Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Notes from Lost Notes of Draconian Research Expert Kim Eunwoo

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While adult dragons are known for their extensive variation in colors, body type, horn and spinal ridges, and powers, terrestrial species are born with one common factor, they are all a mottled dark green at birth. While it is excellent and necessary camouflage for infants in the wild, it makes identification of orphaned dragons incredibly challenging, and often impossible to achieve until the dragon has reached its tenth year of life, when defining features begin to make themselves known.

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In the high reaches of the Eyrie, in Castle Ravenrest, in the Kingdom of Roaninway, a dragon egg has sat for several decades.

It is not unusual for an orphaned egg to go unhatched for weeks, sometimes even months, but in the long and vetted history of the Eyrie, only this one has lasted such a long while. It is in no danger, showing every sign of being in good condition, albeit reluctant to make its worldly debut, and the caretakers tend to it every day with the same expectation.

That it will hatch when it is ready.

Every day it is the same, it is cleaned and kept warm and whispered and sang to, just like every egg around it is, though those who care for it now are the grandchildren of those who cared for it first.

It doesn’t matter.

It will hatch when it is time.

Several leagues away across stretches of farmland and dark forest and glimmering lakes stands the proud Keep of Grand Duke Jeon and his family. Venerated, respected, trusted, and liked, it is on the backs of dragons the Jeon family has made a name for itself, every generation births fierce and proud warriors, and though Jeongguk, second son of the Duke and his wife is only seven months of age, it is already assumed that he will join those ranks when he completes his training.

Tomorrow he will leave with his family for the Capitol, and more importantly, the Eyrie. It is a two week journey, long for such a young child, but the Grand Duchess, his mother, thinks it is time for her children to be seen in Court, and if they so choose, to become riders like their parents were before them.

But right now Jeongguk is sleeping, dreaming small dreams, chubby hands curled into fists, black curls in disarray, blissfully unaware that destiny is rushing to meet him.

Two Weeks Later, Just Before Sunrise…

In the high reaches of the Eyrie, in Castle Ravenrest, in the Kingdom of Roaninway, a dragon's egg begins to hatch, leaving behind its own small dreams and hopes and little moments of awareness where its dragon heart and mind took note that it was not time, not yet, but now it is.

Jimin wakes slowly, then all at once.

He knows things immediately, as is the way of dragons.

He knows his name, having chosen it in dreams while he waited for the pull of the world to grow great enough to coax him out of the confines of his shell.

He knows how to listen.

He knows how to see.

He does not know the world's name or what it looks like or what it smells and tastes like, and he is curious, so curious to look upon it.

He does not know that his world's name will be Jeongguk, and he is arriving in the courtyard just as Jimin begins to push and press against the inside of the shell, bundled in royal blue blankets and grumbling sleepily in the arms of his eldest sister.

“He didn’t get much sleep last night, poor thing,” the children’s nurse tuts as she passes the girl a teething rag, “his front teeth look to be coming in first.”

“He’s going to look like a little rabbit,” Jeongguk’s sister says with a grin as her brother accepts her offering and quiets down. He’s a well-behaved baby, happy to sleep, happy to eat, happy to do just about anything and always smiling a gummy little smile while he does it. He is the joy of the family, five years younger than the next youngest sibling, and eleven whole years younger than the girl currently cradling him in her arms. He has a mop of dark curls already, having come out of the womb with them, his eyes are large and pretty and every single person who sees him points it out, and it’s even rumored that his laughter can cure minor aches and illnesses.

“Well hopefully this little rabbit can get some sleep once My Lord has everyone settled,” the nurse says, “though anything will be better than traveling has been for the lad.”

In the high reaches of the Eyrie, in Castle Ravenrest, a dragon's egg cracks open, and somewhere far below, wide, dark brown eyes do as well.

Jimin now knows light.

He pushes up through the shattered, mottled remains of his shell, little hands grasping at edges, little claws desperate to break free.

He takes a breath, he is small, small.

He now knows that everything else is large.

He takes another breath, pushes, grabs, kicks and scrabbles.

Until…

He…

Is…

Free!

Jimin lands on soft straw and blinks, sees a room, understands from listening between dreaming that this a room for eggs like his, orphaned or lost or stolen but unable to be returned to the rightful family upon being rescued by the kingdom.

But there is a pull.

He unfurls his tiny wings, gives them an experimental flick, finds them useless, then tucks them away for the time being. He knows he feels ready for a reason, and he knows the pull in his chest is the cause of his waking, so he follows it, scrambles out of the straw and down to the floor and out the door, small as a kitten, rainbow scaled, little tail lashing, head held high.

The corridors of the Eyrie are still quiet at this hour as he slips from room to room, going unnoticed because fate is at work and fate cannot be deterred or denied. He slinks and creeps and crawls, silent as his little claws will allow, following, always following that pull in his chest.

He leaves the Eyrie.

The stone halls he walked through give way to ones of polished marble, and then those are hung with art and banners and lined with pillars and statues, the floor is now carpeted, and Jimin’s little legs sink almost to his knees in the soft plushness of it, but he pushes onward, until he gets to a door, flattens down onto his belly, and pulls himself inside.

The room is opulent, the curtains closed, and across from him an elegant woman sits beside a cradle, singing softly as something within the cradle fusses and cries. The pull becomes stronger, so strong that without care or caution Jimin crosses the room out in the open, little wings beating uselessly in his haste, until he is standing before the cradle, before he is climbing inside.

The woman watches in silent amazement as a tiny dragon slips into her son's cradle, curls up beside him, and rests his tiny head on one, pudgy arm.

Tears well in her eyes when her son slowly stops crying and curls around the little dragon, eyelashes fluttering as he finally falls asleep.

She rises silently and goes to the other room, where her husband sits in conversation with the King, and with a press of her finger to her lips, she gestures for the two men to follow. Curious but obedient, they rise and peer over her shoulder in silent amazement at the two infants, fast asleep and curled together; one a little boy, the other a little dragon.

Jimin sighs happily in his sleep.

The pull is gone, replaced by something better.

Jimin now knows Jeongguk.

In the high reaches of the Eyrie, in Castle Ravenrest, in the Kingdom of Roaninway, the first sleepy workers are entering the hatchery, the lights flickering on, each egg checked for signs of hatching.

Chaos is unleashed shortly after, but the two babies sleep on, halls and stairs and rooms away, unknowing and content.

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Jimin refuses to leave Jeongguk’s side after that.

It takes at least two hours for the confusion to get sorted out after Jimin’s disappearance, and another two before Jeongguk’s mother allows anyone into her chambers to disturb the sleeping infants (as a former dragon rider herself, she could be quite intimidating), but eventually one of the workers arrives and whisks Jimin away to be evaluated by the Eyrie’s doctor.

It isn’t easy.

Jeongguk begins to fuss and cry as soon as the little beast was lifted from his cradle, and Jimin is a writhing, tiny mess of lashing tail and toothless, snapping jaws, his little, practically translucent wings flapping pointlessly as he tries to get back to his new friend. Lady Jeon watches it all with a frown, having already grown fond of the kitten-sized dragon in the short amount of time he’s been in their lives (anyone who can get a teething infant to sleep was worthy in her eyes), then after a moment's hesitation, she picks up Jeongguk and informs the Eyrie worker that she and her son would be attending the check up as well.

“Er,” the worker says, obviously uncertain what to do in situations like this. Typically outsiders aren’t around for these things, and he isn’t sure of the protocol, but Lady Jeon is powerful, and her argument compelling, or at least her imposing height and the imperious tilt of her chin is.

“Someday my son will be a rider, and this will be his dragon, do you not think he should be there for the examination?”

Jeongguk gurgles and waves a tiny fist in the air, which makes Jimin chirp and wiggle in the arms of the caretaker. The caretaker weighs the pros and cons of pointing out the age of the infant to a tired and fierce mother and decides they would like to live another day.

The examination goes well, Jimin is healthy and obviously happy, at least with Jeongguk nearby, but at the suggestion he spend his nights in the Eyrie he immediately begins to pout and whine, which in turn makes Jeongguk cry, which in turn reminds Lady Jeon about the three hours of broken sleep she’d gotten the night before.

“I’ll have a room made up for us in the tower then,” she says, “my son and I will sleep here so that he does not have to be far from his dragon.”

Both the doctor and the worker look at her in horror, because although she was once a rider, she is still a Lady, a very high standing one at that, not even the other workers sleep in the Eyrie, so there’s no viable space for her to occupy unless they re-purpose another room to become her chamber.

In the end she convinces them to let Jimin sleep with her son in their rooms, and thus begins the life of a tiny dragon who will someday be not so small, and his human, who will occupy a space in Jimin’s heart that is far larger than anyone and anything else.

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From the Lost Notes of Draconian Research Expert Kim Eunwoo

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While most riders meet their dragons well into adulthood, there are a few (unfortunately not well-documented) cases of the bond being created in infancy. Should this occur, their closeness can easily resemble that of twins, with an almost supernatural bond developing between them, with a strong understanding, connection, and sense of empathy that sometimes borders on telepathy.

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Jeongguk is down for a nap when an Eyrie worker arrives to do a check-up on Jimin. It’s been a couple weeks since the newborn hatched, and while there have been daily check-ins and a worker arriving for feeding time like clockwork, this is the first time Jimin will need to return to the Eyrie for a proper examination.

The worker arrives and bundles the dozing dragon in his arms, he’s a round little thing, not much bigger than when he’d first hatched, and everyone who sees him agrees he is one of the cutest dragons to have ever been born at the palace, all opalescent rainbows and spherical and perfect in every sense of the word.

But he’s about to wake up and find himself kidnapped, and he will not be happy about it.

One eye opens slowly, taking in his surroundings and the arms of a man he’s only vaguely familiar with, the other eye opens much quicker, than the both narrow as he realizes he’s been taken from Jeongguk’s side.

That will simply not do.

He starts to wiggle, but sadly for him he is far too small to put up much of a fight. The worker responds by holding him a little closer and Jimin curses his lack of teeth because he can’t even bite his kidnapper.

So he does the next best thing.

He cries.

It’s not hard to start, he’s only two weeks old technically, and this separation from his human is the single most devastating thing to have ever happened to him in that small amount of time. He can’t imagine a worse scenario, he cannot begin to guess where he’s going or what will happen to him, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever see Jeongguk again.

All these thoughts jumble together in a mess of emotion and panic, and so little Jimin throws his head back and he wails . A high, warbling call that in the wild means the dragon is lost and looking for its family.

“Shh!” The Eyrie worker soothes as he breaks into a jog, “I know it’s scary but it will be over so soon!”

Nothing about that statement eases Jimin’s worry, so he wails more, little opalescent tears gathering in his eyes as he cries.

Down several halls and corridors, behind many solid wood doors, Jeongguk wakes up, sees Jimin is missing, and immediately begins to cry.

Lady Jeon then insists on her and her son being present during all of Jimin’s check ups.

And they never overlap with nap time every again.

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From the Lost Notes of Draconian Research Expert Kim Eunwoo

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One noted phenomena of the early dragon/human imprint is that the human infant will sometimes begin to develop at a more rapid pace, seemingly in an attempt to keep up with their dragon companion.

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Jeongguk is only seven and a half months old when he begins to walk, far sooner than his mother, father, or nurse are emotionally prepared for.

“It’s because of the dragon,” Lord Jeon says with a tired sigh, though there’s a smile on his lips, “Jeongguk’s getting frustrated that he can’t keep up.”

And it’s true, ever since the little dragon baby entered their lives, Jeongguk has been developing in leaps and bounds, encouraged by his new companion. And everyone has noticed the growing scowls of frustration on the infants face every time Jimin was able to move quicker than him, so no one was truly surprised the day Jeongguk pulled himself up by the leg of chair and took several determined but wavering steps towards Jimin, who was watching him from a sunny spot on the floor across the room.

Jeongguk crosses the distance, falls on his little butt, lays down and promptly falls asleep all curled around his dragon.

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It’s a quiet, sunny afternoon and Jeongguk is ten months, five days, and eleven-and-a-half-hours old when he says his first coherent word.

“Jimin!”

Or name, in this case.

“Jimin! Jimin! Jimin!”

Confused, his nurse looks up from her knitting to see the little boy holding his dragon happily, pressing sloppy kisses to his muzzle, and the dragon, obviously just as happy, simply lets himself be ragdolled by the baby.

“Is that his name, little knight?” The nurse asks, delighted because Jeongguk is obviously delighted, his eyes almost closed with the size of his smile as he looks up at her and shouts the name again, as loud as he can.

“Jimin!”

The dragon makes a happy little trilling sound, his wings flapping and his tail lashing, the two of them a picture of joy.

“Just wait until you can both talk,” the nurse chuckles, “I imagine you’ll have so much to say to each other.”

“Jimin!” Jeongguk says while nodding fiercely.

“Here-here!” The nurse agrees, raising her knitting needles in a salute.

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Jeongguk loves bath time.

He loves most things, including naps, snacks, being read to, his siblings, his parents, a small rattle shaped like a fish bowl, and of course at the very top of the list, Jimin.

But bath time is very close second.

“Ba-Ba-Ba,” he chants to his sister as she gathers him up in her arms and walks towards the large basin of warm water that sits on the floor. It’s about three times the normal size of a usual infant's tub, and the reason why becomes evident when a happy trill sounds at Iseul’s feet and Jimin races forward, launches himself over the lip, and splashes into the slightly soapy water.

