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After like a year and a half I’m finally working on chapter five 💕

Amadeus | Chapter Four: The Seven

Genre: Werewolf AU, slight Fantasy AU, Musician!Reader

Pairing: Bang Chan/Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: talk of wound care

Synopsis: Chan belongs to the Order of Amadeus who work to keep the kingdom safe from the lycanthropy plague spreading among the populace. You can only hunt so long before you become what you hunt.

Y/N is a violinist in a traveling music troupe-one of the few left in the kingdom. One morning when she is practicing in the woods, a man emerges from among the trees and changes her life forever.

Down a member, the Order of Amadeus continues their mission to end the lycanthropy plague, but their missing member remains in the back of their mind as they narrow in on the worst wolf of them all.

Seungmin woke up as the first light shone through the trees. He and Chan usually were the first ones up, though, that is if Chan slept at all. There were many mornings when he would wake up and find their leader awake with bloodshot eyes, reviewing maps and the most recent reports.

This morning was different. He heard the soft breathing of his fellow Amadeus member. His eyes scanned down each one. Beside him, Jeongin slept soundly with his dark hair flopping over his closed eyes. Hyunjin and Felix slept closely together. Han and Minho each slept on either side of the fire which was now reduced to gray and black ashes. Changbin lay with his blanket pulled up to his chin, but his feet sticking out. 

Seungmin chuckled at the older man and gingerly walked to the fire to restart it. Grabbing a few chunks of the firewood they had shopped from a stump the night before, he placed it back among the ashes and crumpled up some dry leaves and dandelions he found nearby. Taking the black stone and his knife from his pocket, he led the spark to the base and watched as the fire ignited.

The warmth would likely wake up Han and Minho soon. He glanced over at the end of the camp where Chan had chosen to sleep the night before. His blankets were crumpled and Seungmin did not see their leader among them. Sometimes Chan would get up and go catch something for breakfast or get some more firewood, but considering his injuries and that they planned to eat what they carried and move on that did not seem likely. 

“Chan?” he asked, his voice louder than he would normally make it while everyone was still asleep. Seungmin heard a bit of rustling as he no longer was careful with his footsteps as he rushed to where Chan’s bedroll laid. Leaves crunched beneath him and the normally stoic man felt tears coming to his eyes as he found the blankets empty.

Looking around, he counted the packs and noticed that Chan’s was missing. That gave him a small amount of relief, knowing that he was somewhat prepared. It also meant that their leader had not turned since he likely would’ve woken them and not taken his pack. 

Despite the tears in his eyes, Seungmin hurried over to Minho—who was second in command—and shook him awake. Normally, this is something he would never dare to do because Minho could get quite grumpy. But, when Minho opened his eyes and saw the look on Seungmin’s face, any anger he held at being abruptly woken up dissipated. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately sitting up and touching Seungmin’s shoulder gently. As the second oldest, he often fell into the habit of taking care of those that came to the Order of Amadeus much too young. 

“Chan—he’s gone.”

It took them about four hours to get a message back to the Order. Even with the quickest messenger from the local village, it was hundreds of miles to the capital city, Seele. The remaining seven members of the Elite Eight regrouped at the inn they stayed at the night before. 

“He took the bandages,” Hyunjin said as everyone went through and emptied their packs. No one else spoke up, indicating he hadn’t taken anything else. 

“His bed was cold,” Minho said. “He likely left not long after we all fell asleep.” His brow knitted together as he tried to figure out what to do. It would take at least another few hours to receive instructions from headquarters. 

“We can’t leave him,” Jeongin said. “He wouldn’t leave any of us.” They all nodded in agreement. Chan would circle the kingdom a hundred times for any of his members. Yet, they had few indications of where exactly he had gone. 

“Changbin, Jeongin, start searching the village and talking to some of the locals to see if they have seen anything. I doubt he came this way, but it’s worth checking.”

The two men nodded and gathered their things. 

“Jeongin, Seungmin, you two wait here for the messenger and review the maps for probable places he could’ve found shelter within a few miles radius.” Minho did not think Chan would’ve gone far. While he was strong and capable of walking long distances and scaling rough terrain, his injuries and the exhaustion he surely felt would’ve limited him.

