Archive of Our Own

Jimin trails his fingers through the shallow pool hugging the corner-most column of the inner courtyard. He has to be here today, as a royal prince, but as someone so far away from the throne in importance and rank, it doesn’t mean he has to pay the strictest attention.

As an omega prince, the ceremony and talk of internal politicking is even more boring, as he is automatically removed from the line of succession due to the kingdom’s opinion on the ruling abilities of omegas. They’d destroy the whole kingdom, was the general consensus, with their instinct-driven and hypnotic effects on alphas.

Jimin had read oh-so-many philosophical works on the dangers of omegas, of their supposed wiles and inability to reason logically like alphas could. His general takeaway was that for some reason the biggest, most powerful alphas in the kingdom were generally the loudest in their assertions of omega inferiority. They stood the most to lose by being wrong, he supposed.

As a rare and desirable object of destruction, Jimin was mostly just very bored. Palace life is a rigid and tedious series of rituals and subtle jockeying for position and power. Jimin is irrelevantly positioned, and he knows he upsets his concubine mother with his complete lack of interest in elevating his place in the pecking order. Because although Jimin is nowhere near the throne, although he is crammed in the back of the courtyard as a son of the king and one of many concubines, although his mother is not a favorite, and although there are tens of sons much more prominently positioned, Jimin has something he could use to make moves, were he so inclined.

He is not inclined, but if he wanted to. He could.

He’s a male omega. When he was born the king called him the Flower of the Summer Palace, as he was the only male omega born to his line in near a century. The last had been a beautiful favorite of the king born to him by his queen and very nearly became the king’s consort to the prince who came after, until a small civil war broke out over his hand. Nothing major, just a few months of bloody fighting over the beautiful omega. The omega, named Sunjin, was killed by a hired servant to put an end to the fighting by an alliance of the great families. So, omegas bring disorder, male omegas doubly so.

Jimin doesn’t want to cause trouble, and he can feel the disappointed, heavy stare of his mother from her even more irrelevant position in the courtyard.

What good is beauty and charm if a fool won’t use it? He can almost hear her say it with the way she glares at him. 

But Jimin is not his mother. Jimin does not long for a highborn alpha to look his way and take him to the throne. Jimin does not twirl away, leaving his scent on alphas’ minds. He does not bat his eyes and make them look twice. He does not touch their arm, laughing too hard at a joke, phantom touch lingering. Instead, he trails his fingers in the pool and torments his protector.

“Jungkook-ah.” He sighs, and the sworn protector flicks his eyes over to his charge without moving from his guarded stance. Jimin can read in the clench of his jaw and the fidgeting of his hands how Jimin’s lackadaisical attitude towards the proceedings is stressing him out. “This is so dull; when can I return to the gardens?”

“Your grace…you know well we may not leave until the king dismisses us.” Jungkook’s deep alpha timbre pinched down to a distressed whisper is worth the effort it takes to rile him up. 

Jimin huffs an exasperated breath that flutters his bangs. They’re getting too long and won’t fit the royal dress protocol soon but Jimin likes his hair longer and likes to push the boundaries.

He flicks an impish splash of water at Jungkook, leaving a few small water-darkened spots on his jeogori. A muscle works in Jungkook’s jaw.

“Your grace…please.” He says softly, voice tense.

Jimin sits up and stops playing with the water. He frowns at his bodyguard.

“It’s no fun when you get all serious on me.”

“And if you’re caught messing around during the ceremony who do you think is likely to be harshly disciplined? You, or me?” Jungkook remarks, voice conveying his palpable need for Jimin to sit still and quit being a nuisance.

Jimin does, albeit with a great deal of huffing and shaking his sleeves about.

Jungkook has probably lasted this long as Jimin’s sworn protector because he’s the only one who can make Jimin do anything.

The rituals finally come to an end. En masse, the assembled nobles and their attendants turn and file out of the courtyard to their lessons, or the concubines back to their gardens, or off to council meetings if their position is actually of ruling relevance. Jimin pushes past a gaggle of concubines—eliciting a few disapproving murmurs and a flurry of Jungkook’s apologies—on his way back to the gardens.

He has a favorite corner in the lush maze, twisting and turning and designed to create privacy and mystery around its occupants. Jimin plucks his story from the bench he’d left it and settles behind a bush blooming with crimson flowers—he could never remember the names no matter how many times his tutor drilled them into his head. He had a much better mind for history, for poetry, for remembering his favorite writers than he ever would for gardening.

“Your grace, all that just to read?” Jungkook sounds weary when he stands on the other side of the bush, glints of his sword hilt and the simple ornamentation in his hair peeking through the red blossoms. He doesn’t come around to be next to Jimin when he says this; always keeping his distance.

“Absolutely all that to read. Do you want me to pretend I have any interest in that interminable peacocking?” Jimin huffs, and searches for where he’d left off.

“I know you don’t, but it might do you some good to at least not draw attention to how you don’t care—they’ll make a eunuch of me once and for all if we draw the King’s ire.”

Jimin seizes on this, always ready to tease the alpha, “Well what concern of that is mine? Certainly a eunuch as a sworn protector would be safer, no? Why ARE you so attached to your knot, anyway? It’s not like you’ll be sharing it with any omegas in your position.”

“Can’t help it.” Jungkook finally teases back—probably because they’re alone. Jimin can never get him to budge otherwise. “I’m attached to it in…many ways, whether it will see vigorous use or not.”

Jimin’s cheeks flame at the use of ‘vigorous’ and he tries and fails not to picture Jungkook demonstrating the shades of meaning. He hunches further into his corner, trying to hide his red face, hoping Jungkook will mistake it as a trick of looking through the red flowers.

“Your grace, you’re looking flushed. Are you overheated?”

So much for that.

