Bride with Five Faces

by liaonoccasion

Summary:

In the midst of attack, Suguru's father arranges for him to marry a king from a far away land in order to keep his son safe. Despite his reluctance, Suguru manages to come up with a foolproof plan that will certainly leave him free to do as he pleases.

All he has to do is convince his husband to divorce him.

Chapter 1: Face of a Child

Suguru’s body grows faint, knuckles burning bright white with fury and disbelief at his father’s words, the serious expression on his face making Suguru grow delirious and tired. “There will be no discussion my son,” he says with finality in his tone as though that will calm any of the storm circling through Suguru’s head. 

 

No discussion he says, it’s a ridiculous notion and it sends Suguru into a tailspin quite frankly.

 

“But Fa-” he begins, his tongue aching to argue, to fight what he deems the biggest injustice life could ever subject him to. 

 

It isn’t exactly that Suguru hasn’t always known his purpose is to marry, he has always known his primary role as the omega son of a King is synonymous to that of a bride and nothing more. While his father may rule with a lenient hand and a kind heart, there are many traditions not even his tenderness can escape from; however, Suguru’s issue lies not with the unfairness but with the timing of all this.

 

Suguru’s eyebrows crease, heart clenching with tension and head circulating a million thoughts, none of which are pleasant and all of which make his stomach churn with anxiety. His eyes soften with an acid that betrays his heart, makes his emotions all too apparent and makes him seem all too painfully omegan. He can’t leave now, he won’t. A shaky breath falls off his lips, gaze meeting his father’s to find the alpha’s stern expression melting into something softer and sweeter, more paternal; it makes Suguru’s heart bleed.

 

“Father, I cannot leave now,” he tries to say what it is he’s thinking, tries to explain how terrified he is that something will happen while he is away and he will be left with nothing to mourn but instead the thought merely sits in his throat and makes him feel breathless and uneasy. What he means to say is that he cannot leave while the Kamo continue to attack their lands. What he means to say is that he cannot leave his father all alone here because if something were to happen while Suguru were gone he would never forgive himself. What he means to say is that he cannot get married to some stranger and pretend to play happy family knowing that his father is fighting a grand battle to protect the safety of their people. 

 

What Suguru truly means to say, is that he has no interest in marrying a stranger so far from home, he’d much sooner choose to marry a palace stableman than this King Gojo .

 

Suguru’s father inches closer, releasing soothing pheromones, parental and dominant and Suguru can’t help the way his body relaxes a little, fists loosening slightly and shoulders slumping. It’s a cheeky tactic, completely unfair, plays on his weaknesses and makes him more yielding when he’d rather be combative. Still, there is part of him mildly appreciative of the pheromones surrounding his body, encapsulating him with a warmth and comfort he has not experienced in years. It’s a stark reminder, the warmth he’s fighting to stay close to, the comfort of his only parent.

 

“Suguru, listen to me,” he says with softness twinkling in brown earthy eyes, it’s a twinkle Suguru hasn’t seen in his father since his mother died, he hasn’t seen that kind of affection in his, now, usually aloof father in years. Obediently, he looks up, letting his father speak, hearing him out for a moment.

 

“I find no peace of mind sleeping while you remain within these palace walls.” He says earnestly, “I cannot focus on my duty to our people when my heart remains here, outside of me in a place where I cannot constantly be by his side to protect him. My Suguru,” Kenjaku's face twists in a pained expression, one shadowed by the grief only a widow could carry, “you look so much like your mother these days,” his thumb stroking the soft skin of Suguru’s cheek. “There is no issue here but the worries of a father, safety will find the people of the Hanadouzu but only if I may focus on the work I have to do.”

 

“And for that you must cast me aside? Throw me to a kingdom that sees a different face of the moon entirely? Father, why must I go so far and so soon? Why must I go to a place that sees dusk while you see dawn?” Suguru argues, eyes welling up with a fresh wave of tears. He understands to some extent, there is logic in his father’s words but still, he cannot fathom it. He is a princess and his role should be to stay and die with his people if that is his fate, not to run away and hope they remain standing while he cowers in the arms of a husband he does not know.

 

Suguru’s father huffs out a little chuckle, tucking a strand of Suguru’s hair behind his ear. 

 

“You truly are such a caring princess, you will make a fine mother one day, Suguru, and it will be a sight I must see when I have fought hard and long for our home. I could not protect your mother, please, allow me to protect you.” He says and it’s a trump card, it’s something Suguru can never beat because, like it or not, Suguru’s mother could have been protected but that night, she simply was not and now she is dead. “The Gojo King is smart and he is strong, he is the only king I can trust with your life, Suguru.” Suguru’s heart thunders, he knows nothing about that king and he won’t pretend that he even really cares. His defiance does not stem from a reluctance caused by the opposing king but rather, a deep desire within Suguru to stay home, by his nation’s side, beside his father.

 

He could not care less for the strength the king carries within pampered muscles or the intelligence he is supplied by well paid advisors, he only cares that his kingdom, his home, his mother’s final resting place may be destroyed while he lives the pampered life of a king’s wife.

 

“Fa-” he says, trying to convince his father once more not to send him off but before he can, his father interjects, face turning stern once more and eyes flaring with a look one would give to a disobedient pup. Suguru supposes that is exactly what he’s acting like but, well, he thinks it’s only fair that he fight for what he believes is right. 

 

Kenjaku’s hand leaves Suguru’s face and he takes a step back to take Suguru in. “No more on this Suguru, I will not see you for a long time and I do not wish for my last words to you to be chiding in nature. Please try to understand why I am doing this but you are still young so, if you cannot then at least return to your chambers to pack up your belongings. I will not be having any further discussion.” Kenjaku’s voice is firm, unwavering and if Suguru were younger he might have felt his stern words cutting deeper but right now all he can feel is a dull ache, a longing for home before he has even left the walls he grew up in.

 

Resigned, Suguru hangs his head low and takes a deep breath. He bows down slightly, a show of respect, not fatherly but kingly, “of course, your majesty,” he says back, returning a level of apathy of his own. It’s all fake of course, a facade of nonchalance when he is in fact anything but nonchalant, the only act that will make his father feel any kind of pain.

 

His footsteps are quick and brusque, featherlight against the hardwood floors as he does his best to maintain his composure despite the fact it feels like his foundations are crumbling beneath his feet and the rubble has crushed his heart.

 

Suguru is Kenjaku’s only son, much to the rest of the royal family’s displeasure, and so, leaving these walls means leaving Kenjaku with no family within riding distance.

 

If something were to happen…Suguru can hardly bear to think about it. Palace officials pass him by, some looking strategic, discussing where exactly defences and knights must be sent to secure the borders, others looking relaxed, none of which seem to acknowledge him long enough to see through his thick veil where he’s been left a nervous wreck, a million thoughts twisting through him like a blizzard.

 

These halls, tall and scuffed, used to house his laughter and if he listened carefully he could probably still hear the soft responsive chuckles of his mother residing within the walls. The portraits were his friends and if he were asked today, he would still be able to name each portrait from a simple brushstroke alone. This is his home. This is his nation. How can he leave his home and never come back? Even when his father wins the war, Suguru will not be able to return home, he will not wander these halls or pass by the cracks in the walls kept track of since childhood. He will not own the beds or the curtains and he will only return as a guest, he will only return as a wife of a king instead of the son of a man.

 

With a heavy heart, he pushes open the doors to his room, a sight that will no longer be home for him, one that will become a rarity to even visit. One day, maybe sooner than he can even really comprehend right now, he will visit this room, a child’s hand in his – his child’s hand clutching onto his finger– as he shows them the room he grew up in. The child’s eyes will open in amazement at the tall ceiling and the large canopy bed for a nest and their mouth will gape at the majestic view of the palace gardens through the green stained glass. Their little feet will patter against the floor in a mad dash to race over to Suguru’s drawings pinned to the walls and their lips will utter the question “did you draw this mama?” and Suguru will say yes with a smile and a memory on the mind and tell them that he learned from the best. He will sit them down and he will explain how his mother would teach him how to use charcoal and lead to make a recreation of pure beauty and he will show them that taking note of the world’s marvels is one of life’s greatest joys.

 

He frowns at the image in his mind, the face of his child is blurry. He thinks they must take after their father whom Suguru has never seen nor heard of and that disappoints him, he’d like to think the child he will carry for 9 months would be more reminiscent of him but it is only an imagined dream for now and so, when he has more control over his thoughts, he can take the time to carve out the image of a child that looks like him running through the halls and playing with his father.

 

A knock –well six consecutive rather excited knocks– at his door brings him out of his reverie, slamming him back to reality. There is no child admiring his room or his art or tugging at his robes for Suguru’s attention. Instead there is a room, full of his belongings that must be packed up to take in the carriage for tomorrow.

 

Tomorrow.

 

His father really gave him no notice or time to argue, simply shipped him off on the next carriage ride to the other side of the world and now Suguru has no choice but to pack his stuff up and leave. He’s no fool, he knows his father has the carriage staff trained to ignore any and all of Suguru’s tricks. He knows the carriage staff will be people who have known Suguru all his life and are very well accustomed to saying no to the bratty princess.

 

“Come in,” he says, the door creaking at the same angle it always does, a little quirk of the room he will miss. A bitter smile graces his face, he’ll miss so much of this world he’s grown up in. 

 

After a breath, Haibara walks in, jittery with excitement it seems and the sight, albeit nothing unusual, makes Suguru smile.

 

He will miss Haibara so mu-

 

“We’re going to Rikugan!” Haibara interrupts Suguru’s lamenting thoughts with a harsh cry, enthusiasm bubbling brightly in big brown eyes. It takes a second, maybe two, but before he knows it, Suguru is smiling wide and running over to Haibara, tossing his arms over the beta’s shoulders. He feels a well of emotion in the back of his throat but this time, it’s much smaller, he can speak around it. 

 

“You’re coming with me?” Suguru asks, he doesn’t need to but he says it anyway, a grateful breath grazing over his lips. Haibara, his best friend, is coming with him to these foreign lands and it’s a small comfort for sure, but it is better than nothing. 

 

“Yes, did the king forget to tell you?” Haibara asks, hands wrapping over Suguru’s back to return the hug. Despite his parentage, Haibara has similarly calloused hands as Suguru, the two boys having taken to acts of manual labour a princess most certainly shouldn’t have been doing when outside of his studies. 

 

Thankfully, Suguru’s parents have always been fairly lax in that regard.

 

“It must have slipped his mind,” Suguru replies, pulling away from the embrace to look at his best friend, only a fraction taller than him. Haibara agrees with a shrug of his shoulders before smiling at the princess with glee.

 

“It’s wonderful! New lands to explore, what fun!” After a small pause he continues, “and you will be married too, which is so very exciting!” His exclaims echo through Suguru’s head, making dread begin to branch out of his stomach and through the rest of his body. Like a wildfire, anxiety spreads through his body, burning and singeing underneath his skin and setting each of his nerves ablaze.

 

He will be married and to a stranger no less. A stranger more than twelve days journey away from home.

 

“Haibara, I do not wish to marry a man so far from home, I wish to stay here. I wish to stand by my nation in its time of peril,” he says quietly, only allowing his dearest friend into the privacy of his thoughts. He knows nothing will come from his confiding in Haibara, he knows there is nothing he nor Haibara can do. With his father’s firm tone still reverberating through his head he knows that the decision is as good as done and there is no turning back on it now.

 

Suguru watches, his friend’s face souring slightly.

 

“You wish for us to stay here? If I may speak frankly, your majesty, this place, our kingdom is… well, it holds no future for us.” Haibara says, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, minutely enough that Suguru can only really attribute them to a slight twitch rather than anything malicious. Still, his words cut deep and harsh.

 

“Haibara, how could you say that?” Eyes widening in surprise and jaw hanging open with disbelief. There is hope and there is a future here, there will always be a future here as long as Suguru’s father is alive. “This is our home, our people. We are abandoning our families for a future that seems far more bleak than the one I see for us here.”

 

Haibara huffs out a little noise, moving closer to Suguru with a twinkle in his eyes, something close to excitement but just a little twisted. It’s like this weird mix of excitement and exhilaration and Suguru’s heart hammers seeing his friend like this, with his feelings bubbling through his core and to the surface of his soul like this. Haibara seems as though there’s nothing that sounds better than leaving this place and well he supposes it makes sense. Haibara does not have the attachment to Hanadouzu that Suguru has. He is not a princess and he is not an omega, to him, this must all sound like an adventure with his best friend or perhaps an opportunity for refuge, an assurance of survival.

 

“Your majesty, we will find new people, you and I. We will conquer new lands. This new world will be for us and us alone.” There’s a glimmer in Haibara’s eyes that sets each of Suguru’s nerve endings alight and makes a shiver dig its way up his spine.

 

For us and us alone. 

 

Suguru breathes out a breath and nods a little. 

 

“I must ready my belongings,” he begins, feeling as though he must sound hysterical for both of his closest confidantes to have dismissed him so readily. “I shall see you tomorrow, Haibara.” Suguru says, voice sounding a little pitiful to his ears and head ringing with frustration.

 

Haibara, respectfully, doesn’t put up too much of a fight about it either, instead opting to bow his head and smile at the young princess, head tilting down and mouth curving up. “Tomorrow will be the beginning of an adventure for us, you’ll see.” Haibara concludes before pulling the door shut and leaving Suguru in his room all alone to pack up as much of his life as he can in a few small travel bags.

 

Usually, he might have had maids to assist him with this task, in fact, under usual circumstances, he might have had maids pack up all of his belongings for him while he could have sat at his desk and drawn the emotions hanging heavily over him. Not now though, not with the situation as dire as it is. 

 

Suguru’s father dissolved each maid and butler of their duties a few months ago, citing that it was more important for them to remain in their homes, protecting their families as well as his. Suguru had heard the conversation between his father and one of his advisors, Hanami, and had concluded that the reason for their dismissals was more likely to be for protection of the castle, to prevent too many faces coming in and going out.

