Chapter Text
PART ONE
“If I know what love is, it’s because of you.”
-- Hermann Hesse
Castle Bezdan, seat of Pack Park. End of February.
In the early afternoons, a soft silence settled onto the castle, muffling the world in its drowsy embrace. The air seemed thicker, heavier with warmth in summer, and imbued with the crisp bite of hearth smoke in winter. The only sounds drifted from the kitchen below - the distant clatter of cutlery against brass plates served at lunch, the scrape of a knife against a wooden board - muted, and somehow less urgent than the clamour after breakfast or the bustle of supper. It was an hour for slow walks in the gardens or an early nap, for surrendering to the weight of a full belly and the quiet pull of sleep.
Not every inhabitant of the Castle Bezdan, the family seat of the Pack Park, was committed to being lulled into the afternoon lethargy. Park Jimin, the Duke’s second youngest child, was restless. Looking for trouble regardless of the hour, his mother would say, throwing him an affectionate side eye.
If eavesdropping were a hobby, Jimin would be found guilty of pursuing it with dedication. It wasn’t really his fault - if omegas were allowed to partake in courtly affairs even a little more than ‘not at all’, he wouldn’t have to go sneaking around in his softest, most silent slippers.
Luckily his nine alpha brothers and his father had big, booming voices and more often than not, all the young omega had to do was stroll down a corridor to gather the latest news, without so much as pressing his ear against a door.
This afternoon, however, was an exception.
The noise that drew his attention didn’t emanate from his family’s quarters - Jimin caught it as he was descending the servants’ staircase in the hushed east wing. It was muffled, coming from behind a closed door, but unmistakable.
Barely audible sucking of air through clenched teeth. A woman’s telling whine. Jimin’s jaw slacked as he moved closer to the pantry where the act was taking place, his heartbeat quickening. Now he could hear them clearly - the soft, rhythmic slapping of skin against skin, the most exciting sound Jimin had ever heard. He could feel his cock swelling in his underwear; looking down, he could also see it, obscenely bulging under his gown. He pressed his palm against it, trying to hide it, but the friction felt good, making him even harder.
“I’m crazy about you, Jiae,” a man’s laboured whisper tickled Jimin’s ear. “I want to breed you so bad…”
“Don’t you dare come inside, Hyunwook, or I’ll chop your dick off!” The woman hissed, but immediately her angry voice melted into a muffled moan.
The Duke’s son pressed his flustered cheek against the cold door, careful not to make a sound, as if touching the wooden pane would somehow make him feel what they felt.
Jimin had just finished his marital training - a simple course delivered by his mother on how to present for his future mate and how to clean himself before the act. Still, he had no idea what kind of coming the woman was talking about and what was inside. The couple were already very much together, no coming or going required, and it was much too cold to be doing this outdoors. His brow furrowed in arousal and confusion as he recklessly palmed his raging erection.
When he had asked his mother what would happen after he got into the presenting position and how a pup would be placed in his belly, the Duchess curtly answered he needn’t worry about it – it was an alpha’s duty and his alpha would know what to do. Jimin had seen dogs and pigs mating but surely the animals’ indifferent faces had nothing to do with this - the salacious, beautiful noises of Jiae and Hyunwook. There were over two hundred servants in the castle and Jimin didn’t know all of their names but he was almost sure that Jiae was a maid of one of his brothers’ spouses. Hyunwook didn’t ring a bell.
Whoever they were, Jimin envied them so much it brought tears to his eyes. His heart was beating so fast he thought the lovers would hear it through the door. He wasn’t even afraid of getting caught with an erection anymore; much worse, if someone happened to come along, he’d have to hide and move away from the pantry and maybe Jiae and Hyunwook would hear the person’s steps and stop their secret fucking, putting an end to Jimin’s wet dreams coming true.
The omega was deeply ashamed of his ignorance in matters of sex and he wished nothing more than to be made invisible and somehow materialize inside of the pantry to have a good look at whatever it was that made them sound so good. The idea of blackmail didn’t appeal to him, but it occurred to him that he could put Jiae under pressure to tell him why she didn’t want Hyunwook to “come inside” and let him in on other secrets, too. If she refused, he’d tell her mistress what Jiae had been up to in the pantry after lunch.
The slaps and moans seemed to be getting quicker, more urgent. Jimin shoved his hand in his gown pocket and yearningly wrapped it around his girth, although the layers of fabric were in the way. His chest was heaving in excitement and he felt like his corset was about to burst.
“Jiae, I’m close…” Hyunwook groaned in a choked voice.
“I’ll let you come on my face if you pull out,” the woman said and then all Jimin could hear was the rustling of her gown.
“Mmm…” Hyunwook moaned louder than before, as if he no longer cared about being heard. “Fuck…” he exhaled a moment later and all Jimin could now hear was a slurping, popping noise, which confused him more than anything else.
“Good boy,” Jiae giggled, no longer angry.
Just about the only thing that Jimin did understand was that it was over. He slipped down the corridor, unheard and unobserved, heading for the nearest lavatory. Slick was running down his buttocks and his thighs, wetting his underwear and making it stick uncomfortably to his feverish skin.
An omega touching themselves outside of the heat was a grave sin for which he would surely suffer eternal damnation, but Jimin felt like he was already in hell; only the little death could bring him relief. It was unnatural, for someone to be twenty years old and still a virgin, and it wasn’t his fault either, so surely God would show understanding, Jimin tried to reason.
Running into the lavatory, he bolted the door behind him. The toilet was nothing more than a hole in the wall through which chamber pots were emptied into the moat three floors below. Jimin pulled up his robes and shed his long cotton breeches; they fell on the floor with a wet plop. His every movement was impregnated with urgency and frustration as he held up his gown with one hand to keep it out of the way and finally wrapped his hand around his reddened, leaking cock. The slurping, popping noise he’d heard coming from the pantry echoed in his mind as his burning eyes fluttered shut. Though he didn’t know what it was, it must have felt amazing because it had made both Jiae and Hyunwook happy. He tried to ignore his throbbing hole and the slick running down his legs, ruining his silk stockings.
Jimin’s heat had ended just three days before, leaving him exhausted and frustrated, as always. Each yearly cycle was worse than the last. An unmated omega in heat was a creature made of suffering, locked in a room with a straw mattress and nothing to give them relief. He was left to endlessly prod his hole and tug at his cock, writhing in misery, panting, crying and squealing for three days straight. The beta maid only came in to put wood in the fireplace, bring a jug of water and empty his chamber pot. She paid no heed to Jimin’s desperate pleas to help him out, even with a broomstick or an appropriately shaped vegetable.
However, nothing that happened in heat was as arousing as the servants secretly fucking. Jimin’s fever had been a horrifying thirst that couldn’t be quenched, it was desperation and pain, while this – bearing witness to something real and exciting, something that sounded like fun – filled him with curiosity and anticipation, pleasantly wrenching his gut. Until that moment Jimin hadn’t even realized his gut could be pleasantly wrenched – things were either bad or good, but sex seemed to be both.
It was cold, so cold. A gust of winter wind made his skin prickle, but it couldn’t cool him down; his heart was drumming a deafening rhythm in his ears, and his hand followed suit, moving in sync over his length, as the wave built up out of nowhere and washed over him. After a few final flicks of his wrist, he emptied down the chute, gasping for breath.
Nothing more than a quiet whimper escaped his throat. Jimin had trained himself to keep quiet when the little death happened, riddled with shame and fear. Why did God put this urge in him if he didn’t want him to touch himself? If it was a test, like the priests said, Jimin obviously wasn’t strong enough to pass.
As always, he washed up on the familiar shore of self-loathing — feeling the way others made him feel with their leering eyes and chastising tongues, preaching virtue while hungering for his fall. Cousins, brothers, even alpha servants: some bolder than others, unashamed to whisper what they’d like to do to him, certain a good knot would “teach him his place.” Shut the fuck up, or I’ll plug your whore mouth — that from his own brother, after Jimin had begged him to stop beating his horse.
He stared down the privy chute, where the moat lay far below, its murky waters a distant, sluggish swirl. From this height, the drop seemed endless. What would it feel like to fall? Would death be the instantaneous darkness after a sickening rush or would he actually feel the searing, unimaginable pain of the impact, even if for just a second? His soul would not linger, hurrying to its everlasting doom; no amount of self-hatred was going to change this. All Jimin could do was pray for salvation, hoping that God would be lenient.
Wrought with guilt, the omega pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning on and picked up his wet underwear from the floor. He’d have to burn it, together with his stockings before a maid could discover the tell-tale signs of his arousal.
After removing the shameful evidence and putting on a fresh set of underwear, Jimin hurried to the chapel and prayed until his knees couldn’t take it anymore. Prayer was supposed to bring him closer to God, but all he wished for was to just forget what had happened, to ease the weight on his conscience. At the same time, he couldn’t ignore the excitement of listening to people fucking and really enjoying it. It had left a glowing ember in his belly and its heat refused to die down. If anything, the meditative state of prayer just opened up a playground for his imagination, and soon he was left fantasizing about how it would feel to be claimed and whimper in pleasure.
When the temple bell sounded its sombre chime at five o’clock, Jimin hurried back to his chambers from where he could observe the arrival of the suitor’s party.
He settled down at the window with his omega-in-waiting, embroidering a bouquet of spring flowers.
Dusk was falling much too quickly. It was the last week of February and the days were supposed to be getting longer, but when it started to get dark, night would come suddenly, unstoppably, enveloping the valley in pitch darkness.
Jimin pulled a candle closer to his needlework but he stayed at the window, glancing out after each other stitch. The room was eerily quiet apart from the wood crackling in the fireplace. He sighed, irritated by his own impatience.
“Will you sing us a song?” Hoseok asked, not looking up from his own embroidery. The omega-in-waiting’s pretty face glowed under the faint light of the candle and the murky remains of daylight seeping in through the window.
“Why? Because I won’t be allowed to sing anymore before the week is over?” Jimin scoffed, stabbing another stitch.
“Well technically, you’re not allowed to sing now either. It is tolerated.”
Jimin’s brow furrowed as he looked out of the window once more.
“You think he won’t tolerate it?”
“I don’t know. But you’ll be mated. Have you ever heard a mated omega sing?” Hoseok asked, finally looking up. His eyes were full of the disarming, generous kindness reserved only for people one genuinely cared about.
The question had been a rhetorical one. Of course Jimin had never heard a mated omega sing or even speak without permission. He really didn’t want to dwell on any of that. It was like thinking about death. Useless.
“They say he’s got a golden horse,” Jimin said, no longer pretending to sew.
“You mean, with brass armour?” Hoseok asked, moving closer to get a look of the road leading to the castle. It was still clearly visible, just like the city beyond it, sprawling over the valley.