“Jimin!” Jeongguk gurgles happily.

“Yes, he is certainly Jimin, isn’t he?” Iseul sighs as she kneels beside the basin and begins to divest her little brother of his clothes, “You smell, did you— hm, no it looks like you didn’t, I guess you’re just smelly today.” Jeongguk laughs, a delighted, high-pitched sound that makes his sister grin in response, “I agree, it is pretty funny that you stink.”

“Ba-Ba-Ba,” Jeongguk replies.

“Bath time indeed, here we go! Up! And…down!” Iseul lifts her little brother up and plops him in the water, which is only about as deep as her fingers are long, and supports his back while she does her best to clean him up. It’s a challenge because the entire time Jimin is merrily flapping his little wings, splashing water everywhere while Jeongguk slaps his little hands against the surface along with him, crowing with delight every time they make a particular big splash. She’s soaked by the time she has both of them clean, but she’s about as happy as they are, their obvious delight infectious even though half the water that was in the tub is now on the floor.

She towels them both off, reaches an arm down to Jimin so he can climb up and settle on her shoulders, then she scoops up her baby brother and carries him to his crib, “Nap time, stinky,” she teases as she lowers Jeongguk down and Jimin clambers down from his perch to join him.

Jeongguk wiggles in protest until Jimin half flops on top of him, and immediately the dragon is wrapped tight in two chubby arms, he doesn’t seem to mind though. He just sighs happily and settles, apparently more ready for a nap than his human.

Iseul smiles down at the pair before retreating back to the reading room to continue her book. She leaves the door slightly ajar however, and can hear tiny giggles and chirps for another ten minutes before things finally quiet down. She carefully sets her book aside and peeks through the crack in the door to see both her brother and Jimin fast asleep, little huffs and snores filling the air.

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Jeongguk’s first birthday is a quiet family affair, or as quiet as the party of a one-year-old boy and his dragon can be. There’s a lot of cake and much of it is smeared on Jeongguk and Jimin’s face. They’ve decided to celebrate both of their births on the same day for simplicity's sake, and even though it’s been about three months since Jimin entered their lives, he’s now as much a part of the family as the rest of the children. Lord and Lady Jeon are ecstatic of course, and have even gone so far as to extend invitations to the dragons they were once partnered with, who arrive at the palace in dragon form, before shifting to join the festivities.

The older children swarm around them as soon as they enter the room, chattering and jumping and vying for their godparents attention, their antics indulged patiently until Lord Jeon chases them away and the four adults are allowed to greet each other in relative peace.

“It’s been too long, darling,” Lady Jeon’s former companion says quietly as she pulls the noble into her arms, “I hope you’ve been well.”

Dragons and their riders often have early retirements, and the Jeon’s were no exception, both fought during their youths in a war against the country of Galvant alongside their dragons, Dae and Yon, two sisters who fought with such ferocity that near the end of the war all they had to do was fly over a field of battle for the enemy to panic and scatter. It had been a dark, tumultuous time, and none of them missed those days, having a preference for peace and the happy chaos of family over calamity and the madness of conflict.

But their bond to their humans was intact, unwavering, even with time and distance separating them now, “Where are the littlest ones?” Yon says with a gentle clap of her hands, “I can’t wait to meet such a tenacious hatchling as the one you described to us.”

Lord Jeon grins, proud despite having nothing to do with Jimin’s arrival in their lives. How could he not be, when it is his son who had caused such a stir? No one in recent memory had bonded so early and so completely with a dragon, and the last to do so had gone on to do great things, and become a bit of a legend in the process.

Needless to say, expectations are high for Jeongguk and Jimin.

The future heroes in question were currently entertaining themselves on a blanket that had been spread out on the floor, Jeongguk clapping in delight as Jimin’s tail whacks a tiny xylophone in a disjointed rhythm, but as soon as the dragons enter the room, Jimin freezes.

He looked up at them with wide, rainbow eyes, then after a moment's hesitation he scrambles to his feet and stomps around Jeongguk so he can plant himself firmly on his four little legs, then he spreads his tiny wings and roars a challenge at them that comes out more like a squeak and a hiccup then anything else.

“Oh, he’s perfect ,” Dae says quietly before crouching down to come closer to eye level.

“So brave already,” Yon agrees.

“Does he think you’re going to fight him?” Korain, Jeongguk’s five (nearly six)-year-old brother asks as Kyong, Jeongguks other brother, nods with wide eyes.

“No, this is our way of letting other dragons know that the human we are with is bonded to us,” Dae explains with an amused smile, “though typically we do not become so territorial at such a young age.”

“Jimin is obsessed with our brother.” Yunhee, the third youngest sibling and spitting image of her mother says with a roll of her eyes, “He won’t even play with us unless Jeongguk wants to, and he usually doesn’t.”

“It’s normal for a bonded pair to spend a lot of time together,” Yon tells her, “you’ll meet a dragon someday who feels the same way about you that Jimin does about Jeongguk.” Yunhee grins at that, a fierce little thing, her dream is to become a military commander just like her mother.

Jimin, apparently satisfied that the two elder dragons will respect his claim on his human, now cautiously approaches them, nostrils flaring as he sniffs Dae, then Yon’s outstretched hands. He sneezes a couple times, blinks up at them both, then trots back to Jeongguk, who has been watching the exchange with a solemn expression, only slightly ruined by the remains of frosting on his left cheek. He takes the human by the wrist, ever so gently since his teeth have now come in, and guides him over to the two newcomers, who match Jeongguk’s solemn gaze with their own.

“No, thank you,” Dae says politely when Jeongguk pulls a handful of smashed cake from the pocket of his little trousers and offers it to them.

The baby shrugs and promptly shoves it into his mouth, giggling happily when Jimin lets go of his wrist to lick the crumbs from his face.

Yon smiles at her sister, then at the Jeon family, “You are very blessed to have had a child chosen like this.”

Lady Jeon smiles and hugs her husband to her side, “We knew we were when Jeongguk came out so healthy and strong,” she admits, “I’m not getting any younger, it is good to know my baby will always have someone to look after him.”

Iseul grins at her brother, who is currently attempting to lift Jimin up into his arms like he’s seen his family do, “I get the feeling it’s going to be the other way around,” she says, “Jimin gets into more trouble in a day then Jeongguk does in a week.”

Jimin trills in happy agreement before eating a piece of cake out of Jeongguk’s hair.

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From the Lost Notes of Draconian Research Expert Kim Eunwoo

ততততত

At two years of age the dragon will still be an infant, relative in size to that of a human child, and just as rambunctious and curious. Added to the typical trials of being that age is that this is also when their powers begin to manifest. Usually it will present itself in small ways, though if the dragon is in a high stress situation, the first manifestation can be quite dramatic.

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It’s been a very long day for the Jeon family, but especially for their children.

Even Iseul, the eldest and most mature, is tired, so imagine how Jeongguk, now two years old, must feel. His snack and nap have been postponed and Jimin is currently sulking at the highest point of the room his little legs could get him to, far from the grasp of Jeongguk’s cousin, a three-year-old with an attitude problem. His name is Chul and he is very spoiled, having been born to parents that would rather indulge their son then listen to him cry. He’d completely ignored Jeongguk until he’d noticed Jimin and had become determined to play with the dragon himself. As focused as he is on Jeongguk, Jimin is still good with other people, he likes the other siblings well enough and is particularly fond of Lady Jeon, often draping himself over her shoulders while she reads or works.

But Chul has no experience with dragons or siblings, and is far too unpleasant for real friends, so when he decided he wanted to play with what he essentially considered to be his cousin’s toy, he had marched over and taken it.

Or at least he had tried.

What happened next was very quick, but it resulted in a crying Jeongguk, a hissing (a sound he’d never made before) and snapping Jimin, and a red- faced, screaming Chul.

Now Jimin is out of reach on a mantel, Jeongguk is inconsolable, and every Jeon in the room is annoyed.

“Can you please do something about your son, cousin?” Lady Jeon finally snaps as Lord Jeon swoops down to rescue their youngest from his erstwhile playmate. Jeongguk’s cries quiet down swiftly, and he huffs a disgruntled sigh and buries his face in his father’s robes, only lifting them to peer up at Jimin every few seconds.

Lady Soo looks up from her tea, surprise on her face when she glances in her child's direction, “Oh!” She says, “You know, he throws so many tantrums I barely hear them anymore.”

She stands up and sweeps across the room, ignorant of the horrified expression on her cousin's face as she soothes her son by handing him several sweets and promising him a “toy” of his own. She had never been a dragon rider, in fact this is the first time she’s spent any time around a dragon outside of tournaments and incidental meetings and formal gatherings, despite her siblings and their spouses all being riders.

Chul seems to realize he’s not going to get the thing he actually wants, and instead of accepting the sweets, he smashes them into the floor and screams right in his mother's face.

The scream startles Jeongguk, who immediately starts crying again, and everyone is so miserable and distracted by the wailing infants that they don’t notice the tiny storm cloud gathering near the ceiling, drawing every closer to Chul, growing in size as it drifts nearer, until it is the size of a large dog and dumping its contents directly on top of the erstwhile toddler, a concentrated downpour of rain that gets no one else wet and manages to startle the three-year-old into silence.

Jeongguk’s big eyes grow bigger as he looks up at Jimin, looks back at his cousin, and then begins to clap, tears forgotten.

Needless to say, Chul does not get to spend time with Jeongguk after that, Lady Soo having deemed Jimin far too “dangerous” to be around her “sweet boy”.

No one protests or complains, in fact, Lady Jeon toasts her husband over a bottle of wine later that evening, both of them relieved and completely forgetting to tell the Eyrie about the display of power Jimin had shown.

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They’re reminded in the morning when Lord Jeon rises to check on the children and finds the cradle Jeongguk sleeps in shrouded in a thick layer of fog.

He approaches it curiously, the fog being very localized and dense, so thick he can barely discern the shape of the crib, let alone the little bodies contained within. But he can hear giggles, delighted and quiet, and the chortle-squeak of a happy baby dragon, so he leans forward and fans away some of the mist to reveal two pairs of bright eyes looking up at him.

“Good morning, little sirs,” he chuckles, “just wait until everyone hears about this.”

Jimin trills, wings flapping and sending the mist scattering in little ribbons and wisps and rainbows where the sunlight hits and Lord Jeon feels very lucky to have been gifted two such delightful sons so late in his life. He picks up one in either arm and carries them over to the window, where the trio watches the sun rise finish and a bright spring day unfurl.

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From the Lost Notes of Draconian Research Expert Kim Eunwoo

ততততত

Of all the many types of dragons in the world, few are as rare and precious as Cloud Dragons, though the name is a misnomer in regard to how powerful they truly are. Rain, snow, wind, fog, sunlight, all of these things and more are under the domain of these mighty creatures, though it takes them many years to fully master what they are capable of. Still, an allied Cloud dragon is a gift to any who call it so, and to have one born to a kingdom is cause for celebration.

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News spreads throughout the castle quickly; the egg that sat within the Eyrie for decades has given birth to a Cloud Dragon, auspicious and singular in the Kingdom of Roaninway. A dragon not made for war but for peace, a dragon who will eventually be able to end droughts and calm squalls, a dragon the kingdom will be honored and proud to call their own, a dragon any rider should be thrilled to have.

But those years are far off, right now Jimin is a dragon who is two years old, attending a birthday party far bigger than his first, and is growing very tired of all the people cooing over him and stopping him from playing with Jeongguk, who sits beside him looking mostly like a proper little someday-duke except for the sock and shoe he pulled off one foot and the hand sticky from where it had been shoved in his mouth only a couple minutes before.

Luckily for them, Jimin knew how to get them out of situations like this one.

“I think he might be a little spoiled,” Lady Jeon said later that night after the boys had gotten a warm bath and been given a firm talking-to about not causing rain showers in the middle of a party that was being held at the King's expense.

Lord Jeon chuckles, “Oh absolutely,” he says fondly, “how could he not be?”

“But we’ll do better?” His wife asks pointedly.

“Of course,” he agrees.

And they do, for the most part, though there may be the occasional indulgence here and there, because Jimin is sweet and likes to sit in sunbeams and make clouds appear so rainbows shine in them, and he sings little dragon songs in the evenings when Jeongguk is fussy and overtired, and sometimes when one of the other children are sad he’ll go curl up in their laps too.

Because he’s family, and he deserves to be just a little bit spoiled for it.

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And the years roll on and on from there, with Jimin growing and growing until (to his dismay) he can no longer fit in Jeongguk’s bed. To which Jeongguk responds by dragging his mattress onto the floor along with all his bedding and letting his dragon sprawl across him like they are both used to at night. He refuses to use his bed frame after that and eventually it’s removed entirely from his room, giving the boy, now fifteen years of age, all limbs and awkward angles plenty of room to sprawl on the floor with his best friend.

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Three Years Later…

From the Lost Notes of Draconian Research Expert Kim Eunwoo

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Dragon flight is one of the crowning achievements of a young ones development, even more so should they have a bond with which to share the momentous occasion with. First flight is considered sacred among the Draconian species, and highly personal, and any human should consider themselves lucky to be allowed to experience it alongside them.

