Chapter Text
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Waving to the crowd from atop the stage he was standing on, Gon smiled and made sure to present the applauding masses with his best smile as he indulged them and let them take as many pictures of him as they wanted. His speech had gone well and he was satisfied with how the event had played out.
The questions he had been asked at the short Q&A opportunity he had allowed after his speech, had been respectful and had all revolved around why he had come here: To personally speak to and reassure his citizens that he’d take care of them. Things going as smoothly as they had might of course have had something to do with the fact that the audience had been vetted beforehand and only loyal believers in the monarchy had been allowed to listen to the wisdom he had shared with them today, but he didn’t really care.
Because of the ruthless way in which he had broken down the most recent up-flare of protests revolving around the bad working conditions and the lousy pay in the mines that had earned him and his ancestors their enormous riches, the security level for his public appearances had been increased. Without moving a muscle, he had looked at the increased number of death threats he had received this month alone before he had left for today’s appearance in front of his loyal subjects.
His trusted Captain of the Guards, Seok Hopil, had been worried about possible protests or even attacks and had accordingly increased the number of guards responsible for his safety. His speech today at least having gone by without any incidents, he let the horde of bodyguards responsible for his safety guide him off stage and back to his convoy of armoured cars that was already waiting for him in the parking lot behind the stage.
After exiting today’s venue, a shout from one of the guards securing the perimeter was all the warning he and his bodyguards got before all hell broke loose. Immediately tackled to the ground by his personal guards, he was shielded by at least three bodies as a firefight broke lose. A group of masked men ran at them from where they had been hiding out in the bushes at the fringes of the venue.
“Down with The Tyrant!” they shouted before they clashed with his guards who had readily put themselves into their way.
A fierce battle ensuing after that, Gon was eventually lifted from the ground and guided to the closest safety-promising cover that a thick, sturdy concrete wall lent. Seeing that their way to the armoured cars was cut off for now by the unusually well-organised and combat-proficient group of rebels, Gon overheard his guards coming to the decision to hunker down and wait for reinforcements to get to them.
Watching the fierce battle that ensued in the parking lot through the gaps in between his human shields, his gaze was quickly caught by one fighter in particular. Dressed in all black, the man moved with a grace and deadliness like none of his companions. Taking out two of his guards all by himself even after he had run out of bullets, the man wielded his dagger with deadly precision as he weaved through the miniscule gaps in the guards’ defences.
Striking his opponents down without mercy, Gon was more fascinated by that man in particular than by the carnage that ensued as his guards and the group of militant rebels clashed. The losses were high on the rebels’ side, but what was greatly surprising was that they were even higher on the Royal Guards’ side.
This had never happened before. Usually, any rebels or protesters they encountered were disorganised and desperate and therefore easy to take care off with a few well-placed bullets. This group was clearly different though and even he had to begrudgingly admire their fighting spirit.
His adrenalin levels rising when it for a short while looked like the rebels might actually gain the upper hand, he exhaled in relief when the guards' reinforcements arrived. The fight quickly turning into their favour after that, Gon was surprised when the rebels retreated instead of staying and fighting until the bitter, inevitable end as these fanatics were want to do. That one fascinating rebel fighter dressed in black once more stood out to him since he had called for the retreat and clearly seemed to be the leader of the group. Gon felt his breath catch in his lungs when the man turned to face in his direction.
The cloth previously covering the man’s face had fallen off sometime in the course of the battle and Gon found himself struck by the stunningly handsome, young face staring back at him. While the young rebel’s face looked like it was hewn from alabaster marble by one of the old masters, the look in the man’s eyes was what truly enraptured him.
Eyes narrowed in concentration as the young man hurriedly surveyed the chaotic situation, the fierce, unwavering resolve in those eyes that were as dark as the abyss had him captivated. A maelstrom of hatred, disgust and bloodlust reflected back to him in that impossibly dark pair of eyes and Gon knew in that moment that he needed to have that man. He wanted that man to be his like he had never wanted anyone before.
Surprised himself by his instant obsession and possessiveness, he snapped his hand out for his closest guard and ordered him to relay his command to not kill or mortally wound that incredibly fascinating fighter.
The guards pursued and shot at the swiftly retreating rebels with less enthusiasm than usual due to his order not to harm the man he had fallen in love with at first sight. Gon watched with avid interest how his men instead tried to capture the rebels alive. Herded into the back of his armoured limousine as soon as the situation was deemed secure enough, he watched from behind bullet proof glass as most of the rebels that had survived the confrontation managed to get away now that the guards were no longer shooting to kill.
Cursing when he saw that the most fascinating of them all had managed to escape his clutches, he grit his teeth and let the guards take him back home to the Palace.
“Get me everything on those men!” he ordered sharply as he and his entourage sped down the parted-off highway. “I want to know who they are, where they’re from and why they have given you such trouble! I expect answers by the time we get back home to the Palace!” he snarled, causing the guards present in the car with him to blanch and scramble to relay his orders to headquarters.
Incensed by having lost such an unusually high number of well-trained men in the attack today, he was especially irate that the guards had allowed the rebels' leader to slip through their fingers. There had been a fire in that young man’s eyes unlike what he had ever seen before. Practically having been able to feel the scorching heat as those fascinating eyes had rested on him for the fraction of a second, he was enraptured with that captivating man ever since.
The briefing he attended right after he had made it back to the Palace was thankfully able to shed a little light into the group of rebels that had ambushed them today. Whomever of the young men and women – some of them only teens - they had already been able to identify, turned out to have all been orphans with seemingly no one left to register them as missing and with nowhere else to go but to this group of rebels. The enemies' corpses were the ones easiest to identify of course, but not much besides the information linked to their fingerprints and youthful faces had been able to be dug up yet.
It irked and yet not really surprised him that the dead rebels’ possessions had lent no clues as to their other members, the location of their hideout or their motives besides the obvious general hatred for his person. Huffing in annoyance and feeling his mood sour since no information at all had been dug up about the group’s leader yet, he rose from his chair and left for his private chambers.
Taking a long, hot shower to wash off the parking lot dirt, he closed his eyes and recalled the way the man that had enraptured him had taken out guard after guard. With the grace of a dancer, the young fighter had weaved in between the rows of guards and had struck his enemies down without an ounce of hesitation or regret. It was obvious that the man must be combat trained since he had shed more blood than anyone else that day.
The fact that the man was such a powerful opponent only worked to increase his fascination with the youthful rebel leader though. Gifted with the face of an angel, the man had spilled the blood of his enemies with fierce satisfaction gleaming in his eyes each time one of the men he had attacked had fallen and had succumbed to the wounds he had inflicted.
His beautiful face speckled with the blood of his enemies, the rebel fighter had awoken a need in him to possess and capture that seemingly untameable wildness so it could be looked at, studied and beheld whenever he wished. His fascination with the rebel fighter was a dangerous thing, but he felt confident that he would eventually get to call the captivating, young warrior his own.
His anticipation and lust rising when he thought of one day having the fascinating man in his clutches and imagined getting to see those hate-filled eyes from up close, he chuckled as he washed the suds off his body and emerged from his shower dripping wet.
He needed to have that man. He wanted to study and know everything about him. He wanted to break him and he wanted to completely possess him. He wanted to make him his – and only his. He wanted to look the man in the eyes when he realised the inevitability of his fate.
He wanted.
And he would make sure that he was going to have.