“Hyunjin, Han, you’re with me. We’ll head back to the forest and see if we can find any traces of him.” Everyone seemed to understand their assignments and within minutes they had fallen into their places.

Chan slept several hours for the first time in weeks. He was prone to bouts of sleepless nights that left his eyes deeply colored with unrest. That morning, he only awoke when Maria walked in carrying a plate with his breakfast—thick oatmeal, berries, and a sausage. Not much, but better than he likely would’ve had otherwise. Even though it was dinner, it seemed Maria had the idea to provide breakfast as if he had truly slept through the night. Chan was disappointed that you were not the one to bring him his breakfast, but he gave the older woman a smile and mixed the berries into the oatmeal. 

“Once you’re finished, we’ll have a look at those wounds,” she said, sitting down near the entrance of the tent. 

“Okay,” he said. “They’re less painful now.”

Maria’s eyes narrowed, but only slightly. She was hesitant to believe him. Though, she knew he was trying to be reassuring. “Good,” she said.

“Y/N said you play the flute.”

Maria nodded. She did not seem like the chatty type, but Chan wanted to see what he could learn from her. You, of course, told him so much, but he knew there were things that you wouldn’t tell him. Mainly, he wondered why a young woman like you traveled with this music troupe. 

You were obviously from the Western mountain region based on your accent and light skin. But, you were pretty enough to be the daughter of one of the wealthy mountain merchants. You should be debuting in the illustrious lodges of the mountains where wolves were still quite rare, instead of traveling with a band.

Much like his own group, he assumed something had happened that pushed you away from your home. The entire group was made up of people who seemed to be far away from where they belonged. 

“How did you come to join the troupe?”

“Chrysotomus?” she asked. 

The word was one that Chan had never heard before and he looked at her with his head slightly tilted as he brought the spoon to his lips again. 

Maria seemed to understand his confusion. “It’s the name of our group.”

“Ah.” He nodded and waited for her to continue on answering the question.

“I’d always loved playing music, but back in my day, women didn’t really do things like this. I settled down and had a family. My boys are all grown up now and my husband died some years ago. When all this wolf business started up, I took the opportunity to travel. At the time, I didn’t really care if I died, I felt I had nothing to live for.”

She paused and her lips formed a thin line with all the color disappearing briefly. “But, then, I found this group and they were all kids. I felt like I had to take care of them.”

Chan gave her a small smile. He’d finished his breakfast halfway through her story, but did not want to interrupt. The older woman was still agile and appeared not that much older than Chan’s parents.

“I can tell they appreciate you,” Chan said, reassuring the woman. He held up his bowl and set it aside. “As do I.”

Maria made her way to Chan’s bedside and began unwinding the bandages around his wrist. The wound was pink instead of red, but he could still see remnants of the blackened outline that was one of the tell tale signs of a wolf bite. 

“Ah, much better,” Maria said, again, paying no mind to the blackened edges of the wound. Grabbing out a clear liquid, she gave him a warning look before pouring it over his wrist. Chan winced as it burned into the wound. The burn thankfully subsided quickly, leaving behind only a bit of bubbling. 

She started rewrapping the wound with a fresh cotton bandage. The smell of the fresh cotton was beginning to become almost comforting in contrast with the irony bloodsoaked bandages when he’d wandered in the woods the night before.

“All right, sit up,” she said. Chan obliged, wincing slightly as he felt the muscles in his chest and abdomen contract, pulling at the wounds. He pulled his borrowed T-shirt over his head and was relieved when he was able to lay back down. 

Maria examined the fresher wound of the two. She applied both the clear liquid and another salv before helping him sit up again so that she could wrap the bandage around his back. As she finished tying off the bandage, you peeked your head into the tent. 

“Hey, is now an okay time?” you asked, seemingly both to Chan and Maria. 

“I’m just finishing up,” Maria said, looking at Chan who suddenly realized he was still shirtless. Even though you’d technically seen him shirtless when you tended to his wounds earlier in the day, his ears turned red and he reached for his shirt and slid it back over his body.

