But You Never Wrote Anything Hollow For Jin! He Had Such A Vibrant Character That Overlapped Perfectly With The Surroundings - Tumblr Posts

First of Many - Chapter 1: First Prince

Chapter List

Word Count: ~3900

Chapter Content Warnings: None

A/N: It finally begins! This isn't quite a birthday fic, but having the deadline really pushed me to finishing this chapter. Introductions are not my strong suit, so I'm hoping the following chapters will be easier now that this hurdle has been cleared.

For more details and spoiler/content warnings, please refer to the chapter list (linked above). Glad to have you along for this journey!

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. After all, there are only so many ways an assassination attempt could end up. Either the target is dead or alive, and the assassin captured or home-free. Jin didn’t focus much on the middle details because only the ending really mattered. But as he stood in front of the still-living king, tears spilling down the throne instead of blood, he couldn’t help but wonder at what point it all went wrong.

Minutes dragged on in awkward glances and involuntary fidgeting, but Jin remained rooted to his spot. Perhaps he jumped too quickly to conclusions. Sunset spilled through the high windows like a fiery flood, blazing every surface in the room a deep red, from the scarlet walls to the ruby throne to the king’s crimson hair. It was entirely possible what he saw before was only a trick of the light. If he could get one more look into those eyes, he’d see it was all his imagination. Then he’d pick himself up and leave this place forever.

But the king’s face was still buried in his hands, and he was sobbing harder than ever. 

Why was he crying? If anyone should be crying it was Jin. Jin, who spent the past year scraping by on the scraps of tithers without a second glance. Who worked at the mercy of scum and cheats pulling the weight of men multiple times his age. Who lost his entire world in an instant, and scoured mountains and valleys on foot just to answer why. Why had this all happened to him?

“Your Majesty!” called a deep voice. The doors burst open with a clamor of metal and swishing of robes. Men barreled over the threshold, pushing past and knocking into each other in their advance on the throne. Stunned, Jin covered his head and ducked away from the stampede.

“We heard yelling!” 

“What has happened, Your Majesty?” 

“Where is the child?” 

The voices carried across the high ceilings as Jin crawled into a corner. He lost his chance. These men, they surely have come to dispose of him like the criminal he was.

But he had to know. He needed to know the truth before they took him away. Clutching his heaving chest, Jin craned his neck as high as he could manage, though he could barely see above the swords adorning the men’s hips as they besieged the throne. He slowly pushed his quivering knees to stand, heart rattling against his palm, and approached the congregation. He could just make out sunlight glinting off the crown when a voice screeched from his side.

“There he is!”

And many things happened in quick succession. All eyes turned on him, and aside from the king’s renewed tears and a ringing that sprouted in Jin’s ears, the room fell deathly silent. A man in dark plum robes barked orders. The company parted, creating a path between the throne and Jin. Through it, six armored men approached, extracting their swords from their sheaths.

The ringing intensified as the soldiers grew closer. Jin’s feet were glued to the blood-red carpet. He hugged his chest and crouched, burrowing his face in his knees. His eyes stung and he shut them tightly. He was not like the king. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him cry when they ended it. It would be quick and over with. Then they could forget about the orphan boy who ever dared point a blade at royalty.

But the blade never fell. Blinking through the blinding light, Jin slowly raised his head. The soldiers stood in a circle, backs towards him, pointing their swords at the now dispatched bystanders. 

“Can you stand?” a soldier to the right asked. He looked over his shoulder, armor flickering in the sun. Jin opened his mouth but no sound came out. Instead, he tightened his taut legs and stood. The soldier nodded to the others, and as a unit they began to march. Jin had little choice but to follow in their procession toward the door.

This made sense; why sully the illustrious throne room with the blood of a lowly crook? They were taking him to a second location, far away from the prying eyes of those highbred hoity toits. 

The hallways were steep and cavernous. They reminded Jin of the caves he slept in on his journey; cold, and stiff, and echoing. But unlike his dark, desolate caves, these halls were gleaming and littered with eyes.

Eyes peering from behind gloves and fans and books and hats and folded sheets and boxed goods and emblazoned shawls and fur coats and people… all pointed squarely at Jin. He could see faces behind those eyes, some were whispering to each other or gasping as he passed, but none looked human. They all towered above him, like beasts trying to catch a glimpse of the latest prey on the chopping block.

Even though he couldn’t hear what they were saying, their piercing gazes clambored in his head like bells. He turned away and stared out the colossal windows lining the opposite wall, desperate to refocus his thoughts. The sun dipped lower now, casting uniform shadows crawling across the floors. Window panels and valances and curtains stretched along the floors as homogeneously as the soldiers surrounding him, and Jin timed his breaths with each repeating pattern.

