Family reunion

Days passed.

The healers of Busan  worked tirelessly to mend Taehyung’s battered body — but the wounds inside him ran far deeper than any bruised skin or broken bone.

Still, slowly, painfully, Taehyung grew stronger.

It felt strange — to be cared for after so many years of darkness.

Almost unreal.

A soft knock tapped against the door.

Taehyung tensed — old instincts screaming at him — but the door opened gently.

It was the young man who had saved him.

The one who had fought with bloodied fists and swords for him.

The one who hadn’t left his side even once.

He stood there now, holding a small tray of soup — looking somehow nervous and gentle all at once.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked quietly.

Taehyung nodded wordlessly.

The man set the tray down, then sat carefully on the chair beside him, keeping a respectful distance.

For a moment, they just looked at each other — studying, wondering.

"I don’t think I ever properly introduced myself," the man said, a little shy.

He bowed slightly — more casual than formal — but still full of respect.

"I’m Jeon Jungkook. Prince of Busan."

Taehyung blinked.

A prince?

He felt suddenly small — broken — filthy in comparison.

But Jungkook’s eyes held no judgment.

Only warmth.

Only patience.

Jungkook never once left his side.

Whether it was bringing him food, sitting silently beside him through nightmares, or simply holding his hand when the fear got too loud — Jungkook was there.

Taehyung had been broken.

But piece by piece, Jungkook was helping him rebuild.

🔸🔸🔸

The news spreads faster than fire.

Prince Taehyung of Daegu — the lost son of King Namjoon and Queen Seokjin — was alive.

When a royal messenger rode into Daegu bearing the Busan seal, the entire kingdom froze.

And when King Namjoon read the letter, he dropped to his knees, hands shaking.

"My son," he whispered, voice cracking.

Queen Seokjin, clutched the letter to her chest, tears streaming down her face.

They had never buried him.

They had never given up hope.

And now — after five long, merciless years — their prayers had been answered.

Within hours, Daegu’s royal army was mobilized.

They traveled to busan in a golden convoy, flags flying high, bearing gifts and tribute, a thousand soldiers escorting their king and queen.

The reunion was not held in a grand hall, nor a throne room.

It happened in the healing gardens of Busan’s palace — simple, quiet, intimate.

Taehyung stood waiting under the ancient willow tree, nerves knotting in his chest.

What if they saw how broken he was?

What if they were disappointed?

He almost ran.

But then the gates swung open, and he saw them.

His father — older, greyer, but with the same fierce eyes.

His mother — beautiful and regal, her crown forgotten as she raced ahead.

"Taehyung!" she cried.

Taehyung’s legs gave out and he dropped to his knees.

"Mother," he sobbed, voice breaking.

Queen Seokjin fell to the ground beside him, wrapping him tightly in her arms.

"My baby... my beautiful boy..."

King Namjoon knelt too, pulling them both into his arms, tears falling freely down his cheeks.

"You came back to us," he choked out.

There were no nobles here.

No courtiers.

No judgment.

Only family — broken and mended together again.

Behind them, Jungkook stood silently, watching the reunion with a soft ache in his chest.

He had brought Taehyung back to his parents.

And that was enough.

But before he could slip away quietly, King Namjoon rose, his gaze locking with Jungkook's.

"Are you the one ," the King said, voice thick with emotion, "who brought our son back?."

Jungkook bowed deeply. "yes, and it was my honor, Your Majesty."

But Queen Seokjin crossed the distance and took Jungkook’s hand in hers.

"No," she said fiercely.

"You saved his life. You saved ours."

King Namjoon stepped forward too, laying a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

"From this day forward," the King declared, "you are family to Daegu. Always."

Taehyung, wiping his tears, looked at Jungkook then — and the look said everything.

Thank you.

Don't leave me.

Jungkook smiled — small, but sure.

"I’m not going anywhere," he promised.

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