ততততত

Jimin has now spent eighteen years outside of his egg and knows he’ll fly soon.

How he knows is just another mystery, similar to how he knew of the world in many ways before he’d ever hatched. Now there’s an ache in his bones, an itch in his wings, a restlessness in his blood that tells him to catch the wind and let it carry him.

It is easier said than done, however.

Not least of all because everyone is watching out for it. Not just the Jeons, but the entire castle, maybe even the entire kingdom.

“I hate it,” Jimin thinks to Jeongguk as they sit on a bluff overlooking the sea. He’s big now, big enough to carry Jeongguk when he does eventually master flight, and while Ravenrest is made to accommodate dragons of his size within it’s massive halls and rooms, he still feels cramped sometimes, and lately it’s been getting worse, “everyone’s watching me.”

“You say that like you don’t love the attention.” Jeongguk jokes, his back pressed to Jimin’s side. 

“It’s different now,” Jimin grumbles, “I don’t want to share this with them.”

“Do you want to share it with anyone?” Jeongguk asks, and he sounds a little uncertain, something Jimin cannot allow.

“You’re the only one,” he assures his human, “no one else deserves me.”

Jeongguk laughs, and Jimin thinks about how he loves that sound more than anything, more than the surf crashing against the rocks below, more than the wind as it sings to him, coaxing him up into its arms. It’s high-pitched and silly and sweet and Jeongguk’s nose scrunches cutely and Jimin just thinks he’s the best.

“Well, why don’t we practice out here then?” Jeongguk suggests, “We’re alone, no one is here to gawk at you, we can practice down on the beach so if you fall you’ll land in either sand or water, it’ll be great!”

“Says the one who doesn’t have to do any work.” Jimin sighs.

“You’re so dramatic!” Jeongguk nudges him playfully, “Over there trying to act like you aren’t really excited to fly.”

Jimin surges to his feet quickly, catching Jeongguk off guard and leaving him sprawled in the grass. “No respect!” Jimin grumbles, “I’m a cloud serpent!”

“You’re my Little Cloud,” Jeongguk says from where he lays, eyes bright and fond, “I still remember that time you got into Iseul’s paint set and covered yourself from top to tail in every blue you could because you thought it would make good camouflage for when you flew.”

“I was seven years old at the time,” Jimin sniffs, staring down his muzzle at his human, “I’m dignified now.”

“Sure.” Jeongguk agrees before pushing himself to his feet, “Come on, let's get down to the water!”

He takes off running a second later, but Jimin quickly catches up, and though he could surpass him easily, he stays by Jeongguk’s side until they reach the shore.

Days of practice pass there, out of sight of the castle and city and any prying eyes. Jimin is always tired and sore by the end of each session, but Jeongguk is endlessly encouraging and gentle, spoiling him a little extra at the end of each day, and Jimin certainly can’t complain about that.

It’s at the start of summer that he finally manages it.

He’s standing with his back to the wind on a tall rock overlooking the sea, and something about it feels different, like his body has attuned itself to every shift in the breeze without him actively trying. He coils his lithe body tightly, snaps his wings out, and calls to the wind with the same instinct that told him it was time to hatch.

The next gust lifts him and suddenly he is airborne, there are been many attempts before this, ones where he thought he had it, only to fall moments later, but now his wings are stronger, he’s more aware of the angles he needs to hold them at, and his magic sings alongside the wind, intertwining with it in a way that feels natural and right.

Behind him, he hears Jeongguk shout in excitement, cheering wildly as he leaps up from where he’d been watching to stand at the edge of the surf, arms outstretched as he watches Jimin soar over the ocean’s surface, wings dipping to skim the water, scales lustrous in the hazy sunlight.

He veers towards his human, their bond bright and alive with both their excitement, the sheer joy of sharing this moment with each other, and Jimin thinks, not for the first time, how he truly couldn’t have chosen a better human.

His landing is less than graceful, but he doesn’t care, tumbling to a halt as Jeongguk runs towards him and throws his arms around his neck, “You did it! You did it!” He shouts right into Jimin's ear, but he doesn’t mind, too elated to do anything except express his triumph through their bond and feel it shining right back at him

But that’s not what he’s most excited for.

After a couple more short flights his confidence grows, and he’s encouraging Jeongguk to clamber up onto his back, nestled in a space that won’t interfere with his wings or balance. He’s been waiting forever for this moment, and now, as he stands before the sea with his wings spread and his human putting all of his trust in him, Jimin feels more like a dragon than he ever has.

He launches himself into the air now, certain of the wind and his ability to ride it, and he can feel everything Jeongguk is feeling, the elation and joy and triumph mingling with his own as they ride with the wind out over the crashing waves and towards the open sea. And there they stay for hours, until Jimin's wings are tired and he is exhausted.

“I wish you could carry me now,” he whines as they make their way back to the castle.

“Someday, when you’re in human form, I absolutely will.” Jeongguk promises, “Your feet will never touch the ground when I’m around.”

“I like the sound of that,” Jimin sighs and nuzzles into Jeongguk’s shoulder.

“Should we tell everyone the news when we get back?” Jeongguk asks.

Jimin thinks about it, then shakes his head, “I’ve got a better idea.”

In the morning they climb to the highest reaches of Ravenrest, and Jimin sings the wind into existence and launches himself from the tower with Jeongguk on his back and the whole city sees their dragon fly, but only Jimin knows the true joy is not truly the act of flying, it is being able to fly with Jeongguk, and the knowledge that his human trusts him enough to do so at all.

That, in Jimin's opinion, is worth more than anything.

ೄ࿐ˊˎ

One year later…

Jimin is upset.

“I don’t get it,” Jimin says as he curls around his best dragon friend, Taehyung, another orphan from the hatchery at the Eyrie, “why am I so much more upset about this than I am about the other times?”

“Because the other times he was just hanging out with human friends, friends you’ve met, friends you’ve spent time with yourself, but now he’s not with them, he’s with a female .”

“You say it so ominously,” Yoongi, another orphan dragon, drawls from where he’s laying in the shade a stone's throw away, “and besides, we all know he’s with Lady Hana.”

Jimin scowls at the sound of her name, then frowns, “I still don’t understand,” he points out to his friends, “what’s wrong with me?”

“You’re jealous, pretty baby,” Taehyung replies teasingly, “ you want to be the one on the date.”

“I don’t want to date Lady Hana!” Jimin protests, “And it’s not a date! No one called it a date…at least I don’t think so.” If his dragon face could pout it would, but instead he just narrows his eyes and stares down at the ground.

“No one’s talking about you wanting to date Lady Hana,” Taehyung says with a roll of his golden eyes, “we all know you want to date Jeongguk.”

“I do not !” Jimin says, scandalized, “He’s my best friend!”

“Yeah okay,” Taehyung says, “you’ll figure it out eventually, until then, please try to pretend you’re not jealous.”

“You’re the worst,” Jimin says, “not helpful at all! Jealous? Hah! ”

Later that night, when he’s back in the room he shares with Jeongguk, he admits to himself that he is a little jealous.

It’s dinner time and he’s alone, and something is telling him to wait for his human, but he’s hungry and being hungry always makes him tired and grumpy and prone to pouting, so instead of doing anything about it, he lays among the pillows and blankets that make up their bed and he stares at nothing. Yunhee  and Kyong come in and try to coax him into joining the rest of the Jeons for dinner, but he just shakes his head, not really feeling like eating because being separated from Jeongguk feels a lot like being separated from a piece of himself. Maybe next time Jeongguk can take Jimin with him on his date with Lady Hana, though the thought of spending time with her is about as tempting as spending time with cousin Chul. Not that she’s mean, exactly, but she’s a terrible mix of talkative and boring and she looks at Jimin like he’s a wild animal and not a fully integrated member of the Court.

Jimin closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep, ignoring the sounds of the rest of the Jeons eating and chatting. They don’t seem to be bothered by Jeongguk spending his time with someone else.

So why does Jimin feel like he does?

He falls asleep before he can come to any sort of real conclusion.

And is woken a few hours later when Jeongguk finally comes home.

Jimin is awake immediately, dragon eyes seeing easily in the dim light as Jeongguk slips in as quietly as he can. He shuffles over to his dresser, and pulls out a change of clothes to sleep in. A moment later and he’s in the washroom, and a few minutes after that he is climbing into what passes for their bed, but he smells weird, off-putting; lavender and vanilla and cloying smells that are so different from his usual scent of leather and iron and sun-warmed skin. Jimin can’t help but rear back a little, fighting the urge to scoff and sneeze the smell out of his nose. Is that what Lady Hana smells like? His traitorous mind asks, and if so, why does Jeongguk smell like her now?

“Are you awake then?” Jeongguk asks softly.

Jimin thinks about rolling over and pretending he’s not, but then Jeongguk is scooting closer and curling up against him and Jimin is so weak for his human. He huffs a sigh and nudges Jeongguk’s shoulder gently, “You smell awful.”

A soft chuckle, “I smell like Hana.”

“Well she smells bad,” Jimin replies, “I don’t like it.”

There’s a long pause then Jeongguk asks, “Should I sleep somewhere else?”

“No!” Jimin whispers fiercely. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

They lay there in the quiet and it feels weird, like even though Jeongguk is right next to him he’s still somewhere else, “Did you… did you have a nice time?” He asks eventually, and prays to the gods that Jeongguk says no, that he hated every second of it and will never do it again.

But the gods aren’t on his side tonight.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk sighs, “she’s really pretty.”

“Hmm…” Jimin says, glad that his human’s eyes aren’t good enough in the dark to see how annoyed Jimin is. He has to force his tail to not lash like an angry cat, and he’s lucky he has enough control over his weather magic now to not fill the place with rain and fog like he wants to.

“I think she had a nice time too,” Jeongguk replies like Jimin had indicated he wanted him to continue, even though he’s certain he did no such thing, “she even said we should do it again, hang out, that is.” The human blushes and Jimin tries not to imagine the reasons for the pink stain on his cheeks, because he’s not jealous and so why should he care what Jeongguk did with Hana?

Yes, he’s already back to denying his jealousy, and somewhere across the castle grounds Taehyung is rolling his eyes.

“Maybe one of those times I can tag along?” Jimin tries his best to sound nonchalant, because he doesn’t want Jeongguk to think he’s needy, even if he is.

“Oh yeah, maybe,” Jeongguk replies vaguely. There’s a long pause then he adds, “Hana is scared of dragons.”

Jimin rears back a little, because how can a noble-born woman be afraid of a whole race, one that is on equal footing to humans and elves and every other sentient, intelligent species and people who make up the complicated but peaceful way of life that Roaninway has nourished?

“Oh,” he says quietly, “never mind then.”

“Did you have a nice time hanging out with Taehyung and Yoongi?” Jeongguk asks. He sounds a little hesitant, like he knows what he said to Jimin isn’t a good thing, but also that it’s not going to stop him from hanging out with Hana in the future, so he decided it’s best to change the subject.

“Mmhmm,” Jimin says in response.

“That’s good.”

The silence returns, but it’s not the usual comforting quiet they are settled in on nights like these. They stay curled together but to Jimin it feels like there are miles between them, and maybe it’s because since the first time they were babies, Jeongguk is going somewhere Jimin can’t follow.

What makes it so much worse is that Jeongguk doesn’t seem to want Jimin to even try.

The next morning dawns bleak and cold despite it being mid-spring and Jeongguk goes about his morning like nothing is different. He chats to Jimin about the day ahead and how he’s looking forward to flight training and archery practice and Jimin would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to at least part of it too. His stomach grumbles and growls as they head downstairs to the sitting room, where the rest of the Jeons are gathering as well, each of them in various states of sleepiness and hunger.

“Jimin!” Korain says excitedly as the dragon emerges from behind Jeongguk, “I asked the cook to bring us extra sausage this morning, since you didn’t have dinner!”

Inwardly Jimin curses the second youngest Jeon, who is so sweet and thoughtful and kind, and who is now the reason Jeongguk is looking at him with an arched eyebrow while asking through their link, “You didn’t have dinner?”

Jimin weighs the pros and cons of trying to pretend that he can’t hear thoughts projected directly into his head and decides answering, albeit with a lie, is the best way to go, even though he hates lying to Jeongguk and actively tries to avoid it. He just doesn’t want his human to think less of him for pouting, or to get annoyed with him so he replies, “I ate a late lunch with Tae and Yoongi, so I wasn’t that hungry.”

The lie seems to work and that makes Jimin feel even worse then he already does, but it’s hard to stay angry in the face of a plate full of food and a rowdy, loving family and an attentive Jeongguk, who piles extra servings onto his massive plate and encourages him to eat until he can’t anymore. So by the time the meal is over Jimin has almost completely forgotten about Lady Hana and is more than ready to face the day, and flying lessons.

He adores flying with Jeongguk more than anything.

Being a cloud dragon means he’s just at home in the sky as he is anywhere else, and while he’s not fully grown yet and can’t carry Jeongguk for long periods of time yet, they still train together and prepare for the day when Jimin is fully grown and able to carry his human everywhere and anywhere. It’s one of the two final milestones Jimin thinks are the most important, the other being the day he can take human form.

He’s not certain which day he is most impatient for, because as tempting as it is to sweep through the skies with Jeongguk on his back, it is also just as fabulous sounding as standing beside Jeongguk in his human form, getting to experience the world as he does, getting to go to all the places that Jimin, in his current form can’t.

