My Enemy, My Salvation (Taekook)

THE FALL

The throne room is already in ruins when Jungkook arrives.

It is not the kind of destruction that feels accidental. Every broken pillar, every cracked slab of stone, every smear of dark blood across the marble floor feels intentional—like the room itself was forced to remember violence.

The air is heavy. Still warm in places. Like the aftermath hasn’t fully cooled yet.

Jungkook steps inside and stops.

Not because he is afraid.

Because something is wrong.

Too quiet. Too controlled. Too final.

His gaze moves across the hall slowly, taking in the damage without urgency. Guards lie scattered near the entrance, already dealt with. Not important. Not the reason he is here.

Then he sees him.

Taehyung.

At the center of the throne room, lying against fractured stone like the world finally managed to bring him down after failing for centuries.

Jungkook does not move for a second longer than necessary.

Something in his chest tightens sharply, unfamiliar but immediate. He ignores it.

He always does.

Then he walks forward.

Each step is steady. Measured. Controlled.

The guards remaining in the hall attempt to react, but they never get the chance to properly form a threat. They are removed from the situation quickly, almost effortlessly. Jungkook does not look at them again.

His attention is fixed entirely on Taehyung.

When he reaches him, he drops to one knee.

For a brief moment, he just looks at him.

Taehyung is not unconscious, but he is close enough that the difference barely matters. His breathing is uneven. His face is pale in a way that feels unnatural. Blood stains the ground beneath him, spreading slowly like something still deciding whether it is finished or not.

Jungkook reaches out and places two fingers against Taehyung’s neck.

A pulse responds.

Weak. Strained. Fighting.

Still there.

Jungkook exhales once through his nose, slow and controlled, as if that alone keeps everything from shifting out of place.

Without hesitation, he draws a blade across his wrist.

Blood surfaces immediately.

Warm. Bright against the cold ruin of the room.

He lifts Taehyung slightly by the jaw, forcing him into a position where he can drink.

His voice is low when he speaks.

“Drink.”

It is not soft.

It is not comforting.

It is an order.

For a moment, Taehyung does not respond. His body trembles faintly, like consciousness is struggling to hold its shape. Then instinct takes over.

Fangs pierce skin.

Jungkook watches closely.

Not blinking.

Not reacting.

Taehyung drinks slowly at first, then with more urgency, as if his body recognizes survival even when his mind cannot fully process it. The poison in him resists. Jungkook can feel it in the way Taehyung’s grip tightens and loosens unevenly.

Something unnatural.

Something deliberate.

This was not random.

A voice breaks through the silence from deeper in the hall.

“Step away from him.”

Jungkook does not look up immediately.

“There’s no need for this,” the man continues. “He is finished. The clans will—”

Taehyung coughs suddenly.

Blood spills from his lips.

His fingers tighten faintly against Jungkook’s wrist.

Then, barely audible, he speaks.

“It’s him…”

A pause.

“He poisoned me.”

Silence falls instantly.

The entire room feels different after those words. Not louder. Not more chaotic.

Heavier.

Jungkook finally lifts his gaze.

Slow. Controlled. Expression unreadable, but something in his eyes has already changed.

“I know,” he says.

No shock.

No question.

Only certainty.

Taehyung is carefully shifted onto a nearby chair. Jungkook does it without hesitation, but without carelessness either. Every movement is precise, controlled, calculated to keep him stable.

Only when Taehyung is secure does Jungkook stand.

The atmosphere in the throne room shifts with him.

It is not visible.

But everyone feels it.

The man who spoke earlier still believes he has control of the situation. He takes a step forward.

“We can still take advantage of this. If he dies, his territory becomes—”

Jungkook walks toward him.

Slowly.

The man continues speaking, unaware that the conversation has already ended.

Jungkook stops in front of him.

Looks down.

There is no visible rage.