The royal castle perched on the hilltop opposite, its walls larger and the entrance better lit by torches than their own fort. Castle Bezdan, however, was older – built in the time when the Pack Park and the royal pack were one family – giving the city that sprouted below it its name. Nowadays, Castle Bezdan and the New Castle stood on two hilltops, bracketing the largest city in the kingdom, home to a hundred thousand souls.
The large camp of ten white tents that had been raised beyond the city walls, so far away it seemed no bigger than a popped grain of corn, was no longer visible. Its inhabitants were on their way and that soon they’d be promoted to visitors.
Suitors.
“No, they say it’s got a golden-coloured coat of hair, like those people from the North.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” his omega-in-waiting murmured, peering into the dusk.
“Of course you haven’t,” Jimin commented, eyes nailed on the road. “Because we don’t have such horses here. He got it on his travels. God knows where. Probably some kingdom we’ve never even heard of.”
“Who told you that?” Hoseok asked, quickly glancing at Jimin before he resumed monitoring the road.
“The stable boy. He’d been sent to look after the animals while they were in camp.”
“What are you doing, talking to a stable boy?” The other omega sounded just mildly outraged; by now he’d grown to expect it. “Jimin, I swear, if they catch you…”
“No one’s gonna catch me. No one has ever caught me.” A smug smile landed on Jimin’s lips. “Besides, soon we’ll be out of here.” He looked at his friend, expression shifting to something uncertain. “Unless you’d rather stay?”
Hoseok and Jimin had been friends since Hoseok’s father had been granted a seat on Duke Park’s council five years before. The omegas had only just presented and were given needlework, etiquette and lute-playing lessons together. In less than six months, Hoseok was promoted to Jimin’s omega-in-waiting and given extra training on dress and personal grooming, and household supervision. He had many potential suitors, but he rejected all courting proposals saying that he owed his loyalty to his mistress, at least until Jimin got mated. Now it had been officially arranged for Hoseok to accompany Jimin to his new home and help him settle in.
There was a reason why they’d never discussed it before: Jimin couldn’t stand the thought of being parted from Hoseok, and he childishly believed that if he didn’t mention it, it wouldn’t happen. The possibility that his friend had accepted to go along for no other reason than obligation had occurred to him, but he trusted Hoseok to be the one to bring it up.
“Huh, stay here while you move to a seaside paradise where it never snows?” Hoseok huffed. “What do you think?”
“I think I never, ever want to be parted from you, Jung Hoseok. But you have a life to live. You may want to have a pack of your own, you’ve already waited long enough. Besides, it does snow in the Mark, just not very often.”
All of their friends had already been mated. At 20 years of age, Jimin and Hoseok should have been mated too, but Jimin’s case was a special one: the alpha he’d been promised to was a diplomat and a seafarer and the last two years were spent waiting for him to come back from a kingdom on another continent. When he eventually did arrive, three weeks before, the mating season had already started and he’d decided to spend his rut and Jimin’s heat camping outside of the city walls. Not everyone’s mating cycle hit at exactly the same time, but wolves mated in February and it was considered common courtesy to wait until the end of the month for all courtly matters to resume, including marriage-related ceremonies.
“Yeah, because having pups is my lifelong dream,” Hoseok scoffed. “Is an omega allowed to have any other dream apart from bearing pups?”
“Be the best homemaker you can be and make your alpha proud?” Jimin’s voice was serious, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Oh yes, there’s that as well. In that case you’ll have to find me a wealthy seaside lord and marry me off well. I need a sea castle of my own, with mighty waves crashing on the cliffs below!”
“What are you talking about?” Jimin giggled. “You’ve never even seen the sea.”
“There’s a lot of that in epic poems. There’s always a storm and the waves are always mighty. Mild weather doesn’t inspire poetry.”
They both chuckled. The night had fallen and the road curving uphill could no longer be seen. A few dim lights flickered in the city streets, through the windows of crowded inns.
“Speaking of the sea,” Jimin pouted, looking a little confused. “Why is he not called the Sea Wolf? Isn’t that his heraldic title?”
“His father was the Sea Wolf. You call him either Your Grace or Ambassador Jeon before you’re mated,” Hoseok showed off his heraldic knowledge. “The Sea Wolf is a warrior title.”
“So, he’s not a warrior?”
“Well, he’s a duke, just like your own father, but no, he hasn’t proven himself in battle. I guess the whole point of his calling is to divert wars and establish trade routes with faraway lands.”
“Hm… That doesn’t sound very sexy.”
“Sexy? Oh dear. What do you know about sexy?”
“Like the way you looked at my brother at the winter solstice tournament,” Jimin teased. “That was sexy.”
“Which one of your nine brothers?” Hoseok tried to keep a straight face, feigning indifference.
“Oh come on, don’t play coy,” Jimin rolled his eyes. “You know very well which one. Jihyun. You looked like you were going to start leaking any minute.”
“Park Jimin!” Hoseok swatted his arm, but there was no outrage in his voice. “Your brother is like my brother. Besides, he’s younger than me.”
“Still. You looked…” Jimin smirked. “You almost swooned when he knocked that hedge knight off his horse. He may be younger than us, but he’s no longer a squire.” He looked down at his embroidery. “Hmm… I think I need to switch to green,” he murmured, scrunching his nose. Embroidery was not Park Jimin’s favourite thing, not by a long shot. He unsheathed a dagger from the scabbard on his belt. The intricate hilt was adorned with emeralds and amethysts and his house crest - a gold serpent forming a noose around a black dagger on a split field of purple and green. With one tiny, swift move, he cut off the thread.
“I think I see a torch,” Hoseok said and Jimin peered into the darkness, needlework all but forgotten. Several torches flickered, illuminating the blue-and-white banners of House Jeon. Jimin gulped down his excitement as the first horses emerged into view, carrying knights in full armour. The party was large and it was difficult to tell who was who when they stopped at the castle gates waiting for the bridge over the moat to be lowered.
In the faint light of the torches, a flash of gold didn’t escape Jimin’s watchful eye.
“Do you see it?” He asked, voice brimming with excitement.
Hoseok’s jaw dropped. “It really is golden…”
The horse’s metallic coat shimmered like liquid gold beneath the torchlight, its short, fine hair catching every flicker of flame. A deep blue velvet caparison, heavy with white fur trim — perhaps Arctic fox — draped over its body, the rich fabric making the creature’s ethereal glow all the more striking. Perched atop the magnificent beast, the rider sat tall and motionless, a pale ostrich feather curling from his helm like a ghostly plume of smoke.
He was clad in full armor, as dictated by protocol, the polished steel reflecting glimmers of fire and moonlight. Although his visor was up, from this height, Jimin couldn’t get a proper look at his face; he could only make out the rigid poise of his frame, the effortless command in his bearing.
“I can’t see his face,” the omega sighed in frustration as the great gates groaned open, the heavy machinery grinding against the silence of the night. The riders passed through one by one, swallowed by the darkness of the courtyard.
“I guess you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow,” Hoseok shrugged.
Jimin bit down on his lip, eyes sparkling. “Hyorin has told me where his quarters are,” he murmured in a conspiratorial tone.
“Jimin, you know that you’re not allowed to leave this room. He cannot see you before the veiling ceremony, it’s bad luck.”
“He is not going to see me,” Jimin said with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“What if somebody else does? What if one of your brothers runs into you? They’ll be all down for dinner at the great hall!”
An informal dinner had been arranged for the suitors to get acquainted with the alphas of the host pack. Naturally, omegas weren’t allowed to attend.
Jimin glanced at the knife in his hand. “I’ll tell them I cut myself trying to cut off a thread. I need to see the healer at the infirmary, have it looked after.”
“No!” Hoseok yelled, but it was too late. The blade glinted in the candlelight, swiftly moving over Jimin’s index finger; it left a trail of red, but the omega didn’t so much as wince at the pain. If anything, his smile turned into a grin. “You’re insane,” Hoseok shook his head, getting over the shock. He produced a handkerchief from his sleeve and wrapped it around Jimin’s finger, tying it into a knot to stop the bleeding.
Jimin jumped off his seat, sheathing the dagger. He threw his thick, heavy braid over his shoulder; it fell down his back, all the way to his knees, like a sleek black snake, tugging at his scalp. Unmated omegas of his social standing were forbidden from cutting their hair and Jimin’s whole life story lay in the length of his braid.
The only omega son of Duke Park’s ten children, Jimin was his mother’s favourite, indulged in ways most omegas could only dream of. He had charmed and coaxed his way into being allowed to sing, even to dance — privileges unheard of for one of his kind. Just as his youth was pampered, so was his hair: it took two servants hours to wash and anoint it with the finest Allurian oils in a cloud of fragrance.
A minstrel once composed a song in its honor, a ballad that wove through the taverns and markets of the kingdom:
Not queen nor maid, nor star-lit fay,
Hath locks so dark, so bright as day.
No silk nor shadow can compare
To Jimin’s midnight-tangled hair.
The verses went on to extol his beauty, his sweetness, his untouched purity. It was sung at inns, festivals, and whispered in courtly circles — until, so the rumors claimed, his cousin the princess of the realm herself forbade its performance in the royal castle, jealous of his renown.
Ever since he presented and bloomed into full beauty, Jimin’s marriage was considered a considerable asset. Under any other circumstances, he would have been married off abroad to strengthen a political alliance with a neighbouring kingdom, but Jimin’s mother couldn’t spare him.
“I have given you nothing but sons, nine of them alphas,” she had pleaded with the Duke when the marriage decision was being made. “All of them your bannermen, your army is stronger than a king’s. Please don’t rob me of my omega. Marry him into Pack Jeon, where I can visit him in my old age, even if the journey is long. Let my grandpups speak to me in a language I understand.”
Of course the duchess had already been blessed with dozens of grandchildren who could speak her language, some of them living in the very same castle, but an omega parent would form a special bond with an only omega child – it was a story as old as time.
“The Duke of the Mark is almost fifteen years older than him,” the Duke had murmured, stroking his chin. “We don’t even know where he is exactly.”
“I know he sends regular diplomatic dispatches to the king. The council will know how to reach him. Please, alpha. It is a good match and Duke Jeon is a man of your own standing, a virtuous man.”
Grudgingly, the Duke agreed. When he was a boy, he served as squire to Duke Jeon’s father, the Sea Wolf. Back in the day, the Sea Wolf had been more beloved than the Old King himself and Duke Park was proud to have his family linked to House Jeon, even if the young Duke was the polar opposite of his formidable father.
And now he was here, in person. And Jimin was about to set off on a mission.