He specifically does not think about dates and dating and any of that though.

Or at least he tries to, but then they emerge out into the training yard and his eyes can’t help but hone in on a very out of place dress of bright vermilion standing at the edge of the open space, and all the trainees are abuzz with whispers as they steal glances, “It’s Lady Hana!” Jimin hears one of them whisper, “What is she doing here?”

But before Jimin can fully wonder the same thing himself, one of Jeongguk's friends, a fellow future duke and dragon rider in training, trots up and slaps Jeongguk on the shoulder, “Looks like you got yourself an audience today, Gguk!” He leers at his friends, hands shoved in his pockets in feigned nonchalance, “Must have impressed her last night, huh?”

“Shut up ,” Jeongguk hisses, shoving at his friend's shoulder with brightly red-stained cheeks, but he’s grinning and there is an air of smugness about him, and Jimin might be young but he’s not that young. He recalls how Jeongguk had come home smelling like lavender and vanilla and feels a little sick at the memory.

Is he jealous?

Does he have any right to be?

Because at the end of the day he’s just a dragon, maybe an important one, but a dragon nonetheless, one who hasn’t even gotten his ability to shift yet, one who for all he knows could be absolutely hideous once he takes on his human form.

“I’m going to start with archery today,” Jeongguk says, more to his friend than to Jimin. He typically starts with flight training because then Jimin can rest and cheer Jeongguk on as he does everything else, but now he’s left behind as his human crosses the courtyard with long strides to take up a bow and a quiver of arrows.

He knows it’s no coincidence that the targets are closest to where Lady Hana stands.

Jimin waits as patiently as he can, but waiting is not something he’s very good at, considering there are very few things in life he’s ever been made to wait for. But he’s bored and restless and was truly looking forward to flying today.

He glances away from the sky where the other young dragons are swooping and gliding and tumbling, their happy roars and trills mingling with the shouted instructions and praise of their future riders. Yoongi and Taehyung are up there, taking commands from their respective riders, Hoseok and Seokjin, looking proud and fierce and alive, meanwhile Jimin is sitting in the shade of a courtyard wall, watching Jeongguk leaning against the opposite one as he smiles down at Lady Hana.

An hour goes by like this, then another. Jeongguk barely does any archery before he moves onto the sword, dueling his friend and a few others while Lady Hana watches from beneath a parasol being held by a palace maid.

And Jimin can’t help it, he’s jealous and annoyed and restless, all he wants to do is fly and feel his bond with Jeongguk grow stronger.

“Jimin?”

Yunhee appears at his shoulder, her pretty, heart-shaped face concerned, “Are you okay?”

Jimin nods, but he can’t help but glance in Jeongguk’s direction, hopeful that his friend has decided to stop flirting and focus on training, and Jimin, but he’s abandoned dueling and is back to leaning against the fence, his hair pushed away form his face and a bright smile on his lips as he replies to something Hana says.

Yunhee follows his gaze and her lips curl into a little sneer at the sight, “ Really? ” She asks, “Flirting with the empty-headed chit when he could be training?” She shakes her head, “I bet you’re bored, I just finished up with Haerin, but I think she could go a little longer if you want to work with her and me?”

It’s not the same because it’s not Jeongguk, but Jimin trusts Yunhee and he really likes the pretty little fire dragon she’s bonded with, Haerin, who is all deep scarlet scales with gold highlights and burnished copper eyes. He throws another longing glance at Jeongguk, but shields his sadness from him through their bond, well aware of the giddy delight he can feel on Jeongguk’s end and not wanting to ruin it.

Jimin knows he’s been spoiled and indulged most of his life, he knows he’s special because people have been telling him that since he was born, but now he’s finding out there are limitations to how special he is, he’s finding out he doesn’t occupy the same space in Jeongguk’s heart as Jimin does to Jeongguk.

He nods to Yunhee after a moment, who grins up at him fiercely and hugs him around the neck, “Okay, baby brother,” she says with a hint of teasing in her voice, “let’s see if you can keep up with us.”

Haerin rolls her pretty eyes, “She says that like I didn’t almost crash into the Eyrie earlier because she distracted me.”

“Hey!” Yunhee says, “I said I’m sorry.”

Haerin chuckles fondly and nuzzles Jimin’s neck a little as they climb up to the flight launch platform, “Are you okay, little one?” She rumbles quietly in draconic.

“I’m fine,” Jimin grumbles back, “I just don’t get what he sees in Lady Hana, aren’t I good enough for him?”

“Human males are stupid,” Haerin replies without shame, “notoriously so, in fact, I’ve had to hear a lot about it from Yunhee.”

“Jeongguk isn't stupid!” Jimin protests, “He’s one of the smartest people I know!”

“You can be stupid and smart at the same time,” Haerin says, “humans excel at it, men even more so.”

Jimin broods about that as they climb the stairs, but then a breeze hits his face and it smells of the sea and far off places, and he’s spreading his wings and recalling what it is to fly, and though it’s not the same, when he hears Yunhee call out the command, he swoops down from his perch and spirals through the air, sleek and rainbow-hued and beautiful.

There are a few gasps and woops from the ground below, everyone excited when Jimin takes to the sky. He’s slender and beautiful, his form not one carried by other types of dragons, it’s more serpent-like, elegant and graceful, and when the sun hits his scales it sends rainbows scattering across the ground like sunlight through crystal.

Yunhee shouts a command and he and Haerin spiral together before separating and streaking in opposite directions, winding their way through an aerial obstacle course that is meant to hone reaction time and agility as well as strengthen the bond between rider and dragon. Someday Jimin will navigate this with Jeongguk on his back, but for now his job is to grow familiar with every twist and turn and surprise obstacle, both to increase his time and to help protect Jeongguk when he eventually takes his place on Jimin’s back.

It’s not really necessary for him to train like this, he’s too valuable to ever be permitted to fight, but it’s a good skill to have regardless, and a time-honored way to enforce the ties between rider and dragon.

He’s nearly finished with the course, the hardest part coming up fast, when all of a sudden he feels a fierce shot of displeasure rip through his senses, followed by Jeongguk’s voice in his head, “Jimin, what are you doing?”

That’s all it takes to distract him, just for a moment, but that moment is enough to send him a little of course, and that is enough for his wing to clip sharply against one of the rings he’s passing through.

It hurts, the delicate membrane tearing slightly and making the appendage buckle, not a lot but enough to send him veering off course. He throws his weight sideways and manages to avoid crashing into Haerin, who roars in alarm, but then Jimin is falling as he struggles to regain momentum, wings beating hard and fast despite how one of them aches and scatters blood down on those who watch below. He manages to level out as he draws closer to the courtyard, though he’s very close to the ground, so close that those standing there feel the wind from his flight as he descends. He thinks he hears someone scream, but then he’s landing, stumbling to a halt as he tries to stop himself from crashing into a wall.

And then it’s dead quiet.

He stands there, breathless, heart beating hard in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins and anger, not his own, but Jeongguk’s, filling his mind. He looks up, hoping at least that Jeongguk is angry at himself for not paying attention, but instead he sees his rider glaring at him, one arm around a sobbing Hana, the other wiping Jimin’s blood from her cheek.

“Jimin! Are you okay?” Yunhee comes tumbling down the steps of the flight platform, long braid streaming behind her and both Seokjin and Hoseok close behind. Their dragons are not far from following either, all of them flying down and landing in the massive courtyard to cluster around Jimin.

“I’m okay,” he whispers, though he knows he sounds choked and in pain, but it’s not the wound that hurts him, even though it is aching, it’s Jeongguk’s anger and distance, it’s how he’s choosing Hana over Jimin.

“Let’s get you to the Eyrie,” Taehyung rumbles, and the other two dragons nod.

“Eyrie?” Yunhee asks, and when her dragon nods, she perks up, “I’ll go with you, I’m sorry this happened Jimin, I shouldn’t have suggested you fly, but you just looked so lonely…” she trails off, her eyes big and sad.

“What were you thinking?” Jeongguk’s angry voice snaps through the quiet, “Why were you in the sky at all? Let alone training with someone else?”

“Jeongguk,” Jimin starts, “I–”

“You couldn’t have just waited?” Jeongguk demands, “You’re always so impatient, I would have gotten to you eventually!”

“Eventually?” Jimin asks, “Jeongguk, I was waiting for over four hours!”

Jeongguk stops and honestly looks surprised by Jimin’s words, then he glances at the sky and frowns. Jimin can feel his confusion, his anger replaced by hesitation, like he truly lost track of time and didn’t realize just how much of it he spent with Hana.

At the thought of the girl, Jimin glances over Jeongguk’s shoulder and sees the noble being ushered away, and she is…crying? Why is she crying? Jimin is the one who got injured and got yelled at, but he’s not over here sobbing into some serving girl's shoulder. He huffs out a sigh and looks back at Jeongguk, hopeful at least for an apology, but all he gets is a shake of the head, “Next time just come and get me.”

“ Really , brother?” Yunhee says as she comes to stand next to Jimin, peering at the wound on his wing and hissing in sympathy, “That’s what you have to say for yourself?”

“Oh, don’t you start!” Jeongguk snaps, “It’s your fault this happened!”

“No! Nope!” His sister retorts, her hands clenched into fists at her side. She’s shorter than her brother, but twice as fierce as she stands toe to toe, “You don’t get to do that, not when we all know you’re too busy getting played by Lady Hana to even notice how sad you were making your bond mate!”

“Don’t talk about her like that!”

“You see! Defending her when you were the one who distracted Jimin and made him hurt himself!” She pushes at her brother's chest, not hard, but enough to get her point across, “Get your priorities figured out! You’re just another play thing to her, but Jimin loves you, he chose you before you could even talk !”

She huffs out a sigh and shakes her head, “Men!” She exclaims with a vague, violent gesture, before adding, “No offense,” with a nod to Seokjin and Hoseok, “You two are better than that.”

“Thanks!” Hoseok says brightly.

“We know.” Seokjin adds.

“C’mon, Jimin,” Yunhee says, “let’s get you to the infirmary.”

He knows he needs to get his wing looked at by a healer, so he follows, but he can’t resist a look over his shoulder and a silent apology to Jeongguk, whispering through the bond, “I’m sorry. Please come with me?”

Jeongguk glances between him and Hana’s retreating form, and for a moment, a terrible, soul-crushing moment, Jimin thinks he’s going to refuse and follow the girl instead, but then Jeongguk sighs and nods, and after a moment says through their link, “You don’t need to apologize, I’m the one who’s sorry.”

It doesn’t take long for them to reach the Eyrie, and it takes even less time for the healer to apply a salve, “Should have you better by morning, just no flying until then!” They chirp cheerfully, either ignorant or choosing to ignore the icy stare Yunhee keeps leveling at her brother and the sad eyes Jeongguk is making at Jimin.

And Jimin, for his part, just wants to go back to their room and sleep until dinner.

Maybe , he thinks later when he is settling into doing just that, once I have a human form, Jeongguk will want to lose hours of his time to me again.

Maybe I’ll be pretty enough that he’ll care.

Jeongguk hasn’t said much since they got back, just greeted his parents and eldest sister before slipping into the washroom to freshen up. Jimin wants to curl up and go to bed, but he’s dusty and doesn’t want to get the blankets dirty, so he curls up by the window and rests his chin on the sill, eyes trained on the scattering of clouds in the otherwise pristine azure sky.

There’s another doubt he harbors, one so secret no one else knows of its existence—not Jeongguk, not Taehyung, no one.

It’s that sometimes he doubts he will ever be able to do the things everyone tells him he can. He doesn’t let himself dwell on it often, sometimes he even forgets, but every now and then he wonders. He knows he’s a little spoiled, but he tries to balance it with being sweet. He knows he isn’t the best pupil, but what he lacks in focus he makes up for in determination. 

He just doesn’t know if he’ll ever be worthy of the stories he’s grown up listening to. Dragons of legend, who brought about miracles with their magic, names still revered for centuries, sometimes millenia later. 

It feels like people expect that from him too.

He’d love to be that dragon, but it’s hard when he only truly cares about Jeongguk, the other Jeons and his friends as well of course, but… Jeongguk is Jeongguk, he’s Jimin's best friend and other half, and up until recently they had never spent more than a day or so apart.

It has let a new seed of doubt take root alongside this tiny, terrible secret that Jimin keeps, and it’s a concern that perhaps Jeongguk wishes he’d been chosen by another dragon.

He hates this thought, so he doesn’t let himself think of it for more time than it takes to have it, violently shaking his head as if he can expel it from his mind like he would shed water from his scales.

A few minutes later Jeongguk comes out of the washroom with a basin of warm water and a cloth, and without a word he begins to clean Jimin up, careful of the tear on his wing and the salve that’s smeared across it. Infused with magic, the balm should have his wing as good as new by morning, but for now it’s an awkward reminder of what transpired in the courtyard.

“I really am sorry,” Jimin says after a couple minutes of silence passes and he feels like he’s going to cry, “it won’t happen again.”

“No, Jimin, please don’t apologize, I’m sorry,” Jeongguk replies, “Yunhee is right, I just…” he shakes his head, “Mother warned me that I’d get stupid around this age, I just didn’t realize how right she was.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid!” Jimin’s head shoots up in protest, tired of everyone accusing his human of being an idiot, “You’re brilliant.”