Curtain, valence, panel, curtain, breathe. Curtain, valence, panel, curtain, breathe.

It seemed to be working. The sounds of the soldiers’ stomping were clearing up.

Curtain, valence, panel, curtain, breathe.

He lowered his arms from his chest and rested them at his sides. His knife sat comfortably in his pocket. They hadn’t taken it from him.

Curtain, valence, panel, curtain, breathe.

There were six of them and one of him. Not a single one was facing him, they were too busy pushing the audience to the sides and keeping them at bay. They passed by various branching corridors, many of which were empty.

Curtain, valence, panel… bump?

Jin halted his steps and whipped his head to the last set they passed. Where the other curtains hung immobile and wrinkle-free, this one had a tiny fist clutching onto its edge. Directly below its tasseled holdback, a small head stuck out from behind the fabric, though against the early rays of twilight Jin could only make out the eyes. Two protuberant eyes, as golden and resplendent as the setting sun behind them.

They were most unlike the eyes of the other onlookers. While those were invasive and grim and glaring at him from high above, these were soft and curious and at his level. For a reason he couldn’t explain, Jin wanted to call out to them, but the soldier positioned in the rear knocked into him as he backed up.

“Keep moving,” the soldier commanded as they untangled from each other. Jin tossed a final glance at the curtain and watched it sway unoccupied before continuing to walk. He could not fall into the breathing pattern again.

As soon as the soldier returned to formation, Jin extracted the parchment sitting in his back pocket. Sighing in relief it wasn’t ruined, he unfolded the paper and read the words now permanently etched into his brain:

Jin, you must never go anywhere near Rhodolite Palace. If you go near that place, they might kill you.

He ran his fingers across the fading script, taking extra care not to crease it any more than it already was. Hundreds of times he’d folded and unfolded the paper to the point where he feared it would tear even if he so much as looked at it the wrong way. But he would never let that happen. It was the only proof of her existence. He could claim she raised him and hugged him and loved him, but recitals could only travel so far. Someone here had to know about her. And even if they took his life before he could meet them, at least her words would still be preserved. He slipped the parchment back into his pocket.

But what good would that do after he was gone? Would they know he was her son? That he braved across kingdoms in search of answers? Of the trials and tribulations he endured on his quest for the truth? The thought that he would be forgotten didn’t worry him as much as if she was. Of all the stories she told about Rhodolite, of its grandeur and nobility, he could not understand how there could be anything or anyone more deserving of such titles than she.

A soft click from behind broke him out of his thoughts. Panic stabbed Jin’s limbs anew as he turned and latched on to the door handle, jiggling it frantically, but to no avail. The door stood stubborn and unmoving, just as his mind had been. Why had he let himself get so caught up in his thoughts when he knew precisely the danger he was in? Now he was paying for his buffoonery; they’d gone and thrown him in a dungeon until they figured out how to get rid of him.

Would they get it done quickly? Those guards certainly didn’t seem shy about splaying their weapons. Or would they leave him to starve? The terrifying gazes of the people in the hallway resurfaced. Did nobles get a sick sense of satisfaction watching their prisoners descend into madness? They were certainly puzzling with their execution. Who puts a gilded door knob in a prison cell?

Jin pried his sweaty hands off the brass handle and turned. The room was dark, save for the final bursts of sunset fighting through thick window curtains. In their faint rays he could make out tiny specs of dust scattering through the air as he caught his breath, and he wiped his fraying sleeves across his forehead while his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

Definite objects soon swam into view. Nearest to him stood a tall brown cabinet, easily three times his size, with handles that sparkled even more magnificently in the dim light than the one on the door. On the opposite wall near the window sat a short writing desk with nothing on it except a wide oval mirror, a half-melted candlestick, and a visible layer of dust. Taking up the majority of the center of the room was a bed, a large white cloth draped over its entirety. 

Though the furniture was all comfortably well distanced, Jin still cautiously wound his way across the room, taking care not to knock into anything, and ripped open the curtains. As he suspected, the ground lay what seemed like a mile below, and the sun cradled back against the horizon as though goading him to try and jump. 

What was the cause of the delay, he thought again. Stubbornness started to take over as his mind calmed down in the quiet. Were they postponing his end in favor of something else? Jin understood children were prone to impatience, but making him wait for his own death seemed excessively rude. 

He pressed his hand on his back, the familiar warmth of the oily parchment seeping into his back. This wasn’t the end. There had to be a way out. He refused to stay put waiting for them to make the first move.