“I’m fine.” Jimin says coldly, turning another half turn so that he’s almost sitting in the corner facing the wall. Putting himself in timeout, even. He chances a glance over to Jungkook who is looking away, scanning around the garden in the common habit of sworn protectors. It’s hard to tell if Jungkook knows what he looks like, or how he affects Jimin. If he does, he hides it well.

Frankly, if the King or his mother knew what kinds of things Jimin thinks about his bodyguard they would’ve castrated the poor alpha years ago on principle. Thankfully, Jimin’s thoughts stay locked in his brain…and sometimes his cheeks…for the sake of the alpha’s anatomy.

They lapse into silence, Jungkook falling back into his role so completely as to make Jimin wonder whether he’d imagined the playful banter. He’s reading, but he’s also watching Jungkook. It’s a favorite pastime. Anytime the alpha seems like he’s becoming aware of Jimin’s gaze, or he turns to check on the prince, Jimin flicks his eyes back down to his reading.

The day could pass like this. They could spend the whole afternoon in quiet solitude with breaks for meals, if not for Jimin’s mother.

“Of course you’re back here.”

Jimin looks up to see Jungkook deep in a bow and his mother in his corner, silhouetted against the creamy sunlight and blocking the breeze.

“Hiding.” She adds, disdain dripping off the word.

Jimin sets his story aside, “How can I be hiding if you know exactly where to find me?”

“Don’t be a smart ass.” She hisses, “You’re wasting away back here.” She shoots a glance at Jungkook’s prone form, “Someone should be stricter on you.”

“For what reason?” Jimin offers petulantly, “Nothing is happening. Even if it was, it wouldn’t be happening to me.”

“But it could!” His mother insists, lurching forward and gripping his upper arm. As a concubine, she could get reprimanded for touching a member of the royal family without permission, but as Jimin’s mother it’s not like he’s going to be the one to do it. “The King’s brother and his sons are back from the coast. They’ve brought their generals to stay for some time. All of this is opportunity. For you. For me. You could show a little initiative.”

“To do what, exactly? Bed my uncles or their children? Keep a military man warm? Mother, if you wanted me to be a concubine you shouldn’t have had me with the King.” Jimin pulls his arm out of her grip. Jungkook flinches slightly on the ground and Jimin looks at him, bemused, before his mother’s animosity pulls him back to their conversation.

“Bed them if you must but the ultimate goal is marriage; don’t be stupid.”

“You reach too high.” Jimin complains. “That would put me too close to the throne—especially for the omega-phobic court’s liking. The King’s advisor is particularly opposed to male omegas in the royal line.”

“Who cares what the advisor thinks when you’re married to the Grand Prince?” She whispers, slightly treasonous but it’s not like Jimin or Jungkook would tell on her.

“I do. Advisors have a history of murdering omegas like me in my bed.” Jimin points out.

“That’s why you have a protector.” She says, glossing over any implied danger, “He’ll protect you.”

Jimin looks down at Jungkook on the ground again.

“Mother, I don’t want to.”

“Well, at this point I don’t particularly care what you want. You have a fitting; I’ve ordered you new silks for tonight at considerable expense to my allowance.” She holds up a hand to forestall his complaints. “Jungkook, escort the prince to the tailor and subdue him should he try to run away.” She smooths Jimin’s bangs back from his face, traces the bow of his full upper lip, “You’ll do this for the mother who bore you, who sees what you can be. You’ll enchant tonight, and be charming for our visitors, and promise them with your eyes what you know they’ll want from you. Say you’ll do this for me.”

Jimin leans back from her touch to his face but he does sigh and acquiesce, “Okay mother. For you, I will try.”

She turns on her heel and walks away without a backward glance. Once she gets what she wants the conversation is usually over.

”I wish I could just run away.” Jimin says, to himself, “But even now I know I won’t.” 

Jungkook slowly straightens up from the floor, eyeing him.

“She’s correct, you know.”

Jimin scoffs, feeling stung, “I disagree that my life would be better by placing my head in the tiger’s mouth and asking it to crown me.”

“No, I mean she’s correct that I would protect you. From the advisors, from your future husband, from the King himself. I would protect you.” Jungkook’s voice is smoother, even lower than normal.

Jimin feels a weak flutter, like bird’s wings against his ribcage, and catches the bodyguard’s eye. Jungkook doesn’t hold it for more than a second.

“That would be treason, Jungkook-ah. Protecting me from the King when you serve the King. A fatal contradiction.” Jimin says slowly, eyes on the alpha’s profile.

“I don’t serve the King. I serve you.” Jungkook says with a degree of finality.

“No one serves their charge above the King.” Jimin argues. “There’s no distinction there; we are all at his service.”

“There’s a strong distinction to me.” Jungkook says, and then his demeanor shifts, “Now, how much are you going to fight me about this clothes fitting?”

Jimin feels a bit dizzy, still processing Jungkook’s words. But he won’t miss a chance to tease the alpha,