Jeongguk gives him an endeared smile, “No, I’m not, Little Cloud,” he says, using a nickname that no one else uses or even knows about, “but thank you.” 

Jimin lowers his head again, pouting as Jeongguk continues to wipe him down, “I promise I won’t do that again,” he says, “I promise I’ll be better.” Jimin nuzzles his snout into Jeongguk’s arm, pleased when he finds not even a hint of lavender or vanilla. There’s a little voice in the back of his mind that asks if Jeongguk would be happier if he’d gotten a dragon like Yoongi or Haerin, someone fierce and sharp and ready for battle. But Jimin is special, he knows he’s special. Who wouldn’t be happy to be the rider of a rare and auspicious Cloud Dragon, after all?

“You don’t have to be better, Jimin, I do,” Jeongguk replies before leaning down and giving his snout a kiss, “I do.”

And he does, at least when it comes to training. There are still nights where he’s out late and comes back smelling bad, but at least the training yard goes back to being theirs, and it’s not perfect but it’s better, and Jimin gets the sneaking suspicion that he’s going to just have to accept things as they are.

At least for now.

Because there’s a stirring in his bones, a rumbling in his heart, a whisper of change in the wind.

There is one last major milestone for Jimin to cross.

His first transformation into human form, and whether it was always meant to arrive now, or it’s spurred by the sudden desire to get Jeongguk to pay attention to him like he used to, Jimin knows it’s coming, and soon.

ೄ࿐ˊˎ-

Jeongguk knows he’s not in love with Lady Hana.

He doesn’t know for sure what love is, but he knows what he feels around her isn’t it.

Appreciation, yes, admiration, certainly; she’s pretty and clever and kisses better than anyone else Jeongguk has had the chance to kiss since puberty demanded he start thinking and wanting those sorts of things.

But he’s starting to get more than a little tired of her dislike for dragons.

They were having a nice enough evening, making out, feeling each other up, doing those things people his age typically do when they’re alone and and have imbibed in half a bottle of wine sneaked from the kitchens, but he’d been momentarily distracted by sudden jolt through the bond he had with Jimin, a little psychic ping of confusion and annoyance from the dragon that had quickly disappeared but still been enough for Jeongguk to jerk away from the kiss they’d been in the middle of, and when he’d apologized and explained what had happened, Hana had scowled and said, “I don’t like that he can just be in your thoughts whenever,” she sniffs and pulls back a little, looking disheveled and pretty with her slightly messed up hair and flushed cheeks, but it’s all ruined by the scowl she now wears, “it’s creepy.”

“It’s not,” Jeongguk argues, “it’s totally normal, and it doesn’t usually happen, we can shield our thoughts and feelings from each other for the most part.”

Hana’s eyes narrow, “So he let you feel that on purpose.”

Jeongguk frowns, not liking how she says it like an accusation and not a question, “Not necessarily, it’s probably that he was just surprised by something and the shock gave our connection a little push, he’s already gone now.” He tries to go back to kissing her, more interested in that than in continuing this conversation, but she shakes her head and reaches for the wine bottle instead. She takes a drink and passes it to him so he takes a drink as well, missing the time when they’d first started flirting and everything had felt easy and good. It’s not as though she didn’t know Jeongguk and his family, not like it’s a secret that the Jeons are for the most part, dragon riders. Hell, even if it wasn’t that well known word had spread like wildfire that a Cloud Dragon had been born in Roaninway and that it had chosen Jeongguk as soon as it emerged in the world.

“Well, I don’t like it, ever since that day in the courtyard it feels like he’s trying to steal you away from me.”

Jeongguk frowns harder and sets the bottle aside, it’s true that she’d been quite shaken up by what had happened in the training yard that day, but this is the first time she’s mentioned having any direct sort of problem with Jimin. As far as Jeongguk is aware, his dragon hasn’t had a chance to interact with her, the only thing that’s changed since then was Jeongguk asking her to avoid the Eyrie courtyard in the future, and he did that for her own safety as much as for Jimin.

“He’s not?” Jeongguk replies, but then there’s another shock of emotion from the bond, confusion and…concern?

What does Jimin have to be concerned about?

“See, that was him again, wasn’t it?” She pouts, “Trying to distract you.”

“I’m sure he’s not doing it on purpose.”

“Oh, come on!” She replies, voice a little harsh, and he can’t help but wonder where the soft spoken girl she’d first presented as went to, “He’s obviously manipulative, why else would the entire palace dote on him like they do?”

Because he’s sweet and silly? Because he’s fun and hard working and yes, maybe a little over indulged and spoiled, but as the rarest form of dragon, and one that is a blessing to their family and the Kingdom, Jeongguk is of the opinion that that is exactly what he deserves.

Sure the life they’ll lead isn’t the one Jeongguk dreamed of and heard stories about when they were children, but it’s fine because it’s Jimin .

He really doesn’t have an answer and she must know that because Hana sighs and sits up, leaning in to grab him by the shirt with a muttered, “Whatever, just kiss me,” and he’s about to because at least then they won’t be talking when he feels it again, the confusion and concern and something else, something he’s not used to feeling through the bond.

Pain.

It doesn’t hurt him the way it hurts Jimin, it’s like an awareness that tells him Jimin is suffering, and it makes his entire body go stiff, makes him unable to return the kiss when Hana’s lips brush against his, makes his hands clench into fists at his side when they should be reaching out to touch and hold the soft curves of her body.

Something’s wrong.

“I have to go,” he says stiffly, pushing himself up and away from Hana a little unsteadily because of the wine and the awareness that his dragon is in trouble.

“What do you mean you–” Hana huffs as he walks away, “Really?”

“Yes, Hana, really,” Jeongguk replies as he pulls his boots on and grabs his cloak. He’s at her townhouse right now, and there’s a fifteen-minute ride back to the palace from here, “we can meet up again some other time.”

“Oh, no, that’s not how it’s going to be!” She snaps as she tugs up her dress from where it’d been half pushed down her shoulders, “If you leave right now you might as well not come back!”

He stops for a moment and stares, Hana is disheveled and beautiful in the afternoon light, but her eyes are narrowed and there is something ugly in them as she glares. He’d heard about her reputation, but had disregarded the warning, chalking them up to scorned suitors who were bitter about not getting a chance with her, but now he gets the distinct feeling those rumors were true after all.

“Okay,” he says easily, “I guess this is goodbye then.”

And from the shocked look on her face as he swings his cloak around his shoulders and turns towards the door, she was not expecting that response at all.

Maybe he’ll come to regret this choice later, but right now he’s only really concerned about Jimin and the memory of pain etched into Jeongguk’s bones as he saddles and mounts his horse and rides him back to the palace, just as the sun sinks below the horizon at his back.

“Hold on, Little Cloud,” Jeongguk thinks to his dragon, “I’m coming.”

“Hurry.” is the only response he gets.

ೄ࿐ˊˎ-

“Brother! You’re home!” Korain shouts as he rides into the courtyard, “Come quick!”

“Is he okay?” Jeongguk asks as he dismounts and hands his horse off to a stable hand.

“He is,” his brother assures him, “Father says he’s close to shifting though!” He skids to a halt and eyes Jeongguk, his pert little nose (the opposite of Jeongguk’s own) wrinkled in distaste, “Have you been drinking?”

Jeongguk ignores him in favor of walking towards the palace, his strides long and certain. Hana is forgotten, because his dragon is about to get his human form for the first time, and this is something Jeongguk has— needs to be there for. He doesn’t bother with his cloak or boots once he’s in his family's wing, barely even nods to Isuel and his father, too intent on getting to Jimin.

“ Oh, Little Cloud ,” he breathes into the bond when he steps into their room and finds Jimin sprawled across the floor, his head resting in Lady Jeon’s lap.

“You felt it?” His mother asks, one weathered hand running the length of Jimin’s neck soothingly.

Jeongguk nods and sinks down to his knees beside his dragon, “How are you doing?” He asks.

“Hurts,” Jimin replies, and his voice sounds strained through their connection.

“I’ll order the servants to bring up some food, you can get it when you’re ready.” Lady Jeon says as she gently lifts Jimin’s head and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Try to eat, yes, even if you’re tired? You’ll need your strength.” She stands and Jeongguk takes her place, coaxing Jimin into resting his head on his lap, but the dragon resists after a moment, rears back a little and sneezes.

“You smell,” he says, wrinkling his nose in much the same way Korain did, but Jeongguk suspects for entirely different reasons.

In the past Jeongguk may have gotten annoyed with Jimin for his complaints, but he doesn’t feel that now, his conversation with Hana leaving him feeling protective towards the Cloud Dragon, indulgent even. So instead of rolling his eyes, he nods and stands, rushes into the washroom, changes clothes and cleans himself up.

“Better?” He asks a few minutes later when he slips back into bed, dressed now in a soft, comfortable outfit and smelling only like himself.

“Yes,” Jimin breathes as he curls around Jeongguk and rests his head on his stomach, then after a moment he says, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Jeongguk asks, feeling drowsy but relieved to be here, glad he made the choice to be with Jimin during this harrowing experience.

“I know you were with her.”

Jeongguk shrugs, “It’s fine.”

The quiet returns, Jeongguk wants to tell Jimin more, like how Hana isn’t part of his life, like how Jeongguk chose his dragon over her, but he knows his sweet little Cloud Serpent will probably blame himself for it all, and that’s the last thing he wants, so instead he just rests a gentle hand on Jimin’s snout and closes his eyes, cooing softly when a tremor runs through Jimin’s body.

“Hurts,” Jimin whimpers in his thoughts, “hurts a lot.”

“I know,” Jeongguk thinks back, “I wish I could take on some of it for you.”

Jimin shakes his head, “I wouldn’t let you,” he thinks back.

Jeongguk smiles and blinks down at Jimin, “How would you stop me?”

The dragon raises an opalescent eyebrow at him, “I’m currently twice your size and still growing, how wouldn’t I stop you? ”

“Bet your human form is going to be small,” Jeongguk thinks back as he reaches out and runs a soothing hand over Jimin’s neck, the dragon leans into the touch, his scales cool and scattered with dew from the fog he was giving off every time he shivered, “absolutely tiny.”

“You’re lucky you’re my favorite person because otherwise you’d be my least favorite person,” Jimin replies as he lifts his head and turns so that he can bury it in Jeongguk’s stomach like he’s still house cat-sized and not big enough to knock him over without any effort. Jeongguk responds by wrapping him in a hug and resting his cheek on the back of his neck.

“I am lucky,” Jeongguk says out loud, “you’re right.”

Another tremor wracks Jimin’s body and he whimpers quietly, it feels worse than the others, and Jeongguk prays that it’ll be over soon. He pulls back enough to straighten the blanket that is draped over Jimin’s lower half, there to protect his modesty because dragons don’t need clothes but polite society says that if you’re human-shaped then you do.

Another tremor of pain runs through him, followed by spiraling bursts of mist, then another, and another, closer together as the transformation draws nearer and nearer, and amid the swirling fog Jeongguk holds onto his dragon, who trills and cries and trembles…

And shifts.

Shrinking, shrinking, shrinking, until with a cry that turned from dragon to boy in a matter of four of Jeongguk’s heartbeats a trembling, delicate limbed young man lies with his head still resting on Jeongguk’s thigh. His skin is golden and there are patches of opal-like scales on his shoulders and spine and hips and his hair is a shifting shade of pale pink and blue and green and he is lovely enough to leave Jeongguk a little more breathless than he already was.

He is also quite small.

“Jimin?” Jeongguk whispers, and watches in awe as the dragon-turned-man rolls over and blinks up at him with bright opal eyes.

“I did it,” Jimin whispers back, words a little clumsy as they come from a mouth that has never spoken out loud.

“You did,” Jeongguk agrees, as he brushes a strand of hair away from Jimin’s eyes, which blink up at him all bright and curious and lovely. His dragon, his best friend, looks up at him and his lips curl into the softest of smiles, “that’s your first smile.” Jeongguk can’t help but point out, a matching one of his own on his lips.

Jimin's eyes light up with the realization, “It is!” He whispers excitedly, “And these are the first words I’ve said out loud! And the first time I’ve had hands! And lips! And! Oh–” he glances down at his blanketed legs, “Two legs is going to be tricky.”

“Probably,” Jeongguk chuckles, “but I’ll be there to help you.”

“Just like I helped you when you were small and often smelly.”

“There’s no reason to bring up the time before I was potty-trained,” Jeongguk sniffs, “also you’re small too, right now, just like I said you would be.”

“Oh my god you are right,” Jimin whispers in horror, tears forgotten as he takes in his body, “I am small!”

Jeongguk laughs through his own tears and pulls his friend against his chest, “I told you!”

“This is the first time I can hug you back,” Jimin whispers as he returns the gesture.

Jeongguk feels something strange flip inside of him, something odd and shining like gold and twice as bright, “You hugged me in your own way, before.”

“Yes,” Jimin agrees, “but now I can hug you even better, I can hold you.”

And he does, slender arms wrapped around Jeongguk’s neck and a soft cheek resting on his shoulder. The room is quiet now, the sun having fully set and left the outside world swathed in violet and sapphire dusk. Jimin is obviously exhausted, and Jeongguk feels guilty for not having been with Jimin the entire day, surely he must have known that this was coming, yet he hadn’t said a word.