 

It’s not exactly like Suguru minds the downsize all that much, now the only people that the palace really employs are the people that were residents anyway. The cook and Suguru’s nursemaid and Haibara’s parents, there are a few advisors and diplomats and then of course, the king and the princess himself. 

 

And so, Suguru is left to pack up his life.

 

He collects a few dresses, some of his favourites, the ones gifted by his mother and father which were most certainly not his favourites at the time but, now, well now he adores them. They are intricate and beaded, made of rich fabrics that can be a little suffocating perhaps but they’re beautiful. They fit him perfectly, match his skin tone to a T and he thinks he should take them because who else will ever love him enough to have a custom gown made to compliment his every feature if not his parents. 

 

Suguru wants to take with him a piece of all the love he has ever felt. He wants to take each word and each memory to Rikugan with him. He wants to stay and he wants to absorb all that he has in this world but it’s not an option. His duty is set, bound to that of the Gojo King far away from his home.

 

He packs up a drawing, one of his mother, a picture he made when he was young and only starting out. It’s not his favourite, in fact he thinks he made a travesty of his beautiful mother but at the time he’d been no older than five years old and instead of scolding him, she’d pressed her lips to the page and left a ruby red lipstick stain at the top proclaiming her love for it and for him. She’d kissed his cheeks over and over until he was breathless with giggles and she’d stained his cheeks red too.

 

His mother was the kindest woman to ever live.

 

He packs the picture up carefully, making sure that it’s tucked into a part of the bag that won’t allow for it to be damaged or stained. If there’s one thing Suguru won’t allow for, it’s the memory of his mother being sullied or marred.

 

Will his husband let him hang it in their marital chamber? Suguru does not know how exactly their relationship will work nor does he want to think about it right now. His head aches with all of today’s events and he can’t bring himself to linger on the thought of how exactly he’ll live with the person who has practically bought him like cattle. There is no telling what their marriage will be like but Suguru knows in his heart that he will hold some level of resentment for the alpha. It might be unfounded, it might not be, whether it is fair or not is not Suguru’s concern, he can already feel a dislike for the alpha blossoming in his chest, citing him as the reason Suguru has to travel so far and leave everything he has ever known behind.

 

He finds it is much easier to pin this crime on an alpha he has never met before than to blame his father who is only trying to do right by their people.

 

Before he can even realise it himself, his cheeks are moist and memories are piling up in his head. He can still feel the faint warmth of his mother’s hands cupping his, telling him that he would find a good alpha, one that will love him unconditionally like his father loves her. He can still remember sticking his tongue out at her and telling her that he would never find an alpha because alphas are bossy before feeling a tug on his arm and hearing Haibara proclaim himself Suguru’s future husband to both of his parents. Suguru giggles faintly at the memory. It was in the garden, beside the maze where the white roses are planted, he and Haibara had had dirt on their faces from falling into the mud and Suguru’s father had made a passing comment about how unladylike his behaviour was. It hadn’t been chiding as much as it had been an affectionate hum of disapproval he supposes, still, his mother had scolded him for it and told Suguru that someone would love him for exactly who he was.

 

He sniffles a little at the thought.

 

If their lands weren’t under siege, perhaps he could have found a mate himself. One that would love him for exactly who he is, just like his mother had told him they would. He doesn’t have that privilege now.

 

He’d always imagined that during one of the visits with a neighbouring kingdom, Suguru might catch the eye of a kind alpha that would do everything in his power to court Suguru the way he deserved.

 

Suguru sighs at the now shattered dream.

 

Before he can continue his packing, another knock interrupts him. Not a series this time, just a firm heavy knock.

 

“Come in,” he says, doing his best to conceal the forlorn tone of his voice and the sniffles etched into his cheeks.

 

The heavy ornate door opens to reveal Kenjaku, his father, standing with a similarly pained expression, eyebrows crumpled and lips hanging open.

 

“My Suguru,” he says, voice raw enough that Suguru can sense that there he has sobbed his throat to tenderness, “my dear son.” He doesn’t come in all the way but he doesn’t have to, Suguru shoots up from his bed, pain wracking over him once more as he darts over into his father’s open awaiting arms.

 

It’s cathartic when he lets his body simply crash into strong arms that were made to protect him and keep him safe from the rest of the world. He feels like a child again and his father allows it entirely. He places a hand on the back of Suguru’s hair stroking the locks, letting soft tears fall from his eyes as he does his best to articulate his thoughts. Suguru, on the other hand, is a mess, tears hammering down the plush sides of his face and scent running rampant with emotion and stress. 

 

“Don’t make me go, baba,” he says, “I don’t want to leave you.”

 

Suguru’s father huffs out a sound, something reminiscent of a laugh but more bitter. “Suguru, my son, you are making this so difficult for me. I want to see you everyday but,” Kenjaku staggers out a deep breath, a guttural one that comes deep from his soul, “I cannot live with the thought that something might happen to you here when I am not around.”

 

“Baba,” it’s the only word Suguru can really bring himself to say because he gets it, he really does, his father has the same exact fear he does.

 

Kenjaku doesn’t answer the call, simply holding onto Suguru’s body tighter, clinging to it as though it is the last time he will ever do so.

 

After a few moments, a few breaths of Kenjaku’s calming scent, Suguru finds his ability to speak again and says through a hoarse voice, “Baba, I will be safe, I am strong, please allow me to stay here by your side.” He tries to make a desperate plea but, his body, his mind, his words feel too weak to get the idea across as much as they should.

 

“Suguru, don’t make me say no to you again, I cannot bear it.” 

 

The words serve as answer enough. Suguru still has to go, he must be cast off to the other side of the lands as a bride.

 

“You will not be at my wedding,” Suguru breathes out, nuzzling his head further into his father’s shoulder, nose full of his father’s scent. He takes as much of the homely scent in as he can, knowing now, accepting that it will be his last time smelling it for some time. While Kenjaku’s hand continues to stroke Suguru’s hair lovingly, he breathes out a deep sigh.

 

“I know my son, you will have to forgive your baba for his failure.” He says before he presses a kiss to the top of Suguru’s head affectionately, “I will be there in spirit though, my sweet son. You will be the most wondrous bride I am sure.” 

 

Suguru feels emotions choking him up again but before more tears can fall from his eyes, his father pulls back, staring at him intently before grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the room to follow him.

 

“Where are we going?” Suguru asks. He feels like a child again, being hugged and comforted, crying like a baby and not knowing anything until it’s the last moment. 

 

“Patience,” Kenjaku responds, tossing a kind smile to his son over his shoulder. 

 

Resigned, Suguru lets himself be pulled through the hallways he once played in, a little less distraught now that he’s had a good cry and he can feel the weight of his father’s hand in his. Something about being guided by his father like this is comforting, like even though he’s an adult now, even though he’s about to be someone’s wife, he can still rely on his father to guide him, he can switch him brain off entirely when he’s with his father because he will never let any harm come to Suguru.

 

Kenjaku opens a door to a room Suguru has only been inside of once. It’s his mother’s jewellery room and it’s full from the ceiling to the floor. Suguru smiles at the sight but it’s bittersweet at best. As much as he enjoys the sight of seeing how spoiled his mother was during their courting period –and even after their marriage– he finds himself deflating a little knowing that his husband will never love him enough to gift him with jewels and treasures like this. He deflates a little knowing that someone who was so loved is now gone and only her belongings remain and he deflates even more when he takes note of the sad expression taking hold of his father’s face.

 

Kenjaku lets go of his hand briefly, stalking over to one of the drawers and rifling through it until he takes out a small red pouch. He screws his face up tight, looking at Suguru with a pinched smile.

 

“Come.”

 

Obediently, Suguru follows, a mix of curiosity and intrigue building inside of him.

 

“What is it?” Suguru asks.

 

Kenjaku smiles a little, pulling open the small pouch and tilting out a heap of gold, a beautiful chain with what looks to be a simple engraved locket.

 

“When you were young, your mother had it made and once she did, she practically refused to ever wear anything else. Open it,” he says through a small chuckle as he takes Suguru’s hand in one of his and drops the necklace into Suguru’s palm. Something inside Suguru churns with nausea, with distress. It’s his mother’s necklace, that much he is sure of but he isn’t sure his body can handle more big emotions tonight. He isn’t sure he can bring himself to look deeper at what is clearly a poem engraved in the gold of the oval locket or blink back enough tears to get a clear look at whatever painting is inside the beautiful gold.

 

“Open it, Suguru, it’s yours now, my son.” 

 

Kenjaku’s encouraging words do nothing to deter the anxiety settling in Suguru’s belly but he opens it anyway.

 

A harsh gasp, a sharp intake of breath and Suguru can hardly take another one. It’s overwhelming, his throat closes and his nostrils flare and pain grows like a parasite in his gut. Sobs wrack his already weak body and Kenjaku closes the distance to pull Suguru into a comforting hug once more.

 

“Baba,” he murmurs out through what must sound like some of the most distressed sobs possible. His hand tightens around the locket and Suguru’s heart races in his chest, pumping hard and fast to keep up with the omega’s shallow sharp breathing.

 

“It’s okay, my son,” Kenjaku says, it’s weak, not as strong as Suguru’s father usually sounds but he supposes that’s to be expected to some extent. 

 

Inside the locket is stained glass, tiny delicate fragments that make up two portraits on either side. One a portrait of his parents, one where the artist has captured a moment of love and affection, romance between the two of them. It’s palpable, like Suguru can see the spark of love in each of their eyes. It’s magical and it makes Suguru all the more emotional because his mother is gone and his father will never have that spark ever again. The picture is beautiful and Suguru can understand exactly why his mother wanted to wear it everyday instead of wearing the other jewels in her arsenal.

 

On the other side is him.

 

It’s a portrait of a young Suguru with paint on his face and a smile on his lips. His hair is a little messy and his eyes are creased with laughter and he’s too young in this picture to know exactly what he was doing but it makes his heart swell to know his mother loved this version of him so much she carried it with her everyday. “Baba, I can’t leave,” he says once more, weakly. It’s not going to change the fact that he will leave, whether he likes it or not, it is done and dusted.

 

“We will be at your wedding in spirit, Suguru. We will always be with you.” 

 

The words make Suguru’s chest ache painfully, violently. He can feel the blood pounding against his vessels and the twinge of sadness burns at the back of his eyes. It’s bittersweet again. He wants his family there, he wants to see his father’s eyes widen with pride and affection as he sees his son, all dressed up as a bride. He wants to see his mother’s smile, encouraging him when he inevitably gets cold feet. He wants to dance and sing and celebrate his marriage with his nation, with his people. 

 

He wants for so much but he cannot have it and it hurts so desperately, down to his very soul.

 

Kenjaku continues to rub Suguru’s back soothingly as the omega hiccups out sobs into his shoulder.

 

“You’re alright my son, all will be well,” he says except it doesn’t feel that way to Suguru, it doesn’t feel anything close. He thinks this is all some nightmare that started the day his mother died and he has never been able to pull himself out of sleep since. 

 

When Suguru’s body begins to slump, Kenjaku guides him back to his bedroom, deciding that Suguru has exhausted himself enough for one day. He tucks Suguru into his nest, pulling the soft sheets over his skin. 

 

“Rest, my son, I will have someone take care of the rest of your packing.” Kenjaku says, pressing a kiss to Suguru’s forehead that seems to calm his aching heart just a little. It’s his last night in his nest but he feels too exhausted to even really take note of that fact. He simply closes his eyes and listens, listens as his father scurries around his room packing up his belongings while he is under the impression Suguru is asleep.

 

---

 

When Suguru wakes up, he’s filled with dread settling in his stomach, all lopsided and thick, it throws him off kilter, makes him feel off balance and dazed but he really can’t do much about it. The sun beams at him through the window, the Hanadouzu sunshine lighting his face for the final time for quite some time. Well, at least, Suguru imagines it will be quite some time before he returns to feel this sunshine on his face, he’s always been a bit of a worst case scenario thinker but, if all goes well, he may be home sooner than he thinks, the only difference being that he’ll be married and mated.

 

Whatever, he can deal with the whole being married thing, he can manage the whole husband he didn’t really want situation as long as his leaving means Suguru’s father can concentrate on protecting their kingdom better, Suguru can manage just about anything.

 

With a deep sigh, he pulls himself out of his nest, smiling a little absent-mindedly at the realisation that, for the first time in years, he was far too bundled up in his sheets, swaddled like a small child. His father liked doing that when Suguru was younger, he liked tucking the edges of Suguru’s blankets in all tight to make it extra warm and cozy for Suguru. 

 

His dad was kind of born to be an omega dad.

 

Suguru’s mother used to agree with that too, used to say he would probably build a better nest than she could if he weren’t desperately in love with her. She used to joke that she would always win in everything, not because she was better than him at everything but because when she’d won his heart, he’d quickly relented with everything else.

 

At the time Suguru had thought it was a little gross to always hear about how desperately in love his parents were all the time but now, he can’t think of anything he’d like to hear more. He’d give anything to hear his mother tell him with all the giddiness and excitement of a schoolgirl of how she and her father fell in love even though they were from courts that were not the fondest of each other. He’d give anything to hear his mother giggle as his dad hugged her from behind. He’d give anything to see her smile or feel her embrace, to smell her scent or to hear her gentle soothing words one more time. He’d give anything to have her back.

 

His bags are packed, ready with what he hopes is everything he might need. They sit in the corner of the room, his walls looking a little more sparse and his choice of attire a little more scarce today than it usually is. He chooses out a nice gown, simple and pretty, there’s a sheer material that goes over some of it and he thinks it makes the gown look just ethereal enough for it to be something that he feels works well for him leaving his home. It might sound ridiculous but part of him wants the castle and his bedroom and the gardens and the kingdom to remember him looking nice, remember him looking put together and beautiful like the princess they all deserve. 

 

Having chosen his gown, he lays the sweet purple slip over his bed and undresses himself, peeling off the fabric from yesterday tainted with tears and breakdowns. Part of him wants to throw that gown away for good and be done with it but he doesn’t want to destroy anything that holds any memories before he leaves. Instead, he simply throws the gown into a basket with the rest of his unwashed belongings and saunters into the bathroom, skin growing goosebumps as the cold air brushes over his naked skin.