“Oh, vicious amounts of fighting. You’ve never seen such a battle of wits as between you, me, and this fitting.” He’s missing his usual amount of conviction, and if the small smile playing at the corners of Jungkook’s mouth is any indication, the alpha realizes it too.

~~~

Jimin stands, posture straight and chin level, but eyes rolling intermittently at the tediousness of fittings. The tailor fiddles with the fabric sweeping back into the characteristic royal silhouette for what seems like years. A tiny adjustment here, a small change to the hem there. It’s interminable. Jimin has been raised to deal with boredom but even he has his limits as it pertains to standing stock still and not letting his garment fold or buckle or change lengths from altering his stance.

He stares at Jungkook, poised in an almost identical stance by the entrance to the door, ostensibly guarding this process from interruption. How does his bodyguard do it? Jimin has seen Jungkook stand at rapt attention for twelve hours of a royal processional day or an evening of playing cards with the King. And here Jimin is fighting the urge to yawn or fidget after what can’t realistically be more than an hour.

He begins a game, as he is wont to do when he’s bored and the only person around to torment is Jungkook. He makes exaggerated faces and pulls comical expressions trying to catch Jungkook’s eye. He’s only rewarded when he finally contorts his whole face into one of abject misery. Even then, he only gets a moment of piercing eye contact and a fractional eyebrow raise before Jungkook surmises he’s not in any real actual pain and returns to studiously staring at the wall.

Jimin pouts. Jungkook never wants to play with him around other people. How frightfully dull.

“These silks are very fine.” The tailor remarks, carefully cultivated nonchalance in his words. He’s correct. They’re saturated with beautiful, jewel-like colors and are finely woven, clearly a specialty craftsman who probably only works for the grand princes and princesses, and maybe even the queen. “Your grace has good…and expensive…taste.”

“My mother selected them, so it’s not my taste.” Jimin says, carelessly, before playing back what he says and tensing even more in the tailor’s hold. He looks up to see curious eyes trained on him from where the tailor is holding the fabric drape.

“Your mother? That’s an extravagant gift from a lesser court member—“ Jimin tries not to react negatively to the dig at his mother, “—it must be an auspicious occasion.”

Jimin could hit himself for being so offhand. It’s one thing if Jimin is trying to make a splashy impression for his own sake—he’s a prince after all and are indulged in an attention-grabbing whim or two—but if it’s an irrelevantly positioned concubine making these plays…that’s a different story altogether. And no one is a more notorious hub of gossip and intrigue than a royal tailor.

“Occasion?” Jimin asks, trying to stall for time. He meets Jungkook’s eyes for one fractional second over the tailor’s shoulder and the alpha gives a tiny shake of the head. Like Jimin doesn’t already know he misspoke.

“Occasion, I should say so.” Jungkook pipes up, “His grace finally attended all of his lessons this month—the prince is not generally so studious. Perhaps she hoped this would serve as motivation…or maybe a bribe to keep his grace with his mind on his studies in the future.”

“Jungkook-ah that’s not fair.” Jimin whines, theatrically clasping his hands over his face as if to hide his blush. He surreptitiously rubs a thumb over his scent gland, releasing a few notes of his honey and lilac scent to swirl around the room as if to punctuate his embarrassment, “You and her both know I have no head for tactics and boring economics. If my tutors had any heart at all they would give up on those subjects and let me be. This is really the least she can do.”

The tailor laughs, endeared by the notion of royal stupidity—most of the people who work hard all day for the benefit of the royal family are happy to see them behave in embarrassing or foolish ways. Jimin rolls his eyes at Jungkook when the tailor bends down to resume his work,

“Well then let’s hope his grace manages to power through so I get to give you many more fittings in these silks. I’m sure your mother will be relieved, if maybe a bit lighter in the wallet.” He chuckles to himself as he continues to work his way around Jimin’s body and Jimin sticks out his tongue at Jungkook.

~~~

“I had that.” Jimin mutters, as they sweep down the hall towards dinner. The fitting had taken so long that it was now time for all the pre-dinner processionals and introductions and rituals. Jimin is stiff and sore and not particularly thrilled about his tasks tonight.

“Obviously not.” Jungkook hums, from where he’s a few steps behind him. “Are you trying to have every tradesman in the building know your mother is jockeying for political power by sundown?”

“You didn’t have to jump in. I knew how to play it.” Jimin complains again. He shifts uncomfortably; the soles of his feet are sore and there’s a lot more standing to come.

“If this is the level of competency at intrigue your mother is counting on I fear she’s going to be disappointed.” Jungkook quips.

“She’ll be disappointed no matter what.” Jimin mumbles, “I don’t want the same things she does. At a fundamental level, I can’t satisfy her.”

There’s silence for a little while, just their footsteps echoing in time.

“Why don’t you want to?” Jungkook asks after a while, “A powerful marriage doesn’t appeal to you?”

“You should know better than anyone by now that I just want to be left alone.” Jimin can’t quite keep the raw edge out of his voice.