“How do I look?” Jimin asked, patting down his grey winter gown. The cleavage was lined with chinchilla fur, and the heavy brocade, tight around his chest, fell down in a wide flowing skirt, hem brushing the omega’s ankles. A black leather belt that hugged his hips was tied with a clasp shaped as the golden sigil of House Park.
“What does it matter what you look like?” Hoseok whined in desperation. “You cannot show yourself!”
“Right,” Jimin said as if he welcomed a reminder. A red stain was spreading on the silk handkerchief, but he didn’t seem to mind. He must have cut deeper than intended. “You stay here and pretend like you don’t know the first thing about it if they catch me.”
“If they catch you? Didn’t you say they wouldn’t?” Hoseok called out, filled with apprehension, but Jimin was already gone, quietly closing the massive door behind him.
Jimin’s slippers shifted silently over the stone floor of the torch-lit corridors. Outside of his chambers the air was fresh and his arms prickled at the cold. Only the swish of his gown could be heard as the omega descended the servants’ staircase. His finger pulsated painfully but he couldn’t let it distract him: Park Jimin had embarked upon an adventure and every nerve in his body vibrated with excitement.
Protocol prescribed that the suitors would be shown to their chambers where they could shed their armour, rest for a while, and get ready for dinner. Truth be told, Jimin had been planning his little reconnaissance mission for days. When his heat ended, he bribed a servant into telling him which guest was assigned to which quarters. Duke Jeon had brought with him his elder half-brother, Junghyun, the Lord of Ponor, as well as Junghyun’s mate, two knights from his council, and the First Mate from his ship, the Howling. The legendary carrack had been built by his father and had a snarling wolf’s figurehead at the pram. Not that Jimin had ever seen it, but people said it was the fastest ship to ever cross an ocean. Built to lead an admirable war fleet of the Kishani conquering army, after the Sea Wolf’s death it was reappropriated to host the young Duke Jeon’s diplomatic mission.
It all seemed too good to be true, Jimin thought, sneaking around servants’ corridors. The dashing seafarer, full of stories of exotic lands faraway, an ambassador and a mapmaker. People said he could speak ten languages, and it was rumoured that he had mated an omega somewhere on the other side of the world and that his mate had given him pups. Jimin knew it was just a rumour - surely, if Duke Jeon were already mated, he wouldn’t be able to mate Jimin too? Once made, a mating bond could not be broken.
Even without the outrageous gossip, Jungkook - for that was Duke Jeon’s given name - was still the most fascinating person Jimin was ever likely to meet. A man of the world and his senior by fourteen years, the omega was sure the duke possessed experience in abundance. At the same time, the age difference also deepened his unease - what if Duke Jeon saw Jimin as hardly more than a child, an obligatory political match that was to mark the end of his days sowing wild oats? What if he was ugly, his face marred by scars or pockmarks, his body riddled with some dreadful disease? A life at sea would have left his skin weathered and worn — what if he was nothing more than a sunburnt, salt-crusted, glorified pirate? In his excitement, Jimin hadn’t even considered these possibilities before. But now, with every passing second, doubt gnawed at him. What if he wasn’t ready for what he was about to see? What if disappointment was the only thing waiting for him beyond that door?
To Jimin’s relief, the door in question had been left open, and he approached it hiding behind stone pillars dotted along the corridor leading to the guest chambers. Voices and the clink of metal could be heard from the fire-lit room - the omega servant who’d gone in to light the fire in the hearth came out with a tin bucket in hand but fortunately headed down the western corridor, the opposite way of Jimin’s hiding place.
Jimin silently slipped behind the pillar closest to the open door. He could now clearly hear the voices and the wood catching fire, crackling loudly. He tilted his neck, venturing a quick peek, just to check how much was in his line of sight. A squire was unfastening the leg armour, kneeling down before the knight.
“Would have been easier to take this off in the armoury, your Grace,” the squire grumbled, but he sounded like he was only bantering. “Now I have to lug half a battlefield’s worth of steel across the castle.”
“And yet, you’re taking your own sweet time,” a resonant tenor answered, making Jimin’s forearms cover in goosebumps. He sounded young and humorous, not at all what the omega had feared.
Jimin let his lungs fill with air, nostrils flaring. His eyelids dropped in concentration.
Bay laurel leaf.
Bergamot, barely there.
Alpha.
He exhaled and inhaled again, trying to detect further notes, but none were to be felt apart from the head tone and the undertone he’d identified at first.
The squire was a beta.
Although he was standing dangerously close, Jimin risked another glance. The corridor was dark, lit only by the feeble glow of a single torch, but beyond the open door, the duke’s chambers were awash in the golden light of the fireplace. The flickering warmth illuminated every gleam of steel, every careful movement of the squire’s hands as he unfastened one plate after another.
The shoulder guards came first — crafted to resemble open-mouthed fish, their gaping jaws devouring the wide breastplate, where ridges fanned out like the spines of a great fin. The polished metal caught the firelight, shifting between gold and silver before it was set aside, exposing the dark fabric beneath.
And above them—
A razor-sharp jawline.
Full lips, stretched in an easy, knowing smile.
A dimple.
Jimin pulled back abruptly, pressing his back against the cold stone of the pillar, heart hammering like a snared rabbit’s.
“I’m just happy to linger around a proper fire, your Grace,” the squire chuckled. “Couldn’t get out of that tent quickly enough. I wonder what’s for dinner.”
“You’re in the residence of the second most powerful pack in the kingdom, Hanjae. I’m sure there’ll be something to please your discerning palate, even at the squires’ table,” the knight huffed in amusement. “The capital is famous for its Hartlings - pastries stuffed with venison and winter herbs. And Duke Park’s alpha sons are all skilled hunters - I’d wager the roast about to be served was still roaming the woods this morning.”
Duke Jeon was well informed. Jimin’s brothers did little besides hunting, unless they were quelling peasant unrest or playing bodyguard for tax collectors. The omega often wondered how there was so much as a single squirrel left in the forest considering the sheer enthusiasm with which they pursued anything that moved.
“My mouth is watering already, your Grace. And a proper bed in a heated room! I’ll sleep like a baby!”
Both men laughed and Jimin used the opportunity to steal another look.
The only sign of age on the ambassador’s face was the way fine lines gathered around his eyes when he smiled. His honey-toned complexion was smooth and luminous, untouched by dark circles — a natural glow, no doubt heightened by the effects of his recent rut. But it was his eyes that made you look twice, and indeed, Jimin found himself holding his breath as he stole another glance.
They were large and doe-like, rich pools of deep brown that radiated warmth and kindness. Yet beneath that gentleness lay something sharper — a glint of mischief that hinted at far more than just his habit of teasing his squire. His gaze was comforting, soft, but also knowing, and his smile, generous at first glance, carried a subtle twist. The corners of his mouth dipped ever so slightly, turning sweetness into something playful, something just a little unreadable.
Jimin’s hand flew to his chest, as if to stop his untamed heart from escaping. A fiery euphoria consumed him — was this what the minstrels sang of? The arrow to the heart, striking so swiftly it robbed his limbs of strength, making the very earth beneath him feel unsteady? Suddenly, the world became a mere backdrop to the mysterious curve of another’s smile. His hands trembled, heart pumping so fiercely that the fresh blood began to seep through the makeshift bandage on his finger.
“Hm… Is that rosewood she put in the hearth?” Jungkook frowned, staring at the chunks of wood neatly arranged in the fireplace. They looked more like beech. “Can you smell it, Hanjae?”
“What, your Grace?” The squire asked absentmindedly, arranging armor parts in a pile he’d be able to carry.
“Not even rosewood. Rose.”
“What? In February, your Grace?” The man chuckled. “I don’t think so.”
The moment he turned away from the fire towards the door, the floral whiff became stronger. It came from outside the room.
Peering into the shadowy corridor, all Jungkook could see was a long, dark shape curling in a lashing movement, like a whip, before it disappeared behind a pillar. It didn't look like a braid at first.
Omega.
Intrigued, Jungkook grabbed a torch from its mounting on the wall and hurried into the hallway.
The moment he turned to the right, he could see a figure disappear into the shadows at the end of the hallway, accompanied by a swish of the omega’s robes as they were making their escape; the intruder could no longer afford to stay quiet.
The faint scent lingered — wild rose, fresh and full-bodied, like a promise of spring.
Never one to miss out on adventure, Jungkook set in pursuit, torch in hand. Although the intruder had a head start, the alpha was fast - very fast, since before he presented. As a matter of fact, his speed and endurance in a run had been one of the tell-tale signs he would present as alpha years before he actually did, and now, the surge of testosterone made it easy to cover the distance in seconds. His long legs and the comfortable clothes he was wearing under the armor put him at an unfair advantage compared to the omega, who didn’t have a torch to light their way and had to manage the run in a corset, holding up their skirts.
The person slipped into a passageway at the end of the hallway and when Jungkook reached it, he saw it leading to a steep, spiral servants’ staircase; the alpha was still unable to get a good look, but he would bet his ship that the spy was no servant. His advantage increased - in a dress, climbing up the stairs was even more difficult than running down a corridor, while Jungkook was able to jump over the steps three at a time.
Still, the omega was pretty fast. The only thing Jungkook could actually see, his torch flickering wildly with the movement, was the finely embroidered hem of the gown and the cream-coloured silk slippers. At this point, however, the torch was doing more harm than good; the person was practically directly above him and holding the torch up risked putting their clothes on fire, so Jungkook stuck it in an empty iron mounting on the wall and gained speed immediately, even if the omega was slipping into the darkness.
In the next moment, he took his chance and reached out, blindly grabbing onto a silk-stockinged ankle that wriggled in his grip like a desperate fish. He could barely see, the now-distant torch too weak to throw light on anything but the edge of the steps.
“Let go!!” An angry hiss broke through their panting as they were both trying to catch their breaths.
“No way,” Jungkook chuckled. “I don’t appreciate being spied on, little bird. I’m taking you to Duke Park, you’ve got some explaining to do.”
“I said, let go,” The sharp, threatening edge in the omega’s tone clashed strangely with the soft, slightly nasal quality of their voice. Jungkook couldn’t really see his hand gripping the ankle but in the next moment, he felt a sharp, cold blade pressed against the back of it. “I promise you, I won’t hesitate. I cut myself just to have an excuse to get a glimpse of you - cutting you would be nothing more than fair retribution.”
Jungkook wasn’t particularly concerned about being cut. His curiosity far outweighed any fear of injury – it was the omega’s fear of getting caught that disturbed him. He could feel it in their flowery scent, warped and soured by the emotion. Even if he didn’t fully grasp the risks, he knew that whatever punishment awaited an alpha for overstepping would be nothing compared to what an omega would suffer if caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Even a high-born omega – one who carried an exceptionally sharp dagger at their waist.