“Are you hungry?” Jeongguk asks after a few minutes of holding Jimin, who nods without lifting his head, followed by the sound of his stomach growling loudly. Jeongguk chuckles, not even realizing he’s running his fingers through Jimin’s hair gently, it’s so soft, far softer than any hair he’s touched before, and it’s hard to convince himself to stop.

But eventually he gently disentangles himself from Jimin, who pouts and mewls tiredly but lets himself be maneuvered until he’s laying on his own on their mattress and for a dizzy moment Jeongguk stares, caught up in the remnants of the wine and the way the mage light lamps send golden light on Jimin’s golden skin, but then he shakes it away and turns towards the door, feeling strange for looking at his best friend like that.

It’ll certainly take some getting used to, having Jimin look this way.

“Is it over?” Korain asks from the family sitting room, where everyone else has gathered as well, looking at him expectantly.

Jeongguk’s grin is answer enough.

“I want to see!” Yunhee says as she marches towards the stairwell, but Jeongguk stops her with a pointed glare.

“He’s exhausted and hungry,” he says, “and he just went through a lot of pain. I'm going to get him some food and then he’s going to rest, you can see what he looks like in the morning.”

His sister scowls but nods, and Jeongguk isn’t certain where this protectiveness is coming from, but there’s something in him that wants to keep Jimin to himself for just a little longer, just for the night.

It’s probably just the bond, he reasons with himself as he answers a few questions his parents ask before slipping away to the kitchens to fetch a meal for them both. He probably just feels this way because after the first shift a dragon is particularly vulnerable, having never used a human form before and having used much of their strength and energy to shift in the first place.

Food procured, he returns to their rooms to find Jimin curled up on his side, eyes half open and blanket resting dangerously low on his hips. He looks away quickly, and sets the tray on a nearby table, “Let’s get you some clothes, yeah?” He asks.

“Clothes?” Jimin says, blinking his eyes open sleepily, “Oh, I suppose I do need those now.”

Then to Jeongguk’s absolute horror and dismay he pushes the blankets off and tries to stand.

“Jimin, wait!” Jeongguk warns, but it’s too late, unused to two legs, Jimin sways then stumbles forward, and if it weren’t for Jeongguk’s quick reflexes, he would have fallen.

Instead he’s now in Jeongguk’s arms and very, very naked.

“Sorry,” Jimin mutters, completely unbothered by his nudity, even while Jeongguk blushes and looks literally anywhere else in the room.

“It’s fine,” he replies, annoyed with himself for letting Jimin affect him at all. It’s probably just the remainder of the wine in his system that’s making him blush, and it’s probably just the momentous occasion making him feel a little lost and adrift. He keeps his gaze on the floor as he guides Jimin over to a chair and helps him sit, “you just have to be patient and remember to take it slow, you’ve got plenty of muscle—” he doesn’t look at those muscles, not even a little, “it’s just a matter of coordination.”

“Like learning to fly,” Jimin replies before yawning, a little hand rising to cover his mouth.

“Probably a lot easier than flight,” Jeongguk assures him, “we’ll have you walking in no time. Here, let me get you your clothes and then we’ll eat.”

Jeongguk pulls out some of his own things for Jimin to wear, tomorrow they can go to the tailors and order a full wardrobe for the dragon, but for now he’ll have to settle for a shirt and breeches that are obviously too large for him. And then there’s the matter of him not actually knowing how to dress himself, so Jeongguk has to help with that, and it’s awkward, at least for him.

Jimin is so cute and sleepy and apparently totally oblivious to how pretty he is, with Jeongguk’s clothes hanging off of his delicate frame.

Jeongguk sinks down onto the floor next to Jimin with the tray of food in his lap, and after a moment Jimin slides down to join him, mimicking the way he sits cross legged after a moments study of Jeongguk’s legs, pouting slightly when he gets the configuration wrong and has to readjust, and his lips are so plush—never in a hundred years would Jeongguk guessed that his dragon’s human form would look so…

So damn pretty.

He shakes his head again, annoyed with himself, and instead turns his focus to Jimin, who is holding his chopsticks like they’re a foreign object, and it occurs to him that there are so many little things Jimin will need to learn now that he can move around the world in a human body.

For now he patiently shows him how to hold his utensils, and after a few minutes of him trying, he gets the hang of it, and triumphantly lifts each bite to his mouth with a proud smile that makes his eyes look like crescent moons, and Jeongguk is reminded that not only is Jimin beautiful, but he is cute as well.

He shakes his head at himself, annoyed that he’s having these thoughts at all. Jimin is his best friend, he shouldn’t be thinking about his physical features, no matter how sharp his jaw is or how plush his lips look. He’s pulled from his spiraling thoughts by Jimin, who holds up a bite of food triumphantly and offers it to Jeongguk with a smile, and it’s true they used to share food a lot growing up, but this feels weirdly different, and Jeongguk doesn’t understand why.

So instead of thinking about it, he shoves those thoughts and feelings aside and focuses on eating, on talking, on explaining what he can about what Jimin needs to learn and practice these next few days. Jimin is excited, of course, chattering away about all the things he wants to do and see that he couldn’t before, completely oblivious to Jeongguk’s weird line of thought.

And he intends to keep it that way.

Which is all well and good until it’s bed time and suddenly he’s faced with the prospect of not cuddling up beside a dragon, but a very attractive man with no sense of personal space. But he flops down on his mattress regardless, the tension he’d been carrying with him ever since he left Hana’s slowly seeping out of him as Jimin crawls under the covers and sprawls on top of him, all knobby knees and elbows and hair tickling his face.

And Jimin doesn’t think it’s strange, so why should Jeongguk worry?

Why should he worry at all?

ೄ࿐ˊˎ-

Jimin wakes up the next morning in his human body, with his face shoved into Jeongguk’s neck. It’s nice here, he decides immediately, much nicer than in dragon form because somehow his human face fits neatly into the curve of neck and shoulder and he has the added bonus of two arms that he can wrap around Jeongguk and two legs that he can do the same with and he thinks he understands why a lot of dragons (at least those who live among humans) spend so much time in this form.

He does not know that most dragons do not sleep like this, but it’s fine, good even, until it’s not.

“Mmm… Hana… ‘s early,” Jeongguk slurs and—

Oh, Jimin does not like that.

He untangles himself from Jeongguk and rears back, insulted to be referred to (even mistakingly) as someone other than who he is, especially by Jeongguk, and extra especially because he used her name. He spends a few moments glaring down at his friend, and had he his tail still, it would be lashing like an annoyed cat, but he doesn’t so instead he huffs and stares and resists the urge to dig his fingers, which are very small, into the others ribs.

Instead he gets up and heads down stairs, the sounds of the rest of the Jeons promising better company than a still asleep Jeongguk who has mistaken Jimin for her. He’s very unsteady, so he has to brace a hand against the wall as he walks, and maybe this would be easier if he’d given Jeongguk a chance to wake and help him, but right now he can smell breakfast and Iseul is singing and maybe, just maybe he’s being a little bit petty, but Jimin has the sneaking suspicion Jeongguk wasn’t around for the majority of yesterday because he was spending it with Hana.

He’s not jealous though.

He thinks if he keeps telling himself that it will eventually be true, no matter how often Taehyung tells him otherwise.

He teeters a little uncertainly as he goes down the stairs, and eventually resorts to gripping the handrail with both hands and taking each step slowly, lower lip caught between his teeth in concentration, until finally he’s emerging in the sitting room and several pairs of eyes are turned to him in surprise.

“Um… Hello?” Kyong speaks first, “Either you’re Jimin or Jeongguk sleeps around more than we— Oof!” He’s cut off by Yunhee smacking him in the face with a pillow.

“Jimin!” She says excitedly as she scrambles off the couch and rushes towards him, “Jimin you’re beautiful !” Next thing he knows he has an armful of excited Yunhee and the rest of the Jeons are on their feet, congratulating him on a successful transformation, their chatter loud and a little overwhelming after the quiet of the bedroom. He bears up under it well though, smiling and laughing when Iseul pokes his cheeks and chuckling when Yunhee tries to pick him up even though they’re the same height.

“I just knew you were going to be pretty!” Yunhee says after a moment of trying to lift him that results in him only getting a couple inches off the ground.

“I’m pretty?” Jimin asks, just as Jeongguk’s sleep-rough voice says from behind him.

“Jimin?”

“Yes you are pretty,” Iseul says gently, and both Lady Jeon and Korain nod in agreement, but Jimin is distracted by Jeongguk emerging from the stairwell, his curls all tangly and messy, his eyes still heavy- lidded with sleep. He goes to take a step over to his human but then remembers the first words Jeongguk said this morning and stops mid-step, falling back into place with the rest of the family.

If anyone else notices they don’t show it, but Jeongguk’s eyebrows tighten and the corners of his lips turn down slightly and the next thing Jimin knows he’s being pulled (gently) from the midst of the Jeons and against Jeongguk’s side, “You guys are overwhelming him,” he says, and his voice is all rough from sleep and deeper than usual and Jimin does not understand why it makes something weird happen to his insides so he ignores it.

“Like he’s not used to us by now,” Yunhee says, “also why doesn’t he know what he looks like?”

“Oh…” Jeongguk looks down at Jimin, his big eyes roaming over every inch of his face, studying it to the point that Jimin feels heat rush to his cheeks and he can’t help but cradle them with his palms, uncertain what this new sensation is (dragons don’t blush, after all), “No, we just sort of… went to bed.” He says that while tracking the movement of Jimin’s hands and his frown disappears slightly for some reason Jimin can’t name.

“You didn’t have him look in a mirror?” Iseul asks, scandalized, before leaping to her feet and rushing to her room. She returns a moment later, not with a hand mirror but a full-sized wall mirror.

“Why are you like this?” Jeongguk sighs.

“He deserves to know he’s beautiful!” Yunhee replies as she leaps up to help her sister lean the mirror against the wall.

“You know girls,” Lord Jeon says, “you probably could have just…taken Jimin to your room?”

“You should have woken me up,” Jeongguk says quietly as his family gets caught up in their chatter.

“I almost did, but then you called me Hana and—” he cuts himself off and literally bites his tongue, because he knows Jeongguk is sensitive about the noblewoman and the last thing he wants is for the human to glare at him like he did that one day in the courtyard. He thinks he’s done an admirable job pretending to not hate Lady Hana, but he knows if he keeps talking his dislike will show and then Jeongguk will be disappointed in him, and that is the last thing in the world that he wants.

He glances up sheepishly to find Jeongguk looking at him without the expected glare and his mouth opens to speak, but before the human can say anything Jimin is saved from further embarrassment when Yunhee grabs him by the hands to lead him over to the mirror, except he’s not used to walking still so he stumbles. But before he can fall into Yunhee, a strong arm wraps around his waist and pulls him up against a broad chest, “Careful,” that sleep-rough and fathoms-deep voice says into his ear, and that strange feeling is back, butterflies in his stomach and fire in his cheeks and Jimin is far too overwhelmed to understand what it means right now so he continues to ignore it all. He offers Yunhee a reassuring smile when she grins at him sheepishly, then pats the arm on his waist and says, “I’m fine.”

The arm removes itself slowly, but a large hand remains at the small of his back as they walk forward, and maybe it shouldn’t feel as reassuring and good as it does, but here Jimin is, leaning into it more than he really needs too. He doesn’t really get it, the way Jeongguk has been making him feel lately, but it’s fine, it doesn’t feel bad, just confusing, and Jimin is sure it will pass soon.

He’s distracted when he stands in front of the mirror, “Oh,” he says quietly, eyes wide as he looks at himself, and he’s nothing like how he imagined he’d look but also exactly right in every sense of the word, “My lips are so big,” he says, pushing at them with a delicate finger, and when he glances at Jeongguk in the mirror he sees the way those big eyes are focused on his mouth and it makes another eruption of butterflies burst to life within him.

He’s going to have to ask Yoongi what this means (but out of earshot of Taehyung because he hasn’t shifted yet and he’s going to be jealous when he finds out Jimin has).

“You’re going to drive people wild when they see you at the promotion party,” Kyong says with a smile, “everyone’s going to want to dance with you.”

“I don’t know how to dance though?” Jimin says, his lower lip pushed out in what he will later discover to be a pout (and his most lethal manipulation tactic).

“I’ll teach you,” Iseul offers kindly, “though with how graceful you are in the sky, I’m sure you’ll take to dancing just as easily as you did flight.”

“I’ll train him,” Jeongguk says, “he’s my dragon after all.”

“Why are you so grumpy this morning, brother?” Korain asks, “Today is a good day, no?” He looks Jeongguk up and down and then his eyebrows shoot up, “Unless this has something to do with Lady Hana?”

“Can we not talk about her, please?” Yunhee says with a roll of her eyes, “I was having a good morning.”

“Yunhee, be nice,” Lady Jeon chides without any force behind it.

Jimin glances at Jeongguk again, and there’s a certain air of sadness about him, one that fades a little when he catches Jimin’s eye, but it’s enough to give the dragon pause, “I’ll train with Jeongguk,” he tells Iseul gently, “it’s what we’re used to, after all… but maybe we can dance at the celebration?”

“Everyone will be jealous of me, including my husband.” Iseul chuckles.