They’re too close to the rest of the gathered nobles, so the conversation ends there.

~~~

Each member of the royal family is introduced and led in to dine, and with the King’s many sons and their sons and daughters and concubines and attendants it can be quite a long wait. On top of all that the military officials are in residence for the evening, so even though Jimin is announced and led in somewhere in the middle of the pack, there’s dozens of eyes on him in his rich silks, and dozens more to file in after him, eyes finding him standing out obviously and obtrusively even at his peripheral table.

Jimin, following his mother’s desires, cuts his eyes briefly up at each announced noble, and then back down immediately as they make eye contact. Beside him, Jungkook is still and silent as always.

Even though he’s not a master of it, even though he has no real desire to make this work for him…it does.

The processional is held up for several seconds at a time as nobles get locked into the omega prince’s gaze just long enough to vociferously desire more. To need more.

By the time the meal actually begins, Jimin’s got princes and grand princes and soldiers and princesses of all shapes and sizes craning necks over at him and whispering behind their hands.

Jimin takes demure, dainty bites, eyes cast modestly down at his own plate and lap. Every once in a while, when he can feel someone’s eyes for a beat too long, he’ll shift up and skewer them with a piercing look. They’ll sit, completely frozen, staring at him like a gulping fish, until no more than a second and a half later his eyes will widen, guileless, and he’ll dart his eyes away, chin ducking again.

“I’ve never seen you do that.” Jungkook whispers from next to him, making Jimin jolt and have to cover it by pretending he was shaking out and rearranging a sleeve. It’s a shock because Jungkook never speaks to him during formal events.

Jimin lifts his arm to briefly pass across his mouth while he moves a plate and whispers back,

“Why would you have? I’ve never tried.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer, but out of his peripherals Jimin can see the alpha duck his head, probably hiding a smile.

It was inevitable that someone would be bold.

A whole fish, taken from the high table, is picked up by an attendant and walked all the way across the room to be placed at Jimin’s feet who stares at it, puzzled.

“The Grand Prince desires that you should have first pick of this.”

Jimin wants to cringe, and roll his eyes. But instead he thinks of his mother, of her empty allowance, and widens his eyes to truly befuddled wonderment, bowing deep and pressing his forehead to the floor, showing the long slope of his neck off to its best advantage.

“The honor is too great,” he whispers, voice still able to carry around the room.

It seems as though the whole room is holding their breath as Jimin takes a piece of the fish, and puts it into his mouth. Privately, Jimin thinks they must look ridiculous, hanging on this minutiae, but publicly he turns his chin just so, flutters his eyes just so, and the nobles sigh at the sight of him.

Was it really this easy all along?

When the meal is ended the nobles recess out of the hall. Chattering and general moving noises come completely to a halt as Jimin moves across the floor. He is sinewy in his walk even on sore feet. He drops down into a deep bow before sweeping out of the hall, silks rustling, Jungkook two steps behind him.

Jimin lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as they move away from the throng of people.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Jungkook asks when they’ve turned off into a deserted hall.

Jimin stops, piqued by the tone in his voice and maybe also a little bit the annoyance of play acting,

“How useless do you imagine me?”

Jungkook’s eyes go big and round.

“First, I’m too childish to keep you out of trouble, then I’m too frivolous to do anything but read, next I’m too stupid to go to my lessons—“

“—that was only to dissuade the tailor’s curiosity—“ Jungkook interjects, but Jimin keeps pressing,

“—and now I’m too naive to enchant a bunch of dumb alphas over dinner—“ Jimin is cut off when Jungkook abruptly steps closer, hands held up like he’s contemplating covering the omega prince’s mouth. Jimin glares at him and the hands falter, waving a little silly in the air,

“Lower your voice—of course I don’t think you’re useless don’t say that.” Jungkook’s tone is strained, tense. He takes a deep breath, “My apologies, your grace I just…” he winces, eyes sliding away from Jimin’s face, “…didn’t realize you were so good at it. I’ve never seen you do it. It was curiosity, not disbelief—believe me, my prince, I wouldn’t doubt you like that.”

Jimin’s stomach feels like it might be full of bees.

“I’m good at it?” He knows he’s good at it, but he’s rarely heard Jungkook string together this many words, let alone complimentary ones, so he wants to hear it.

Jungkook blinks, eyes flicking back down to make eye contact with Jimin before he looks away again, “Yes, you’re good at it. I thought one of the Generals was going to rise from his seat and seek you out—“

“Your grace?” A husky, rough alpha voice and scent join them in the hallway.

Jungkook immediately steps back. His own mellow, amber alpha scent is overtaken by the strong, briney scent of this new alpha.

Not just any alpha. General Sejong, famed military commander who defends the north from invasion and has done so for well over two decades.

Jimin dips into a low, formal bow. “General. To what do I owe the honor?”

“No, believe me, the honor is all mine.” The alpha steps closer, emboldened by Jimin’s warm tone. “I remember hearing tales on the front lines about the Flower of the Summer Palace. Such a rare treasure.” His eyes sweep, feather-light, over Jimin from head to toe. He’s shameless.

Jimin meets it, “I feel unworthy, but if I can keep our brave soldiers warm through these difficult times I consider it my duty.” Jimin is just saying anything. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he would be remarkable enough for stories about him to circulate. 

The alpha’s pupils dilate, and his scent becomes much stronger. Jimin’s knees feel a bit wobbly.

“Warm like summer, hmm? Even into the night?” It’s bawdy, and the General punctuates this by brushing his fingers along the edge of one of the silks that make up Jimin’s top layer of silks. It’s the very precipice of acceptable touch for a prince. Depending on who is watching, it would be too far.

Jimin freezes. He wasn’t prepared for it to escalate this much this quickly. Does his mother expect him to bed them so soon? Would this benefit him or hurt him to play into such bold propositions?

“My apologies, General, but His Grace is needed in the gardens.” Jungkook steps physically between the two of them, and Jimin pulls back. Jungkook’s own scent is blazing strong, and Jimin looks over at him, a bit confused. “He’s tarried much too long here already.”

The General steps back, eyeing Jungkook up and down.

“Of course. I am heartbroken to have made you late. Please accept my sincere apologies.” He bows low, and backs away down the hall, “Perhaps we will see each other anon, my prince.”

Jimin dips low in another deep formal bow, and then they’re alone again. He rises to find Jungkook looking at him with a peculiar sort of intensity.

They walk towards the gardens in strained silence before Jimin decides to say,

“Thank you. I—I didn’t know what I should say when he came on so suddenly. So I…I appreciate you.”

Jungkook sighs from behind him, “Of course, your grace.”

Jimin doesn’t like the way that tone hits him. He suddenly feels as though he might cry. “Are you…are you angry with me?” Jungkook’s mild annoyance, his eye rolling and exasperation he can all handle but if his protector is actually upset with him for being easy…well Jimin’s learning a lot of new things about himself today.

Jungkook actually stops walking, lagging behind and it makes Jimin turn.

“No, your grace. It’s not you.” He says shortly, eyes flicking anywhere but at Jimin’s face again.

“Oh,” Jimin twists his fingers together, “Okay.”

Jungkook sighs again and shuffled his feet, “This is just…I’m going to have to get used to this the same way you are.” His eyes raise to meet Jimin’s for one full second before dropping and Jimin feels electrified, “And I, too, curse your mother’s ambition.”

