Chapter Text
The harsh treatment should not have come off as a surprise to Seokjin. It’s a conduct he receives every single day after all. Nevertheless, he’s left completely baffled and tensed when he suddenly finds himself being wrenched up by the arm from his lumpy mattress and having his worn-out white shirt ripped off of him. It takes a second or two for him to adjust his drowsy vision in the darkness but thanks to the sunlight trickling through the curtains of the window nearby, he catches sight of two armored guards standing before him, and another one who had torn his shirt off mere seconds ago.
Some of his roommates have stirred on their own beds, watching the scene unfold in front of them with inquisitive eyes. Normally, someone would have asked what is going on but none of the occupants of the room dared to speak. Especially Seokjin. He could only speak when prompted to—or at least that’s what he’s been raised to do. The frigid air almost causes him to shiver but he manages to swallow that down. The guard nearest to him grabs his jaw in a tight grip before turning his head from left to right as though examining merchandise.
“Is he good?”
Seokjin identifies his handler, Yang Yoseob, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him; drowning out the temporary noise and light that had spilled out from the outside. Is he good? He doesn’t mean what he thinks he means, does he? But before Seokjin could have a chance to further ponder on that, the guard turns him around in a harsh manner and he fights back a yelp of surprise as a natural impulse. Large rough hands start kneading his shoulders and down to his lower back. He is then turned around to face the large man again only to have his chest felt up, rough pads of thumbs brushing down against his nipples.
“Name.” The guard grunts a demand, his head turned a bit to the side to imply that he isn’t talking to him.
“Kim Seokjin.” Yoseob steps closer to them, his arms crossed over his chest. Standing near the guards, he looks a lot shorter than he usually does. “Not our best but he is consistently in his best behavior.”
This isn’t making any sense. Seokjin has always known that he will be sold off to someone someday, but not this soon. And certainly not to a guard. A glint of light catches his eye and he takes notice of the familiar red sigil marked on the guard’s armor—the fangs of the drawn panther plunging him deeper into the pit of uneasiness.
It’s the King’s sigil.
“Years.” The guard’s demand yanks him out of his thoughts.
“Just turned twenty-five last week. My own father trained him for seven years until I took over. He’s been trained for a total of fifteen years. That should assure you that he’s obedient enough.”
“Experience.”
“With men, you mean? Not counting my father, none.” Considering the lack of light in the room, it’s almost a surprise for Seokjin to see the spark of ambition that gleamed in his handler’s eyes for a second. “He has a pretty face, but no man here wants to fuck someone who could snap them like a twig. But that is what you are looking for, yes?”
Seokjin feels himself flush at the comment. It is true that he is of a rather tremendous stature compared to his peers but that is due to the heavy chores that have been bestowed upon him as a way to pay for his mother’s debt to Yoseob’s father. The boys he’s been training with serve men with their elegant lithe frames while he occasionally serves women, if they ever do step into the tavern with genuine curiosity.
The guard eventually lets go of him and casts a sidelong glance to his comrades. Silence passes over the room, and as if coming to an agreement just through their eyes, the guard tosses three small bags of coins to Yoseob who catches them with ease. “Make him presentable before bringing him to the palace, and His Majesty himself will see to it that you are paid in full.”
“His Majesty?” The words have slipped past Seokjin’s lips before he could stop himself.
Everyone turns back to him, the guards appearing to be rather confused by his audacity while Yoseob’s eyes are so wide, anyone would have thought he had just witnessed a gruesome murder. Seokjin’s heart hammers within the confines of his chest, only now realizing his mistake. Being bought is an honor for it means you are worthy enough to leave a permanent interest in someone. And now that honor could slip away through his fingers any minute and all because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut. The same guard who had his hands around him earlier grunts and eyes him from head to toe before turning his head a bit to Yoseob’s direction, his eyes still lingering on Seokjin. “He’s blond. Why is that?”