He slowly loosened his grip, and the blade was removed. All he could hear was the hastened rustling of the skirts as the spy disappeared without another word.
Jungkook scoffed and climbed down, retrieving his torch.
Once he was back in the hallway in front of his room, the rush of adrenaline still pumping through his veins pushed him to search for a more tangible trace of the intruder’s presence. There was something wrong about the spy’s scent that he had noticed the moment he had come out of his room and started his pursuit, and it wasn’t the almost tangible note of fear that eventually made him give it up. It was still there, now more powerful than the residue of wild rose - maybe an object scented by somebody else, like an injured pet? The alpha turned around, his mind racing with possibilities — perhaps a hair ribbon or a button that had fallen as the omega made their silent escape?
Nothing. The light grey stone floor was perfectly kept by the castle’s army of servants. But then, he spotted it — right behind the pillar, where the intruder had been hiding: a dark, round stain.
Jungkook crouched, bringing the torch closer to the floor. He swiped his finger over the spot, leaving a lighter smear in its wake. His pulse quickened. Under the yellow glow, the redness blended into a murky brown, but the smell was unmistakable.
A drop of fresh blood.
—
The veiling ceremony was part of the mating festivities for the upper classes and it was to take place two days before the mating itself. It was a secular event with the purpose of future spouses getting a look at each other - most of them, for the very first time - and exchanging wedding gifts and dowry. The custom dictated that the omega appear in white, virginal attire and be covered with a veil by their future alpha – a veil they would never shed in public from that day on. It was impractical for most omegas who actually had to work - they opted just for covering their hair while their faces remained bare, but the high-born had different needs. They would be driven or carried to wherever they needed to go and the thin fabric did allow them some visibility.
The morning was spent with Hoseok and two servants fussing around Jimin to no end: first he was given a bath and his hair was washed. His skin was scrubbed pink before they doused him in patchouli oil - a pretty contrast to his own rose scent. Hoseok suggested showing off his skills with an intricate hairdo, but Jimin refused, instructing them to braid his hair in the usual fashion.
In truth, Jimin hadn’t slept a wink. Getting caught by Duke Jeon was terrifying and exhilarating, setting every nerve in his body on fire. Had the alpha been aware that it was his future bride’s ankle he had caught as Jimin had been trying to make his escape up the steep staircase? Luckily, the darkness had been on his side. As soon as he’d slipped away, the omega had gone straight to the healer, realising that he probably needed a stitch and he was proven right.
Jimin was so high up in the clouds after seeing his mate-to-be that he barely registered the pain of the needle threading his skin; it was distant, inconsequential. He felt like nothing could touch him now that one Jeon Jungkook had walked into his life, a literal knight in shining armour.
The arranged marriage was a custom of the aristocracy - Jimin sometimes fantasized about having been born to a baker or a stonemason and having the privilege of mating for love. The generational fear of not being able to choose your mate ran deep; for centuries teenage omegas had been married off to much older men after their mates had died at childbirth. It was a very human custom, a relic of a world that ignored the instincts of their wolf nature: while wolves mated for life, they fought for their mate and bared their teeth at those who would claim them against their will. Humans made deals, and too often an omega’s fate lay in the hands of parents more concerned with alliances than affection. Tales of alphas covered in boils or some other kind of skin disease, mouth full of rotting teeth, weren’t just whispered warnings - they were the reality of many arranged marriages and an omega would consider themselves lucky to just get someone who wasn’t too obviously repugnant.
To be blessed with a mating to someone he was intensely attracted to seemed like a dream, like the final, deserved reward for staying a virgin and doing what he was told. God had obviously chosen to ignore his weaknesses - the spying adventures and the bit about touching his own body. After all, Jimin only did it very rarely, when he thought he’d go insane with lust. He never let his cousins talk him into sharing secret kisses, although they tried. He never “played healer” with anyone. When the old priest tried to get him naked “to check if Jimin was doing inappropriate things to his body”, as he’d said, Jimin ran away from the temple and told his mother. The dirty old man was sent to a monastery by the end of the following day, grateful that he hadn’t been forced to take a vow of silence.
After tossing in his bed through the night, the young omega decided he couldn’t take it anymore and he shook Hoseok awake to tell him all about it. The sheer excitement of his clandestine reconnaissance mission had made it impossible to talk about it right after it had happened, and he had chosen to go to bed after having told his omega-in-waiting he hadn’t managed to get a good look. With each passing minute of the long night, however, Duke Jeon seemed even more wonderful as Jimin built him up in his head, imagining his mate lovingly stroking his baby bump and playing with their litter of giggling pups. An avalanche of words rolled off his tongue as his friend was still waking, rubbing his eyes in a daze of sleep.
“He has this armour, Hoseok, I’ve never seen anything like it. Shiny like silver, with pauldrons shaped as sea creatures. And when his squire took it off, his shoulders were so broad and his waist so small! He may be no warrior, but he definitely looks more handsome than any of our knights.”
“Are you sure you aren’t exaggerating, just a little?” Hoseok yawned.
“Certainly not!” Jimin cut him a side eye. “Soon you’ll meet him and you’ll fall in love with him, too, and then you’ll just spend the rest of your life stewing in jealousy!”
Hoseok laughed out loud. “That is a grim destiny indeed! I just wish you could have waited until daybreak to inform me. Do we even know what time it is?”
“It will be dawn soon,” Jimin estimated, taking a peek through a gap in the curtains of the canopy above their bed. “Just hold me,” he then said, curling into Hoseok’s side. Hoseok wrapped his arm around him and pulled up the covers to keep them warm. “I’m sorry for waking you. But I feel like my heart is going to jump out of my chest, Hobi. It’s the most beautiful and the most horrifying feeling at once. What if he doesn’t like me?”
“What? Who wouldn’t like you?” Hoseok huffed, stroking his friend’s hair. “You’re the prettiest, loveliest omega in the whole kingdom. I hope he appreciates just how lucky he is. I don’t care about his shiny armour and his broad shoulders - he’s only a true knight if he treats you like the princess that you are.”
“I’m not a princess,” Jimin pouted.
“Well, technically you’re not, but you’re the next best thing - an omega son of a duke and soon to be a duchess - but you’re more beautiful and smarter than the actual princess.”
“Shh… that’s treason!” Jimin giggled.
“It’s a fact. But even if Duke Jeon doesn’t like you because he’s into really ugly omegas with pockmarks and bad teeth, this is the beauty of arranged marriage - he’ll have to take you anyway!”
Jimin slapped Hoseok’s chest as giggles echoed around the cold room and the black of the night slowly turned to grey.
Eight hours later, Jimin was a raw bundle of nerves, demurely kneeling on the silk cushion in one of the castle’s smaller halls. The murmur of the courtiers made it worse: they were curious spectators, while his own destiny was being decided. As the hour of his official meeting with the Duke came nearer, the young omega had become riddled with doubts. For sure, Jeon Jungkook was as handsome as he was rich, but what if he was a cruel man, someone who was to keep a concubine, like the king who kept both a male and a female omega mistresses? What if the Duke had bizarre and even painful mating practices, something he’d picked up on his travels? Dark thoughts piled up into an ugly mess in his head, exacerbating his anxiety.
Although the veiling was supposed to be an intimate ceremony, there were at least fifty people in the room. His parents, his brothers and all of their mates, his father’s bannermen that were also members of the council and all of the omegas-in-waiting, curious to see what kind of wedding gift Duke Jeon had brought his bride. The traditional offering was a gold ring set with a stone in the colour of the house the omega was marrying into - blue for Pack Jeon, it could be an aquamarine, as clear as water or an opaque turquoise.
Apart from the veil that covered their face and hair and was held in place with a modest coronet of precious metal, all mated omegas present in the room also wore a collar. Jimin was chilled by the prospect of his own neck soon being trapped in the ubiquitous object made of stiff cow’s leather that rose above his jawline, all the way up to the ears, limiting the mobility of the neck, but also covering the omega’s scent glands, which was its primary purpose. The edges were padded so as not to cut into the neck and wound the skin every time a person turned their head, but the collar itself was made of cooked leather and laced with a leather strap at the back of the neck, like a corset. Below the lacing was a thick iron ring that a lead could be attached to, but these days most omegas were spared the lead in public unless they were members of ultra-conservative religious sects. It was a cruel tradition, purely symbolic and unnecessary: an omega didn’t need to be put on a lead to know that from the moment of their mating, they were forced to do their alpha’s bidding, as the laws - both religious and secular - commanded.
To accentuate his purity, the tradition dictated that the omega about to be veiled wear nothing but a thin white cotton tunic over their corset and a long white satin skirt. The thin garments left Jimin shivering, or maybe his hands were shaking with the disquietude consuming him head to toe.
Fear. Best to call things by their proper names, he thought, wondering where his former giddiness and enthusiasm had disappeared to.
The sound of fanfare cut him down the middle - this was it, the moment of truth. The page announced the suitor’s arrival, opening the heavy hall doors.
“Jeon Jungkook, first of his name, the Duke of the Mark and the Protector of the Seas. His brother, Jeon Junghyun, the Lord of Ponor, and his mate. Cha Dohun, the Lord of Sumrak…” The page continued announcing Duke Jeon’s entourage of vassals as they walked into the hall in a single file, some twenty men altogether.
Jimin remained kneeling, head bowed, as the protocol required, but while everyone was looking at the newly arrived, he used the distraction, raising his head just enough to have a good look at his future mate.
If anything, in the light of day Duke Jeon looked even more dashing, clad in his official attire. He wore a long, deep blue tunic of the finest wool, its edges subtly lined with a crest-of-wave pattern embroidered in silver thread, a quiet but unmistakable declaration of his pack’s lineage. A heavy fur-lined mantle was draped over his shoulders and fastened at the collarbone with a silver brooch bearing his family’s sigil - a white ship on a field of blue with a grey wolf’s head on its sail. His thick leather belt bore a ceremonial dagger and a little velvet pouch that may or may have not housed Jimin’s mating ring, while his dark brown hair was pulled back from his face in a bun, with the rest of it falling freely onto his shoulders.
It was the chain around his neck, however, that provoked hushed whispers of those surrounding the kneeling omega. At first glance it was a simple piece of metal, but as the man moved, even the muted winter light reflected off of it, revealing an eerie, moonlike sheen that was neither silver nor white gold. Some murmured that it was platinum, a metal so rare that even the royal treasury lacked it, but it was obvious that it came from across the sea, mined in the lands unknown to them. A single rune forged in the same metal hung like a pendant from the chain, its shape unknown to Jimin, let alone its meaning.