~~~

Jimin sits by a pool full of shimmering fish well past the daylight draining out of the sky. Jungkook stands nearby, as inscrutable as ever. The water cleaves between his fingers, fish dancing just out of his grasp as he trails back and forth across the surface, mindlessly. He’s far away, contemplating the many steps in this game he’s begun. With a clear head and the pressure off, of course it’s obvious he couldn’t have accepted the General’s vulgar proposal. That’s not the kind of behavior that catches and keeps an alpha for more than a night. He’s seen it in these very gardens, with the King, even.

Jimin has seen the concubines who keep his majesty for a week versus a season. The ones who carry his attention for an afternoon as opposed to his child for months. He must make his suitors work for it; be obsessed with currying his favor. He frowns at his own reflection. It’ll take a more subtle hand.

Jungkook stirs, adopting a defensive posture.

“Who’s there?”

Jimin lifts his attention from the pool to see an attendant arrive, standing before them and fidgeting.

“Grand Prince Yunbae wishes for you to join him in the west library, your grace.” The attendant bows, and stands expectantly, clearly waiting for Jimin to follow.

Now that is incredibly bold. No flirtation, no coy insinuations just ‘let me have you in the west library check yes or no’. Well, Jimin has to say no. But you can’t just say no to a grand prince.

“His royal highness honors me with his attention…for the first time.” Jimin stalls, thinking.

Jungkook, like usual, has come up with his own plan,

“The hour is late and his grace is exhausted. Surely his royal highness could be persuaded to reconsider disturbing my lord’s sleep?”  

The attendant doesn’t move. He knows as well as Jungkook that this isn’t really optional.

This time, though, Jimin thinks he might have a clever idea.

“Jungkook-ah, your short knife.” Jimin states, decisive. Normally he’d ask more politely but it works better if he has a sturdy delivery. Jungkook, clearly confused, at least knows better than to contradict him in front of others. He pulls the knife from its hidden sheath and flips it to hand it over to the prince, handle first.

Jimin takes it and spreads out one of the under layers of his new silks. There’s an edged border with gold thread and deep blue color. He takes the knife and slices into the expensive fabric.

The attendant gasps, and Jungkook gets two syllables into “Your Gr—“ before Jimin silences him with a look.

He cuts out a rectangle of silk, letting the edges fray, that’s about the size of his own foot. When he drops the layers the cut part is hidden from sight. He pushes Jungkook’s knife back into his unresponsive hands, and holds out the fabric to the attendant imperiously.

“Take that to the west library for the grand prince since it is, after all, the reason he noticed and sent for me.”

The attendant accepts the silk after a long beat, hands shaking. He gulps and bows low, and beats a hasty retreat out of the gardens.

Jungkook turns to him, incredulous. “What was that, your grace?”

Jimin busies himself straightening his layers, adjusting the drape of the silks, “Well I couldn’t very well go fall into the bed of someone I’ve never spoken to, could I? At least maybe now they’ll know it’ll take more than an imperious and inappropriate midnight demand.”

Jungkook looks impressed, in spite of himself. “But what if he sees it as disrespectful? What if he raises a fuss about your response?”

Jimin smirks at him, “Then he gets to explain to the King why he was trying to call the Flower of the Summer palace to be had in the west library like a cheap whore in the middle of the night. I do not fear the grand prince’s ire, in fact I’d prefer that to these vulgar attentions.”

Jungkook barks out a laugh before schooling himself back to serious. Jimin can’t help himself, he beams at the fact he made Jungkook laugh.

“Your mother will be furious if you’ve eliminated such a potentially good match.”

Jimin shrugs, “So many fish in the royal court. I’ll just swim again. My gut tells me this is the better way to do things.”