You seemed to pay no attention to his half-nakedness as you came to sit beside him. “I want to introduce you to the rest of the troupe. There’s not too many of us. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be too overwhelmed.”

Chan shook his head. “Not at all, I’d love to meet them.” 

He would’ve met them on your deathbed if it made you smile like you did when he answered. “I’ll be right back.”

Maria gave a sly smile before slipping out of the tent since it was about to get quite crowded. Chan noticed the shakiness in her hands and hoped that she was off to eat something herself.

It took about ten minutes for you to come back with a retinue of musicians following behind you. The tall, dark skinned man Chan recognized as the one who had greeted the two of you when you came back into camp. He stood closest to you and held a fairly indifferent expression, like an older brother dragged somewhere by his younger sister. Chan’s heart ached.

You started with the man beside you. “This is Anton. He’s our de facto leader and plays the clarinet and sometimes bass clarinet.” Next, you motioned to a shorter man with mouse-like features and a balding head. “This is Louis. He plays piano.”

The first two men left after their introductions and pleasantries to make room for the rest of the troupe. You pointed to two women—not too much older than you and Chan—who also appeared to be from the Eastern provinces. Though, based on their features and clothing, they came from the island nations east of where Chan himself came.

“Ayame and Ayaka, yes, they’re twins,” you said, chuckling at the obviously frequently asked question. “They play trumpet and trombone.”

Finally, you came to the last person in line. It was a young boy. He stood to your shoulder, but looked like he would one day be much taller. You placed your hands on his shoulders and smiled. “This is Benji. He’s our percussionist.”

Benji looked at Chan with wide eyes. “Did you really fight a bear?”

Chan chuckled. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

“That’s so cool. Can I see the scratches?”

You quickly looked down at the boy. “Maria just finished bandaging him. Maybe you can help her next time.”

Benji looked slightly disappointed but nodded. You noticed the way the young boy seemed to admire him and were secretly glad that the boy had someone younger to look up to. Anton—while the youngest man in the troupe—was still nearly a decade older than you.

The boy seemed to grow shyer as silence fell on the tent. He said his goodbye and ran from the tent and out into the late afternoon air. You smiled after the boy before sitting back down beside Chan’s bedside. 

“We all kind of take care of him, but he doesn’t really have a role model that isn’t old enough to be his father.” You began gathering up his dishes, which he’d forgotten were next to him. As you stacked things on his tray, Anton came rushing back into the tent. 

“Y/N, we need to pack up. We’re leaving tonight.” 

You scrunched your brows together. The troupe rarely traveled at night to avoid running into wolves, especially when traveling near the forest. It was easier to stay in one place and stay quiet.

“Why?” You asked, glancing over at Chan, obviously concerned on how well he would be able to travel. 

“We just got word from the village. The Order was in town last night and one of them got bitten. They’re missing. We can’t risk staying around much longer.”

Your eyes widened. The Order of Amadeus was the entity that worked to reduce the spread of the lycanthropy plague. It meant there had been enough wolf attacks in the area to warrant their presence, and the fact that one member was now missing was nearly unheard of.

You looked back at Chan again. “Is there room in one of the wagons?”

Anton’s gaze looked past you at Chan. ‘We’ll find room.”

With that, he left, presumably to get everything packed up. You quickly took his dishes from the tent and came back. You started packing things up silently, wetting your lips as the only sign of your nerves.

Chan’s throat went dry. Word had spread. Yet, there seemed to be no suspicion on him, and even if there was, it seemed the troupe did not plan to abandon him on the edge of the woods. He watched as you worked and used his strength to sit up. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

You turned to meet his eyes. “Uh, if you can get your bedding rolled up, that would be great. Once we get things in the wagons, I’ll find a space so you can lay down.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my legs. I’m happy to walk.”

“You know that if I allowed that, Maria would not.”

“Now, Christopher, if you want to make yourself useful, roll up your sheets.”

Chan smiled at your stubbornness. It reminded him of Minho, but the thought of what his friend was probably going through right now humbled his thoughts. He dropped to his knees and folded his sheets in half and rolled them as tightly as his bandages.

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