 

Humming a little tune, he pours the warm water that’s been left for him into the tub and chooses out a fragrance oil from his drawer. Lavender or jasmine maybe, something that will relax him, make him feel calm enough to leave the castle walls remembering only his smile and not his tears.

 

He settles on lavender after a moment, citing that if his gown is purple he should go ahead and embody the spirit of the little purple headed flower. Little drops of lavender scent his bathtub and he smiles a little despite the present circumstances at the smell surrounding him. It’s calming, it’s nice but there’s this nagging feeling, this itch that keeps reminding him that it is his last time calling this bathtub his. It is his last time calling this his home. When he next returns, whenever that may be, will he know where they keep the lavender oils or the soaps for his hair? Will he be welcomed each morning with a pail of warm water before he begins his day? Will he even have this room to come back to?

 

As much as he tries not to linger on the thoughts, that last one sticks with him. What if the castle is taken, his father, his people, his lands stolen from him. What is what transpires after he leaves is nothing but misery?

 

If he has nothing to return to, is his life even worth it?

 

A loveless marriage, his family gone, his lands destroyed. Would it even be worth it?

 

He sinks into the water, letting the milky water soak into his skin until his fingers are wrinkled with it and his thoughts are no clearer than they were. He washes his hair and his body and makes sure to let the water of his homeland sink into his skin for as long as he possibly can before he finally slips out and wraps a clean towel around his body and his hair.

 

The smell of lavender fades with the plug pulled out and Suguru watches with an oddly heavy heart as the water escapes.

 

Everything feels a little too sentimental today. He feels like he’s mourning his whole life here.

 

He kind of is.

 

From this point onwards nothing will ever be the same and that is a terrifying thought. It makes his skin shiver and shake and he has to blink back hard to stop himself from spiralling into a sobbing mess once more.

 

He can’t sob today. Especially not after he’s just gotten rid of some of the puffiness in his eyes.

 

Suguru rings his hair out, sapping it of the moisture as well as towel drying his skin. He does everything with a little more thought today, when he rubs oil over his skin, he stares at it, makes sure all of the oil is seeped in and that he hasn’t missed even one single spot. He keeps thinking that this is the last time he’ll oil his body, that this is the last time he’ll perch on his bed. It isn’t the last time, there will be more but, it still feels like he won’t get to do this again.

 

He wonders, for a second, if he’ll even have his own chambers in his husband’s castle. Will he have a bed to himself or will he have to share with a stranger? He supposes it isn’t the worst thing to share a bed with a stranger, he has seen his parents’ bed and it is so large that the two of them could practically send messenger pigeons from one side of the bed to the other.

 

He’ll make the best of whatever circumstances he has, that much is for sure.

 

After he’s dressed he sits at his table and stares himself in the mirror before picking up the locket he has yet to put on. He feels uneasy, like his body is rejecting the whole notion of putting on his mother’s prized possession but he wants it so badly. Something inside him thinks he can feel her spirit attached to it.

 

He sighs and puts it down again picking up his hair brush instead before a knock –a series of knocks– interrupts him.

 

“Come in,” he calls, pulling his foot up to rest on the chair face and turning his head to the side to watch as Haibara opens the door.

 

The brunette beta sniffs before a pleased smile makes its way onto his face. “It smells nice in here, does that mean I’m finally smelling your scent?” Suguru giggles at the silliness of it. Haibara has been on this since they were young, he’s always pouting about the fact he can’t smell Suguru’s scent and joking around acting as though getting close enough to Suguru’s scent gland will magically make him able to smell Suguru’s scent.

 

“I must have left the doors to my bathing chamber open, I used lavender oil,” Suguru says with a smile.

 

“What a shame,” Haibara says lowly, finishing his sentence with something Suguru can’t quite make out.

 

“You don’t like lavender?” He asks, returning to his task of staring himself down in the mirror and brushing his hair.

 

“Something like that.” Haibara doesn’t elaborate and Suguru finds himself not bothered enough to ask because instead he wants to discuss something important, something he’d thought of while in the bath.

 

“How does one go about making a man find you unattractive?” Suguru asks.

 

“Hmm?” Haibara quirks an eyebrow at the question, big eyes staring at Suguru in the mirror as though the question is not simple.

 

“How do I make myself as repulsive as possible?” Suguru says with a snappy tone and a smooth stroke of his brush.

 

“Well I don’t think you could ever be repulsive, your majesty.” Haibara replies, slumping onto the princess’s bed and scratching his head, confused by the question entirely.

 

“Yes, but, you’re a man, right? If you were married to an omega, what could they do to become repulsive enough to you that you’d divorce them?”

 

Suguru isn’t totally sure this is a good idea but it’s all he’s been able to come up with. It’s selfish for sure and he has every intention of not writing to let his father know until the kingdom is safe but, if Suguru can manage to make the Gojo King ask him for an annulment, he will be under no obligation to remain in that kingdom. If the Gojo King and he decide to dissolve this awful sham marriage of theirs, he can return home. He’ll ask for a carriage to return home with but instead of returning to the palace, he will simply hide out somewhere in one of the villages. At least then he will be close to home, at least then, he will be close by if anything happens to his father. 

 

Plus, if he gets a divorce, he’ll practically be boundless, nobody will want him then. He’ll be a free omega.

 

“Well,” Haibara gives him a confused look and a small smile, “I guess no husband likes a mean, ugly wife?”

 

“Hmm,” Suguru hums, taking the idea in and passing it over his brain a few times. It’s not a bad shout actually. It’s easy enough to be mean, to be disobedient, especially as an omega, would be particularly unattractive. And to be ugly well…he owns plenty of face paints. If beauty is pale and symmetrical then Suguru will make sure he is the complete opposite. “Thank you, Haibara, you are a truly great friend.” He says earnestly, smiling and making eye contact with the brunette beta in the mirror as he does. Usually, Haibara takes compliments rather well, in fact, he’s sweet enough usually that he also takes criticism fairly well, whether he knows it’s criticism or not is usually a little uncertain but Suguru likes to think his friend knows and simply takes it with grace anyway. This time though, Haibara doesn’t seem to look quite so happy about the compliment, his eyes narrowing slightly and his jaw going taut and tight.

 

“Yeah,” Haibara says, through gritted teeth. It’s odd but Suguru chooses not to linger on it, especially not when it only takes a few moments for Haibara to recover and smile at him in the mirror, bright and wide and pearly like he usually does. “Are you ready for fourteen straight days of travelling together?” Haibara says playfully. 

 

“Goodness, don’t remind me. It’ll be a wonder if my-” Suguru stops himself feeling the urge to vomit rise up his throat at the notion, “if the king still wants to marry me when he sees what I look like after those fourteen days.”

 

Haibara scoffs out a laugh. “Your majesty, I cannot imagine there would be a world where you could look revolting enough that someone would not want to marry you.”

 

Suguru smiles at the compliment.

 

“Thank you, Haibara, you are too kind.”

 

“I am simply being honest, your majesty.” Suguru nods and continues to brush his hair, eyes locked in on the locket still on his desk. He can’t bring himself to put it on, not just yet anyway. Instead, he grabs the small pouch and tucks the locket inside before turning to face Haibara with a small, insincere smile.

 

“I’m ready.” 

 

He isn’t. Not even in the slightest. He wants nothing more than to run into his father’s arms and lock them around him. He wants nothing more than to plant his feet firmly into the ground and until roots form and anchor him into the soil.

 

He can’t do that though.

 

He has a duty now whether he likes it or not and so, doing his best to hide his apprehension and anxiety, he says goodbye to his bedroom, to his blankets and sheets and his walls and windows. He opens the heavy door one last time with Haibara following behind him eagerly like a puppy. He glances over the walls of the palace, strolling through leisurely, in no rush to meet his father outside because he knows the moment he sees him he will break down. He knows the moment it becomes truly real for him will be when his father kisses him on the forehead and wishes him luck for his journey. 

 

So, he takes his time, saying a silent goodbye to each painting and every crack in the wall, he bids a farewell to each palace official and wishes them good luck in defeating their enemies. He visits the gardens one last time and he sniffs the white roses before finally going to the front steps of the palace.

 

His bags have been brought out, already being loaded into the carriage and Suguru’s father waits, stone-faced on the steps of the palace. 

 

That is until he sees Suguru anyway. He was able to keep a strong facade but the second he sees Suguru, his face crumples and he slaps a hand over his mouth to conceal the sound of a sob. 

 

Suguru gulps his feelings down as best he can, he can’t cry and he won’t let his father remember him crying. Instead, he makes his way to his father and this time he cradles Kenjaku’s head in his neck.

 

“It will all be alright, baba, I will be home before you know it,” he says with more firmness and finality now that he has concocted his own devious plan to return to Hanadozou much sooner than planned.

 

“I will miss you so much, my Suguru,” he says tearfully, voice breaking in Suguru’s ear.

 

“I will miss you too, baba.” It takes everything in Suguru to keep his voice even but he manages it, he manages his final farewell with no tears and it feels good. Maybe it’s because he knows it won’t be goodbye for long, maybe it’s because he knows it may not even be goodbye for a week if he is successful in his ploy to get his husband to divorce him.

 

All he has to do is be ugly and insufferable.

 

He can manage that much.

 

Yes, it really will not be that hard to get on the nerves of a spoiled, pampered alpha. Suguru has no doubt he will be home within the week.

Chapter 2: Arrival Day

Summary:

“No, my sweet princess, consummation is the true and final binding ceremony. After that we will be truly bonded, inseparable by high decree of the Gods themselves.”

“I am unsure what consummation means, your majesty,” he says back finally, his voice slipping from a gritty harshness to one of curiosity now, softer and yielding in a way it hadn’t been earlier. His eyebrows furrow and his eyes lighten and all Satoru can think is how majestic Suguru looks in all his forms, angered or curious, benevolent or malicious there is nothing that could ever make Suguru look any less beautiful.

“Sex. Fucking. Mating. Whatever you’d like to call it, one day, when you are ready, we will explore the realm of passion together.” Satoru says, his eyes bleeding with the imagery. He does his best, kind of, to be gentle about his delivery but he’d forgone preparing his lessons on sex concluding it could wait a day or two since no bride would bring it up on day one. Suguru has been anything but what Satoru expected him to be.

Satoru sips on his tea, savouring the flavour of maple and honey on his tongue, lingering sweetness after a long day of interactions that leave him with a sour taste in his mouth. He won’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy being king, the power and the freedom, the control it brings makes him feel alight with some kind of pleasure he’s sure nothing could ever match. There’s some sort of inherent satisfaction that comes with the title and the wealth and the status of it all and it makes his blood burst through him fast and excited, something like intoxication but high off the thrill of existence rather than opiates or drugs. The only downside? His family, the rest of his court. 

 

They are, regrettably, not nearly as intelligent as Satoru himself, already losing themselves to this false idea that joining the Kamo in invading his betrothed’s lands would have been a smarter plan. It wouldn’t. The notion is barbaric and stupid and would only serve as a temporary high, the thrill of battle being something short-lived and unworthy of wasting his and his kingdom’s time on. Still, the old fools need things hammered into their heads at least fifty times before they get the message through their thick skulls.

 

Invading alongside the Kamo has no benefits. It would ruin his relationship that he has yet to build with the omega that will be arriving sooner rather than later, it would destroy the integrity of his image amongst the people of his own kingdom and furthermore, it would serve no purpose other than claiming more territory in name alone. He would not gain a true ally from the Kamo and he would instead simply destroy things that are important to maintaining the careful balance needed to be a good king. 

 

He does not need more land.

 

What Satoru needs is a bride, he needs a queen that will stand by him, at the very least in public only, and provide some stability to his nation.

 

Satoru stares as the dusk sets on yet another gloomy day, cold air biting against the glass, whispering sweet nothings and begging to be let inside as crystalline structures begin to blossom, skewing his view of orange hues and a growing purple gradient. Evidently, it is getting rather late as the moon kisses the edge of the horizon with her pale radiance and for a moment, Satoru allows himself to wonder where the omega is.

 

While Satoru thinks the propriety of it all is a little ridiculous to say the least, he is still well aware of the fact that he is expected to be following customs. One of these customs requiring him to greet his omega on the steps of the castle, inviting his bride into his home for the first time.

 

Ijichi would have called him if the omega had arrived though, no? 

 

At that moment, the winds outside blow reckless and violent against the glass like heathens with no thoughts and only the intent to chill the blood of whoever may step out into its wrath for too long. The sound of the coming night’s howls only strengthen Satoru’s resolve and so he decides that he will stay put, stay inside, for as long as he can, sipping on cooling tea and tracing the path of the sunset to the horizon through the window as he waits for Ijichi to come fetch him.

 

It wouldn’t matter if he were late anyway, would it?

 

Satoru has always, despite his high status, been known for his tardiness. It isn’t a problem, it never has been and well, of course it isn’t, after all, who would dare speak ill of the king and his ‘tardiness’ when it is by his grace alone that one can even dream of an audience as noble as the king himself. Satoru has never expected that anyone would ever kick up a fuss over it until-

 

“King Gojo!” A high voice shrieks out, loud and intrusive, footsteps stomping against the ground in a desperate attempt to make themselves known to everyone in the kingdom. It penetrates through the palace peace and makes Satoru’s head ring with annoyance. His mind races trying to come up with a solution to the issue of who could possibly be causing such a racket in his home and who could possibly think themselves worthy of calling him with so much vitriol in their voice and without so much as a hint of propriety. 

 

Satoru makes no moves, instead continuing to recline on his chair and sip on his tea, blue eyes burning with a silent rage. From the sound of the stranger’s footsteps, it seems Satoru will have an answer to all his questions soon and so, to avoid exerting any energy at all on something he deems beneath him, he simply allows the problem to arrive at his front door.