A murmur rose from the crowd. People hid their mouths as they whispered to each other, eyeing the piece with suspicion. Was it a token of loyalty to some unknown power, or even religion? The Duke’s confident smile made Jimin believe that it was merely a whim of a man who had seen more of the world than most. It was the spirit of adventure that Duke Jeon had carried into the room on his broad shoulders, more awe-inspiring than any garment or jewel: here was a man who wasn’t afraid to leave his life behind, bravely treading where few would ever venture.
For the briefest moment, their eyes met, and Jimin could have sworn that the duke winked at him: a barely-there twitch, the eyelid never fully closing, so quick it could be missed by anyone it wasn’t meant for. Yet, paired with the lingering smirk on the alpha’s lips, it could mean only one thing. A sign of secret understanding that not even Jimin was aware of, or liked to pretend not to recognize, the shame of being caught the previous night simply too strong to bear. He preferred to think of it as an invitation, beckoning him to come along for an adventure without a single word exchanged.
The omega quickly looked down until he could only see the Duke’s black leather boots. His gut cramped with excitement and his cheeks suddenly felt very warm, scent blooming under the rush of adrenaline.
Jimin’s father was standing next to the omega and it was him that Duke Jeon offered a deep bow to, honouring Duke Park’s seniority and hospitality, though they were equal in rank.
Duke Park was a sturdy, bull-necked alpha in his mid-fifties. In line with the protocol, the Duchess stood behind him, veiled and collared, and his nine alpha sons stood in a row to his left, in order of seniority.
“Welcome Duke Jeon!” Duke Park’s voice echoed in the hall, extending the official greeting. “It is an honour to receive you here at Castle Bezdan.”
“Thank you, your Grace. It’s an honour to be so warmly received, and a joyful occasion too - I cherish being blessed with the privilege of asking for your omega child’s hand!”
“Pack Park is delighted to finally tie a blood bond with Pack Jeon. May your union be blessed with numerous progeny and strong alpha sons!” He turned from Duke Jeon towards Jimin, pointing at his head. “Here is our omega, the pure and virginal Jimin, sound of body and mind. He is accomplished in embroidery, painting and lute-playing. He comes to you with the counties of Mala and Shirok and ten thousand gold pieces in dowry.”
A collective gasp spread around the room at the sizable dowry, bearing witness to Duke Park’s generosity. He extended his hand further down, offering it to Jimin.
“Rise, my child, and let his Grace have a look at you.”
Jimin did as he was told, his skirt sliding down his legs like a waterfall. It wasn’t just that he was supposed to keep his head down, looking chaste and demure; the omega was genuinely much too flustered to meet his future mate’s eyes. Duke Jeon closed the distance between them and raised his hand to Jimin’s chin, gently pulling his head up.
“Beautiful Jimin,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Songs of your beauty, charm and chastity have travelled far beyond the borders of this realm. They have reached me on my travels but now I see they do you poor justice, Rose of Pack Park. I am, indeed, a lucky man.”
Hushed giggles of all omegas within earshot travelled like the sound of silver bells. Duke Jeon’s praise was unorthodox. Usually the groom would thank the father for offering the omega and express hope in their fertility, but Jeon Jungkook addressed Jimin directly, touching his face.
Jimin glanced at his father, silently asking for permission to speak. Duke Park gave him a slight nod.
“I’m afraid I don’t deserve such high praise, your Grace. I hope to be a mate worthy of your honour and rank. Thank you.”
Jungkook’s finger lingered on the omega’s smooth skin, reluctant to pull away, as if the mere touch had given it a will of its own. His eyes slid down to Jimin’s clasped hands and the thin white bandage on his index finger.
“I’m sorry to see your hand is injured… What happened?” A corner of his mouth curled up in a wicked smile.
“A sewing accident, your Grace,” Jimin said in a low voice, keeping his eyes down.
“You should be careful with your dagger, my betrothed. You could have injured others, too.”
Jimin bowed his head even lower, his cheeks aflame.
It was an awkward conversation to be having in the middle of the ceremony. Having seen that the groom had no intention of looking away or removing his hand from under Jimin’s face, Duke Park decided to end it.
He cleared his throat. “Shall we move on with the veiling?”
A heartbeat passed, making it seem like Duke Jeon didn’t even hear him, but then he turned on his heels, beckoning to his valet.
“Of course. The veiling,” he announced as the man came up to the front, carrying an object covered with a sash of blue silk. “I hope you will forgive my divergence from the tradition, but I felt this moment deserved a special kind of veil and the High Priest agreed,” he threw a glance at the old man standing in a priest’s robes in the first row, looking visibly uncomfortable. In one swift move, he took off the sash, exposing a model head carved of wood, covered with something sparkling. It was jewellery for sure but none present had ever seen anything like it and none could even guess its purpose until Duke Jeon took it off the head and draped it over Jimin’s face.
It was a veil, for lack of a better word - a head and face covering made of thin gold chains encrusted with tiny diamonds and other precious gems. A delicate gold plate covered the ridge of Jimin’s nose, holding the chains in place. They draped over his cheeks and chin loosely and spread over his forehead like rays, forming a cap that extended all around the back of his head, down to the root of the omega’s thick braid.
The veil concealed nothing. It turned Jimin’s natural beauty into something otherworldly, belonging to the realm of fae and other mythical creatures rather than the sombre reality of how an omega was allowed to look like. If anything, it was a travesty of a veil, an opulent mockery of the tradition, putting the face on full display and accentuating its beauty, rather than hiding it.
A collective gasp morphed into a loud, outraged murmur as those present realised Duke Jeon’s intent. A cherry on top, the groom was handed a hand mirror that he held in front of Jimin’s face with a smug, self-satisfied smile.
Jimin was unrecognisable to himself. He had never been allowed to wear an ornament beyond the pair of simple gold creoles in his ears. His seax was covered in jewels and so were some of his other ceremonial accessories as a sign of his status, but his face - it was meant to stay bare and unadorned.
There were pear-shaped diamonds and rubies set into the delicate chains on his cheeks; they looked like tears and drops of blood and suddenly an image flashed in front of Jimin’s eyes, much clearer than an uncanny sense of a déjà-vu: round drops of blood on a patch of snow, red like the rubies, horrifying in their vividness.
He let his eyelids drop for just a second, trying to find composure. The omega had never experienced a vision before and seeing gore during a veiling ceremony seemed like a terrifying omen. Heart beating faster, he felt cold sweat break out under his arms, his fingers turning ice cold. Jimin was overwhelmed by an impulse to run to his mother, looking for an explanation, to simply share what he had seen with someone wiser, more knowing, hoping they would console him. It wasn’t an omen, because omens were real - a dead raven on the doorstep and wolves appearing where they weren’t expected, a sudden sunburst in mid-winter or a ladybug announcing a visit. Visions were devil-sent, premonitions of something evil that could not be seen or proven, maybe even the beginning of a slow slide into madness.
“Of course, the headpiece is not a veil,” the High Priest spoke, unable to suffer judging glances. “It is the groom’s mating gift to the bride, brought from his travels.”
“From the kingdom of Quät Doon,” Duke Jeon added, marvelling at the omega’s beauty, “whose goldsmiths are unmatched in skill across the continents. But not even their skill can do you justice, any more than those songs composed to honour your beauty, my omega.”
Even the words ‘my omega’ produced a murmur, possessive talk that was only meant to be exchanged between mated couples. Duke Jeon was crossing big, important boundaries, but he was too rich and powerful to be contradicted. Besides, a mating gift of this value was virtually unseen, unheard of even. It gave rise to scandal, but even more strongly - awe in face of wealth and generosity of the giver.
Finally, someone started clapping and the room broke out into applause, making Jungkook sneer at how easily the court of Bezdan forsook tradition in favour of an ostentatious display of riches. The aristocracy of his homeland was just as corrupted and as steeped in hypocrisy as he remembered, although he had left eleven years ago, hardly older than his mate-to-be.
The omega seemed rather uncomfortable under the gossamer chains weighed down by the precious stones, but crafted so skillfully they seemed to bear no weight at all. His eyes were nailed to the ground, a single round ruby nested under his nose, resting on his full upper lip.
Jungkook had never seen anyone this beautiful, but he knew there was more to Jimin than met the eye. He was a cunning little squirrel with a long, black tail, sneaking around the castle, unafraid to draw a dagger when caught red-handed. Jimin was interesting and interesting overpowered beautiful in Jungkook’s book on any given day.
“Of course,” he raised his voice, silencing the murmur. “My mate shall bear my ring as well.” With that he took the gold and sapphire ring from the velvet pouch on his belt and put it on Jimin’s short, almost childlike ring finger. The stone was deep blue like the ocean and infinitely rarer and more precious than the aquamarine. As the protocol dictated, Jimin raised his hand for all to see: the gold setting sparkled under the azure depth of the precious stone, carved in the shape of the wolf’s head of Pack Jeon.
The lutist sitting in the corner struck a cheerful ditty that marked the end of the ceremony.
“Lord Jeon, it has been planned for us to have a light lunch before you take Jimin for a walk and get to know him better. Shall we proceed to the dining hall?” Jimin’s father said, putting his hand on Jungkook’s back and leading him towards the door.
Mostly pastries, cheeses and fruit preserves were served at lunch and although Jungkook made sure to refill Jimin’s jug with mulled wine as soon as it was half empty, the omega remained close-lipped at first, answering his questions with curt, unrevealing replies. Do you like blue cheese? Not really. How about this exquisite apricot jam? Would you like me to put it on your roll? Yes, thank you. Let me refill your cup. Thank you. Do you like your ring? It’s beautiful, thank you.
After some time had passed, he could see some colour creeping into Jimin’s cheeks. He had taken his headpiece off so as not to dirty it with food and drink. Still, the wine didn’t loosen up his tongue, but it occurred to Jungkook that the omega was simply impeccably trained in social contact; he adhered closely to a strict set of rules prescribing what was becoming of a person of his subgender and status.
It was considered appropriate for his groom to put food on his plate, but when Jungkook held a piece of pie to his mouth, Jimin placed his little hand on top, not refusing to eat, but clearly signaling that he wanted to take the fork into his own hand.
“You refuse to be fed? Why? You think I’ll shove the fork at the back of your throat and murder you?” Jungkook huffed with amusement, letting the omega take it.
“I don’t know,” Jimin spoke in a low voice. “Maybe you’re the vindictive kind?”
“It’s true that I don’t appreciate being held at knife point, but killing my betrothed in retribution would be a touch dramatic.”
“I’m just following the protocol, your Grace. Only mated people are supposed to feed each other,” Jimin countered in an even, polite tone laced with just a hint of irony. “Maybe this is how you seduce your lovers? Which makes me wonder, how many unmated omegas have you fed so far?”