“O-Oh,” As though waking up from a shock, the short handler clears his throat. “his mother is not from around here. She’s from the land of Callias, though that could be easily seen just by looking at him. We don’t know why but she came here one night while he was still an infant, pleading for help from my father.”
“And where is his mother now?” One of the guards standing beside Yoseob asks.
Yoseob meets Seokjin’s eyes, his lips pursed in hesitance. “Dead.”
“Good.” The guard who is still eyeing Seokjin nods in content. “The less attachment he has with other people, the better. Dress him, and His Majesty will wait for him at the audience chamber.”
“Understood.” Yoseob bows his head politely as the guards finally file out of the room. Once they’re gone, the handler lets out a heavy exhale as if he’s been holding his breath ever since he had stepped inside. He then casts his eyes on Seokjin with a hard look. “Get your act right, Seokjin. You nearly made me lose gold.”
“Forgive me.” Seokjin naturally draws his gaze down to the floor.
“Whatever. Let’s just get you ready.” Yoseob looks back at the other occupants who have not stepped off of their beds yet. “As for the rest of you, start preparing the morning meal. I want to eat something after this.” He nods his head to Seokjin with a commanding air and the blond instinctively follows him out of the room, but not towards the door where the guards have stepped out from. They tread straight for the stairs that lead to the underground floor where the baths could be located.
“Is a highborn making purchase out of Seokjin?” It’s no surprise that Kim Taehyung has the gall to follow them without being prompted to by Yoseob. He is a favorite by the customers after all. He has that soft slender build and the kind of pretty devious face that men in the area seem to be so fond of. He pretty much keeps bread on their table.
“Not just any highborn.” Yoseob sounds pleased. “The King.”
Taehyung makes a low whistle. “Wow, Seokjinnie. Raised as the runt of the litter, and now the pet of His Majesty. You’re basically living every pet’s dream here.”
“Geez, thanks.”
Yoseob shoots Seokjin a warning look for his tone and Seokjin tears his eyes away from him. “I mean, thanks.” He says again, making it sound as genuine as he could. Taehyung could only snicker at that. If their handler isn’t around, he would have whacked the kid at the back of his head.
“Taehyung, can you make sure the rest of your brothers are actually moving for the morning meal? Take charge while I’m gone.”
“You can count on me.” Sounding proud as always, Taehyung climbs back up the stairs just as the two have reached the baths. Seokjin then finds unfamiliar bottles neatly placed on the small circular wooden table near the large steel tub where pets do their personal washing. The glass bottles are of different colors ranging from bright red to dark blue, their golden closures glinting from the sunlight spilling through the high window.
“What are those?” Seokjin asks against his better judgment, yet again.
Yoseob sighs irritably at his carelessness. “You will be using those for the fragrance of your body. The Majestic have provided these themselves. You are to be His Majesty’s pet after all. You need to look, smell, and talk like one.” Seokjin holds his breath at the thought. For once in his life, he will be stepping into the territory of The Majestic—something he had never thought he would ever be graced with. He has never laid an eye on any of them for they never go to taverns, only their guards do. But he has heard a great deal about them and how bravely they have fought against the Androtis when their land was threatened to be taken over.
And although the King’s life was the pay in exchange for the safety of their land, his first born recently took over the throne and has been proving himself to be as wise and noble as his father was.
“Make haste.” Yoseob gives him a clap on the back. “Then we’ll have you painted.”
Seokjin has never ridden a royal carriage before. He’s forbidden to peek through the curtains, though he could tell judging by the noises outside that the townsfolk are curious about the occupant of the ride. They would have surely been disappointed if they find out it’s just but a mere pet. The carriage had been waiting for him outside his home. Much to his relief, Yoseob had joined him inside. He wouldn’t have known what to do and his handler has dealt with the highborn before so of course, he’s much more educated in regards to properly interacting with them. Seokjin casts his eyes down to his arms where swirls of red paint marked his skin in delicately intricate designs. And although they have already dried at this point, he could still feel them on his face; along with the three small red jewels glued near the corners of both his eyes.
