Chapter Text
For as long as he could remember, Akaashi Keiji knew what his life would be like.
The privileged son of a prestigious head of state, intelligent, and beautiful, Keiji was uncertain as to why a match for him was not secured until he was nearly an adult. It was true that he did not entertain most suitors who came to visit, and it was true that he did not bother to mask his dislike for them — not out of a misplaced sense of resentment for the young men and women who he would possibly marry, but out of a genuine dislike for their conduct. For their loud voices, for how they spoke over him, and for how quick to anger they became when he confronted them about their rudeness. He couldn’t believe that his parents factored in his personal feelings when deciding on his future mate. So, why his okāsan and otōsan choose who they did was beyond him. Because Suzumeoka, unlike so many others — take the reliable Kingdom of Nekoma, for instance, with a stable all-encompassing wall and bountiful economy — had no money, a weak military, and was suffering a draught. What would struggling Suzumeoka, a prime target for conquering and lawless kings, offer Mori? But — he supposed he should not complain. Prince Suzumeoka’s juniper scent could almost remind him of a library or his room at home, and he predicted he would come to be comforted by it.
The wedding took place on the last day of summer in a remote grove by the outskirts of Mori. Keiji was woken before the sun rose over the horizon, his okāsan giving him a fragrant cup of steaming jasmine tea but nothing else. She helped prepare him for the wedding ceremony, straightened his muted attire, adorned him, rouged his face and brushed his curls, before escorting him to the coach that would deliver him to the intimate venue. His otōsan sat in the coach with him, and though Keiji did not expect him to be outwardly exuberant — he never was — a strange mood seemed to have seized him sometime between dinner the previous night and the coach ride. Perhaps he was just barely realizing his giving away of Keiji to Prince Suzumeoka was not a symbiotic move but a high-stakes gamble, at best. He only glanced at Keiji once, when his okāsan ushered him onto the coach, and nodded. His dark eyes strayed to the open window to his left and stayed there. He did not speak throughout the duration of the long ride; he did not share any last words of advice with his son; he did not tell him he would miss him. The heavily wooded area the coachman cut through on his way to their destination was likewise strange. The dense wood’s foliage cast gaping darkness on the road despite the noon sun that beat down on Mori and served to remind Keiji of all sorts of dark things. He had to reminded himself more than once that it was still summer, even if only for one day more, and not fall.
The priest, ordained in and imported from Suzumeoka, was pale, and when a deep horn sounded through the air over the grove’s treetops, he became paler. Wild animals and wedding attendees alike startled. Beside him, Prince Suzumeoka’s juniper scent spiked and the hand that held Keiji’s for the ceremony gripped onto him tighter than moments before. In classic alpha fashion, he snarled and demanded to know what was going on. Though he did not make it a habit to agree with upset and pushy alphas, Keiji, with a heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings and instincts screaming at him to run run run, allowed the exception. He would appreciate knowing what that dreaded sound was. And he and his betrothed, his almost-husband, received their answer when, minutes later, the ground shook and into their quaint wedding grove stormed an unsightly cavalry. Rugged burly alphas, barely clothed in white, gray, and brown furs, decked in weighty engraved gold bearing foreign symbols, scattered the Mori and Suzumeoka peoples. They howled and cackled as they tormented beta and omega attendees with swinging swords and oppressive pheromones. The few brave alphas who attempted to take on the intruders were cut down comically fast, and a dreadful metallic scent soon mingled with the suffocating alphas’ scents. Keiji gagged and tried to stand and flee. But his efforts were noticed — how could they not be? Most omegas were paralyzed on the floor, and he’d always been unusually tall and resilient for an omega. A hand clamped onto his wrist — not his almost-husband’s, like before — and he was yanked backwards. A cry escaped his lips, and he could not help but whip around and face his assailant.
Wide eyes, golden like the heart of a fire, pierced his. He was not too different in appearance from the other intruders, though Keiji hazily noted that this one’s hair was odd. It stood up and was decorated with long feathers. And the other alphas, they did not eye him like that — they did not rake their gazes up and down his body with shameful intent, did not so obviously undress him in their minds’ eyes. He began to tremble violently and could not stop the quiet whimpers that vibrated within his throat as he attempted in vain to claw his way out of the alpha’s grip. The alpha did not let up, only growled menacingly as he drew the omega into his bare, sweat-slickened chest, unperturbed that his prey fiercely thrashed in his hold. Likely enjoyed it. Keiji felt a mouth attach itself to nearly the back of his slender unblemished neck — the traditional claiming spot for mates, respected cross-culturally, universally cherished. Felt fangs prod at a quivering vein just beneath its skin, one that waited for years to burst under the right pressure, the right mate. Anything but this. Anyone but —
It was a strange sensation when the alpha’s fangs and other blunt teeth punctured his flesh. There was pain. Pain he had read about in the past but could never truly conceptualize or empathize with. Each second, he thought that the pain could not intensify beyond that second’s time, but the following one never failed to prove him wrong. At once, too, his fear reached its zenith, and he finally found his body paralyzed. But, beneath the physical agony, he also seemed to feel the Alpha’s emotions. The insatiable power-hunger, overbearing smugness, burning pride — even, and especially, the insistent lust — could not belong to Keiji. A long, drawn out moan was breathed into the alpha’s ear. He growled lowly once more in response. Keiji's blood sprinkled onto the ground at their feet. There, by the prone body of his almost-husband.
Bitten, bleeding, and claimed — yes, Akaashi Keiji knew this was what life would be like. Life was everything he expected it to be. Except, it was not.