“He’s supposed to be coming back today, right?” Kyong asks, “I’ve been meaning to talk to him…”

Jimin turns to Jeongguk, and it feels odd to have to look up at him instead of down, but Jimin doesn’t mind it nearly as much as he thought he would, “Can we get food?” He asks, “I’m hungry.”

“Let’s go to the kitchen and get something, yeah?” Jeongguk asks, and Jimin nods eagerly, because it's been many years since he actually fit in the kitchen and he misses it.

The sadness is gone from Jeongguk’s eyes as they slip away from the rest of the Jeons, but the memory of it lingers in Jimin’s thoughts. He wants to ask what’s wrong, but Hana is such a sensitive subject, he’s not sure if he can safely bring it up without annoying his human. Dragons are a bit more blunt by nature, but having grown up surrounded by humans, Jimin is aware that things like this can be delicate. He still recalls Iseul crying over past heartbreaks and Korain complaining about how hard relationships are. He might not have any context for that himself, and he might not like Hana, but he does care for Jeongguk, and wants him to be happy.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice a bunched up rug in front of him, and the next thing he knows he’s tripping and falling forward, only to be caught once more by strong arms, “It’s going to be a full time job keeping you on your feet,” Jeongguk says, breath ghosting over his ear, chest rumbling against Jimin's back, and honestly? How dare he?

“I’ll do better,” he says, feeling a little sheepish, “it’s just a lot, you know?”

Gentle hands move up to his shoulders and urge him to turn around, and then he’s pulled into an embrace, a real hug just like last night, and Jimin thinks that hugging Jeongguk might be his new favorite thing. He sinks into the human’s hold and can’t help but close his eyes, sighing as tension he didn’t know he was carrying bleeds out of him. The hall is quiet, no servants or nobles in sight, it’s just him and Jeongguk and their mingling heart beats, “You’re doing great,” Jeongguk says quietly, “really. You’ve been in this body for less than a day and you really are doing so well.”

“Thank you,” Jimin whispers, pleased in the way he always is when Jeongguk praises him, but then he pulls back and offers his human a cheeky smile,”but I’m going to do even better, you’ll see!”

Jeongguk smiles back, one hand coming as if to brush the hair from his eyes, only for it to fall before it ever does, “I believe you, Little Cloud.”

“I’m not actually little, you know.”

“Little, at least in this body,” Jeongguk says before he grabs Jimin’s hand and gives it a gentle tug, “hold on to me until you’ve got some more experience walking, okay? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you fell and got hurt on your first day in this body.”

“Yunhee would kill you,” Jimin chuckles.

“I’d deserve it,” Jeongguk agrees, flashing that grin that makes him look a little like a rabbit.

They emerge in the main courtyard, which is bustling with nobles and commoners alike going about their daily business, but as busy as it is, Jimin’s instincts tell him he’s being watched, and when he tries to find the cause of the feeling, his eyes land on a familiar figure standing outside an opulent carriage with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed in a glare.

Lady Hana looks as put together as always, but there is something off about her demeanor, something that makes Jimin a little on edge, “Aren’t you going to say hello?” He asks when Jeongguk stiffens slightly but makes no move to walk towards her, though he does drop Jimin’s hand like it’s burned him.

It hurts and it shouldn’t, after all, it was just there in case he tripped again, so why should his fingers feel empty when they are no longer wound through Jeongguk’s?

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Jeongguk replies vaguely.

“Why?” Jimin can’t help but ask, curiosity overriding the little voice in the back of his mind that tells him not to pester his human about the woman.

“It’s…” Jeongguk heaves a sigh and shakes his head, “I don’t think she wants to talk to me, and it’s fine—just don’t worry about it, okay?”

But Jeongguk looks sad, so of course Jimin is going to worry about it.

The kitchens are quiet at this hour, most people having already broken their fast and moved on with the day. But there’s always something to eat for those who were traveling or too busy to take a meal at the designated times. Jimin hangs back by the doorway upon entry, a little wary of the new space before him and how it would interact with his own uncertain footing, but Jeongguk dives in, weaving between the workers with the practiced ease of someone who was used to needing a lot of food almost constantly. He snatches things on the fly, dodging the flicks of wet towels and attacks from spoons by good-natured cooks pretending to be annoyed by his presence. Jimin watches from where he’s leaning against the wall, smiles shyly at the curious eyes that glance his way, and a girl even stops beside him, her smile sweet as she introduces herself, which is funny because Jimin has met her several times before.

“Hi, Soomin,” he says with a wave of his hand, “it’s me, Jimin.”

She stares, uncomprehending for a moment, but then her eyes open wide and she gasps, “Oh! I heard a rumor that you’d shifted, but I had no idea if it was true or not! Congratulations!” She throws a glance over her shoulder then leans forward and whispers, “For a moment I was going to warn you about Lord Jeon,” she says, “but you already know he’s a bit of a heart breaker, don’t you? I’m sure you’ve had to hear all about it over the years, though rumor has it that this time around, Lady Hana left before he could, not that surprising, really.”

She leans back and laughs a little, like she and Jimin are in on a joke, but for the life of him, Jimin can’t make heads or tails about what she meant by Jeongguk being a heart breaker. So like any curious young dragon, he decides to ask. Soomin gets called back to her duties, which she does so reluctantly, her mouth open as though she wants to say something more, but before she can someone else calls her name and she turns away with a little wave, “Congratulations again, Jimin! You’re just as beautiful as we all thought you would be.”

He has no idea what to do with that information, so he just smiles and waves back.

“Come on,” Jeongguk says once he’s gathered a sufficient amount of food to make a meal, “Let’s go out to the gardens, it’s been a while, right?”

Jimin’s eyes light up at the offer, because it has been a while since he’d fit in the narrow paths between flowers and boxwood, where he and Jeongguk used to play when they were little more than kits, “I saw you talking to Soomin,” he says as they navigate the grounds, “she’s nice, isn’t she, and pretty?”

Jimin frowns, “Pretty like I’m pretty?” He asks.

Jeongguk sputters a little, like he’s been caught off guard by the question, “Um, yes… I suppose so,” he says, voice a little strained. He clears his throat after a moment's hesitation and adds under his breath, “you’re prettier though.”

Jimin smiles but doesn’t say anything, at least until he recalls what Soomin had said, “Jeongguk what’s a heart breaker?”

“Huh?” His friend asks, “What makes you ask that?”

“That’s what Soomin said you are, but I’ve never heard anyone else say that, so I figured it must be a human title I wasn’t aware of.”

“Don’t listen to Soomin, she likes to gossip.”

“But you just said she was nice?”

“Hmm,” Jeongguk says instead of responding, “I stole a bunch of strawberries that were supposed to be for the King's dessert tonight, do you want one?”

Jimin knows he’s just changing the subject, but he lets him and instead indulges in the various treats that Jeongguk had liberated from the kitchen. The strawberries are of course a very big hit, and he bites into a large one with relish, completely unaware of the dumbfounded look Jeongguk gives him as he does.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asks a minute later when Jeongguk chokes a little in the aftermath of another large strawberry being eaten.

“Never better.” Jeongguk gasps.

But Jimin knows he’s lying.

He just doesn't understand why.

ೄ࿐ˊˎ-

“Taehyung, what’s a heart breaker?” Jimin asks later that night when he goes to find his best friend. The other dragon is only a couple months younger than Jimin (though he did not spend nearly as long in his egg), and should be shifting for the first time soon. But for now he is curled around Jimin’s much smaller frame, snout resting on his thigh as they talk.

“It can mean a lot of things, but generally it’s someone who hurts another person by stringing them along, making them think they have a chance at a serious relationship, then leaving them.”

Jimin frowns, because that doesn’t sound very nice and he is certain that Jeongguk is one of the nicest people in the world, “Is it always intentional?” He wonders, “Like, do they set out to hurt others?”

“Not necessarily, though it’s rumored that Lady Hana does,” Taehyung chuckles when Jimin growls, “that sounds much less impressive coming from your little human body.”

“I’m so tiny!” Jimin wails in agreement, “And for what reason?”

“Aesthetics,” Tae replies calmly.

“That makes sense,” Jimin agrees, calming down instantly.

“So Jeongguk has a bit of a reputation with the humans, huh? Can’t say I’m surprised,” Taehyung continues, “I can imagine it will only get worse with promotions coming up.”

“Oh, right, I almost forgot!” Jimin asks, perking up a little, “I can’t wait to get my first assignment.”

“It’s a little nerve wracking for me,” Taehyung admits, “Seokjin says there’s skirmishes along the western border, something about Galvant trying to take over that range of hills where our gold mines are, but you’ll be safe and sound at least.”

Jimin frowns at the news, he’d overheard Lord and Lady Jeon discussing their border with Galvant only a few nights ago, but paid it little heed since he knew he wouldn’t be asked to join the fight. A cloud serpent was too precious and rare to risk being injured or captured, so it was likely his first assignment would be going south, to help with the drought currently affecting their neighbors in the allied country of Soldinia. He’s not quite powerful enough to end it, but he can mitigate its effects to some extent, certainly more than the weather witches and court mages have managed so far.

“I can’t imagine going into battle,” Jimin admits quietly, “it sounds terrifying.”

“I agree,” Taehyung replies, nuzzling his face a little into Jimin’s stomach, “but it’s considered an honor, a high one, some days it’s all Seokjin can talk about. It scares me, but it excites him, and I know I can trust him to keep us both safe.”

Jimin nods, scratches Taehyung just behind his horns like he knows he likes, “I’m glad Jeongguk and I will never have to do it,” he whispers, “I’m glad we’ll both be far away from war.”

“Jimin, ” Jeongguks voice echoes in his thoughts, “it’s getting late, do you want to stay with Taehyung or do you want me to come walk you home? ”

“If that look on your face is Jeongguk asking if you want to stay, please leave. I want to cuddle with Jin and sulk over not getting a pretty human body of my own.”

“Come get me please! ” Jimin calls through the bond and he feels this warm rush of affection from Jeongguk that makes him smile and blush.

“How’s that not-a-crush thing going on for you now that you have a silly, pretty human body?” Taehyung asks, eyeing him askance before heaving himself to his feet and leaving Jimin to sprawl on the grass. They’re resting in a section of garden open to anyone who lives in Ravenrest, where there’s a vast lawn maintained specifically for dragons to rest and sun themselves upon.

“You should go.” Jimin says instead of answering.

“Oh I am, but please, keep me updated, and let me know about anything that happens on the walk back to your room, where you share a bed, with someone you don’t have a crush on.”

“Taehyung!” Jimin hisses, “Why don’t you like me?”

“I love you, this is just how I show it.”

“Hello,” Jeongguks voice interrupts their mental bickering, “did Taehyung want us to walk with him back to Seokjin’s?”

“Please,” Taehyung says, “spare me.”

“He says it’s fine and if he’s alone, he can fly.” Jimin says, upset that Taehyung has put him in a situation where he has to lie to his human again , but completely unwilling to explain what he actually said and why he said it. “Let’s go.”

“Goodnight, lovebirds!” Taehyung sings through Jimin's thoughts before he starts to march away, “Try not to be too clueless!”

“Goodnight Taehyung!” Jeongguk politely calls over his shoulder before trotting to catch up with Jimin, who is stomping, just a little, in his annoyance. “Hey, what’s up?” Jeongguk says with a laugh, “Why are you rushing off?”

Jimin sighs, “Taehyung was being obnoxious,” he mutters, still stomping until Jeongguk’s hand catches on his wrist and pulls him into slowing down.

“Well he’s gone now,” his human says, voice mellow, “and it’s a nice night, so how about we take it a little slower?”

Why does the suggestion make butterflies burst in his stomach? He slows his pace, but can’t help frowning for a little longer, this time because he’s trying to decipher his own feelings. Why do none of his ancestral memories explain what he’s experiencing? It is nothing like calling for rain or flying or shifting, because he doesn’t understand it, and he’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice a dip in the lawn until he’s stumbling and then a strong arm is once again wrapping around his waist.

“You’re always catching me.” Jimin sighs as he finally gives into the urge he doesn’t understand and leans into Jeongguk’s side, “Someday I’m going to get the hang of this whole walking thing.”

Jeongguk laughs, “Don’t worry about it too much, and besides I know if it was the other way around, you’d always catch me too.”

Jimin nods, serious when he replies, “If it was up to me, you’d never fall, but as long as I’m around, if you do, it won’t be for long.”

ೄ࿐ˊˎ-

“I made you an appointment with the tailors, Jimin,” Lady Jeon says when they arrived back, “they’ll be here at noon, so please make sure you’re mostly presentable.”

“But I’m always presentable?” Jimin says, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

“Of course darling,” Lady Jeon says agreeably, “just make sure you’re awake and willing to speak with people you don’t know.”

“Ah,” Jimin says in understanding, “I will do my best.”

“I’ll make sure he wakes up on time.” Jeongguk says.

Lady Jeon snorts, “You say that as if you have an easier time being awake in the morning, if I don’t see you at the breakfast table tomorrow, I’ll get the Master of the Hounds to release his hunting dogs into your chamber to rouse you.”

Any other parent might be joking, but Lady Jeon is as formidable as she is intimidating, and they know better than to question her.

And now all that’s left is going to bed.

And Jeongguk seems unreasonably nervous about it.