“I don’t know,” Jungkook’s brow furrowed in confusion, as though the very concept of others hadn’t even crossed his mind. “The number hardly matters, Rose of Pack Park, when none of them ever made me forget there had been others.”
He watched Jimin’s head dip slightly, his gaze turned downward, as if hiding from something sudden and unfamiliar. He tried to force the corners of his mouth down, but a timid smile kept pushing them up. It was a funny, endearing battle, the twitching of his lips, accompanied with a barely visible blush. Jungkook had never seen a sweetness so genuine. It wasn’t merely his youth that made him glow, but the brief, shimmering collapse of his defences - his irreverence faltering in the face of something disarming: not the compliment himself, but the man who gave it.
“Shall we take a walk around the gardens?” Jungkook proposed when he deemed that enough time had passed not to seem rude by leaving too early. “Will your omega-in-waiting act as chaperone?”
“Yes,” Jimin answered. “Lady Jung, can you fetch my fur coat?”
Once clad in a long coat and matching grey leather gloves, Jimin donned a white wimple with a fur hood that covered his ears and neck completely. The moment the three went out into the frozen garden that bordered on the snow-covered woods, presumably the Duke’s hunting grounds, Jimin excused himself and went to his omega-in-waiting, speaking in an urgent whisper. Hoseok answered but Jimin seemed to refuse the argument and then he returned at a confident pace. After they set off, Jungkook noticed that the chaperone followed at a much greater distance than customary, which made it absolutely impossible for them to hear what the bride- and groom-to-be were saying.
The cold was relentless, making Jungkook’s eyes water. Each word he said came out in a cloud of steam as they were walking, observing the weak, hazy winter sun sinking among the gnarly branches of dead-looking trees.
“Are you cold?” He asked, looking at Jimin pulling his coat tighter around his chest.
“No, your Grace,” the omega answered, staring at the frozen ground, covered with patches of half-melted snow.
“Will you call me Jungkook?” The alpha offered, hoping that a smile would melt Jimin’s defences.
The omega tilted his head, meeting the alpha’s eyes for what felt like the first time.
“Really?” He murmured with a quizzical look.
“Yes, really. We’re about to be mated.”
“Yes, but the custom dictates that even after the mating I should call you ‘my alpha’.”
“Well, suit yourself,” Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, clasping his hands over the small of his back. “I hope you don’t mind if I call you Jimin.”
“Not at all.”
Jungkook glanced over his shoulder at the omega-in-waiting walking at least fifty metres behind them.
“So… he’s keeping quite a distance, isn’t he? I suppose it took some persuading?”
“I keep no secrets from Hoseok, he’s my best friend. I just thought you might feel more comfortable speaking to me in private.”
Jungkook had to smile. He knew very well that Jimin was just playing coy and indifferent. It was a good act, but he could still see through it. Years of courtly manners had taught him to keep a straight face, even with mulled wine warming his veins, but the omega was still young, unseasoned in the ways of the world, and his act was transparent, which only made it all the more endearing.
“I’ve seen your horse,” Jimin said, looking ahead.
“You have? When?”
“I saw you arrive last night, from my chambers’ window. I’d never seen anything like it.”
“Would you like to meet her?” The alpha tilted his head ever so slightly, to get a better look at Jimin’s reaction.
Jimin locked eyes with him for a moment. “It’s a mare?”
“Are you surprised that an alpha doesn’t ride a stallion?” Jungkook huffed, smiling, but he didn’t expect Jimin to answer. It went without saying that being able to reign in a stallion was a show of strength, a certain rite of passage for a young alpha after presenting. Jungkook must have ridden a stallion once, but opting for a mare instead was just another exotic quirk Jimin didn’t know what to make of. “Her name is Akhal. She likes meeting new people.”
“We need to turn back then and head for the stables,” the omega said. He turned around and signalled to Hoseok where they were going.
They walked in silence with nothing but frozen grass crackling beneath their feet. The atmosphere seemed to shift with the unplanned detour. Something about Jimin’s demeanour was more at ease, and Jungkook knew that by switching to first name basis and offering to show him Akhal he’d made the right move: he had let Jimin into his life beyond what the protocol prescribed. Emboldened, he decided to risk a candid question.
“How do you feel about all this?” Jungkook asked, clearing his throat. “The arranged mating, I mean…”
“I could have done worse…” Jimin’s earnest expression melted down into an almost teasing one. “Probably could have done better, too,” He smirked. “I mean you are quite a bit older, don’t you think?”
“Does that bother you?”
“Of course it bothers me. You’ve seen the whole world, people and cultures I’ve never even heard of. I’m just this ignorant omega who’s practically never left his father’s castle,” he sighed. “You’re a powerful man, Jeon Jungkook. Bribing the High Priest just to put on a little show… What’s your game?”
“I don’t think you’re as ignorant as you claim to be, Park Jimin,” A corner of Jungkook’s mouth curled up. “Honestly? I just wanted to know his price. Not as high as you’d think actually.”
“But you definitely didn’t bribe my father. Why is he so forthcoming? Why did the King himself agree to bless our union when he stands to profit more from mating me off abroad?”
“I don’t think there’s a simple answer to that question; as far as I gathered, there were several things at play,” Jungkook scratched his chin, brow furrowed in concentration. “Your mother was loath to part from you, and I’m sure that a smart little fox such as yourself knows that she is more influential at your father’s court than anyone.” He stopped, waiting for Jimin to contradict him, but the omega stayed quiet. “Also, there is this matter of a trade deal I’ve made with the Allurian Empire. Salt for copper. Silk for coal. Its magnitude exceeds any previous treaties and your father, as well as his cousin, the King, are going to need bigger gold vaults now… My father was a great man, a hero to many. But expansionist wars bring more trouble than the land gained is worth.” Jimin looked at him with fresh curiosity; the information on Jungkook’s trade deal with Alluria was obviously news to him. The alpha held his gaze, looking forward to the reaction at what he was about to say next. “Last but not least, I wanted you.” Jimin tried to look undisturbed, walking on in a slow, steady pace, but his heartbeat quickened. “I wasn’t joking when I said the songs didn’t do you justice. But they intrigued me. I thought, there must be a reason why minstrels sing about him and not the royal princess.” He chuckled, slowly shaking his head. “Now I know.”
“That sure is a lot to live up to,” Jimin said in a level voice. “But you don’t strike me as the kind of man who would take on a two-year journey just to marry a pretty face.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jungkook smiled. “The song didn’t just praise your beauty, as I’m sure you must be aware of, although it did go on quite a bit about your hair. How was it again…?
His voice, a silver thread so fine,
Like nightingale in dusk’s decline?
…and then,
And when he moves, the torches gleam,
As if he danced within a dream,
His footfalls light, his steps so fleet,
The earth itself doth yield beneath.
“I mean, come on!” Jungkook laughed with delight. “An aristocrat’s son that sings and dances? Unthinkable! I knew you couldn’t have gained that privilege just by being pretty.”
“My mother spoiled me, I’m her only omega child,” Jimin tried to brush it off, hoping that the alpha didn’t notice how the corner of his mouth twitched.
“But it wasn’t just the earth yielding, was it? Those last two verses were… how should I put it? Impossible to ignore?
Charmed is the heart that falls to his spell,
Bound, though unbidden — yet willing as well”
Jungkook recited the verses in a theatrical voice, impersonating a travelling thespian. “So here I am, unbidden yet willing, about to be mated to a muse!”
Jimin giggled with delight. “Oh, your Grace,” he teased. “I would expect you not to be so lightly swayed by a minstrel's exaggeration. Don’t tell me you were seduced by a simple ballad! Huh, I thought a man as shrewd and weathered as you wouldn’t be the type to chase after fairy tales.”
“The more you speak, the stronger my conviction that the song has painted you very true to life!” He laughed. “You are absolutely living up to, if not exceeding my expectations.”
“It’s cruel of you to tease me.”
“I’m doing no such thing! You really are all that and more - I think the minstrel would be delighted to learn that you’re the kind of person capable of cutting your own flesh just to get an excuse for sneaking around in the dark and spying on people.” The alpha gave him a wicked look, like a spider eyeing a fly that was inescapably entangled in his web.
Jimin, however, was anything but easy prey.
“Are you honestly accusing me of being overtly curious a moment after admitting it was your own curiosity that made you sail halfway around the world?”
Jungkook laughed out loud heartily, tickled by the butterflies in his belly.
They had arrived at the spacious stables, home to some thirty horses, and Jimin instructed a stable boy to take them to Duke Jeon’s horse.
Akhal looked like a poem, ethereal and almost impossible. She was a slim horse, so short-haired it seemed she had no hair at all; the metallic sheen of her coat made her look like a statue made of gold, or the shiny metal Duke Jeon’s necklace was fashioned from. The omega picked up a turnip from a feeding bucket and fed it to the mare as he took off his glove and patted her neck with his other hand.
“She’s unreal,” he said in a reverent whisper. “Where did you find such a horse?”
“In Oxus. It’s a landlocked kingdom on the continent of Atlina and the natives told me she would never survive the voyage by ship, but something in her eyes told me she was ready for an adventure.”
“She must have cost a fortune.”
“She would have, but she was gifted to me. The Queen of Oxus is a good friend and he wanted me to have something to remember him by when I announced I was leaving.”
“An omega friend?” Jimin asked, his voice full of suspicion.
“Indeed. There are kingdoms in which omegas rule the land and can have alpha friends.”
Jimin gave him an incredulous look.
“If you don’t believe me, there are plenty of books written about it. Not fairy tales either. Travellers’ reports.”
The omega let his head drop, absently petting the horse’s neck.
“Don’t mock me. You know that I am not allowed to read.” His voice was brimming with shame, mood suddenly sunk even lower than before the alpha had managed to break the ice.
Jungkook bit down on his lips, cursing himself.
How could he have forgotten? He had been away too long, and being at home with other cultures must have distracted him, but of course he knew. It was the law in Kisha: literacy instruction was delayed for all children until after they presented just to avoid future omegas learning how to read.
He took a step closer, speaking in a low voice.
“When this is over, and we go home to Tama,” he cleared his throat. “Would you like me to teach you?”
“It is forbidden.”
“I don’t care.” Jungkook was overwhelmed by a sudden urge to take Jimin in his arms, thinking that his embrace would better show how earnest he was than his words ever could.
Jimin raised his head, looking him in the eyes, unbelieving.
“I don’t care,” Jungkook repeated, holding his gaze. He wanted Jimin to trust him so badly it made all wishes he had ever had seem inconsequential in comparison. The alpha couldn’t explain it; they had only just met but standing so close to the young omega made something new bloom in his chest. Both the cunning and calculation that flashed in Jimin’s eyes when they were talking earlier, and the trained modesty and primness he had put on during the ceremony were gone from the omega’s face; Jungkook felt like he was truly seeing the real Jimin, stripped of his layers of pretense.
