Chapter Text
The moon shone bright and silver over the entire village on one of the last nights of the year when children could still run around freely without their mothers calling after them to put on a cloak. Bonfires were plentiful amidst the family cabins, and it seemed as though everybody who resided in the quiet valley was in high spirits.
Seven children—coincidentally also seven friends—found themselves seated around the feet of a village elder, who had promised to tell them all the lore of The Sentinel.
“What’s a sentinel?” Jungkook, the youngest of them all, had asked earlier with big, curious eyes.
“It means somebody who holds watch over a village,” Namjoon, the middle-child of the group, had replied at once. “Who guards them from intruders.” The boy turned not to the village elder for approval, but to an elder hyung he admired. “Isn’t that right, Yoongi-hyung?”
His Yoongi-hyung, thoughtful by nature, nodded. “Every village has a sentinel, don’t they?” he asked of the village elder.
The elder smiled.
“Who’s our sentinel?” another boy—Taehyung—asked. He peered up at the elder from under a fringe of black hair, puppy eyes fully rounded.
“It’s the man who sits next to Hobi-hyung’s appa during pack dinners,” Jimin, the sprightliest of the bunch, guessed. “Isn’t it? The one they give the best meat to? Hobi-hyung, it’s him isn’t it?”
Jimin’s Hobi-hyung pursed his lips and thought about it seriously. “It must be… I don’t remember his face; he never stays long. I could ask my appa!” he suggested brightly.
“Good idea,” Jimin encouraged, satisfied with the idea of a resolution on the horizon. “Hey! Why does Jungkook have candy?”
Jungkook froze his nibbling around the piece of honeycomb he had in his fingers. He looked back at an inquisitive Jimin with somehow wider eyes.
“Mind your own business,” the oldest boy in the group told Jimin. At thirteen-years-old, Jin-hyung’s word was law to his dongsaengs. Jimin just squinted at Jungkook, sitting comfortably in their Jin-hyung’s lap, before turning back around to face the village elder.
“Can I have a piece?” Taehyung leaned over and whispered to his Jin-hyung. Jin nodded and quietly slipped another piece of candy out of his pocket and into Taehyung’s palm. Taehyung grinned.
“Does Jimin-hyung want any?” Jungkook whispered to Taehyung.
Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Ever since he turned ten last month he says candy is for kids.”
“Candy is for everybody,” Jin-hyung settled for them. They both nodded their agreement.
The village elder cleared this throat before he spoke, “Every village has a sentinel, that is true. But this is not the story of a sentinel, this is the lore of The Sentinel.”
All seven boys huddled closer together and looked up at the elder with piqued interest.
The elder, glowing only by virtue of the luminescent moonlight abound in the sky above them, continued, “Do you boys know how a sentinel is chosen?”
All seven shook their heads in unison.
“The spirits choose the sentinel,” the elder told them. “They choose the best among the pack to serve as their guardian. They choose somebody whose mind is strong, courage is boundless, and heart is capable of true selflessness. A sentinel is foremost chosen for all their strengths apart from the physical.”
“But don’t they have to be strong?” Yoongi asked keenly, “To protect everybody?”
“Mental fortitude is the greater quality,” the elder explained.
“What’s ‘fortitude,’ hyung?” Jungkook whispered to his Jin-hyung. He let the honeycomb melt over his tongue as he listened to his answer (“Courage in the face of adversity.” “What’s ‘adversity’, hyung?” “Shh! We’re missing the story!”)
“—Only one sentinel is chosen amongst all the pack alphas,” the elder went on, holding up one knobby finger, “And when he dies, whether in service to his people or otherwise, the spirits choose another.”
“Is it only ever an alpha?”
“Yes,” the elder answered.
“Why?” one boy asked.
“Because alphas are stronger, dummy,” another boy replied.
“He just said it’s not about muscles, it’s about fo—fo—forchitude,” a younger one countered, hands on his hips.
“Is it only ever a boy?”
“So far, yes,” the elder answered.
“I wish it could be a girl,” one of the boys said. “I don’t want it to be me.”
“Why not?!” another exclaimed, incredulous. “Being a sentinel would be so cool. They get a sword.” Then, facing the elder, “Do they get a sword?”
“The best one the village has,” the elder answered, smiling again. “And they live in a lodge all the way up in the mountains. I’ve seen it; it’s beautiful.”
“I want to be our sentinel,” Yoongi proclaimed boldly.
“Me too,” Hobi echoed.
“You can’t be,” Namjoon told him. “You have to be the next pack Alpha.”
“Oh yeah,” Hobi remembered, slightly deflated.
“You still get the biggest cabin in the village!” Jimin pouted.
“Oh yeah,” Hobi also remembered, chest re-inflated.
“Hyung, you’re oldest,” Jimin turned and said to Jin, “You should be the sentinel!”
“Seems like too much work,” Jin surmised, having already thought about it. “I’ll pass.”