 

As expected, the problem eventually makes his way to stand before Satoru and what a problem he is, he’s something of a deity Satoru is sure. With long, black satin sheets of hair cascading down his shoulders and these honey-like eyes that drip and drizzle with something so deeply infatuating that Satoru can’t help the way his breath hitches. His robes hug his figure beautifully, accentuating tan skin and a shape that would drive any whore into jealous insanity. Surely words as shrill as those could not belong to a beauty like this? 

 

“King Gojo!” He snaps, words sounding harsh and misplaced as they fall off such sweet plump lips. Satoru’s eyes linger for just a moment before he brings his eyes to meet eyes as rich and golden as the accents on the omega’s clothing. The omega must be his bride and what a fine bride to have ended up with, Satoru has always been lucky but truly, he must have been nothing short of a martyr in his past life to end up with a bride as beautiful as he.

 

“You are late!” The words fall like liquid gold from a set of lips that Satoru is sure tastes like ambrosia itself. A reprimand on lips as divine as his feels like the shining grace of the Gods themselves to an already enamoured Satoru. 

 

Quick footsteps grow in the distance, no doubt darting towards Satoru’s office. Late. He hadn’t expected the omega to come in demanding punctuality from him from their very first encounter but the strange determination in the omega’s eyes make him feel less like he’s being scolded and more like he’s being challenged, tried by his equal.

 

Hmm.

 

“I apologise, my bride,” he says, setting the teacup and saucer on his side table before standing to his full height. His bride, Geto Suguru, is tall, his body is made up of long seductive legs and curves that would drive any man mad with lust or any concubine to a jealousy fuelled insanity. Despite this though, the omega still only reaches the bottom of Satoru’s chin, his eyes staring up at Satoru with venom that doesn’t quite match the sweetness of his features and yet, somehow, still feels perfectly at home with the fire in his eyes and the strength with which he carries himself.

 

A scent permeates the air, sweet and warm and Satoru dares to lean in a little closer to the princess, just to catch a stronger sniff of that delightful smell. It’s perfect, tailor made to his beauty, as though crafted personally by the Gods for a beauty such as he. It’s so sweet it sticks like sap, wedging itself into each groove of Satory’s brain like a memory of something wonderful that he can’t afford to let slip. It’s faint, concealed by a loosely tied, clearly slept in scent ribbon. Satoru savours the smell, lingers on it for as long as he can because the moment the princess has had a chance to collect himself and freshen up there is no chance Satoru will find himself privy to such sweetness for at least a few days.

 

“Hmph,” he makes a defiant sound, “you are not nearly handsome enough to be as horrible of a husband as you are.” The words spill out quickly, as though rehearsed but they leave Satoru taken aback. Not handsome? Gojo Satoru, not handsome. Has he fallen asleep and ended up in some alternate reality?

 

Even if he has, the idea that his bride would be so blunt as to breathe those words to him is…well it’s a little jarring. What an unkind omega. He hasn’t even introduced himself properly and already he is having a rather foul experience with his bride.

 

Before he can respond, a beta with a mud brown hair comes tumbling into the room without any grace at all, his brown eyes wide and immediately on Suguru. The way his pupils dilate, a dark black hole filling the space of his iris at the sight of Satoru’s bride, it’s irritating to say the least. 

 

Satoru’s fists clench at his side. For as much as he’d like to grab the maiden and mark his scent gland right in front of the bastard who has the gall to run into Satoru’s office chambers without an invitation he knows he can’t. While Geto Suguru may be his future bride, he cannot and will not force the omega to anything but the legalities.

 

They will be married though, that much is certain and Satoru does not approve of others looking at his bride with so much obvious…lust.

 

“Your highness!” He says, breathy as though he’d run great lengths to get here. “Haibara,” Suguru says, slipping away from Satoru and closer to the boy who’s walked in with nothing but the stench on his back and this ugly desperate longing for Satoru’s future bride. 

 

“You know him?” Satoru asks, fists clenching tighter. It’s obvious he does, it’s in fact even more obvious that he must be one of the members of Suguru’s party that will be joining them for their union but it doesn’t ease any of the annoyance in Satoru’s chest.

 

He’s never considered himself the jealous type as such but watching as his bride goes over to lathe the boy in affection and familiar conversation strikes a cord with Satoru. The boy, this Haibara, a servant, receiving far more grace than Satoru, a king. Suguru had stormed in here with nothing but anger at Satoru whilst this Haibara gets to have Suguru fussing over his hair and asking about his abrupt entrance with a soft voice and kind tone.

 

It would be nice, a beautiful thing if offered to Satoru and not to Haibara.

 

“You are breathing so heavily, Haibara, what on earth have you been up to, we’ve hardly been here more than a few moments.” His voice is this soft sweet thing, tender and nurturing, perfect for a queen, perfect for someone as beautiful as him. It’s different from how he addressed Satoru though, calm and affectionate, soft in a way that suits him but does not quite capture the rigidity and strength of his character in the same way it had earlier. With his abrasiveness gone, the soft sponge of his insides is all that seems to be left behind and Satoru can’t say he isn’t looking forward to a day when that tenderness of speech is turned onto him.

 

“My apologies your majesty, I was merely trying to explore the grounds a little when someone must have mistaken me for an intruder.”

 

Trying to explore the grounds. He says it as if he owns them, as if he has any right to exploration. 

 

For a moment, Satoru expects the princess to scold the servant but instead the princess merely sighs and smiles at him, amused, a kind looking thing, gentle and pearly, it makes his eyes crease and his cheeks lift and he looks simply radiant as he does it.

 

“No need for apologies, let me finish speaking with his majesty and I will be out soon.”

 

Before either Haibara or Satoru can respond, the princess is shooing the beta out and, this time, finishing the job by closing the heavy wooden door. Satoru simply remains standing, transfixed, confused, dazed.

 

There are far too many emotions swirling through his head right now for him to truly comprehend how exactly he feels about the dynamic he has just witnessed and the reprimand he has just stood on the receiving end of but the quiet chatter of confusion and annoyance in his head seem to dampen the second the princess makes eye contact with him and saunters closer.

 

Satoru is sure the princess has no idea how seductive he is, how alluring each sway of his hips and each step he takes are.

 

He isn’t afraid of getting close either, he struts close and positions himself so his words can be as quiet as possible, a moment of privacy for he and the king and it makes a small spark of delight light up inside of Satoru at how confident and regal the princess is.

 

“I do not enjoy, nor do I appreciate being kept waiting, Satoru.” He says, voice low, a menacing quality to it, annoyed, a warning. Something about it is provocative, who does he think he is? Satoru is, after all, the man saving him from a nation at war. Satoru is offering him a home away from terror and this omega has not only the audacity to scold him in his own office over something so trivial but to also address him by his first name?

 

Satoru huffs out a sound of disbelief. 

 

He hadn’t expected that an arranged marriage would be easy on the omega, he knows many young omegas dream of finding true love and all that nonsense but he still, the hostility is jarring to say the least.

 

“I shall ensure not to make a habit of this.” It’s odd being reprimanded in such a way, by a stranger no less, but Satoru finds himself oddly pleased with the strength of character. His bride of all brides will need to have a nature as strong as the empire Satoru has spent his last few years in power cultivating. It is reassuring to know the Queen will hold others accountable at least, although he will have to get used to being held accountable himself he supposes.

 

With a deep sigh, Satoru watches as the omega’s eyes fill with conflict, something troubles him deep in his soul and Satoru can see the bubbles of it floating up to his eyes but he cannot quite fathom what it may be. Before he has the opportunity to question his bride about it however, Suguru turns with a snooty little humph, spinning on his ankle and holding that precious gaze of his hostage from Satoru. 

 

“Well, it should never have happened anyway, a king raised as though he were nothing more than a peasant, how shameful.” Suguru says, his snarky tone making something in Satoru flare up with annoyance. 

 

“And you are no gentle-mannered maiden yourself so I suppose you are just as shameful as I,” Satoru retorts, his arms crossing over his chest, eyebrow raised at the insolence. Satoru, for all his life, has never ever been tested by anyone like this, no less a princess of such high pedigree as Suguru. While the omega’s voice is sweet and firm there is still no pleasure to be found in being berated like this continuously.

 

Jilted by the comment, Suguru spins back around, an outraged expression on his pretty face. “Me?” He asks as though there is anyone else in the room that Satoru may have been speaking to. His eyes widen, bright gold plates thinning to glowing golden rims as his pupils dilate and his hands clench into fists at his sides. “I beg your pardon, your majesty, but I am nowhere near the brutish fool you appear to be.” He sneers.

 

Satoru lets out a breath, eyebrows crumpling in confusion as to how someone so beautiful, so tender to a boy no more important than horse shit in the stables could be so rude to a powerful king like Satoru. Without a second thought, Satoru closes the distance between them, staring down at an apparently defiant bride who refuses to move away, instead he simply scoffs back at Satoru with a glare of his own.

 

“You beast, how dare you get so close to an unmated omega? And a princess at that!” His lips move in this seductive manner around the words, a shriek on his lips as Satoru dares invade his personal space. Satoru has to hide a laugh at that, by all legalese they are already married, Suguru is already Satoru’s wife and so this level of closeness is by no means anything improper but still, his wife doth protest so very much.

 

He does not move though, instead, his breaths stutter in his throat and his skin pulses with a heat so palpable that Satoru can practically feel Suguru’s nerves bursting inside of him. 

 

“You are my bride, in my nation we are already husband and wife, Suguru.” Satoru says lowly, quietly tasting, savouring, indulging in the name of his bride on his tongue for the very first time and feeling a spark of something like divinity inside of him as the name rolls off from his lips. “There’s only one thing left for us to do, Suguru .” Satoru watches as Suguru’s eyes widen some, gold hues melting into sheer blackness and his lips parting for air. Suguru hangs onto his breath, holds it as though it were a captive and does not release it until he has worked up the nerve for some semblance of a response. 

 

“We-We are not on a first name basis yet, your majesty!” His voice bleeds a sort of shock, contempt at Satoru’s behaviour, his words venomous, dripping with a cold fury that Satoru figures is entirely facetious. It’s shaky, there’s a wobble in his voice, the timbre falling short of even and truthful by a longshot. Still, Satoru drinks the uncertainty in, tastes it like a fine wine mulling over the length of his tongue. He wonders for a moment how sweet Suguru’s lips would taste, how sweet his-

 

“Besides, we have not even had a wedding yet, my nation would hardly even consider us engaged. There is still plenty of time to annul our union by both nations' customs and fulfill both of our desires.” This time, it is Satoru’s eyes that wrench open at the words, his lips falling apart and his mind filling with bitter confusion mixed with an annoyance all of his own. An annulment? “Will you annul this union, your majesty?” He asks again, tone perking up slightly and an unintended sincerity slipping from his lips. 

 

The gall of this omega.

 

With his sharp tongue caged behind sweet sap lips and kind treasure chest eyes hiding a vicious vermillion flame; he is nothing like Satoru expected he would be. A request to annul their marriage before he’s even settled in, the audacity is both infuriating and intriguing. Something in Satoru’s loins stirs as he considers the duality of the omega and, shamelessly, he begins to imagine whether that venomous flame carries over into the bedroom. Does his sweet mouth drip poison in the midst of pleasure? Do his precious eyes, honeyed like drops of sunshine bursting with life turn amber with the heat of passion and lust? 

 

In the throes of passion, what does Suguru sound like, smell like? Do his eyelashes flutter or do his lips shudder? Satoru gulps, clearing his throat of his steadily growing desire as best he can.

 

“What reason would I have for annulling our union, my darling bride?” Satoru’s hands itch at his side, something inside him longing to wrap his arms around the omega, to feel his weight in Satoru’s arms and to pull him close enough that they can both see how perfectly he fits in them, how he was born to be in Satoru’s arms. 

 

Geto Suguru looks up at him at the question, eyebrow raised as though trying to discern what exactly he wants to say. After a moment, beautiful lips let go of words that Satoru should have been expecting, “I have no desire to be married to you, do you truly wish to have an unwilling bride?”

 

Satoru moves closer even though it seems an impossibility, moving through the omega’s space and getting lost in the sweet scent of something like lilies and something completely unique, completely Suguru. Satoru is sure this memory will haunt his dreams for a lifetime. “Listen closely, Suguru, I have not claimed you as mine yet but that does not mean I will tolerate this nonsense of yours. All that is left for us is to consummate our union and I will only accept our moving forward, never backwards.”

 

The mention of consummating his marriage with Suguru seems like a beautiful thing, a beautiful man, one with the ability to bewitch an alpha within moments of meeting him. What a talented princess. Once more, his mind returns to images of Suguru with his back arched and Satoru’s clothing only just covering his most intimate areas. He imagines the heavy lust in Suguru’s voice, pleading with Satoru for more or to go harder, begging for mercy and drooling for cock.

 

Suguru gives him a long look, his eyes glittering with a hint of confusion whilst his scent morphs slightly under Satoru’s gaze. “Consummate? You mean to say the wedding, yes?” 

 

The words force Satoru back into reality, a reality where his bride’s culture forbids any kind of education on matters of the heart and soul until marriage. Satoru should not be shocked by Suguru’s innocence, he has read extensively on their cultural practices and while he does not think it meritable to any degree, he still must be the one to teach Suguru about sexuality. 

 

No more dreaming of a flame tongued Suguru seducing him into a long night of passion, he supposes.

 

“No, my sweet princess, consummation is the true and final binding ceremony. After that we will be truly bonded, inseparable by high decree of the Gods themselves.”

 

“I am unsure what consummation means, your majesty,” he says back finally, his voice slipping from a gritty harshness to one of curiosity now, softer and yielding in a way it hadn’t been earlier. His eyebrows furrow and his eyes lighten and all Satoru can think is how majestic Suguru looks in all his forms, angered or curious, benevolent or malicious there is nothing that could ever make Suguru look any less beautiful.

 

“Sex. Fucking. Mating. Whatever you’d like to call it, one day, when you are ready, we will explore the realm of passion together.” Satoru says, his eyes bleeding with the imagery. He does his best, kind of, to be gentle about his delivery but he’d forgone preparing his lessons on sex concluding it could wait a day or two since no bride would bring it up on day one. Suguru has been anything but what Satoru expected him to be.