Jungkook bows, formal for once, “As you say, your grace. It shall be as you say.”

~~~

Jimin expected there would be some manner of fallout after his cheekiness but he couldn’t have predicted the perfect storm of a bored court and the contrary nature of alphas.

The story of Jimin dismissing the grand prince with a square of silk spreads until it seems like by the time they break their fast in the morning everyone knows what happened. The stares are more pronounced, the whispering more animated and the alphas…

“Good morning your grace.”

“Lovely day, your grace.”

“Perhaps you’d like to take a stroll in the courtyard, your grace?”

“Shall we take tea together, your grace?”

…they’re everywhere.

Jimin can’t take two steps without some highborn alpha accosting him in the halls to play cards or read together or take a walk. Jimin’s head starts to swim with the sheer intensity of attention midway through the day.

“Your grace, are you alright?”

Jimin shakes his head and focuses on that voice. Jungkook’s voice.

“Yes, I’m fine.” He dips his head in acknowledgement of another pair of lieutenants dropping into overly formal bows while passing him the hall. “There’s just…a lot of them.”

“I think your grace is either a genius or a lunatic.” Jungkook remarks. Jimin doesn’t turn his head but the amusement is obvious, “Either way, your mother should be pleased.”

She is, but that comes with qualifiers.

“Masterful first step.” She says, in lieu of greeting when she corners him in the gardens again. Jimin’s head is already pounding so she’s not exactly a welcome intrusion. “But now you must keep and sustain their interest. They know now the gestures must be grand to please you.”

“I thought you’d be more upset about me mutilating the silks.” Jimin remarks. He can’t decide if he’s trying to annoy her into leaving or not.

“With a return like this on my investment? I can only hope you have a few more tricks like it.” She does get up and leave at that point, and the pounding in Jimin’s head subsides. A little.

He turns completely away from Jungkook so that the bodyguard can’t see how he’s not doing so great.

“Your grace?” He says after a while.

“Not now.” Jimin replies, terse.

“Your grace, General Sejong sent something for you.” Jungkook insists.

Jimin turns to find another attendant, this one brandishing a slab with an enormous jade and pearl binyeo resting on it.

“Oh?”

“My lord also requests you join him for tea on the northern promenade.”

Jimin flicks his eyes over to Jungkook briefly. The bodyguards fractional eyebrow raise seems to agree with what Jimin is thinking. The promenade is very public, and spacious. The hour is early and the invitation seems casual, even if the gift isn’t. The General, at least, seems to have learned his lesson since his hallway proposition.

“You may tell your lord that I will attend.” Jimin says, reaching for and turning over the extravagant jewel piece in his hands.

The attendant nods, still hesitating.

“You are dismissed. I will make my own way to tea.”

The attendant gulps, hesitates, but does follow Jimin’s orders.

“Let me guess, your grace has another scheme?” Jungkook pokes his tongue into his cheek and stares at the hairpin.

“Only a little one.” Jimin places the binyeo in amongst his other hair ornamentation and flops down on his bench. “We’re just going to see if he knows how to wait.”

Approximately a half hour past when tea would’ve begun, Jimin sweeps onto the northern promenade, flanked by Jungkook. The General is seated at one of the low tables ringing the tiled area, alone amidst a throng of people of the court walking in the sunshine.

“Please accept my humble apologies, General.” Jimin drops into a prostrate bow, all the way on the floor, eliciting a sharp exhale from the General and a gasp or two from people who were walking nearby. Jimin raises his face, wide-eyed and distraught, “I only meant to show your gift to its most pleasing advantage.” He tilts his neck to show how he’s wearing the General’s gift. And the military man, who had been clouded over with annoyance and embarrassment at being left to wait, melts. He shifts away from the table to bow to Jimin respectfully.

“The apologies must be mine, your grace, for disturbing your time with my foolish request. Although,” he pauses, face flushed as he takes in the measure of Jimin, “…if I may be so bold, your grace wearing my trinket does warm my heart.”

Jimin settles opposite the General and pours tea for both of them, waving away the attendant standing nearby, and the alpha’s eyes shine with some combination of awe and hunger. Jimin’s task is to find a way to temper both feelings.

Jungkook settles unobtrusively off to the side but curiously, Jimin can smell his amber scent as strong as though he were right next to him.

They take the shortened rest of the hour to chat and snack and Jimin licks his lips and flutters his lashes but always pulls back from being too forward, saying too much. The General is spellbound. It’s obvious in the way he swallows hard at basically every move Jimin makes and his scent swirls up around them. He doesn’t even complain when Jimin and Jungkook leave right when the tea hour ends, citing exhaustion.

Jimin paces the garden thoughtfully later, “How long do you think until he sends for me?”

Jungkook’s voice is oddly hollow, “Likely tonight.” And then, after a pause, “Will you go?”

Jimin tilts his head, considering, “I suppose it depends on the manner of the asking.”

Jungkook folds his arms, staring at his own feet, “Do you like him?”

“What does that matter?” Jimin asks, and Jungkook’s head shoots up for one of those fleeting moments of eye contact, before dropping again.

“You’re just very convincing. I wondered if maybe you felt something for him.”

“Jungkook-ah you watched me lie to him about taking a half hour to put a binyeo in that I took two seconds to place. We left without a backward glance. This is for my family; it’s all a game.” Jimin resumes his pacing.

“You don’t want that for yourself? To marry and mate someone you feel something for?” Jungkook asks, another odd question.

Jimin eyes the alpha, not wanting to entertain thoughts down that particular road. Of wanting. Of feeling. He tracks Jungkook’s broad shoulders, his strong build. That comforting scent, drifting through the bushes around them. Wanting. Feeling. Someone he knows he can’t have. No, it’s better to do as his mother bid.

“It’s better if I don’t.” He says quietly. “That way if I lose the game I don’t lose my head.”

Jungkook is nodding, as if to himself.

“The General is a great match. If I can keep and hold him we go to a comfortable estate up north—does that not sound okay?” Jimin presses. Even if he can’t want or feel, he still wants to fish.

“I’ll follow your grace anywhere.” Jungkook says simply.

In moments like this, Jimin could almost believe he means it a different way than a bodyguard would.

~~~

The game gets more complicated when Jimin is playing cards after dinner. He’s sat with two princesses of the same rank as him, two concubines, and a royal prince sort of laterally positioned closer to the throne than him because his mother was the King’s favorite. Their lighthearted game (still full of plenty of staring at Jimin, the audacious omega who sends grand princes scraps of silk and makes generals wait to have tea) is interrupted by Grand Prince Yunbae insinuating himself between Jimin and his partner.

“I received your gift.” The grand prince says.

Jimin studies his face for a hint of anger, but he’s beaming at Jimin.

“Permit me to give you my own?” He places a box on the table next to Jimin’s hand.

At his nod, Jimin opens the box to reveal an ivory norigae, long silk tassels the same vibrant blue as the silk Jimin had sent to him in lieu of his body. The tongue in cheek aspect of the gift makes Jimin smile. The grand prince looks as though he’s staring into the sun at the sight of it.

“Ah, his royal highness has a sense of humor.” Jimin remarks, trailing his hand through the tassel.

“And his grace has teeth, as well as beauty.” The grand prince remarks.

Jimin chuckles, and immediately fastens the norigae so it falls against his other tassels, clinking gently because of the fine material.

“Shall we deal his royal highness in?” Jimin asks blandly, indicating the deck of cards.