Jin pulled on the curtains until they ripped free from their hangings. Coughing out the dust that fell, he tied the two ends together and triple-knotted one end of the extended curtain around his waist. He tossed the unused remains of the curtain away from the windowsill and pushed on the glass. The wooden frame creaked loudly with a crunchiness indicating it hadn’t been opened in years, but Jin managed to wrench it open with several well-timed shoves. He grabbed the other free end of the curtain, tossed it out into the cool night air, and watched it lazily fall about a quarter of the distance to the ground.

Chuffing angrily, Jin reeled the curtains back in and began searching around the room for more fabric. One touch of the cloth covering the bed was enough to tell him it wouldn’t work; the material was so flimsy he could rip it apart without much difficulty. And the bed itself was free of blankets and bedsheets. The desk proved little use as well. It was too wobbly to tie a base too, and he couldn’t manage to open its drawers no matter how much he shook it. 

This left the cabinet, which Jin partially hoped he wouldn’t have to search. He hadn’t feared monsters hiding in the closet for sometime now, but he’d never looked inside the closet of a rich person, much less a palace. Could this be where they hid the remains of those poor souls they imprisoned? Shuddering slightly, he grasped the cold metallic handle and pulled.

It wasn’t filled with monsters or bodies. It wasn’t even filled with severed limbs or bloodied weapons, which Jin considered briefly. No, the cabinet was overflowing with dresses. A veritable rainbow of the poofiest dressed Jin had ever seen. Gentle lilac and bold cobalt and striking olive assaulted his view as the compressed gowns expanded to full width in their newfound freedom, and Jin madly swung his arms to cut through their fluffy embrace. Once his hand whacked against wood, he climbed inside and continued his search, blindly groping the contents until he at last located a pile of folded sheets. 

Cheering internally (the plush skirts muffled his voice), Jin clambered out of the closet and extracted his knife. He sliced the sheets into shears, not caring how neat the cuts came out, and quickly began tying the ends together as he did before. Night fell rapidly around him, and Jin wished his captors would have had the decency to leave a candle in his cell. Not that he was afraid of the dark. He wasn’t that young. But he didn’t complain about the steady rise of the full moon either, even knowing it would make concealing his escape more challenging.

He stopped counting after fifty knots, adding extra ones in between slips for added reinforcement. A fabric snake wormed its way around the floor, growing until it reached each corner of the room. When he at last used up the final shear, Jin grabbed the free end of his cloth serpent and secured it to a bedpost with multiple knots. He did what he could. He only hoped it was long enough.

He pocketed his knife, double-checked his mother’s letter was still on him, and returned to the window. Putting his weight in his arms, he began hoisting himself over the windowsill, but knocked his knee against a corner and tripped. The windowsill splintered and broke clean off the wall, and Jin nervously wound his makeshift rope around his fingers as it crumbled to the floor. Would the knots be strong enough to support his weight the entire way down? 

Footsteps sounding from the hall froze him on the spot, but they soon passed the door without stopping. Scrambling back up, Jin grabbed the side of the writing desk and pushed it in front of the window. He tried to ignore the way the legs shrilled against the wooden floor.

It’ll only be a sec. I’ll jump out right away, he thought to himself, hoping whoever strolled outside was too far away to hear the commotion. The desk was the perfect height to perch by the window, and Jin occupied his mind with thoughts of weightless birds and floaty dresses as he climbed. 

He secured his hands on the window frame and peered down. The moon shone brightly against the cloudless sky, illuminating the pointed dewy grass below like a bed of spikes. Jin stepped back and wiped his palms on his shirt—when did they get so sweaty? It must have been from all the knotting, a natural reaction to a day’s hard work. That was probably why his vision was going all swirly too… from all those hooks and loops…. And his shaky legs… a perfectly reasonable response to—

Crash!

Jin instinctively curled into a ball the moment the desk snapped. His back collided with the ground first, and his legs wedged in place where a floorboard popped loose. The desk collapsed in front of him, its mirror exploding into hundreds of flying  sharp slices that scraped his knees, and the force of the landing knocked the previously locked drawer out, its contents cracking and rolling and scattering across the floor.

Jin sat still for a while and held his breath. He was listening for sounds of anyone approaching from the hall. When it seemed no one heard the crash, he pulled himself out from the hole and inspected the damage. Aside from some minor cuts and bruises, he was unharmed, but he still hissed scornfully at his blunder. He wasn’t afraid of the dark, never. But of all times to maybe pick up a fear of heights…

He moved to check the desk debris. It consisted mostly of papers, quills, and several ink bottles which all shattered in the fall. Black liquid flowed from the wreckage, staining the wood and parchment around it, and Jin began throwing them off to the side as he thought of a new plan. 