“Me too!” Taehyung agreed, raising his hand.
“Me too!” Jungkook repeated, raising his sticky fingers.
Jimin narrowed his eyes at Jungkook. “You can’t be the sentinel because your mom says you’re definitely going to be an omega.”
“So are you!” Jungkook said, sticking out his tongue.
“No I’m not!” Jimin flared up.
“Yes you are,” Jungkook upheld.
“Then I’ll be the first omega sentinel,” Jimin sniffed.
“Then our village is ruined,” Yoongi told him bluntly. “If you were chosen as sentinel, Jimin-ah, I’d move out.”
Before Jimin could finish scowling for long enough to reproach his meanest hyung, the elder told the children to quiet back down.
“A sentinel is a hero, this is also true. But do you know why?” he posed of them.
They all sat still and waited to be enlightened.
“Because of the sacrifice required of them,” he revealed.
“They have to live all alone in the mountains,” Yoongi pieced together at once.
(“Know-it-all,” Jimin huffed under his breath.)
“They have to risk their life,” Namjoon added.
The elder nodded. “They must live the life of an eternal warrior.”
“That’s cool,” Yoongi stated.
“No it’s not,” Jin quietly disagreed.
Yoongi didn’t contradict his hyung.
The elder paused before saying, “Sentinels cannot marry. They cannot have children. Their sole duty is to the village. They are forbidden from falling in love.”
“That’s sad,” Taehyung frowned.
“No it’s not!” Hobi told him. “I’d rather be a warrior than get married.”
“Having kids is gross,” Yoongi declared, making a face.
“I love babies,” Taehyung said longingly. “Love playing with them.”
“Me too,” Jungkook agreed with him again.
“Stop copying me,” Taehyung pouted to Jungkook.
Jungkook immediately frowned back at his Taehyungie-hyung.
Taehyung softened at once. “Okay, fine, you can copy me.”
Jungkook immediately smiled. Taehyung tickled him under his chin until they both giggled. Though Taehyung himself was nine, he always insisted that Jungkook (at eight-years-old) was his baby. Jimin insisted the same, but he only babied Jungkook when his hyungs weren’t around to witness him being soft-hearted. He refused to let them know any of his weaknesses (Jungkook and Taehyung being approximately all of them).
Jin noticed that Namjoon, who was picking at the grass around his ankles, was being uncharacteristically quiet (or was he being characteristically pensive—who could say?). “Namjoon-ah,” he said, “You look like they’ve already chosen you to be the sentinel.”
“They won’t choose me,” Namjoon lifted his head and said. Jin (along with half the village adults) always told Namjoon he was too serious for an eleven-year-old.
“Why won’t they choose you, adul?” the elder asked Namjoon, kindness in his eyes, smiling mildly as he took in the young boy’s solemn expression.
“Because I want a family,” Namjoon told him, straightforward. “I want to be an appa, like my appa.”
The elder’s smile broadened. “You’re still young. Thoughts change.”
Namjoon shook his head stubbornly. He went back to picking at the grass.
“The Sentinel in our story also wanted a family,” the elder told them, eyebrows raising. “And so he broke tradition.”
“What did he do?” Jimin gasped.
“Stop interrupting him and we’ll find out,” Yoongi jabbed at him.
Jimin turned to Yoongi and said viciously, “Hobi-hyung was my friend first. Why do you even hang out with us?”
“Jiminie shouldn’t be so mean,” Hobi censured him. “Yoongi-hyung’s cool.”
Yoongi only smiled back at Jimin smugly.
“And stop being rude in front of our elder!” Hobi whisper-yelled at the pair of them. Jimin stuck a tongue out at Yoongi before they both turned away from each other with their arms crossed.
“The Sentinel, it was said, came from a long line of warriors, each of their hearts made of gold,” the elder narrated. “His grandfather had died on the battlefield, and so had his own father when he had been just a boy. The spirits hadn’t taken more than a second to choose him to defend and guard the village, one of the largest in the kingdom. For years, he served honorably and unfailingly. Then, one day, pirates attacked the coast—”
The boys all took a collective breath—
“—and The Sentinel chased after their ship with his own. He fought off dozens of pirates on his very own and rescued every single kidnapped citizen of the kingdom. One of them happened to be the daughter of the local Lord—fabled to be a once in a generation beauty—”
“That’s never good,” Jin mumbled.
“—One look at her moonlike face and they say The Sentinel’s heart wilted. One word from her lips and they say his resolved withered. He loved her at once and knew that nothing could ever part him from her so long as he lived.”
“Oh no…” Hobi grimaced.
“The Sentinel knew the duty he owed the village, but he vowed to himself that he could do both: be faithful to both his love and his service.”
“Can’t wait to see how that turns out,” Yoongi murmured.
“Yoongi-yah, have some faith,” Jin scolded him.
“No,” Yoongi blinked.