 

Suguru’s face flushes a little, his pupils dilating and throat bobbing with a gulp. He can almost see it, the flicker of a faint primal recognition of those words, something inside him getting a little excited, a little tantalised. The scent of the room changes with it, his flowery presence now shifting for something richer, warmer, something like the amber that dances in his eyes.

 

“Mating,” Suguru trails off for a moment, his hand subconsciously moving upwards before he shakes his head and decides against whatever idea rushed through that beautiful brain of his. “You are referring to marking my scent gland, yes? That, in my culture, is referred to as marking and would usually happen at the wedding but I’d prefer to remain unsexed , unfucked and unmated . In fact, I would prefer it if you never mentioned the topic in my presence again, especially in such an untoward manner as you have today. You truly are no better than a beast.” Satoru watches as the princess feigns disgust, his face contorting into a grimace and his nose perking up at the chance for repugnance but no matter what he does he cannot hide his pink cheeks or his morphosed scent.

 

Satoru smirks, unphased entirely.

 

“Your scent betrays you, my dearest wife.” Satoru breathes out into the warming air between them, heady with a desire untold and unwillingly shared. For a moment, Satoru puts aside the two headedness, the confusion he stands in the shadow of, he discards all notions of his bride’s odd temperament and focuses on his potent arousal, battling through the dishevelled fabric to fill Satoru’s nose with a heavenly scent, warm and bright like the Summer sunshine.

 

Suguru’s mouth gapes, he guffaws ungracefully at the words and his hand makes an unsuccessful attempt to shoot up to his neck and cover his precious scent gland. Instead of managing the smooth movement, Suguru’s hand only makes it halfway up his body before Satoru stops him, grabbing his delicate wrist and halting him in his tracks immediately.

 

“Y-Your majest-” Suguru begins, before a tug on his arm stops his plump lips from uttering whatever protest he wanted to release. Satoru, indulging himself a little, pushes Suguru’s arm behind his back, holding him there as though he were a prisoner and not a princess. He stares at Suguru’s wide eyes, filled with disbelief, for a moment before letting himself succumb to his desires for the briefest of moments.

 

He lowers his head, promising himself it will be a brief moment. With his other hand, Satoru pulls aside Suguru’s scenting ribbon, drawing a gasp from the beautiful captive in his arms.

 

“Y-Your majesty, sto-” Suguru lets out, his lips protesting at the thought of where Satoru means to travel. Still, he can hardly finish his sentence before Satoru’s nose is pressed firmly over the tender heated skin of Suguru’s scent gland. It pulses beneath Satoru’s nose, fills him with a delight like ambrosia. The sweetness and the warmth drowns him, suffocates him with something so pleasant he can feel his muscles growing more relaxed and his brain and cock growing excited. It is as though someone has just released him from a massive weight on his back and he can finally see clearly.

 

This feeling is…exquisite.

 

Suguru gasps above him and Satoru can feel his body shifting a little to make more room for Satoru.

 

Each breath feels like a luxury, as though Suguru’s mere scent were an elixir, an aphrodisiac, a liquor to make a man feel a drunken desire beyond all else.

 

“T-This is inappropriate, Satoru,” Suguru breathes out, sending Satoru’s mind spinning and his cock racing to completion. Satoru. 

 

“Say it again.” He breathes out, eyes fluttering shut as he awaits another pleasant purr of his name. Suguru says it as though he were worshipping a God, as though it were a solemn prayer between only he and Satoru and the way his lips cling to each syllable of Satoru’s name is more seductive than anything else Satoru has ever experienced or could ever hope to. 

 

“This is,” Suguru gasps as Satoru’s grip on his wrist grows tighter, “my name, say my name. Please, my wife, please will you say my name?” Satoru mumbles, not truly feeling like himself. With each breath of Suguru’s scent he feels himself becoming more and more enraptured, his brain dwindling of every other thought but Suguru. It is frankly a miracle he remembers how to breath with how intoxicating Suguru is. 

 

“Satoru, Satoru, please,” Suguru says, his thighs drawing tight and his lips closing around a heavy whine.

 

Gods.

 

“Just a few more moments,” Satoru murmurs, his appetite only growing with each breath, “Gods, your scent is like the finest wine, I can hardly draw myself away.” He whispers lowly, brushing his lips against Suguru’s nape and drawing a small shudder from the now seemingly pliant omega captured in his arms.

 

“You will scent me if you continue this abhorrent behaviour,” the words tumble from Suguru’s lips, caught between a moan and admonishment. 

 

“Perfect,” Satoru lets the picture fill his head, Suguru smelling like him, taking his scent back to his nest. Even if it will only persist for a short time, there is something so wonderful about the thought. He has not known Suguru for more than an hour and more than half of it has been reprimanding or rude but still, there is something so magnetic about Suguru that Satoru cannot suppress his urge to own him, to completely fill every facet of the omega’s life. 

 

More of Suguru’s warm scent spills into the air, the pressure dropping the hotter he gets. 

 

“Let me mark you,” Satoru says, getting carried away by the force of his soul, pushing him, taking him all the way into this feral sort of pleasure he can only explore with Suguru.

 

“Satoru,” Suguru whines out, one hand jumping to cradle the back of Satoru’s head, his fingers lacing through the white locks and holding Satoru’s head right where it is, not forceful, simply holding it as he allows Satoru to take everything he-

 

Before Satoru can fully retract his fangs and finish forming the thought of Suguru bearing his mark before the wedding, those lithe, slender fingers of his pull Satoru’s head away from his neck, gasping out a breath as he does. “D-Don’t mark me.” Suguru gulps, heavy breaths flying off his tongue and sparking the flames of arousal in Satoru even more. “I-I won’t be marked. Our marriage will stay stagnant or it will be dissolved but I refuse to move forward with this.”

 

With that as his last word, Suguru turns on his heel and storms out of Satoru’s office without so much as a glance back at Satoru. Satoru is a little glad the omega did not once look back because if he had perhaps he would have caught a glance of Satoru’s pathetically hard member in his trousers, standing firm and at attention as though he’d done anything more than simply sniff the omega’s neck.

 

With a sigh, Satoru returns to where he was seated earlier, his tea long cold and his mind swelling with thought after thought, the sky has kissed away its last remnants of warmth and the wind whispers against the panes of the glass, calmer now than they once were.

 

So much has changed in a mere hour.

 

---

 

When Satoru walks into the dining room that night there is an odd energy circulating through, the servants and advisors all stare at his bride with some strange look in their eyes that makes Satoru want to break their necks. 

 

He can’t see Suguru’s face yet as he walks in but, knowing the beauty he met earlier that day, he wouldn’t be shocked if all the stares and ogling eyes weren’t of admiration but of lust. Satoru clenches his fists, annoyance flaring up inside of him. Of course, he knows Suguru is beautiful, a gift carved by the Gods themselves but he hadn’t imagined even his most trusted advisors would be so bold as to ogle him directly in front of Satoru.

 

“Ahem,” Satoru clears his throat, a scornful glare on his face directed at each and every one of the clan members and servants and even that Haibara boy who had the audacity to stare at his bride with such wide and receiving eyes. He strolls over quickly, making his way over to Suguru’s chair but Suguru beats him to it, pushing out of his chair and turning to Satoru with a victorious smirk on his face.

 

The smirk is not the only thing on his face though.

 

“King Gojo!” He says, bowing respectfully and Satoru has to blink long and hard before replying, unsure if he’s even truly awake.

 

“My princess,” he murmurs quietly, “you’ve- you have done your makeup so late at night,” Satoru says, doing his best to maintain some kind of respect for the princess. While he has read on his wife’s culture, he has never exactly seen what is considered beautiful to them.

 

Perhaps the white paint smeared over his skin and the large dots of unblended red rouge on his cheeks are fashionable to him? And the colours, he has so very many colours on his eyes…

 

“I wanted to look especially beautiful for my first night in the palace,” Suguru replies, a teasing lilt to his tone as he sits back down in his chair. “Did you not notice my hair, it took so long,” Suguru says. 

 

Satoru honestly hadn’t noticed, hadn’t thought to look anywhere but at the exaggerated makeup on his bride’s face that happens to hide all of his beauty like a mask.

 

He is no fool and he understands that omegas are fond of makeup but this unskilled and haphazard mess on Suguru’s face hardly seems intentional.

 

Was there a child playing with his makeup that he sought to appease? Did he allow a blind man to do it for him?

 

Still, Satoru’s eyes trail up to Suguru’s hair pinned in something that looks a little like an organised mess. It hangs at different heights with odd pieces pulled out and Satoru has to gulp before he takes his seat for dinner.

 

“I can imagine,” he responds before lifting his goblet and taking a sip of his wine and commanding everyone to begin eating their dinner.

 

It’s been a painfully long day.

Notes:

my twitter for yapping

Chapter 3: Dreams & Desires

Summary:

Satoru is…

Really quite attractive.

And in slumber he does not become less so, instead he only gains a slight boyish charm, his face relaxed and at peace and his muscles not quite so tense. Suguru can’t quite explain how he feels seeing the wet fabric of a thin tunic cling to Satoru’s skin but he knows the heat makes the space where his thigh meets hip burn, not with pain though, some feeling that is both foreign and uncomfortable whilst also feeling familiar and warming. It’s strange enough though that he does not choose to linger on the feeling, instead lifting his gaze from the lines of Satoru’s hard belly to his face, flushed with a slight pink hue from the sky of the waning sunlight.

In trying to agitate Satoru, Suguru has only pulled Satoru deeper into the flames of desire.

Night settles over the palace, darkness flooding every corner and sleep finding every soul save for one. Suguru’s chest hammers, nausea settling in his stomach like a potent sting that he fears will never leave the confines of his belly. This nest is cold and this room is not his, the walls of this palace are not haunted by the giggles of he and his family and the grounds do not know his scraped knees or his teary eyes. 

This place does not belong to Suguru and Suguru does not belong to it. 

He is a stranger to these grounds and the trees are no companions of his, this sky is not a shade of blue his eyes have been born to bear witness to and this home is not his.

With a shaky breath in, staggered with raw emotion, he pushes out of his bed, the nest springing back to life the moment his weight pads away across the room and over to the large window bursting at the seams to show off the twinkling stars eager to greet his solemn face.

In their dim light, sparkling and bright, Suguru feels the weight of the only familiarity he has faced in these new lands. The shining faces of friends he once stared up to greet each night before bed. 

As a child, Suguru and his mother had loved the simple action of gazing up at the sky, dark or light, rain or shine. It had been one of Suguru’s favourite activities as a child, his chubby cheeks splitting open with wide smiles with every word his mother hummed.

When the sunshine bathed them in golden light, Suguru’s mother would tell him stories, tales of the romance between the bright sun and his tragic lover, the white moon.

When the skies sang a song of despair, Suguru’s mother would tuck his wet hair behind his ears and tell him about the beauty that only sadness could coax from people.

And, at times like this, when the skies were left to succumb to darkness, Suguru’s mother would point out each and every star, promising him that light would never cease to exist.

At the time, he’d been terrified of the dark, terrified to face the world when the sunshine could no longer keep him company, and so, one day his mother had cradled him to her chest and taken him to greet the night sky with his head buried in her neck. With each soft word about dogs and scorpions staring down at him, curiosity clawed at Suguru’s chest until he’d finally felt himself brave enough to bring his gaze to the brilliance in the darkness. 

Terror had gripped him tightly in those moments, the overwhelming void of night feeling too close to consuming him entirely for him to continue searching for the animals his mother was supposedly staring at. Still, she’d only tightened her grip on him, stroked his back and continued speaking, coaxing him once more with the collar of his curiosity. 

It took a while and he’s sure his mother would have been exhausted after managing the palace all day but still, she stayed and she smiled and she sang until Suguru could greet the monsters and the light that shone between them. 

Suguru gulps softly, a smooth tear crawling down his cheek and a haunting smile curves on his face. He can still remember the feeling of her tight hug, her rapid kisses against his forehead when pride filled her body. She’d told him that day that each star was born from the love between a mother and her child and then she’d pointed up at the brightest star in the night sky.

“And that star is how much I love you Suguru. My North star, my compass, my Suguru.”

The solitary tear on his cheek is not graced with company, instead it is left to dissolve to nothingness as Suguru stares at the North star, his heart bleeding with want for the return of his family.

By the window, illuminated by the starlight, Suguru sinks to the ground, his head resting against the window pane and his knees tucked tightly to his chest. 

He will make it back home.

---

“Squawk!” 

Satoru has always been a bit of an early riser, completely content to wake up at obscene hours of the day to fulfill whatever royal duty is required of him. 

This though…this is more foul than even he can blindly accept. The sun has yet to rise and the sky has only slightly lightened from its coarse pitch black; despite this though, Satoru finds himself startled awake—head still groggy from the far too early rise—and now alarmingly aware of a noise that could only possibly be some kind of bird.

How on earth did a bird get inside?

Even better question, how did a bird get inside and manage to get close enough to his room to wake him up? 

Before Satoru can get to his feet to investigate the situation—or even call Ijichi to do the investigating for him—there’s another sound, one that brings him even more despair.

A woof. A loud one right outside his bedroom, followed by high pitched laughter that he can’t recognise in the slightest.

Who on earth let a fucking dog in the palace? 

Satoru isn’t exactly feverish in regards to dogs, just a little sensitive…his nose runs and his throat gets a little itchy but it’s nothing severe enough to kill him. The runny nose and the itchy throat are enough to agitate him though, irritating him enough that he has never allowed dogs be brought into the palace. 

So who in their right mind would do that?

With redness pooling in his cheeks, Satoru swings his legs over the bed and plants his heavy feet on the floor. With his head now clear of sleep, Satoru storms across his bedroom towards the heavy door and pulls it open, his nose already tingling with the twitch of disdain for his proximity to a dog. 