The grand prince stares at his mouth while he talks.

~~~

It’s evening in the garden and Jimin is stressed, pacing again.

“What should I do now? If the General sends for me and I go then I would irreparably damage progress with the Grand Prince but if he sends for me and I don’t go I might do the same with him.” He pauses and rips one of the red blossoms off his favorite bush, shedding petal after petal on the ground as he enumerates his issues.

“How am I to choose? They’re both so forward but also so easily changeable. They could mean everything by these gestures, they could mean nothing. They could be playing, they could be courting. It’s too early to tell.” He sinks onto his bench. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and no one will send for me.”

He doesn’t get lucky.

“General Sejong asks if there would be a possibility of you joining him in his chambers for a drink.” The attendant asks carefully. The wording is much more respectful than the Grand Prince’s attendant had been.

He hasn’t come empty-handed. The General has sent down an absolutely ridiculous set of earrings. They’re picked out in gold and ivory, studded with pearls, and they hang, heavy and ornate in such a way that they will surely brush the tops of Jimin’s shoulders.

“You may tell the General we will drink in his presence chamber, only. I will be along shortly.” Jimin replaces his gold hoops with the crazy earrings. He winces at the weight of them. 

The attendant scurries away.

“Your grace…” Jungkook sounds hesitant. “What if he attempts improper intimacies? You being in his presence chamber might not deter him, or the gossip.”

“It will if his attendants are there, serving us.” Jimin shoots him a small smile, “And you’ll be outside. If he touches me, I shall scream.”

The walk is somber, and silent. Jungkook seems uncomfortable. Jimin chalks it up to nervousness about Jimin’s reputation. But Jimin is feeling confident. The hour is not yet so late, the invitation had been proper, and the gift suitably over the top. If he wants to be able to see how serious his suitors are, he can’t hide in the gardens worrying himself into an anxious mess.

“You look beautiful.” The General opens with, inviting Jimin into his presence chamber. There are attendants, several, bustling around, adjusting the room. Obtrusive in their presence, so Jimin knows the General has understood his desire for propriety.

“General, you are too kind.” Jimin demurs.

“I think that must be you. I confess I expected you to decline my invitation.” The general sits, “But I assure you, my intentions are not base.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you hanging.” Jimin says, with a pretty smile, conveniently forgetting the part where he left the General hanging for quite some time earlier that day.

The door swings shut and Jimin has one glance for Jungkook posted up outside before it’s just him and the General. No safety net.

“Now that it’s just us…” the General leans back, appraising Jimin. “…what are your goals?”

Jimin tilts his head, “Goals?”

“Anyone who looks like you, with the rank you have…there has to be a deeper reason why you would show favor to anyone.” The General shakes his head, chuckles, “Don’t get me wrong, I’d be happy to be that chess piece for you. One alpha in a million might dream of finding an omega like you. I just want cards on the table.”

“I’m afraid I would disappoint you.” Jimin chuckles, but his mind is racing, “This is my first attempt at flirtation; I haven’t gotten far enough into it to formulate an endgame.”

It’s a lie, but only a partial one, so maybe the General will let it fly.

His smirk turns up, pronounced, “Am I truly to believe your piece of work with the Grand Prince was beginner’s luck?”

Ah, so he must imagine Jimin a savvy court manipulator. Maybe that’s a better image to lean into.

“I prefer to think of it as natural aptitude.” Jimin quips, and takes a sip of the wine. “Princes can be awfully insistent unless you know how to speak our language.”

“So imagine my surprise that you’re here with me.” The General points out, “By that logic you and I are from different worlds.”

“Aren’t we?” Jimin rejoins, and the General smiles big, “Maybe I find yours intriguing instead of mine, which is fatiguing.”

At this, Jimin knows he’s gotten away with his lie. Well, partial lie. The General, like most non-royals, likes to imagine that royalty find each other as frivolous and draining as they do. In the same way the tailor wanted to believe Jimin is a shallow moron, the General wants to believe he’s more interesting to Jimin than a Grand Prince could ever be. Now that he can see the angle, Jimin can work it.

“What’s your life like, General? I presume you’ve seen a little of what mine is like.”

“If you’re imagining I spend a lot of time in battle, I might disappoint you. That’s only in the most dire of circumstances.”

“I wouldn’t find that disappointing.” Jimin murmurs, “I would worry myself sick if my mate was in battle every day.”

At this, the General, who clearly entered this conversation with intentions to strip away Jimin’s layers, falls prey to his simple manipulations. What alpha doesn’t want to believe their omega is at home, sick and worried about their well-being?

Knotheads.

In one move, Jimin has him thinking about how Jimin would look in his estate, pacing and waiting for him to come home…home to his mate.

“I would never cause my mate that kind of heartache.” He says, in the way that men who relish the idea and who will absolutely cause their mates heartache from dawn to dusk say. Jimin would be more worried about it if he hadn’t just demonstrated he can make the General believe anything. He leans forward to set his cup down, hand pressing against his own upper lip as if to catch a drop. The General tracks his movements.

“What are your goals, General?” Jimin says, and he says it like he’s already naked in the sheets.

“To take you home with me.” The General says, bluntly. “As my mate.”

Cards on the table, huh? This is very, very good. He skipped right over bed and straight to marriage.

“You, the General?” Jimin gasps as though he cannot believe it, “You would want someone as lowly as me?” If he gets any breathier he’ll squeeze out a tear from sheer method acting. His lips trembles, “I couldn’t imagine so great an honor…when the King would certainly give his beloved General anyone his heart desires.”

The General, leans forward, seized by passion. His hand hovers over Jimin’s on the table, not yet daring to touch, but close enough that he can feel the warmth, “If that’s true then he surely can’t object to my wanting you. The real question is if you would be happy in the north, little flower. It’s a harsher place to bloom.”

It doesn’t much matter to Jimin where he goes; the only meaningful feeling that could be attributed to a sense of “home” is having Jungkook with him.

“I serve at the pleasure of the King and when I am bestowed a mate, I serve at their pleasure.” Jimin says, voice velvet and promises, “Flowers grow in the snow as well as spring rains.”

~~~

Jungkook’s jaw is tense but he relaxes from head to toe when Jimin emerges from the General’s presence chamber without a hair out of place.

They return to the gardens and Jimin can tell Jungkook is practically biting his own tongue off with the desire to ask, but he holds back until they’re in Jimin’s chambers. Jungkook is the only person allowed in besides Jimin’s personal attendant, who Jimin dismisses as soon as they arrive.