The walk back he’d been fine, cracking a few jokes, asking Jimin about his time with Taehyung. But now as they head up the stairs he’s gone quiet, but Jimin has plenty of questions to ask.

“So what do you do before you go to bed?” He asks, because it’s been so long since he fit in the washroom that he can’t recall Jeongguk’s night time routine. “I hear water running and sometimes you sing? But I don’t really understand how those help you get ready for sleep? Why don’t you just lay down? That’s what I did before and it was fine. What’s different about laying down in this form?”

His barrage of questions gets a laugh out of Jeongguk, albeit one that is accompanied by fidgeting, “Well, I have to wash up, depending on how I spent my day that can mean just my face or my entire body.”

Jimin makes a face, “That seems like a lot of work.”

“Yeah, and after a really long day it can feel like it too, but it’s still important.” His human jerks his head towards the washroom, “C’mon, I’ll show you what I do and you can mimic me if you’d like.”

There are few things Jimin loves more, okay scratch that– there’s nothing Jimin likes more than doing what Jeongguk is doing, so he nods eagerly and trails after Jeongguk into the washroom, “It’s been so long since I fit in here.” He says as he takes in the relatively confined space, “I forgot how many hard surfaces there are.”

Jeongguk looks concerned over his observation, “Just stick close to me, okay? I don’t want you falling in here.”

Jimin also does not want to fall, and he loves having an excuse to glue himself to his human’s side and observe his every move, so that’s just what he does, watching as Jeongguk cleans himself up and mimicking what he can, asking for help when he needs it, and generally having a far better time than the average person does while getting ready to sleep. He gets a little distracted by the faucet, turning it on and off until Jeongguk suggests gently that he stop, then by the soap because who knew making a lather could be so much fun? But eventually he manages to finish and turns back to an amused looking Jeongguk leaning against the door frame. 

“Okay, time for sleep now? Right?” He asks before yawning, then without really thinking about it, he goes to strip, even manages to get his shirt off and his pants unlaced before Jeongguk interrupts him.

“Yes, we’re sleeping but we are not sleeping naked!” His human says, cheeks a pretty shade of scarlet and wide eyes even wider than usual. “Here, let me get you something, I’m sure I can find…” he trails off and turns away, leaving Jimin half-naked and confused.

“Why can’t I just sleep like I usually do?” He wonders as he trails after Jeongguk.

“Because a naked dragon is a very normal thing but a naked human isn’t, not in the way you’re thinking.” Jeongguk replies as he shuffles some clothes about in a chest of them before pulling out a shirt. “This should work well.”

“It’s massive,” Jimin points out.

“And so are the clothes you’ve been wearing all day,” Jeongguk reminds him, “you’re going to get new clothes soon, and besides, is it really so bad wearing mine until then?”

“No,” Jimin replies, but he’s unable to hold back his pout, “I just don’t understand why, you’re used to me naked—”

“Not in this body.”

“Why is it any different though?”

“Because humans don’t typically get naked around each other unless they're intimate.”

Jimin frowns.

“Intimate how?” He asks.

Jeongguk sighs, “Jimin, you know what I’m talking about, I know you might be innocent but you’re certainly not naive or clueless.”

So maybe he’s being difficult for no reason, but the thing is that he’s used to Jeongguk being curled up against him with nothing separating them except Jeongguk’s clothes and he doesn’t really want that to change, human form or not, “I could shift back to my dragon form and this wouldn’t be a problem.” He points out, but as soon as the words leave his mouth he realizes he doesn’t want to. Because once he’s in that form he won’t have hands to hold Jeongguk’s, won’t have the same sort of arms that let him embrace his human, and he won’t be small enough to curl up against him, instead of the other way around. So he heaves an unhappy sigh and begrudgingly reaches out for the shirt, then promptly goes to divest himself of his pants.

Jeongguk makes a very undignified noise as soon as his fingers land on his waistband, “Washroom for changing!” He says, eyes wide and ears red. “Always!”

“We used to bathe together, Jeongguk.” Jimin mutters as he stalks past his human.

“Yes, when I was a baby ,” Jeongguk replies, “I’m not anymore and I just…” He trails off and looks at the ceiling as though he’s asking for patience. “Just put the shirt on, Jimin.”

Jimin puts the shirt on and when he comes back out he finds Jeongguk already changed and in bed. So without a moment's hesitation he crawls into the pile of pillows and blankets and wraps himself around Jeongguk, his head resting on his chest.

“Oh, this is so much better in this shape than in dragon shape,” he mutters as he presses himself as close as possible, “I am going to sleep with you like this every night forever.”

“Sounds great.” Jeongguk replies, and if Jimin wasn’t so sleepy he might have noticed how strained his human's voice is. But he doesn’t, blissfully unaware of the complete meltdown Jeongguk is having despite their proximity and Jimin's face being only an inch or so away from Jeongguk’s. 

He lays there, more content than he can ever recall being, warm body pressed to Jeongguk’s warm body, heart beating a happy, tandem beat with his human’s, and everything right with his world, small though it may be.

“Are you asleep?” He asks.

“Jimin, it's been less than a minute, so no, I’m not.”

“Oh, okay, good. I just wanted to let you know that getting to sleep with you like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, except the day I found you, because no day could be better than that.”

Jeongguk’s arms tighten around him in response, and he feels a soft brush of lips against the crown of his head. It’s different, in this body, because it makes him feel warm and safe and happy in a way he isn’t familiar with and doesn’t understand, and he feels a candle-flicker of fondness and love come through the bond, and it’s in that glow that he falls asleep, all wrapped around his human and content in a way he’s never felt before.

ೄ࿐ˊˎ-

The royal tailor is not nice.

Jimin decides this five minutes into standing on a tiny stool and having yet another pin poke him in the side.

“Ow!” He whines.

“Master Jimin, you need to hold still!” The man who is currently torturing him mumbles around a mouthful of other pins. “This would take a lot less time if you did!”

“I’m bored !” Jimin grouses, “No one told me this would take so long.”

“I did, actually,” Jeongguk replies from his own stool on the other side of the room, “I said specifically that you would need to hold still and that it would take some time to get things fitted properly so you would have to be patient.”

Jimin pouts, and if a little whine escapes him while he does, well, that’s certainly not his fault.

“How many outfits does one human need, anyway?” He asks after what feels like nine hours but in reality has been about half of one.

“Well, Master Jimin,” the tailor says, “You need daywear to start, so at least seven different sets of shirts and pants, plus undergarments. Then you need a couple of extra in case of a need to change into something fresh during the day. Then there is formal wear, which you will be expected to dress in during the graduation ceremony and any other royal events you might attend in the future. Then there is travel wear, for those times you decided to not travel in dragon form. And of course sleeping clothes, another necessity Master Jeongguk has mentioned you needing.”

He sticks his tongue out at his human when he hears that, but Jeongguk just gives him a smile and a shrug, only to apologize for moving a moment later.

“That’s so much, why can’t humans just be naked too?”

“That’s a question to ask someone who doesn’t make their living from making sure humans aren’t naked,” the tailor responds, “and the answer to it is probably long enough that I would get bored, so you absolutely would.”

Jimin huffs out an annoyed breath and goes to cross his arms over his chest, but then remembers at the last second that he shouldn’t do that  because then he’d be stuck here for even longer.

An immeasurable amount of time later and they are done getting fitted, though in reality Jeongguk was done hours before Jimin because he only needs an outfit for the gala. The moment the tailors are gone Jimin is rushing for the door, Jeongguk in tow.

“Where are we going?” His human asks with a laugh.

“We’re flying,” Jimin says aggressively.

Jeongguk just keeps laughing and lets Jimin drag him out of their rooms and then out of the castle entirely, determined to spread his wings and remind himself it wasn’t just who he is that matters, but what he is.

He is a dragon.

Jeongguk’s weight on his back is almost nothing, but it is reassuring nonetheless as they race over the cliffs that run the edge of the sea north of Ravenrest. The water crashes and roars below them, booms and thunders, carrying with it tales of shipwrecks and drowned men and doomed dreams, but also hope and starry skies and tides and treasure.

He is a dragon.

ೄ࿐ˊˎ-

When they get home, it’s late and dinner is well and truly over. But Jeongguk isn’t about to let Jimin go to bed on an empty stomach, so he walks his dragon back to their family’s tower and trots over to the kitchen on legs still a bit shaky from having flown with Jimin for hours and then having to piggyback him through the city when the dragon literally started drooping from exhaustion.

“Silly beast,” Jeongguk thinks to himself with a fond shake of his head, “tiring yourself out just because you had to stand still for a while.” Then he pauses, having caught himself calling Jimin a beast, when he now spends so much time in his human form. It’s not wrong, exactly, and he’s sure Jimin wouldn’t dispute being called that, he’d probably be proud, but it felt odd nonetheless.

Then there was also the matter of just how pretty Jimin was. Cloud serpents were beautiful once they took on their adult colors, which was an iridescent white that shone like mother of pearl and opal, their wings much the same, and their claws and horns looked like they were made from moonstone. It makes sense that Jimin ended up looking like he does, yet that doesn't make it any easier for Jeongguk to cope.

He finds himself wishing that Jimin was just a little less pretty, because he's afraid it will start to take a toll on his sanity. He found himself staring all day, mesmerized by Jimin doing the simplest of things. Eating strawberries, for instance, or leaning over the edge of the balcony to look down at the city. Normal things, things people do all the time, but when Jimin does them, they become magic.

And Jeongguk feels so bad about thinking that, when Jimin genuinely seems clueless to both his beauty and its effect on Jeongguk. He wants to have all the things he had when he was still a dragon, cuddles and kisses and hugs, but it feels so much different holding a muscular but slender human than it does a dragon, and Jeongguk does not know how to explain that to Jimin without giving himself away.

And they are always together, not that Jeongguk truly minds, but he still feels guilty even thinking about what it would be like to have more of Jimin than he already does. 

He shakes his head, he’s going to make himself crazy if he keeps dwelling on his attraction to his dragon. What he needs to do is get some food and take it back to Jimin, and if he stares a little extra at him as he eats his dinner, no one has to know.

ೄ࿐ˊˎ-

“So, dancing,” Jeongguk says later the next day.

They are standing in the middle of their room, the mess of blankets and pillows that is their bed shoved off to the side so they have a clear space to stand, and there is a little enchanted music player Jimin had liberated from Iseul’s eldest daughter’s room poised and ready to play music for them, except Jeongguk keeps stalling.

“Dancing,” Jimin agrees, looking up at him expectantly.

Jeongguk’s eyes skitter like nervous birds all over Jimin's features, and he swallows as though he is nervous, but it’s just Jimin, who smiles prettily at his human, trying to get him to calm down. He thinks maybe Jeongguk’s reluctance is born from what a notoriously bad pupil Jimin is, having frustrated dozens of tutors since the Jeons had enrolled the two of them in the classes offered to the palace nobility.

“I’ve seen it enough,” Jimin points out, opening their bond slightly to let a sense of calm flow between them, and is rewarded by the sight of Jeongguk’s shoulders untensing slightly, “I promise I’ll pay attention,” he adds, not wanting Jeongguk to think he’s going to start causing trouble five minutes into the lesson, “I’ll work hard and practice too.”

Jeongguk blinks down at him in response, then shakes his head, “No, Jimin…that’s not it, I know you’ll do well, you always do when we train together.”

Jimin can’t help but preen slightly at the praise, one because it’s true, and two it’s coming directly from his human. He would never deny that training with Jeongguk is barely work to Jimin, who is just happy to do anything at all with the rider. He steps forward with a happy smile and rests his palms against Jeongguk’s chest, “Okay, well then train me, Jeonggukkie.”

Jeongguk makes a faint, strangled sound in response but then seems to rally and nod, “It’s traditional for the rider to lead,” he explains as he lifts Jimin’s hands and gently positions them, one on his shoulder and the other one on his waist, “just like we guide in the air, we guide on the ground too, but there are a few dances that have us trading off who leads, in which case you’d place your hands here,” he takes Jimin’s hands up once more and shows him, “but for now we’ll focus on ones where I lead, since those work with the majority of songs.”

Jimin nods, unaware of the pout of concentration he now wears and the things it’s doing to Jeongguk’s brightly beating heart. He listens with rapt attention as the human explains the basics and then guides him through a series of steps, first only with counting, then accompanied by music, and Jimin finds he likes it quite a lot, far more than he expected actually.

“This is a lot more fun than I thought it would be,” he admits an hour into their lesson.

“You’re picking up on it really fast,” Jeongguk agrees, “I dare say you’re a natural.”

Jimin beams proudly at the praise, glad to have it from his favorite person. Without really thinking, he leans into Jeongguk and rests his cheek on his shoulder, “It’s because I’ve got such a good teacher,” he says quietly, a happiness he hasn’t felt in a while slowly growing within him. Lady Hana is gone, training is almost at an end, and life as Jimin knows it is good.

Soon they’ll be allowed to start taking on missions, getting to see more of Roaninway and the surrounding nations, and Jimin truly can’t wait to experience it all at Jeongguk’s side. He sighs and the bond sings open between them, but Jimin’s contentment shines so brightly, he doesn’t notice the little thread of guilt and worry and discontent that has woven its way into Jeongguk’s heart.

But even if he did notice, he wouldn’t understand.