The sight is—to put it lightly—comical, absurd in the highest form. 

There, in the hallway to his private chambers, stands his bride, hair similarly styled as the night before and face dripping with makeup that does not suit his glaring beauty in the slightest. 

“Good boy!” Suguru shrieks in a voice that is evidently not his own. It’s shrill in a way Satoru has never considered humanly possible before and the volume makes him wince away from the sound.

Still, despite everything, his anger seems to flood away at the sight because amidst that face of caked on pallour and his shrill tone lies glittering eyes, shining with affection and a beautiful smile, wide and honest. 

Satoru can’t bring himself to react with the rage that had consumed him until this moment.

Instead, he watches from the side as Suguru pets the mutt’s head, scratching at brown-black fur and singing praises faster than Satoru can even comprehend them. The dog itself is filthy and thin, his ribs jutting out even through his matted fur and his legs covered in dirt—that he seems all too pleased to share with the rest of the palace. Still, in Suguru’s steady hands, the dog seems to brighten up, his tongue slobbering all over the place and his eyes filling with excitement. It crouches to the floor, before pushing itself back onto its hind legs and leaning over to lick at Suguru’s face.

Perhaps the beast is on Satoru’s side, despite the fact his fur ails Satoru like nothing else, the beast seems to be happy to clear Suguru’s face of all that makeup. 

Suguru giggles softly, his voice lowering from the high shrill tone to what appears to be a genuine joy. 

The display is wonderful to watch because it is the most genuine he has seen Suguru since the princess arrived and settled in. In Suguru’s soft words and his bright smiles, Satoru can see his future.

Whilst Suguru is still distracted, another creature appears to stumble in from behind him. A creature Satoru is somewhat unfamiliar with, only vaguely aware of as an animal that is often hunted for sport. He’s aware the creature’s feathers are a rarity and are often plucked for garments and something about the distress of being plucked alive causes the creatures to die grizzly deaths. 

He remembers dukes and lords come to him adorned in those feathers as though the ostentatious nature of the garments would make them more appealing to him—they never have. 

“Squawk!” The creature cries, its voice blooming with a high tone, the perfect compliment for Suguru’s own shrill squeaks.

“Hello there,” Suguru says, moving over to pay the bird more of his attention. 

The bird, in response, preens and does his best to display his green and blue feathers. Satoru has seen paintings of the birds before and he knows they should have a full fan of feathers at their backs but behind this one there remains only a few feathers, blood matting the fine fibers. It’s not nearly as beautiful a sight as it should be and yet Suguru feigns an astonished gaze nonetheless.

“Wow! You’re so beautiful!” He says, and the peacock waddles closer. Satoru can see the slight wince in each of his steps and he can also see the brief flash of concern in Suguru’s softening features. “You poor thing, they hurt you so badly,” Suguru trails off, his hand moving upwards to stroke the top of the peacock’s head.

Satoru watches, his throat growing scratchier and his eyes gaining moisture with each interested blink. 

That is, at least, until the mutt sniffs out a disturbance in his happy family of three, barking loudly at a carefully concealed Satoru. 

Within an instant, Satoru’s expression sours, the dog making hasty moves towards him with its teeth grabbing at his trousers. Satoru tries his best to shoo the thing away, cursing at its insistence to pull him out from where he’d been observing from but, nonetheless, Satoru allows the dog to pull him out so that he may face his bride. 

Despite his content with spying, Satoru finds himself equally happy to face Suguru’s saccharine smile head on, especially after the rough start they’d gotten to yesterday. 

“Your Majesty,” Suguru’s body stiffens, his features hardening enough that they almost look at home with the obscene nature of Suguru’s makeup. Each careful line of his face, his cheeks tensed just so and his eyes glowing eyes dimming. At just the sight of Satoru, his bride seems to diminish himself, it is wholly troublesome and makes Satoru feel even more irate at the mutt for interrupting the beauty he’d been given the chance to gaze upon.

“Princess,” Satoru begins, strolling closer to the dame, only vaguely aware of the peacock’s wary eyes on him and the dog’s teeth bared in warning. Just moments ago, in Suguru’s embrace, these creatures had fallen pliant with no coaxing and yet now caution fuelled their every breath. “Did these creatures disturb your slumber?” 

Satoru knows there is no way the princess was asleep, his hair is pinned and his makeup is done and while Satoru may not know everything there is to know about omegas, he knows enough to say with certainty there is no way the princess would have gone to sleep with all of that on his face. 

“No, Your Majesty, I am feeling quite well rested, thank you.” Suguru’s polite smile, perfectly practised and posed, ingenuine as a salesman at the market. The demotion from Satoru to Your Majesty makes a thin wave of annoyance flow through Satoru, his memory conjuring up the sound of Suguru’s voice, low and breathy calling out his name as he’d nosed at Suguru’s scent gland. 

Suguru’s scent was magnificent and Satoru yearns to taste that euphoria once more. He knows for a fact it will never be enough, each time he will crave just one more hit and with each gasping breath of that divinity he will curse and pray and beg for more. He can feel desire burning in him, fuelling him, every fiber of his body aching to have that pure ecstasy funnel into him every moment until he breathes his last breath.

Inside Satoru, his blood boils as the flames of his own indecency grow stronger and more vicious with each image that Satoru envisions, each breathy whimper from his memory serves as gasoline to an already roaring fire.

“Are you feeling alright, Your Majesty? You are looking rather foul,” Suguru says, the words a little harsh and unnatural sounding but Satoru supposes it is probably true. With the combination of allergy and exhaustion, Satoru is certain he must look quite the state, one the princess need not see him in.

“Perfectly well, Princess, simply a case of serum sickness. You wouldn’t happen to know who let a dog into the palace, would you?”

He’s already thought up the possibility that with all the commotion of the princess’s arrival yesterday, a butler could easily have forgotten to close a door or two and the mutt could have wandered in with its peacock prey to munch on in the warmth of the palace. Especially considering the princess’s own unruly beta friend had done his fair share of causing havoc in the castle. 

Still, Satoru supposes he should be thankful; it seems only a mutt and a peacock have wandered in, no assailants or assassins, no kidnappers, nobody that would have any interest in taking his queen away from him. Muddied floors and lost sleep can be polished and regained but a lost queen would send not only Satoru’s kingdom but his own plans into disarray.

“I will have to—” Satoru begins, intending to tell Suguru of his intentions to punish whoever left the doors open for the creatures to make their way inside when the princess interrupts him with a cheeky smile, a little devious and somehow more genuine than any other smile the King has pried from the maiden.

“I brought them in here,” Suguru replies, a feigned innocence doing a poor job of concealing his duplicity from Satoru. 

Satoru, to his credit, manages to keep his face neutral in response to the statement, not erupting with mirth immediately or responding with annoyance at all. Instead he simply hums a soft “oh?” as though the single word conveys the depth of his feelings towards the odd situation.

Suguru let in animals? Surely there has to be a good reason to have done so? 

But for the life of him, Satoru cannot figure out why Suguru would have brought in a filthy dog and a half plucked peacock into the palace. In the dim light of the hallway, Satoru can see the soft glisten of white as Suguru’s teeth peek out and bite at his bottom lip. The action is probably intended to be cheeky instead of seductive but the image still brings Satoru an indescribable thrill and desire. 

Suguru’s arms cross over his chest and he gives Satoru a look.

“Is there an issue, Your Majesty?” Suguru chirps, voice pitching up at the end of his question, the sharp incline making Suguru look suspicious of some crime that Satoru is not privy to nor does he understand the motive for. 

“Why did you bring animals into the palace?” Satoru asks, his tone soft, questioning, delicate enough to not be accusatory and firm enough to make it clear an answer is in order. He has never had any intention of controlling his bride or bossing the man around but he does expect all those that reside in this palace have respect for him and answer to his word. Perhaps he will allow Suguru a little leniency in that regard given that they are equals in status but it is still important to him that Suguru tell him what led him to make such a rash decision at such a heinous hour of the day.

“Your Majesty, I saw the pup outside and thought it cruel to leave the poor thing shivering in the cold. I merely thought to bring him inside and take him in as my own. This palace is awfully lonely and a companion such as Kuro would be most helpful in combatting such distress.” Suguru says, a practised poetry on his tongue, the paragraph giving Satoru much to think about. 

It is true that Suguru does not know anyone in this castle save for the boy he brought with him and so loneliness is of course only natural but still…

He did not need to bring two filthy dogs into the castle with him…

“Well, Suguru,” Satoru says, testing the waters by saying Suguru’s first name once again as he had when they were alone in Satoru’s office quarters. He watches as the omega lets out a small shiver, his throat bobbing with a gulp as Satoru says it. His body responds to it, whether conscious or not, his eyes dilating, gold shrinking back and giving rise to a darkness that Satoru can only hope is filled with just as much desire as resides in him. “I am unfortunately prone to serum sickness, especially around dogs.” Satoru states, figuring the explanation should be enough to make Suguru jump, his role as a wife surging him into getting rid of the dog and leaving the two of them to play the role of the happy couple that they should be. Suguru, though, says nothing, much to Satoru’s surprise. 

Seeing no reaction to his words on Suguru’s face, Satoru continues, his eyes gazing carefully at Suguru and watching each miniscule change of his expression.

“Well, due to my serum sickness, it would be unwise for you to keep the dog around you, it would mean I am unfortunately unable to be near you for long without causing myself much distress.”

The animals seem to halt their movements for a moment, their bodies freezing entirely before erupting in boisterous noise, the dog barking loudly as the bird squawks its approval of Satoru staying far away from them. 

How rude.

Satoru finds these animals to be quite the nuisance. 

Still, on Suguru’s face there is no shock or surprise, there is no indication that he is disappointed in the news that he will have to discard the animal he rescued from an abnormally windy evening. Instead, his face does something that Satoru was not expecting in the slightest. Suguru, with his beautiful golden eyes and his perfect practised motions, this man that has carefully concealed every part of his skin and who he is shows a flicker of deviance and joy with a sparkle of his irises. Gold suddenly comes to life at the notion and Satoru feels bitterness creep into him seeing Suguru’s enthusiasm at being left to his own devices.

Suguru would truly rather spend his time with any other creature other than Satoru?

“Well, Your Majesty, as much as that is a pity, it does seem that we will no longer be able to spend much time together. For the safety of the kingdom of course, it would be unwise for you to join me everyday when I will have Kuro with me.” Suguru edges closer, the dog close by his feet as he lowers his voice to a tone that should sound far less seductive than it does to Satoru’s ear. “Perhaps, if that is displeasing to you, you might allow me to return to my home and acquire another bride?”

Satoru’s jaw tenses.

Suguru is still on this?

As if a few missed moments together could stop Satoru from claiming Suguru as his rightful queen.

Dark air fills Satoru’s lungs, his patience growing thin.

“That seems a step too far, don’t you think, Suguru?” Satoru’s voice sounds far huskier than he intends it to but a smirk fills his face as he watches the resounding shiver of pleasure that travels through Suguru’s spine at his tone. Flames roar inside of Satoru’s spirit urging him to draw closer, sink his fangs into soft flesh and claim what his body and soul knows belongs to him and him alone. Still, despite his desires and the wicked thoughts filling his mind, Satoru manages to control himself. It would be entirely unwise to claim Suguru against his will, while they would be bound for life with that one single bite, Satoru would end up with a very uncooperative wife it seems. 

Hell, even unmarked, Suguru is stubborn and unyielding, there isn’t a shadow of a doubt in Satoru’s mind that marking him without his permission would make their whole partnership a mess. 

“You keep calling me by my given name, Your Majesty, do you think doing so will soften me up?” Suguru responds, steeling himself and recovering from the rattling he’d shown just moments earlier. His voice wavers slightly, his confidence shaking and yet his words, on the surface, seem to be fuelled by determination, a steadfast desire to be home, to be away from Satoru.

Satoru grits his teeth.

“And you keep addressing me as though we are strangers, do you think that will keep me softened up?” Satoru says in response. It would almost be unkind, a crude thing to say to an omega and a princess no less. But Suguru, much to Satoru’s dismay, does not realise the duplicity in Satoru’s words, only assuming that Satoru’s softness refers to his kindness towards Suguru. 

Politeness and pleasantries have never kept Satoru soft. He doesn’t care much for tradition or naming convention. While others speak to him formally, it is not something Satoru would grow offended at if they were to stop, especially knowing that they never would. Suguru though, Satoru hates the politeness of his sweet mouth. He despises the formal address.Your Majesty, Your Majesty, the formalness of it all makes Satoru burn with annoyance. 

The flames of desire inside Satoru can only yearn for the day Suguru calls him his name once more, that delicate, clean mouth letting out a string of curses, begging for Satoru to give him more, to make it harder and deeper. Each word like oil, dousing Satoru with a ferocity that would only lead him to the most depraved of acts. He can imagine Suguru begging and pleading, fucking him against a wall or a bed, bath water splashing, overflowing as Suguru’s body fails to stop jerking with his orgasm. Salty sweetness all but manifests itself upon his tongue as his mind creates more and more depraved images of tasting Suguru’s sweat as he rides and the sweet nectar he releases with his climax.

“I have no idea what you’re referring to, Your Majesty, I am simply addressing you as is appropriate for a man of your status.” Suguru responds nonchalantly. He does not pull away, keeping his eyes steady on Satoru’s. The collision makes Satoru’s blood burn with arousal, blue and gold. Suguru holds something powerful in his gaze that Satoru has never seen before in his life, this sweet honey that dazzles like the most precious of jewels, softness and rarity blended into one. It’s divinity, ambrosia for his eyes to feast upon.

“You should address me in more personal terms, Suguru, it is more appropriate for a wife to call out his husband’s name,” Satoru doesn’t add that he wants Suguru to call out his name for all the palace to be alerted. He does not mention that his insistence is built upon a foundation of devilishness. He can imagine it so, the palace, the whole fucking kingdom learning of each of their unions through Suguru’s pleasured cries alone. The world will know how Suguru sounds in the throes of pleasure and that only one man, Gojo Satoru, can bring him to that precipice. 

