The Theft (taekook)

1. A day in Arauna

"Jin hyung, I know there is no extenuating this. But i don't know how i dropped it. I-i tied it securely around my belt. Ah- I'm so sorry. So so sorry."

"It is unfair that I keep forgiving you just because you make that face." Seokjin, the head chef of the palace rubbed his face with his palms, sighing. "Just shoo away and give the prepared soup to the prince. Without dropping. Please."

The scarce remorseful expression turned into a gratifying dimpled smile in a blink of an eye as Namjoon picked up the soup tray hurrying towards the room of his favorite royal.

"Thank the God you're pretty, Namjoon-ah" Seokjin sighed again mumbling into the palm before getting back to the oven counter. "What in the God's name are you sloths waiting for? The feast is in three days, not three years!"

***

"Your highness. Soup for you." Namjoon watched as the royal guard knocked on the oakwood door. Waiting for a response he started taking in the intricately detailed mahogany brown and golden door he is delightfully accustomed to see dime a dozen.

He is the assistant culinarian but isn't really allowed to cook per say having a rather bitter history between himself and fire or objects that could catch fire or food that could, well, burn. But being the head chef's favorite, as the fellow royal cooks put it, has it's own perks. First of them being the honor of calling thyself a royal culinarian without ever cooking. And Namjoon ensures he announces that in the minor most chance he gets.

"Send in!" cutting his chain of happy thoughts is a deep velvety voice from the other side of the door. With a curt nod, Jiwa/Juwa/jawa what ever the name of the guard who never likes to make small talk is, opens the door allowing Namjoon to get in.

"Your highness. I deeply apologize that it is chicken soup today instead of seaweed that you prefer. There was- a - problem" Namjoon abruptly started prompting the practiced apology deep inside well aware that there would be absolutely no expression of rebuke from the forementioned 'highness'.

Kim Taehyung. The second child of king Kim Songdae and his first wife Kim Jira. If you ask Namjoon, besides being the most pulchritudinous young man of Arauna, he is also the most endearing human to ever exist. He is not just the beautiful face in Namjoon's eyes. Sure, he is not arguably the best at swords or wars or decision making, something which is expected of every royal prince to conquer at (and a reason for the king's worries) but nevertheless his knowledge about the world, his political mien, his poetic deportment are all that render him aberrant.

"Joonie hyung. Jiwa is not here, so stop calling me that and it's okay because I know someone who's favorite food is chicken soup. Let me offer it to him."

"Thank god! I thought you'd never ask. I'm starving." Namjoon picked up the soup bowl that he apparently brought for 'highness' and sat comfortably on the diner couch beside the king sized bed before taking a big spoonful of the soup. "If anyday your guard comes to know that me, an ignoble unworthy excuse of a cook eats your food in your room on your sofa, I'll be doomed."

Taehyung frowned at the statement, lips pressing into a thin line and eyes crinkle into halfs because of the wrinkle forced on the forehead and Namjoon can only wonder how the prince could look so breathtaking even when trying to scowl. He shuts the book he was reading and turns around his one of kind study chair (rumored to be made out of eucalyptus) to face the cook completely.

"If anyday Jiwa, who i consider a friend, comes to know that you, one of my closest friends and a very special human being, eats whatever it is that you wish to eat, wherever you wish to eat, nobody will dare say a word to you."