The Bloom After Blood (Taehyung Centric)

With Yoongi:

The sun had already risen. Golden light broke across the horizon, soft and silent, but it did nothing to warm the dread in his chest. Dew clung to the grass. Smoke still lingered in the air from far-off fires.

He hadn't slept. All night he had searched through woods, over hills, down shattered roads. He'd called Taehyung's name in every direction, voice hoarse from shouting and whispering both.

His knees ached from kneeling, hands scraped raw from clawing through the dirt and rubble of what used to be their base.

He had clawed through the remains of their secret base with his bare hands. His knuckles were split open, his palms torn, but none of it compared to what he saw next.

Jungkook.

He found him, or what was left. The boy who had once danced across the courtyard with Taehyung, who had joked about marrying Namjoon just to annoy him, whose strength on the battlefield had been unmatched... now just a lifeless, bloodied shell.

Yoongi vomited when he saw him. He collapsed beside the body and wept like a child. The wind carried no comfort.

He searched for Hyunsik next. All he found was a burnt corpse, bones charred, armor melted, barely recognizable. But nearby, two swords lay untouched by flame. One was Hyunsik's, the other Jungkook's.

He knew.

With trembling hands, he buried them together. Dug a grave with nothing but his fingers, the dirt caking beneath his nails. He cried out loud, screamed into the sky that had done nothing to save them.

"I did it, Jungkook-ah," he whispered through tears. "I buried you... just like you asked."

His body shook, eyes swollen, his voice cracked with pain too large for words.

And now, as dawn stretched over the broken land, Yoongi stood on a ridge, staring out over the battlefield where his kingdom had fallen.

Blackened banners still fluttered from broken spears. Bodies littered the grass below, already picked at by carrion birds.

His chest tightened. He didn't know what hurt more, the loss of Taehyung, or the silence left behind.

A sudden crack behind him.

He spun. Too late.

A boot slammed into the back of his knees and sent him crashing to the ground. Another foot pinned his shoulder as cold steel pressed against the side of his throat.

"Don't move," growled a voice.

Three soldiers surrounded him in enemy uniforms. Blood still streaked their armor. One kicked away the dagger he hadn't even had the strength to raise.

"Told you I saw someone crawling around," one muttered. "Check him. He's dressed like one of theirs."

"Royal Guard," the tallest one said, crouching to rip the insignia from his chest plate. He sneered. "That explains the stubbornness."

They yanked him upright, binding his wrists roughly behind his back. He didn't resist. There was no point.

They marched him down the hill, past ruined trees and fallen comrades, until they reached a makeshift enemy encampment built on the ashes of what had been his kingdom. Tents, supplies, and guards everywhere. A new flag, their flag, hung limp in the wind over a command tent.

The sack was pulled off his head.

The sudden flood of light made Yoongi flinch. His eyes squinted against the brightness, but his body remained still tied to a post, knees on cold stone, arms pulled back so tight his shoulders screamed in pain.