He isn’t selfish, he’s perfectly willing to allow everyone to hear Suguru’s shrill screams with each stroke of his clit as long as his breathy moans and his whines remain safe for Satoru’s consumption alone. 

“And why is that more appropriate, we are not in love by any means. Our marriage is in law alone, we are not bound by soul nor affection and so it is not appropriate for me to address you as any less than my current King.” Suguru’s words are icy, mean in the way only one who feels he’s been gravely wronged can muster. 

For a moment, Satoru feels almost contrite.

It’s pitiful, at least a little bit anyway, Suguru had no part in this marriage—and from his experience of omegas they seem to be rather into the whole romance thing—nor did he have any role in his move to this Kingdom. He’s been displaced and married off and he hardly had a say in any of it, his control relinquished entirely in favour of the safety of his nation. Satoru can say with certainty that if anyone had married him off without his approval he would have set their liver ablaze and watched as they burned from the inside out. 

Does Suguru want some romance? Perhaps that is the key to making this omega soften up to Satoru’s advances.

“Is that what you desire, Suguru? Love and romance?” Satoru asks, his voice low and gentle, as though if he spoke even a hair louder he would scare the omega away like a young doe. A large hand trailed upwards, the pink hue of Suguru’s cheek pulling him in closer. Painfully colourful and tackily scattered makeup aside, Suguru’s face holds a magnificence that Satoru can only let himself be drawn towards, it is warmth and comfort and it seeks to pull him in and keep him there for all eternity.

Pull him in and lock him down.

Satoru, despite his better efforts, allows the thought to grow and blossom into a fully fledged image of Suguru on his bed, crying and mewling, his lips and chest red and ravaged as Satoru teases him with the edge of his knot. He can only imagine the tight blessing it would be to be inside him, to be intimate with Suguru in such a way. He would endure the roughest of tempests if it meant just a moment with his knot inside Suguru, his semen bursting from inside him threatening the Kingdom with a new heir.

He can almost feel the ghostly fingertips grasping at his shoulders, his back grated and sliced open with the force of Suguru’s pleasure. He would swallow it all, the pain and the pleasure, he would devour the purity and taint it with temptation. 

Before Satoru can lay his hand to rest upon Suguru’s pale cheek, Suguru gulps, drawing Satoru’s attention back to Suguru’s throat and upwards to his lips. Without a second thought, Satoru changes course, his hand instead reaching Suguru’s mouth, his thumb drawing a line over his plump bottom lip as blood surges through his loins. 

This close, he can smell the faintest hint of Suguru’s scent through his scenting ribbon. 

“I have no need for romance, Your Majesty,” Suguru says softly, hand weakly pushing at Satoru’s arm, a meagre attempt at getting away from him, half-hearted at best. “I only wish to return home.” He says, voice quiet but words meaningful.

Still, as sincere as his request is, Satoru cannot bring himself to allow that to come to fruition. Not only would he lose his bride to an unwinnable war, he would lose all integrity. 

A stipulation of his marriage had been to keep his new wife safe in Rikugan, far from where the war waged on. He would not only be an awful husband but a terrible King if he were to allow his nation to fall into ruin over a princess’s simple desire. 

“Suguru,” he starts gently, hoping the soft tone will disguise the annoyance building in his chest, “it is not safe in your kingdom, you know that better than anyone.” Satoru says with a clenched jaw, his tone tight. 

Suguru’s face drops momentarily before he recovers and plasters on what Satoru now knows to be the most duplicitous expression he has ever come to witness, the disappointment behind his smile leaving Satoru both unnerved and annoyed with himself. On the most primal level, this felt wrong, denying your omega of anything should feel against an alpha’s nature and yet here Satoru was, denying his wife the only thing he’d requested of Satoru.

“Well then,” Suguru begins as he pulls away, his body steeling completely, “Kuro and Seishun stay. I would much rather share my company with them than with you, Your Majesty.”

The words make anger flare inside Satoru but he does not for a moment dare allow that anger to surface in front of Suguru, instead clenching his fists as he watches the omega walk away, mutt and bird in tow.

The sight of his retreating figure is enough to make Satoru’s irritation burst inside him and he returns to his room with a slam of his door and a plan to take his stress out with the knights in training.

But first…

He has something else to take care of…

With an annoyed glance down, Satoru curses into the air, slamming his clenched fist into the hard wall beside him, his robes straining against the—secondary—source of his annoyance.

“May the Gods be damned for this.”

---

Haibara smiles widely at Suguru, his gaze fixed on the princess while his hand remains firmly embedded in Kuro’s fur. “Your highness,” Haibara begins, his head twisting to the side with curiosity. “Where did you find this delightful dog, he’s so well-behaved.” 

Suguru sticks his tongue out, focussing carefully on the placement of his fingers as he applies a cooling salve to the plucked ends of Seishun’s tail. The harvesters here are especially cruel, taking no care in the harvest of Seishun’s magnificent feathers and instead severing the base of his body. Suguru knows that plucking feathers is not a pleasant experience however it can be done painlessly, these thugs however, they have not taken nearly enough care. Seishun lets out a small sound, his body tensing and relaxing periodically with each of Suguru’s touches. It took a moment for Suguru to gain the bird’s trust but he couldn’t be happier now that he had it. 

“My poor sweet prince,” Suguru murmurs, his hand leisurely stroking Seishun’s head, hoping the comfort will help him relax against the sting of the medication. 

Suguru’s heart twists in his chest, watching the small creature writhe in pain with each of his motions. Suguru can hardly take it, the balm was one he’d learned to make as a child, something he and Haibara had picked up from having the freedom to watch the apothecary create just about anything. That coupled with the fact that Suguru had brought her an injured pigeon more than once in his life was enough for him to get the formula for the salve just about down in his memory. 

Still, even though he knows Seishun will feel better after a few rounds of rubbing with salve into his tender flesh, Suguru still feels bitterness enclose around him with every egregious squawk and disgusted shudder. 

What unnecessary cruelty.

“Your highness?” Haibara prompts once more and it is only at this second prompt that Suguru realises his question has gone unanswered thus far. 

“Oh, I saw them outside.” He says simply. He doesn’t go into the details that he’d been up ruminating about his life back at home and the family he’s lost. He doesn’t share how he’d felt his heart shatter and fall apart just hours ago only to put himself back together the moment he heard a distressed animal. He doesn’t offer up anything else other than he’d found them.

He supposes that’s enough, it should certainly satisfy Haibara at least, a man who does not tend to ask too many questions. 

In truth, Suguru had been staring out his window, his only company the tears stroking his flushed cheeks. He’d let the moon and the stars blur and felt the weight of the lonely night close in on him from every direction. It’d been a lot, he’d felt the startling realisation, the crushing sensation all at once.

He was finally alone.

He was well and truly alone in this world.

His father was alive and well but distant enough that being alive just wasn’t enough. Every letter would only inform him of his father’s actions from days ago and there was simply no way he would ever know any urgent matters. 

And, well, he had Haibara but even that may come to a close  one day.

Suguru is no fool, he understands that a man like Haibara—tall and kind with a good status to match—would not remain a bachelor for long and Suguru would never deny Haibara the right to stay with his wife each hour of the day. 

It had felt like a chasm had opened up around him, black and empty and terrifyingly uncertain, each patch of solid ground slowly falling away around him until—just as the ground beneath him was about to give way—a loud bark pulled him from the depths of terror and steadied him in the arms of reality.

“Woof! Woof woof!” Three consecutive woofs sounded from just outside Suguru’s window, the owner sounding panicked and frantic enough that even his breaths could be heard from Suguru’s bedroom. He howled and cried and paced and before Suguru could think twice about his decision, he’d dashed down the stairs, bumping into Ijichi on his way.

“Your Majesty, my sincerest apologies,” Ijichi said, bowing lowly before Suguru—not that Suguru paid him any mind.

“None the matter, would you mind opening the palace doors for me, I saw a dog outside that seemed quite–” before Suguru could finish his statement Ijichi interrupted him with a short aghast expression.

“A dog? On the palace grounds?” Ijichi shook his head. “No, this won’t do, the King will be very upset about this, thank you for letting me know, your Majesty, I’ll go take care of the mutt now.” Ijichi muttered softly to himself, eyebrows creasing into one before raising his gaze once more and offering Suguru a tired smile.

What was Ijichi even doing awake at this time?

“It’s best you take rest now, your Majesty,” he said softly. “The King won’t be pleased if he hears you were up so l–”

“Open the palace doors, I want to see the dog.” Suguru halted him with a firm command and a short glare, nothing too venomous, just enough that Ijichi had rather easily understood that Suguru would not leave without seeing—and helping—the distressed animal.

“Y-Your Majesty,” Ijichi began, his expression betraying the short moment of shock he’d felt at Suguru’s glare. “It would be unwise to go too close to those creatures, the King is very sensitive to their fur, even a few hairs has him feeling rather unwell, they are not to be found on the grounds under any circumstances.”

“Hm,” Suguru hummed, before discarding the concern and insisting regardless—part of him finding the information enticed him even more into retrieving the lost puppy.

And so, after the brief altercation, Suguru and Ijichi ventured outside to find a small black pup, viciously neglected by the world around him. With bones peeking through the roof of his skin and fur matted with blood and dirt, Suguru’s heart lurched in his chest uncontrollably, his feet picking up to a jog as he darted towards it.

However, untrusting as it was, the dog did not relax, instead raising its guard with bared teeth and a shriek of a howl born from thin lips.

The poor thing trembled, fear and exhaustion clear in its shaky stance and yet he remained strong, remained brave enough to bark at the threat.

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” Suguru said softly, baring his palm up for the dog to sniff at his leisure. Suguru wasn’t well versed in the behaviour of dogs if he was honest, in fact, he’d scarcely come across a dog that wasn’t friendly to him off the bat but still, some part of him felt as though it couldn’t be all that different to humans. If Suguru wanted familiarity before seeking out comfort in a person, he could only assume the dog would too.

And so, he held his hand out, hoping the coarse haired creature would accept his gesture and recognise Suguru harboured no poor intentions. 

He realised that by doing so, he ran the risk of the dog not approving of his scent but he still wanted to place whatever foot forward he could.

“Your maje–” Ijichi began before Suguru shushed him softly, watching as uncertain black eyes reached his in a tentative standoff, small legs carrying the little dog closer to Suguru’s hand. 

“That’s it,” Suguru whispered shallowly, the sound barely breaking through the seal of his lips. Inch by inch, Suguru watched as the dog worked its way to something akin to trust before finally nuzzling its tired head against Suguru’s body.

The dog whimpered, his cries coming out sharp and grating against the peace of the night sky. His pain made Suguru’s chest ache, his heart throbbing with the sting of seeing so much anguish in a face so innocent.

“Good boy,” he smiled, the gesture not quite meeting his eyes whilst his thumb made a move to the dog’s head, gently stroking at the soft matted fur. The sweet creature must have been starving and cold and yet still, once he’d determined Suguru a worthy enough cause, he barked a sound of urgency, leading Suguru to a sight that was even more nauseating.

A small bird, hardly bigger than a rabbit, bleeding from so many parts of its body that Suguru couldn’t take it, his body instinctively rushing towards the creature. Even Ijichi seemed somewhat aghast by the scene, his eyes widening as Suguru cradled the bird into his chest and urged the puppy to follow behind him.

“Your maje–” he tried to say before a furious glare stopped him in his tracks.

“If you take issue with my actions you’re perfectly free to restrain me but anything short of taking my life will fail to stop me from taking them inside, Ijichi.”

And that had been it. He’d raided the kitchens and the apothecary’s station guided by only the moonlight and Ijichi’s ample knowledge of the palace grounds. He’d managed to halt the bleeding in its tracks and silence the cries of Kuro’s empty stomach within the hour, telling Ijichi that it was best he returned to bed and did not mention anything to the King about this incident. He’d assured Ijichi that all would be well and in the case of the King’s temper rising, Suguru would handle it and take any blame necessary. 

Of course, at this, Ijichi was none too pleased but still, denying the princess—or perhaps the Queen now? Suguru was not entirely clear on his new station given his last conversation with the King—did not seem like a smart idea to the butler and so he’d waddled off to bed with a solemn goodnight, leaving Suguru to tend to the bird’s injuries and the dog’s now energy filled body.

It wasn’t exactly on purpose that Suguru had ended up playing with the dog outside of the King’s quarters. He wasn’t entirely sure of where his quarters even were at the time of bringing Kuro up the stairs but he’d figured if the dog had some energy he needed to run off it would be a fun idea to do it where it would disturb the King the most.

“Princess?” Haibara hums.

Suguru snaps out of his tired reverie, his gaze snapping back to Haibara’s kind face, bright eyes staring at him in some form of admiration that Suguru really can’t even begin to understand. Haibara looks well, his eyes are alert and the skin beneath them is unmarred, positivity and excitement leaks from within him and Suguru finds himself a little jealous at just how unaffected Haibara is by their move.

He is going through exactly the same thing, moving away from his people, from his kingdom, he spent the night in an unfamiliar palace that doesn’t hold his memories or the people he loves with all his heart. And yet somehow Haibara is perfectly fine. 

No exhaustion to speak of or worry for the future, no concern for those at home or plot to get back. Instead, he seems perfectly content to simply follow Suguru’s lead for the rest of his life.

What simplicity.

Suguru despises the fact that he will never have a mind so clear.

For Haibara, this is a new place with new opportunities, a chance to fall in love and marry and work and play, it is a chance he never would have gotten back in Hanadouzu and Suguru’s conscience bleeds with anguish at the fact being happy for Haibara in this situation is so difficult for him.

“Haibara,” Suguru murmurs softly.

“Are you alright, your majesty?” 

Is he alright? The question is innocuous enough and yet it threatens the carefully constructed dam for which Suguru has built to contain his every emotion. 

With a smile like moon light, Suguru does his best to mimic Haibara’s tone, hiding the frustration and annoyance deep within his core. “I’m perfectly well, just tired. I didn’t sleep all that well last night.” 