“He married the Lord’s daughter in secret, telling all that she had been the lone victim of the pirate attack. He grieved her with her parents and lit a candle at her remembrance ceremony, all the while knowing she was safely waiting for him back home in the mountains. For one year, they lived happily. But the price of his one year of happiness with her carried a hefty cost—one that was waiting for him just beyond the horizon line.”
The boys held their breath.
“His wife fell with child,” the elder said somberly. “The Sentinel, with all the hubris of a selfish man, told himself that he would not only defend the village and protect his wife, but also put his child first. He never once considered that in his endeavor to tighten his grip, everything would slip out of his hands.”
Namjoon drew up his legs and wrapped his arms around his knees as he listened.
“On the night his wife was to have their child, pirates attacked the village again. Distracted by her plight, he failed to see the black sails creeping towards the shore in the dead of night. By the time he heard the screams of the villagers and saw the billowing fires stemming from the razed village, he knew it was too late to save them. Still, he told himself he had to try. His wife begged him to stay by her side until the baby came, but he told her he could not. He was honor-bound to protect the village. She asked him if he was not honor-bound to protect her as well, and the story goes that he never answered her question. He left her on the brink of delivering his child and ran towards the village. When he arrived to the village, it was to carnage. The pirates had pillaged every house, killed every man, woman, and child. Their blood was on The Sentinel’s hands. He spent the entire night in anguish, looking for a single survivor in the rubble and finding none. At dawn, a scream pierced through the mountains and he recognized it as his wife at once. Leaving the village, he raced back home.” The elder paused. “What do you think he found?”
The boys were pin-silent. Jungkook had stopped nibbling on his honeycomb long ago, spellbound by the tale.
“He found his wife and newborn child dead,” the elder revealed. “Throats slashed by the very pirates he’d been hunting in the village.”
The boys all finally let out the breaths they’d been holding in their chests, frowning at the story’s grim resolution.
“Having failed his forefathers, his duty, his village, his wife, and his own son in the short first hours of his life, The Sentinel did the only honorable thing left to do in his position: he acknowledged the price he had to pay for his failures—begged the spirits for forgiveness, fell upon his own sword, and died.”
The chill of the night air finally caught up with the boys, who suddenly all craved the warmth of their beds and parents’ embraces.
The elder leaned forward from his chair and asked them all, “Now, boys, what lesson is to be learned from the fable of The Sentinel?”
“You should follow the rules,” Jimin said at once, alert and shocked by what he’d just heard. “The Sentinel shouldn’t have broken the rules.”
“You can’t have it all,” Yoongi suggested next. “He tried to have everything: his position, a wife, and a baby. He got greedy and lost everything as a result.”
“I agree with Yoongi-hyung,” Hobi nodded. “Greed and selfishness is bad.”
(Jimin puckered his face.)
Namjoon looked troubled. “The spirits made a mistake. How could he have been chosen as the sentinel by them? Wouldn’t they know he was flawed from within? They doomed the village as much as he did. They failed in their responsibility to choose the best alpha.”
“You can’t blame the spirits, hyung!” Taehyung cautioned him. “They hear everything! They’ll curse you!”
Namjoon was unperturbed by the warning.
Taehyung looked up to the sky and shouted, “He didn’t mean it!”
“I think,” Jin spoke up, “We’re meant to learn that we should know what we’re getting into before we commit to things.”
“But he couldn’t have chosen being the sentinel,” Namjoon argued. “It wasn’t his choice.”
“No,” Jin granted, “But he did choose to get married and have a child. He should’ve understood there would be repercussions.”
“That’s true,” Namjoon admitted.
None of his hyungs asked for Jungkook’s opinion, but he thought the story was awful. Why had the man been punished just for falling in love? And why did the baby and mother have to die? Why couldn’t the village elder have told them a nice bedtime story, one with dragons and horses and victories?
“What was the story meant to have taught us?” Yoongi asked the elder.
Again, the elder smiled his all-knowing smile. He said, “Tell me this: whose fault is it that all the villagers died?”
The answer was so simple, so unanimously known between the seven of them, that it was Jungkook who answered the question readily with: “The Sentinel.”
When none of the hyungs contracted their maknae, the village elder looked at each of their seven faces individually. “I hope I live another ten years so that I can know if each of you believes the same thing in due time.”
“The Sentinel failed his duty,” Namjoon spoke up. “That’ll never change.”
Several heads nodded in agreement.
The elder looked at him and smiled—kindly.
Seconds later, Jimin and Taehyung’s mothers appeared and thanked the elder for watching over all the boys. He said it had been his pleasure; the youth kept him young. Their mothers took all seven boys and delivered them back to each of their houses one-by-one. Before leaving for the night, Jungkook took his piece of honeycomb and snapped it in half, giving his Namjoon-hyung the bigger piece. He’d only just remembered his hyung had told him just a few days ago that he loved sweet things, and especially the taste of honey.