He is the first one in their establishment to be purchased by a highborn so the rest of the pets earlier couldn’t stop staring at him after the paint job.
Taehyung had told him to visit sometimes but they both know how unlikely that would be. The King is known to be rather possessive of his pets after all. And even though the honor is highly appreciated, a small part of Seokjin longs to stay with his companions. He grew up with them, and the thought of possibly never seeing them again plunges a cold weight into his stomach.
“What are you to do the second you present yourself to His Majesty?” Yoseob’s voice slices smoothly through his thoughts like a quick split of a fruit.
“Drop to my knees, press my forehead against the floor…” Seokjin pauses, his thoughts coming to naught.
His handler frowns. “And only to rise when His Majesty says so.”
“Oh, right.”
“This is going to be a mess.”
“Yang Yoseob.” Yoseob speaks with his chin up, as though daring the guards to deny him of the entrance he has been invited to earlier. The guards don’t seem to be affected by his exaggerated hubris, or perhaps they have been trained not to react to anything at all. They only give him curt nods before opening the heavy double doors behind them—presenting the grand sight of the audience chamber. In spite of its name, the place is stripped off of an audience. A long pathway of a crimson-tinged carpet is displayed in front of them with the throne located at the far end. Several steps of stairs will have to be taken in order to fully reach the throne, though anyone could tell it has been built that way to emphasize the King’s status that towers over everyone else’s.
As for the King, Seokjin finds him seated comfortably on his throne. Four men are standing near him, two at each side and Seokjin could only assume that they must be the King’s councilors.
The very second Yoseob strides down into the chamber, Seokjin is quick to follow him while making sure they’re of the same pace. As they draw closer, he feels a thick lump latch onto his throat. It isn’t obvious from afar but upon finally getting a good look of the King, the blond realizes how strappingly robust he is in stature. Undoubtedly brawnier than Seokjin. Just imagining himself lying with him ties uncomfortable knots in his stomach.
He has an admirable face though, with a beard that appears to be meticulously kept short and its lines shaped tight. It creates an attractive defined tracing underneath his strong chin. The crown is placed with elegance over the clean cut of his dark hair.
The King raises a brow at him and Seokjin stares back in awe.
“Seokjin.” Yoseob hisses at him.
And like an arrow gliding swiftly into his common sense, Seokjin flinches involuntarily and drops down to his knees. His presses his forehead and his hands against the carpet.
“Your Highness.” He hears his handler greet the King, surely bowing too but not to Seokjin’s extent.
“Rise.” The King’s voice is deep and dominating.
Seokjin gathers back up to his feet and maintains his scrutiny on the floor, as he has been trained to do.
“You must be Yang Yoseob, yes?” The King questions, his dark inquisitive brown eyes probably trained on Yoseob.
Seokjin hears rather than see his handler nodding his head. “Yes, Your Highness. I am here to present the pet that you have requested.” At the corner of Seokjin’s sight, he could see Yoseob gesturing to him as though he is of grand merchandise. Which he is not, because that position lies with Taehyung. “Kim Seokjin, born in Callias—land of the beauty.”
“Land of the deceit, more like.” Seokjin hears one of the councilors comment in a tone that lacks amusement.
“Hush now.” The King doesn’t sound displeased by the comment. “We have guests. Look up, pet.”
With as much courage as he could harbor, Seokjin directs his eyes up to the King. He almost winces at the intensity of His Majesty’s stare, making him feel bare and vulnerable; and he’s only clad in slacks with his bare torso also embellished with red paint in view for everyone to see so that is saying something.
“You were born in a land where beauty is lavished upon with immense appreciation. Why move here to Gennaios?”