For a moment, Haibara merely offers him a pensive gaze before rising to his feet and shuffling over to where Suguru has laid a large pillow for Kuro to rest on. He sets the small pup down with one final stroke to his head and earns a loud bark in return before trailing his feet over to where Suguru is still seated in the centre of the nest Satoru has arranged for him.

Without asking—not that Suguru would have had any objections to it, being totally used to Haibara’s closeness by now—Haibara plants himself onto the cushions and shuffles closer to Suguru. “Are you homesick?” Haibara asks, pulling his legs onto the bed and patting the soft fabric beside him; a silent invitation for Suguru to rest with a familiar presence by his side. 

“Hm,” Suguru answers, noncommittally.

It isn’t an odd gesture by any means, in fact, the two boys resting together was something of commonplace in the past, especially when Suguru was still freshly reeling from the loss of his mother. As an omega, Suguru has a tendency to fall apart under acute stress, finding sleep especially difficult to handle. It was in these moments, these tender fragile moments that Haibara offered some solace. 

When Suguru’s father could not be there, could not wipe away Suguru’s tears or ease his aching soul with his company, Haibara would step in, allowing the princess a companion for when sleep dared not approach his troubled soul.

Suguru takes the hint, silently falling into a familiar routine of searching for comfort in his closest friend. He takes his place on the pillow beside Haibara, allowing his head to sink into the comforter and his lashes to flutter closed.

Still, even as darkness shrouds his view and warmth radiates beside him, Suguru cannot help but feel it is not enough, the bed is still too flimsy and simultaneously too stiff, the pillows do not smell like the accumulation of everyone he has ever loved and his temperature keeps fluctuating far too much for comfort. The room is too bright and all Suguru can think about is how he can make the King hate him enough to send him back to where he came from.

With his eyes clenched shut, he feels not even a modicum of comfort, this nest is not right and his head is too full and on top of all that, Suguru can hear Haibara breathing too loudly. 

None of it is right.

In fact, the more Suguru keeps his eyes shut, the more frantic he grows, his body growing hot and his soul growing more restless. All he can focus on is the rhythm of Haibara’s breaths which are not steady or at a beat he feels he can comfortably mimic. He can feel the sheets of the blankets beneath him, they brush against his skin in a way that isn’t rough, just not right and it makes him feel insane. He can hear the silk rub up against the pillows and he can feel th—

Before Suguru is even aware of what is happening, he hears heavy footsteps padding against the floor outside of his room, drumming down rhythmically. Outside his bedroom, the world is bright and light and while Suguru cannot hear anything else, he allows himself to focus on the gentle distant padding of feet against floor. The sound is insistent and easy, a beat that makes Suguru’s heart dim to a tap lighter than before and gives way to an easier breathing pattern.

With the birth of the steady beat of jogging feet, Suguru finds himself succumbing to darkness, the courtyard noise filling his aching soul with a calming distraction to his inner turmoil.

Outside Suguru’s high window pane, in the grassy courtyard of the palace of Rikugan, a man with white hair and furrowed brows lets his feet take him from one side of the dirt pathway to the other. He jogs against the road, his eyes drooping with exhaustion and his robes having been discarded in consideration of the sweat glazing over his firm body. Satoru had gone out that morning, training knights in combat and defence, hoping that it would be enough to take his stress out in that way. It hadn’t quite worked out that way though, his stress having only transformed in his time with them. 

Satoru couldn’t stop thinking about Suguru, about the beautiful princess with a temperament like fire. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about his bride’s insistence on annulment, on separation. He couldn’t stop thinking about how it had hardly been a day and already his plans for a docile bride to bring his kingdom unity and settlement had seemingly not panned out as he’d expected it to. 

And so, Satoru jogs, his legs taking the strain off his brain.

Long strides back and forth the dirt pathway, his shoes still thick and heavy from having been suited to train the knights. He hadn’t bothered taking them off, instead the thick soles weighed him down enough that exhaustion seemed to hit harder and faster than it otherwise would have.

“Annulment,” Satoru scoffs, his expression sour as his mind brings the image of a beautiful princess, his face bare of makeup and his hair pristine and sleek, to the forefront of his head.

It’s ridiculous.

Before Satoru can even stop himself—not that he could if he tried—the image in his head morphs, the painting now becoming an illusion, seductive and dreadful. His brain succumbs entirely, giving way to the memory of the princess’s shallow breathing, his urgent breaths coming on insistent pleas for Satoru to not mark him. He’d whispered words that could not define his soul and Satoru knew it well enough, he knew the way the heat mingled between them was too potent for either of them to come away unscarred. For Satoru, that moment has etched itself into his soul, the fabric of his reality now embroidered with the red strings of alluring gasps and the purity of each reluctant refusal etched into him with white.

His blood heats up in his body—more so than the exercise should be causing—and he feels his own breaths shallow, warmth rising in his body and making his head swell with more and more lewd images.

Suguru had smelt like the finest ambrosia, like one breath could take a man to the heights of pleasure. He remembers the smell as though he were an addict, one sniff would not do, not even a lifetime of smelling such perfection would not suffice. Satoru wants nothing more than to die bathed in Suguru’s scent. In his heart, he knows that divinity is the truth to eternal life, the spark of life that could save a dying man, a dying Satoru. To die with Suguru’s blessed nape against his nose would save him, steal him from death’s furious embrace and plunge him into worship, into prayer.

One breath of Suguru’s scent would bring him back from death, not even Hell being enough to contain him.

Satoru groans, his body becoming more and more enraged at the distance between he and his bride and his blood seeping into that filthy brain of his, the one that Suguru will not entertain for even a moment at this rate. 

Hell, would Suguru ever entertain any of him? He’d made it clear last night that even the company of a filthy mutt and cut up bird would please him more than Satoru so what hope did Satoru even have? 

Look at me, he thinks bitterly, a contemptuous smile ghosting over his lips, in competition with a bird and a dog. And to think I’m fucking losing. 

Satoru thinks about the sight last night, about how easily he’d folded for Suguru’s will, made no effort to remove the dog despite his aversion to them and made even less effort to scold Suguru for his decision. Instead he’d peered around the corner and gazed at the interaction between pup and owner with something akin to warmth in his chest and in his loins. He’d watched the smile, the beautiful sparkle of joy in Suguru’s eyes and felt himself desperate to succumb to that divine Goddess.

He’d watched as innocence and light graced a face cast in shadows and he’d let himself fall prey to the sight of a beautiful maiden and his companion.

Suguru had him wrapped around his finger already and Satoru can hardly stand it. He’ll have to distance himself.

He will calm his loins, pull himself away from the aphrodisiac that is the memory of a shining smiling Suguru. He’ll allow the thought of Suguru be poisoned, the desperation he feels to dull until he can discuss things with Suguru diplomatically, as peers.

How will he do that though?

Satoru can’t even begin to imagine how he will try to feel neutrality for Suguru, not when his blood burns with fury and arousal and his heart hammers with all the fury of a knight attempting to escape his makeshift cage. Part of Satoru wants to plunge his hand into his chest and offer his heart as a sacrifice for Suguru, show him an act of worship that not even the most unfeeling of Gods could ignore. Another part of Satoru wants to break Suguru apart and show him off as an example of treachery against the King.

Neither side seems keen on succumbing to the other and so Satoru remains in limbo, his soul split between a deep longing and a carnal rage. With no victor in sight, Satoru feels the heavy weight of indecision and simply sits in it, allows the weight to rest on his shoulders and he carries it with all his might.

If his curse is the tow the line between desire and discipline, Satoru will bear this weight until he can tip the scales in his favour.

---

As the sun falls, the sky gives way to a crimson red that sets the palace ablaze with its passionate pursuit of the waning sunshine. Hues of blood red and burnt apricot chase the path of the setting star and upon their insistence the night begins to draw in on them. The palace is calm, only the gentle hustle of scampering maids and agitated butlers fills the halls.

Satoru stares out of his window, his mind shrouded with thoughts he’d never considered before as he sips on hot tea, scalding his lips with its venomous bite. 

His hair is wet still, moisture dripping from the thick shards of clumped together white and laying cool stains against the fabric of his thin robes. He isn’t wearing anything too formal now, opting for a thin white tunic as he settles against the chair of his desk.

The sky is full and the wind is steady, the world around him falling into a blissful peace whilst his window frames the picture of an inferno soaring amongst the birds.

It’s peaceful, calming.

Satoru feels his eyes giving way, the calm edging its way into his muscles after the long workout and the weight of the day’s work pulling at the frayed edges of his tired head. Before he can comprehend it, Satoru sets the teacup down on his saucer and darkness fills his mind.

As the King falls prey to sleep’s sharp claws, the Princess rounds the corner, his gown dragging against the floors and his body making haste to his husband’s office—the only place in the palace besides his room Suguru can confidently make his way to without guidance.

But, instead of stumbling upon a working King, busying himself with the Kingdom’s business, he finds his husband, tunic sticking to his skin and head dozing against the edge of his desk.

Satoru is…

Really quite attractive.

And in slumber he does not become less so, instead he only gains a slight boyish charm, his face relaxed and at peace and his muscles not quite so tense. Suguru can’t quite explain how he feels seeing the wet fabric of a thin tunic cling to Satoru’s skin but he knows the heat makes the space where his thigh meets hip burn, not with pain though, some feeling that is both foreign and uncomfortable whilst also feeling familiar and warming. It’s strange enough though that he does not choose to linger on the feeling, instead lifting his gaze from the lines of Satoru’s hard belly to his face, flushed with a slight pink hue from the sky of the waning sunlight.

Suguru feels a shiver course through his veins, the sight making him feel a slight lump at the base of his throat and a fluttering grow in his stomach.

His mouth feels dry and Suguru feels somehow that not even a neverending fountain could cure him of this ill, he gulps and his breathing shallows in within a moment, Suguru is brought back to the last time he’d been in this office, the King’s nose pressed against his bare throat and his stomach anxiously inside of him. He’d heard the wanton noises on his lips and felt himself yearn for the King to simply melt into him, for his nose to meld into his scent gland and allow Suguru a relief he did not know the King could provide.

Inside of him, Suguru yearned for their two bodies to fuse, to become one being. In his head he’d rationalised it, figured this desire was simply a manifestation of his desire to have power and control over his own circumstances…it doesn’t exactly seem like the right conclusion but Suguru does not exactly know what else it could be and so instead, he wipes his brain of the memory, chastising himself for thinking about such uncouth behaviour.

He’d come to bother the King a little, opting out of bringing Kuro with him whilst the little puppy was still recovering from a lifetime of hunger.

Instead though, Suguru couldn’t bring himself to bother the sleeping King. 

---

Warmth surrounds Satoru, his limbs bathed in a thick sheet of fur that he has never seen in his life. The fur is a light auburn with patches of white across it and—if Satoru weren’t so disoriented—he would recognise it as the fur of a fireken fox, a species of fox that only exists in climates much greener and wetter than that of Rikugan. A piece that Ijichi would not have laid over him given how there is no need for such a piece in the King’s office.

“Your Majesty,” a voice calls with another knock at the door, the sound having been the thing to break Satoru from his peaceful slumber. 

Satoru smacks his lips, fists rubbing at his eyes before calling out a raspy, “come in.”

With a blink of blue eyes, Satoru brings his gaze to the high arch of the door opening to give way to a graceful figure with a patchily painted face. “You are late for dinner, your majesty.” Suguru says, his voice holding some shadow of venom but, for once, there seems to be a delicate timbre to his words that makes Satoru want to press his face against Suguru and pull him close to take a nap together.

“Thank you for coming to get me,” Satoru replies, his voice still smoky and rough as the remnants of sleep burn in his core. 

Suguru’s body shivers slightly, his expression falling from curt and polite to disoriented before returning to himself once more in an instant. 

“Make haste, it is unbecoming of a King to spend all day eating and sleeping,” Suguru hums, the bite of his words not having nearly the effect he wants them to as they drip off his tongue in that neurotic fussy way that mothers dote on their children with.

Satoru does not mind being told what to do, as long as the lips the command belongs to are as lovely as Suguru’s.

“Of course, princess,” Satoru says, rising from his chair and letting the blanket shrouding his figure fall from his body to the chair.

“Hm.” Suguru hums but doesn’t reply, instead lifting the sides of his gown and turning his head, setting off in the direction of his bedroom with Satoru following closely behind him.

His bedroom?

“Have you eaten already, princess?” Satoru says, halting the princess in his steps.

“No, that is why I am going to the dining hall,” Suguru says, turning his head to offer Satoru a venomous glare although all it does is make his face shine with this adorable cattish annoyance that pulls a smile onto Satoru’s lips as his hand goes to wrap itself around Suguru’s wrist.

Suguru’s face contorts even more, outrage illuminating each crevice of his expression.

“You’re going the wrong direction,” Satoru says softly. He isn’t unused to people getting lost in the palace, when guests and visitors arrive, they often find themselves in corners of the palace they can’t get themselves out of. It’s something of an old war strategy, every hallway looks the same and as confusing as possible with as many wrong directions to go in as there are right. Satoru would rather not have his bride get lost to the many walls of his palace.

Perhaps it is time for a good tour around the palace.

“Hm,” Suguru hums, heat escaping his eyes and relocating to the tips of his cheeks, the faint blush only faintly visible through the paint over Suguru’s skin.

“Let me take you dinner,” Satoru says, his voice gentle and his head aching from the impromptu nap. He doesn’t leave enough room for argument, his grip tightening and pulling Suguru closer to him, watching as the princess stumbles over his feet towards Satoru.

With some of the distance eliminated, Satoru can feel the warmth of the princess’s body and he has to admit, even just this simple closeness makes his heart race and his blood throb into his cock.

The air that surrounds Geto Suguru is as good as the most potent of aphrodisiacs and Gojo Satoru its most desperate of addicts.

Notes:

good morning, i am back

lia's twt

Notes:

my twitter <3

 

hi this is my first multi-chap fic in a while, threaten to kill me in my sleep if i don't update in like 4 weeks thx