“I would like that very much,” Jimin whispered.
Another omega would be too scared to even consider it. There were others who would consider it and end up conflicted and refuse, burdened by a guilty conscience. Jimin’s thirst for knowledge was too great to hide or be disguised and Jungkook felt like he had just offered him a gift much greater than all the diamonds and the rubies in the world.
“Consider it done,” he said, standing so close he could feel the warmth of the omega’s breath on his face. Gazing at Jimin’s plump lips, bitten pink by the cold air, the alpha felt oddly tempted to kiss him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt a pull so strong, but it wasn’t just the strength of the attraction - it was its uniqueness. There was so much to discover, so many layers to peek under, like a strange, exquisitely crafted and beautiful object Jungkook was gifted, but the purpose of which remained a secret.
He smiled, resisting the temptation. It wasn’t just inappropriate before they were officially mated – it felt like trading concessions, or even worse, like claiming a reward for offering the gift of literacy and Jungkook needed no payment for righting a wrong. Moving away a little, he looked around. “What do you say we take my dog for a walk?”
“You have a dog, too?” Jimin smiled, obviously relieved to change the topic to something less illegal, now that they’d arranged a conspiracy. “What colour? Silver?” He slipped back into his teasing mode, but his eyes sparkled with a fresh kind of delight.
“I’m sorry to disappoint,” Jungkook smirked. “He’s brown. When you’re on the move as much as I have been, leaving friends behind becomes an everyday thing. As sad as it may sound, my dog is my best friend.”
“I see. Then let’s take this best friend for a walk. The kennels are this way.”
Jungkook’s dog was called Bam, and he, too, was of a hunting breed Jimin had been unfamiliar with, tall and slim with a broad chest and floppy ears. It was true what they said about dogs and their owners looking alike. The Duke was tall and slim, with an exceptionally broad chest and although he didn’t have silly ears, there was something youthful and playful about him and Jimin half expected him to break into a merry trot, chasing after Bam across the frozen field.
They walked for not more than an hour, but an hour was enough for Jimin to start feeling like he was talking to a friend; only the knot tightening in his belly every time their eyes met reminded him that Jungkook was more than that. The Duke talked about his travels; how his ship, the Howling, had been stranded in a far off land after an epic storm and the locals agreed to help them pull it back into the sea provided that a human sacrifice was made.
“Do not tell me you killed one of your crew just to appease them!” Jimin gasped, eyes going wide. Jungkook’s adventures were more exciting than any folk tale he’d been told as a child.
“No. It turned out that just like the High Priest, they were susceptible to bribes. They were also better negotiators than our pontifex. In the end I had to part with my sextant and most of my gold.”
“But how did you navigate without a sextant?”
“I had a spare one,” Jungkook chuckled and Jimin sighed in relief. “But not as good as the one I’d given them.”
By the time they chose to make their return to the castle, their upper arms were touching, both of them reluctant to pull away. There was a stone bench at the garden wall and Jimin yearned to extend their time alone and postpone slipping into roles they were expected to play for just a little longer.
“Shall we sit for a while?” He suggested, warmed up by the brisk walk.
Jungkook agreed, throwing the edge of his cape over the bench for the omega to sit on.
“I have a story of my own to share,” Jimin said, looking at his mittens. “But I need you to promise you won’t laugh at me or tell me I’m silly.”
The alpha turned towards him with a serious expression.
“We haven’t spent much time together, but surely by now you must know I’m not the kind of man who would do that,” he said, brow furrowing.
Jimin took a deep breath, shifting on his seat.
“Earlier… When you put the headpiece on me and you held up the mirror to my face. Instead of diamonds, I saw tears, and instead of rubies, blood on snow. And ever since, this bad premonition has been hanging like a cloud over my head, and I can’t help but feel like our mating is cursed. I know I shouldn’t be thinking that, because this… you and me… it’s going well.” He sunk his head lower to hide a shy smile. “Better than I ever could have hoped for and I feel like the luckiest omega in the whole world. But I can’t get it out of my head.”
It felt good, getting it off of his chest, but Jimin still feared the alpha’s reaction. Any rational man would mock his superstition, and Jeon Jungkook seemed a no-nonsense kind of person; even Jimin himself would have laughed it off if he hadn’t seen the blood, as clear as day.
“I see…” Jungkook murmured, the line between his eyebrows deepening. “When you say that it feels cursed - do you believe in curses?”
“I don’t. Our faith teaches us that such things are pagan superstitions. But this has never happened before and I feel like I’m going mad…” He sighed in frustration, letting his eyelids drop. The Duke put his arm around Jimin’s shoulders, although they weren’t supposed to touch. He pulled him in an embrace so warm, it felt like being kissed by the sun.
“I don’t think you’re going mad,” the alpha said in a soft voice. “I just think it’s all really overwhelming. You said it yourself - it has never happened before. But you’ve also never been about to get mated before. The whole court is in uproar, all these expectations to do well, say the right thing – it’s daunting, especially for a young omega.” He paused, as if needing a moment to compose his thoughts. “Those jewels… It hadn’t occurred to me before, but they are drop-shaped and rubies did look like blood against your pale skin. All this stress, it must have produced the image in your mind. You were so nervous when I saw you although you did your best not to let it show. I could see your hands shaking. But so were mine…”
“They were?” Jimin raised his eyes. They were a little glassy. “You didn’t seem nervous at all.”
“It’s just a practised act. Practically my job description. A diplomat never lets their real feelings show. But you hear all these stories about omegas needing weeks to just stop crying after an arranged mating, and then months before they can even talk to you… It’s understandable, the violence of having a stranger suddenly rule over your life. I didn’t want to have that with someone who was supposed to be my companion in life. I guess that’s why I didn’t get mated when I was supposed to.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“So am I…” Jungkook chuckled, looking like a much younger man. When he was alone with Jimin, his whole demeanour changed beyond recognition, not a trace left of the cocky adventurer bent on twisting religious tradition.
“But you did decide to get mated now,” Jimin probed. “Please don’t tell me it was just the song that made you change your mind.”
“It wasn’t…” Jungkook huffed with amusement. “But I’m afraid the answer is not very romantic. I may spend a decade abroad, but at the end of the day, I am a Duke of this kingdom and it is my duty to marry. My people see me as a role model, I need to lead by example. To live in my castle and provide an heir to Pack Jeon. But I don’t want you to stress over any of that now. You’ve got enough on your plate as is and I just want us to get to know each other, take it step by step.” He paused, gnawing on his lip, deep in thought. “Maybe… These dark thoughts, these doubts, what if they sprang to life because it’s all… kind of too good to be true? When I felt your scent last night and I caught a glimpse of nothing more than your braid whipping out as you ran… And then your voice in the dark – I don’t know what came over me, I was so excited I couldn’t sleep. And I can’t remember the last time that happened.”
“Maybe back when you thought one of your crew members was going to be sacrificed to a pagan god?” Jimin managed to smile.
“That’s right…” Jungkook huffed in relief. “Definitely didn’t get a wink that night.” He held him a bit closer for reassurance. “But even that pickle ended well, and I’m sure this will, too.”
“Even if the price is high?” Jimin blurted out. He didn’t know why he’d said it. What made him mention paying a price? It must have been the story of the sextant and the gold pieces that was still fresh on his mind, and for a second he regretted saying it, fearful that he might seem even crazier and scare Jungkook away.
“Even if the price is high. I promise you a happy ending.”
The alpha’s confident yet soft tone flowed like honey into Jimin’s ear, making him feel protected and cherished, like the self-proclaimed luckiest omega in the world was supposed to feel.
“Jungkook…” Jimin's shy whisper crackled in the stillness of the winter air.
“Hm?”
“Will you kiss me?”
The omega had no idea how he’d mustered the courage to ask the question. Maybe it was a safe one, because two days from now, he wouldn’t have to ask - being kissed by a mate in private was to be expected, but kissing before a mating was a taboo, like so many other things. It didn’t matter that they had already gone through the veiling ceremony and nothing stood in the way of their betrothal, it simply wasn’t done. No exceptions.
The alpha felt guilty that Jimin should even have to ask. He didn’t care that it wasn’t allowed, he didn’t even care whether Jimin’s chaperone was lurking behind a tree, ready to intervene. Jimin shouldn’t have had to ask.
He took his gloves off and raised his hands up to the omega’s face, letting his fingers slip under the wimple and cup Jimin’s cold-pinched cheeks. Jimin was a frozen little bird, a winter sparrow in Jungkook’s palms, scent blooming with excitement and anxiety.
Didn’t he know he couldn’t do anything wrong? Didn’t he know he’d won his alpha’s heart without even fighting for it, lightly, without warning? The moment he felt Jimin’s scent, the Duke was intrigued; the moment he laid eyes on the young omega, kneeling on the velvet pillow like a precious jewel on display, Jungkook was smitten. As their lips touched and the frozen tip of Jimin’s nose dug into the alpha’s cheek, Jungkook was nothing more than a fool in love, a boy. Hunger flamed in his gut, prompting him to deepen the kiss, pulling Jimin’s slender body into a firm embrace.
Ah, the first kiss. Has there ever been a sweeter rite of passage? Within seconds, Jimin was no longer a child, but someone mature, someone taken seriously, on equal footing with the most handsome, dashing alpha he had ever seen. To be desired by someone like Jungkook – it was a whole new world. Jimin was healed by the kiss, body and mind. The kiss didn’t just warm him; it unraveled him, dissolving every lingering doubt, every shadow of unease. The cold melted from his skin, and with it, the last remnants of fear and worry, leaving him comforted and safe, the safest he’d ever been. Jungkook kissed him breathless, making the world spin and it took Jimin a moment to realise it was over, to remember how to breathe and blink open his eyes as the alpha finally pulled away.
“H-how was that?” Jungkook stuttered like a clumsy teenager, although there was nothing clumsy about the kiss they’d shared - it was obvious to Jimin that the Duke had kissed many omegas before. He wished to believe all those kisses didn’t count, because this truly felt like a start of something more important - it was written all over the alpha’s face, now that his defences were down. He looked like a different man - not a cynical, daring libertine, but someone willing to take on the task nature had assigned him before the beginning of time: to guide and protect.
“More…” Jimin whispered hoarsely, folding his arms around Jungkook’s neck, consumed by a strange kind of thirst that seemed to leave him more parched the more he drank.
