyung said coldly, “touches me. Not unless it’s him. I will burn, freeze, suffer to my last breath—but I will never mate another. Never.”

 

He turned without another word, the frost melting in his wake.

 

Yoongi stood frozen, fury and helplessness in his eyes.

Nyla grabbed his arm, whispering, “Let him go. He needs this.”

 

“He needs help,” Yoongi spat. “He’s falling apart.”

 

“He needs time,” the Queen said quietly from behind them. “Even dragons break.”

 

Taehyung returned to the dragon chamber, his shoulders tense with unspoken agony.

Mili stirred faintly as he entered. Niki and Spark lifted their heads, their eyes wide and sad.

 

Taehyung knelt beside her, placing his forehead against hers.

“I couldn’t stay there,” he murmured. “They wanted me to mate someone else. They don’t understand.”

 

Mili twitched, barely a sound escaping her.

 

“I told them no,” he whispered. “I would rather die. He is the only one. My guardian. My Queen. My mate. ……My  love.”

 

He wrapped his arms around Mili’s fading form, holding her close.

 

“I can't breathe without him,” he said, the first crack in his voice that day. “And now you’re fading too.”

 

Spark pressed his small snout against Taehyung’s shoulder.

Niki curled tighter around him, wings draping like a blanket.

 

“He was the reason I smiled. The reason I cared about anything. And now...” he swallowed, “I can’t even hear his laugh in my head anymore.”

 

His tears finally fell.

Not loud. Not raging.

But silent and steady, like the last snowfall of a dying winter.

 

Mili pressed her weak head against his chest. The gesture almost broke him.

 

“I will find a way,” he whispered into her scales. “Even if it kills me. I will bring him back. Or I will follow him—and you.”

 

Niki and Spark nuzzled closer, their warmth small but comforting.

And for that moment, wrapped in fading life and unbearable grief, the Prince of Dragons let himself break.

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