“The gates burned. The gods watched. And you chose the throne, again.”
The sound of his name still echoed through the palace, but Jungkook didn’t move.
Taehyung lay beside him on the altar of a forgotten god, their hands still clasped, their bodies too warm, too real, too fragile for what was about to come crashing through the gates.
He could smell smoke now, not incense, not memory. Real smoke. Bitter, acrid, alive.
Outside, the rebellion raged.
Inside, Taehyung whispered, “Run.”
“No.”
“You’ll be hunted.”
“Let them.”
Taehyung’s eyes searched his face like he was painting it into his memory.
“You always say that,” he murmured, “right before you leave.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You have to.”
“No.”
The earth shook beneath them, dust sifting down from the carved ceiling. Something collapsed far away. A scream. Another.
Jungkook rose, pressing his forehead to Taehyung’s.
“There’s still time,” he said, desperate. “We can leave. Together.”
Taehyung smiled bitterly. “You said that last time. And then your soldiers cut me down before I reached the gates.”
“I swear to you—”
“Don’t.” Taehyung sat up, hand slipping from his. “Don’t swear. Not this time.”
Jungkook stared at him.
“You don’t trust me.”
“I trust that you love me,” Taehyung said. “I just know that love isn’t always stronger than duty.”
The words struck like a blade through soft skin.
Jungkook staggered off the altar. Paced the stone floor, hands in his hair, heart racing faster than the war outside.
“I never wanted this war,” he growled.
“But you came with blood on your hands,” Taehyung replied gently. “And you walked into my temple like you hadn’t already burned my people to the ground.”
“That wasn’t me.”
“But it was.”
Taehyung rose from the altar, hair swaying like smoke behind him, white robes dusted with ancient ash.
He stood in front of Jungkook. Stared up at him.
“You are the same in every life,” he said. “Brave. Beautiful. Loved. But never mine.”
Jungkook’s throat tightened.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
Another explosion shook the palace. Closer.
This time, it wasn’t distant.
It was here.
The doors burst open.
A figure ran in, bloodied, panting, one of Jungkook’s soldiers. His uniform was half-burnt, his face smeared with ash.
“Your Highness!” the soldier barked, falling to his knees. “The palace is breached! They’ve reached the eastern halls—if we don’t retreat now, it’s suicide—!”
Jungkook didn’t move. Didn’t answer.
The soldier’s eyes darted to Taehyung.
And narrowed.
“This one—he’s the rebel oracle—”
“No,” Jungkook snapped. “He’s not.”
But it was too late. The recognition had already landed.
The soldier drew his blade.
Jungkook stepped between them.
“I said—no.”
The soldier hesitated. Wavered. “…He’s the reason this rebellion started. The high priest—”
Jungkook drew his own sword.
Steel met air.
Silence.
The soldier backed away, trembling.
“You would protect him over your own kingdom?” he whispered.
“Yes,” Jungkook said. “Again and again.”
The soldier fled.
Jungkook dropped the blade the moment the soldier was gone. It clattered against stone.
He turned back to Taehyung, breathless.
But Taehyung had already stepped away.
His face was unreadable.
“You should have let him kill me,” he whispered.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s always how this ends.”
“No.” Jungkook reached for him. “We can rewrite it.”
Taehyung stared at the hand offered to him.
Then up at the burning ceiling.
“No,” he said.
“Taehyung—”
“I’m not leaving the temple.”
Jungkook faltered.
“You’d die here?”
Taehyung’s eyes didn’t waver.
“I’ve died for less.”
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