With each swirl of their tongues, Jungkook was closer to losing control. He could feel the faint scent of Jimin’s slick sweeten the winter air, messing with his brain, robbing him of precious will power. It was almost amusing, the way he responded to Jimin, because Jungkook was no stranger to temptation. On his travels, the alpha had met many omegas, male and female, willing and able, unrestrained, who had made it clearer what their intentions were than Jimin ever could. His lack of experience was so precious and touching, so genuine: all he wanted was more, another kiss, another touch, ready to give Jungkook not just a hot night of pleasure but his whole life.
When the alpha broke off the kiss and lifted the wimple, moving his lips to the omega’s scent gland, Jimin gave out a broken moan, a shiver running through his body. The alpha’s lips on his neck were making him melt with arousal.
“Do– do you want me, alpha?” He stuttered as his eyelids closed.
“Like I never wanted anyone before,” Jungkook murmured. It was the whole truth. Jimin was so pure and delicious, he seemed like the perfect prize at the end of years of wandering, not knowing whether he’d meet his end on the sharp blade of a pirate’s sabre or bottom of the sea after the next heavy storm. Jungkook’s ship persisted, stronger than the ocean, although sometimes his crew perished of scurvy or some unknown fever. Some decided they wanted to stay on the other end of the world, founding their own packs with omegas who couldn’t speak their language, because sometimes happiness didn't need a translation. Still, Jungkook sailed on, from one mission to the next, for years on end. Relentless and patient, as if he had felt that Jimin was waiting for him to make it all worthwhile. “I can’t wait to make you mine.”
“Yes…” Jimin mumbled, but his mind was gone, already deep in submission, body pliant and ready to be taken, if only the alpha decided to do so.
Jungkook liked to think he would have stopped of his own accord, that he had the willpower to do so even if he hadn’t heard someone clear their throat right behind them.
“I’m sorry your Grace,” a resonant, slightly raspy voice shook him out of it and when he raised his head from Jimin’s neck, he saw Hoseok - Lady Jung - standing by the garden gate. A thick plume of steam rose from his mouth as he spoke. “It wouldn’t be wise to get carried away,” he said diplomatically, because it was more than obvious that was exactly what Jungkook was doing - getting carried away on a wave of lust, with Jimin robbed of his power to think straight, let alone say no.
For a fleeting instant, Jungkook’s alpha’s first impulse was to bare his teeth and chase the intruder away, but his reason was jolted awake by the chaperone’s voice.
“Yes… yes, of course,” he murmured. “I apologise. It wasn’t very chivalrous of me.” He cleared his throat, moving away. Jimin seemed to regain enough control not to topple over when Jungkook let him go.
“It was… It was me, Hoseok. My idea,” he said in a voice plump with desire, the scent of slick still heavy between them.
“Soon enough you will be mated, milady.” Hoseok said, just because he couldn’t call him a hussy in front of the Duke.
“What were you thinking?” Hoseok urged in an angry tone once they’d returned to the castle and the omega-in-waiting was helping Jimin out of his wet clothes.
“I wasn’t,” the Duke’s son giggled, still flustered by the kiss. On their way back, the couple’s gloved hands were touching, although Hoseok now chose to walk just five steps behind. “Oh, Hoseok, it was so exciting, I can’t stop thinking about it!”
“Yes, which is why you don’t kiss like that if you’re not going to go all the way. Look at your underwear!”
Jimin knew he was supposed to be ashamed; his body was still overly sensitive and yearning to be touched. “Oh, I don’t care. It was worth it.” His smile only stretched wider. “Hoseok, isn’t he a dream?”
“He is a very handsome alpha,” the omega-in-waiting answered, helping him into dry clothes.
“Very handsome? He’s more handsome than the royal prince. And more handsome than Ser Yang and that Allurian minstrel everyone’s swooning over. His hands are so strong. The kiss, it robs you of strength but he could have carried me, Hobi. He could have carried me to the end of the world! I felt so tiny in his arms…”
“Well, you are tiny…”
“I’m almost as tall as you!” Jimin pouted, pulling his head through a modest woollen gown with a high collar. In the next moment, his protest was forgotten as he threw himself on the bed, staring at the canopy with a blissful look on his face. “It was worth it, the waiting. How lucky am I? Not just to be mated to such a dashing man, but to fall in love with him at first sight! It’s like a fairytale!”
“Which one? Fairytales are stories full of dread and awful trials!”
“But in the end, they always end well! And I’ve just skipped to the ending. Don’t you see?” He kicked his feet in glee. “This is my happily ever after! Living in his sunny duchy by the sea, bearing him heirs. What more can an omega wish for?” Jimin suddenly sat up, and said in a hush voice, “Hoseok, he’s going to teach me how to read!”
The other omega’s eyes glistened with excitement he could no longer conceal. “How did you talk him into that?”
“I didn’t!” Jimin threw himself back on the bed. “He suggested it! Oh, he truly is the best mate I could ever wish for.”
And so the afternoon continued with Jimin singing praises to his future mate and needily curling against his omega-in-waiting. The kiss had set him on fire and at dinner he couldn’t stop staring at Duke Jeon, both of them exchanging shy smiles because they were seated too far apart to speak.
The person Jimin was very intentionally seated next to was the one in charge of the seating arrangement and many other things at Duke Park’s court - his mother.
The duchess was a matronly omega in her early sixties, soft-spoken but firm. Just like all other mated omegas in the great hall, she was sporting the leather collar that covered her scent glands, but Jimin knew the chilly lavender of his mother’s scent anywhere, even if it was so muted only the person sitting right next to her could catch a faint whiff.
“You seem to like your future mate,” the duchess said as soon as the first course was served.
“Yes, mother. I like him very much indeed. I know it was you who insisted on the match. Thank you.”
“You’ve always been my favourite, cherry pie,” the Duchess used her own nickname for Jimin, inspired by his sweet disposition and the rosy colour of his cheeks. “Not just because you’re an omega. As a person. The strength of character, the wit. You’re worth more than all the others put together. If you had presented as alpha, you would have been King by now.” She said in an earnest voice. ‘The others’ she spoke of were her nine alpha sons and her husband. Although she was admired for being so fruitful and bearing so many alphas, when speaking to Jimin the Duchess never referred to them by name, as if they were a single, albeit many-headed beast.
“How did you do it?” Jimin said in a lower voice, slipping into the more informal discourse he practised with his mother when they were on their own.
“I told him I couldn’t bear to be parted from you, but that’s just half the truth. I knew Jeon wasn’t like the rest of them. As you know, I have spies at court; I had read his diplomatic reports before the King himself did. He was oddly strong-willed for an ambassador, reluctant to lick the King’s boots. Sly as a fox, too, just like you. More likely to make peace with these godforsaken kingdoms he travelled around than instigate rebellions and sell them weapons. The King didn’t appreciate that at all.”
“But he wasn’t recalled?” Jimin murmured, smiling to one of the alphas on his father’s council who was observing their conversation with considerable interest, frustrated that he was unable to eavesdrop.
“No. Duke Jeon is much too rich and powerful to be ordered around without a solid reason. Besides, his trade deals were worth it. The kingdom has never been more prosperous thanks to his contract with Alluria.”
“Yet the small folk go hungry.”
“It is the way of the world, cherry pie. It’s the gold that makes the king a king, not his lineage,” the duchess smiled whimsically. She then turned, gazing into her son’s eyes. “Ways of the world are another thing I wanted to speak to you about. In a few days, you’re going to start your journey to Castle Tama and begin your new life. I can only suppose that a man of Duke Jeon’s liberal manners would be likely to grant you greater freedoms than those we’re used to here at Bezdan. Has he already hinted at it during your walk?”
“How did you know?” Jimin’s mind was blown. Certainly his mother had many spies but knowing such details was beyond even her reach.
“Just a lucky guess. His veiling stunt suggested it,” the Duchess hid her smirk behind a gloved hand. “But you must be careful and wise, my darling. He may be a free spirit, but he is also the duke of the realm, one of the most powerful men in this kingdom. Whether he likes it or not, he is a role model to many. His father was so popular and mighty, even the king feared him, grateful that the Sea Wolf didn’t challenge his power. He let him treat a bastard as his own son, giving Jeon Junghyun not only his name – which was unheard of – but also the second largest territory in the Mark and Castle Ponor.”
“That is indeed unheard of. How did the Sea Wolf pull it off?” Jimin asked, thirsty for the gossip.
“Junghyun’s mother was the Sea Wolf’s lowborn soulmate. He loved her above all others but he was a Duke, the Lord of the Mark; when the time came, he was forced to marry an omega of his own standing. Jungkook’s mother was an Allurian noble’s daughter, many years his junior and when she died at childbirth, Junghyun’s mother took care of both boys. The Sea Wolf couldn’t give Junghyun his name but he insisted on the boy and his mother being granted the Castle of Ponor, and the surrounding lands after his death. Of course, Jungkook remained his rightful heir, but as you can see, he is still very close to his brother.”
The Duchess glanced at the Lord of Ponor, sitting next to the Duke. The Sea Wolf’s older son was quite obviously sired by the same alpha; both men were graced with handsome faces and broad shoulders, but only one was of noble blood while the other had ruled the Mark in his brother’s absence, no less competent in spite of his humble background.
“Look at them, one more handsome than the other,” the Duchess murmured, hand raised to her mouth. “But only the one you’re about to mate is burdened by duty. Do not test his boundaries, for I assure you, he will uphold them. He has to. Messing with the High Priest is one thing, but leading the vassals of the Mark is something quite different. For better or worse, Jungkook is not the Sea Wolf, and not even his father was all-powerful, though the people carried him on his shoulders through the streets of the capital.” The duchess slowly nodded, deep in thought. She spoke on with a tinge of resentment to her tone. “Yes, the small folk will go hungry while we get to keep the gold, but we sacrifice our freedom for it. If I had been born a peasant’s daughter, I wouldn’t have to wear this collar.”
“You shouldn’t worry, mother. I have no intention of abusing his trust. He was so wonderful and kind… I believe I love him already!” He took hold of his mother’s hand and pressed his lips against the knuckles. “Thank you… Thank you so much.”
“Godspeed, cherry pie,” the Duchess smiled, a little sad that her most beloved child was about to be taken from her. “I hope he deserves you.”
It was a mother’s duty to be cautious – especially a loving mother like Jimin’s. Perhaps this time next year, Jimin would be on his own way of becoming a mother, and perhaps then he’d understand. For now, he was certain only of this: an alpha who could make him fall in love with just a kiss, someone who could dispel his dark thoughts with reason and offer him forbidden, precious things, was not just the right man to mate, but a true gift from God.
For the hundredth time that evening, his gaze found Jungkook’s across the smoke, the music, the noise. What passed between them was pure love — newborn and radiant as a crescent moon after one cycle of life ended and another began.