The bed was much too large for him to push, and there wasn’t anything solid in the cabinet. He could probably pile all the dresses and climb over them, the skirts seemed sturdy enough, but he might end up slipping in all those soft garments. As he pondered the possibility of death by fabric suffocation, something familiar caught his eye. He held one of the fallen papers and scanned the header; it was the same script that adorned the letter in his pocket. 

My prince,

Thank you for showing me the rose garden today. All my life I’ve lived in Rhodolite and never have I seen such beautiful flowers! I didn’t even know roses could be those colors, we truly live in a blessed kingdom. It seems a shame we cannot share it with everyone.

And speaking of which, thank you for listening to me today as well. I’m really sorry to have troubled you with my problems. We each have our assigned roles to play, and yet I’m already flubbing in the first week. I am sure Lord Magnum is second guessing my appointment as I write this, I’m supposed to be studying trade relations with Benitoite right now, but I am still overwhelmed at the thought that I’ll be choosing the next king. Me! It is like a fairytale that I am even in the palace. And to have met you and the others, nothing could be more

Numbness took over every part of Jin’s body except his hands, which clamped even harder on the paper as he read it a second time. The blotches of ink tarnished the rest of the paper, but he could still make out the important bits. His mother had been here, he knew it.

He shuffled through the rest of the pages, but most were in even worse conditions than the first. He finally plucked one with a date in the header reading seven years prior.

My king,

Perhaps it is a bit premature to call you that, but I suppose I wanted to be the first. Belle may have a pure heart, but even she falls to her whims if they present themselves strongly enough. I am only human, after all. As are you.

But once I sign the proclamation tomorrow, I will cease to be Belle, and you a prince. I feel an exciting change is upon us, both as individuals and as a kingdom, and you taught me that. This past month has opened my eyes to many things, both wonderful and saddening, and while I know now that it is unreasonable to expect all our troubles can be solved in a single reign, I believe wholeheartedly that you are our greatest chance of achieving peace and prosperity. I say that not as Belle, but as myself. The woman who has fallen in love with 

Jin struggled with the bigger words of this letter, but felt he got the gist of it. Not only was she here, but she knew the king. Supposedly our “greatest chance of achieving peace and prosperity.” She could not be talking about the same man he left crying on the throne, was she? And love? To his knowledge, Jin was the only person she ever said “I love you” to.

Jin desperately clawed through the remaining letters. His hands stained with splattered ink as he shuffled tarnished page after page, only managing broken fragments and half-words. He splayed the ones he could save on the floor away from the flowing blackness, picking up anything he could salvage.

My love…

…they don’t like me…

…fear I am a burden…

…send me away…

…for our baby…

…I will always lo…

“As sensible as she was benevolent,” said a deep voice.

Jin snatched all the pages he could reach, clutched them to his chest, and turned around. Standing in the doorway was the tall plum robed man from the throne room, his grainy wrinkles and graying hair illuminated by the candelabra in his hand. The man bent low and snatched one of the pages Jin could not reach in time. Holding the single stainless corner in his fingers, he brought it up to the candlelight and read. Jin watched, horrified every time the fire swayed close to the paper.

“She was a free spirit, your mother. I could see her in you the moment I laid my eyes on you,” said the man, releasing the paper. It gently floated to the floor as he stepped past it and bent in front of Jin. “Of course, we are delighted to have her son back in his rightful home. We have been waiting many long years for your return, my prince.”

The man lowered the candelabra to the floor and bowed his head. Jin scooted backwards until he hit the wall. It couldn’t be true. Yet, a part of him deep down knew it was true. He didn’t want it to be true. He wanted to get out of this place. He wanted the ringing ears to come back, to drown out everything this man was saying. He was Jin Grandet. Six years old, orphan boy. Not a prince. Not in a million years.

“A wise decision on her part, you are still so young.” The man placed a hand into his robes. Jin automatically reached for his knife and stuck it out in front of him, panting heavily as he watched the man pull out a tightly rolled document.

“But legacy is everything here. We are sworn to protect and nurture it, generation after generation. For the greater good of the kingdom and its longevity.” He unfolded the paper and Jin stared at the gilded border and fancy penmanship that adorned the sheet. Most of it was too scripted for him to understand from afar, but again the familiar handwriting marked the bottom of the page. Two names; one he shared, and one he’d been searching for.

“Welcome home, Jin Grandet. First prince of Rhodolite.”

You guys have no idea how exhilarating it is seeing this chapter that I've been cooking up since last March finally written out. Here's to hoping it doesn't take till next March for me to finish it all!

Tagging: @atelieredux @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.