“I-I—“ Words caught in his throat, Seokjin glances at Yoseob who only nods at him in approval. He then looks back at the King. “All I know—Your Grace—is that my mother was an exile from Callias. I never had the opportunity to unearth the exact details of the occurrence.”
“And just for how long have you been trained to be a pet in Gennaios?”
“Fifteen years, Your Grace.”
“Interesting.” One of the councilors, who is of a plump stature with long dark hair trailing over one shoulder, speaks up. “Then I assume he’s truly raised to be a Gennaian, and not a Callian. He will have no trouble fitting in here.”
“Councilor Bomseok has a point. Callian pets are treated differently after all.” Another councilor agrees with a nod of his head that seems a bit too big for his lanky frame. “But since he grew up here, he can’t compare the treatment he will be receiving to anything.”
The King appears to be pondering on this for a second or two before he redirects his attention back on Yoseob. “How many Callian pets do you have at hand?”
“Only one, Your Grace.” Yoseob answers immediately. “He is not greatly favored by most customers of my particular market due to his sturdy caliber, but he is still well-skilled. He has bedded women.”
“Women!” Councilor Bomseok roars out a laugh. “Women know how to please their men just right! This is splendid, Your Majesty! Having women as his common clients, this pet surely knows his way beneath the sheets if they taught him a thing or two.”
Even though this isn’t the first time Seokjin has been spoken about in front of him like this, that still doesn’t change the fact that he could feel his stomach twisting in immense discomfort and his face warming up in humiliation. Being talked about as though he is some product has never settled well for him. But this is beyond his control, especially now with His Majesty gracefully displayed before him. If Taehyung is the one standing in his place, he would have surely been on the King’s lap by now—feeding him sweet whispers and flatteries. But Seokjin doesn’t have his glamor or his charisma. He doesn’t have that boyish deviant look. He has the personality of a stale bread. He only has a handsome face and that’s about it.
A quirk of a smile pulls up one corner of the King’s mouth, a look of interest sparkling within his dark eyes. “Councilor Daewon, please escort Yang Yoseob to where he shall collect his promised gold.”
The councilor whose head is too big for his body nods and strides down the stairs, gesturing Yoseob back to the double doors. Seokjin doesn’t turn to look at them. He’s not permitted to. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the King who has looked back at him at this point, his smile still intact.
“Do you believe you have what it takes to please your master?” He asks in a tone that’s just dripping with sweetened fascination.
Seokjin bows down to one knee as a sign of submission and lowers his head. “I am more than honored to be graced with the glory of pleasing His Majesty.”
Silence trails after his words and Seokjin finds that a bit unsettling. In spite of not being prompted to, he looks back up at the King who is still staring down at him in entertained absorption. For some reason, his councilors appear to be a bit bewildered. Now this is certainly pushing Seokjin’s paranoia over the edge of the plank. Has he said something he should not have? Not having Yoseob by his side, he feels even more defenseless than he normally does.
He hears the grand doors swing open again behind him and he turns around out of impulse, getting back up to his feet against his better judgment. Striding into the audience chamber with an air of genuine grace and self-reliance is a young man clad in red highborn garbs from neck to toe. His soft youthful features indicate the gracefully developed surface of a man entering his prime. He holds the most enticing appeal Seokjin has ever laid his eyes on. In spite of his dainty handsome aspect, a nerve can be seen working along the clean line of his jaw as though miffed by something trivial. He doesn’t even spare a glance at Seokjin in such a way that the blond is of little importance to him.
Instead, he keeps his dark doe eyes-- that seem to resemble the King’s-- up ahead. And as he stands beside Seokjin, the blond realizes that the young man is shorter than him by a few notable inches.
“You summoned me, brother?” The newcomer asks, his tone tight with restrained impatience.
Brother?
Baffled, Seokjin shoots his attention back to the King who is smiling rather smugly at the young man before meeting the blond’s eyes once again.
“Kim Seokjin, meet your new master.” He gestures to the other male. “My baby brother, Prince Jungkook.”