The door swings shut and Jimin starts taking his hair down and removing his jewelry, maddeningly. But he wants Jungkook to ask, needs this simple game of push and pull to feel normal again after all these mind games.

“Your grace…” Jungkook finally says, after Jimin has been fiddling with his pins for ten minutes.

“Yes?” Jimin asks, breezy, like he can’t imagine what could be on Jungkook’s mind.

“What happened, your grace? Do you know more of the general’s mind? Did he…did he try—“

“On the morrow he will ask the King for my hand.” Jimin says, derailing that particular question and the roughness in Jungkook’s voice when he had asked.

Jungkook gasps quietly, “Truly, your grace?”

“I hope you meant it when you said you didn’t mind the north.” Jimin quips, grinning at the alpha. Jungkook returns a weak imitation.

“So you’ve done it.” He whistles, “And without taking him to bed…alphas should be very afraid of you, your grace.”

Jimin pouts at him in the mirror, “Surely not. You’re not afraid of me, are you Jungkook-ah?”

Jungkook makes eye contact with him through the mirror. It holds for a second, and Jimin waits for him to look away.

He doesn’t.

One second becomes two, becomes three, and Jimin has a feeling curling in the pit of his belly when Jungkook blinks and says,

“Terrified.” His eyes finally slip away. 

~~~

“Your grace!” Jungkook is banging on the door, so Jimin wakes up much faster than he normally would. “Please wake up!”

Jimin stumbles to the door, half dressed and blinking sleep out of his eyes,

“Jungkook-ah what on earth—“

“One of the girls who came to get the linens said the General and the Grand Prince are arguing in the dining hall.”

“Oh. Shit.” Jimin practically falls back into his room, “Shit—help me—“ he scrambles for his layers and sashes, “Fucking help me, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook hesitates by the door as Jimin starts fumbling with his clothes, “Your grace I can’t—“

“Fine, fuck, get out then—“ Jimin flails at the door and Jungkook backs out, shutting it. Jimin curses his years of not dressing himself and his own clumsy fingers as he struggles his clothes on.

By the time they race to the dining hall, it’s decidedly more than an argument. Jimin skids into the hall with Jungkook on his heels just as the Grand Prince draws his sword.

General Sejong smirks, “Put it away boy, before someone gets hurt.”

“No one here fears you, old timer. Duel me if you’re a real man.” Grand Prince Yunbae is panting, red faced. Clearly the two of them have been having words for a while.

The General cocks his head, amused, before drawing his steel in one long, smooth pull.

“No, don’t—“ Jimin shouts, but they’re already lunging at each other. The swords clash in the hall, loud and incongruous with the normal morning hustle and bustle. They separate, both repelled backward, and then lunge forward again—

“Stop this at once in the name of your King!” The King has arrived in the hall and everyone, including the General and the Grand Prince, abandon what they were doing and drop prostrate to the ground.

“I’ll see you both in my chambers. Now.” The King says clearly, before turning to leave the room, assured that any conflict will not resume. As he passes by Jungkook and Jimin, he pauses.

“And you.”

Jimin looks up to see the King’s face clouded over with anger. He stalks away. Jungkook gets to his feet, worried face turned to Jimin. Jimin gets to his feet, shaking. It’s like his every worst fear about playing this kind of game blowing up in his face at once. He spots his mother hanging around the edge of the room as he leaves. She looks shell-shocked. Jimin can’t find it in him to care how she feels about this.

It’s like there’s a narrator reading off the passages about tragic male omegas through history as he makes his way to the king’s chambers. This one poisoned by his sister, this one stabbed by the captain of the guard, this one kidnapped by a rival clan, and so on.

This one, probably walking to his doom because of jealous alphas.

“It’ll be okay, your grace.” Jungkook assures him, from behind his shoulder. Jimin doesn’t find it particularly assuring, especially as he arrives outside the king’s rooms at the same time as the General and the Grand Prince.

They both turn to face him, expressions softening at the sight of him.

“My prince…” the General begins, looking chagrined, “I apologize that you had to see that.”

“I’m just sorry the king interrupted us before I could put a sword through the old man and keep him off of you.” Prince Yunbae sneers.

“Please,” Jimin pleads, “Don’t fight…not on my account.”

“Enter.” The kings private guard swings open the doors and bids all of them enter. Jungkook slips in too, but takes a spot by the door, off to the side to not be noticed.

“What is this foolishness disturbing the morning?”

The General bows deeply, “My apologies, your majesty, but as I discussed with you this morning, my claim on this omega was being challenged by his royal highness. Your majesty did not mention to me that the prince was promised to the Grand Prince.”

“He isn’t. So imagine my surprise, Yunbae, to see you mixed up in a childish duel over the morning meal.” The King turns a baleful eye on his son, before returning to the General, “I also don’t recall answering you one way or the other about this omega’s hand.” 

“Your majesty you can’t be thinking of giving the flower of the summer palace to this old man. He probably can’t even knot.” The Grand Prince scoffs.

The General chuckles, “Your royal highness might be a man grown but you’re still a brat.”

“Enough.” The King says, flatly. “This has caused enough discord in my house for one day. General, you return to the front lines in a week, and I imagine your wife might have something to say about you mating another.”

The General has the grace to look sheepish. Jimin is sure his own face must be bewildered.

“Yunbae, your marriage and mating are a matter for the crown to decide and my sons are not concubines or whores for you to take your pick. You dishonor yourself and me through this fruitless squabbling. You can return to the countryside for a few months until you’ve cooled your heels and remembered your duties. Get out.”

The two of them bow deeply and leave the king’s chambers, sweeping by Jimin and shooting him lingering, guilty glances.

The king sighs, long-suffering, and settles in his seat.

“Jimin-ah, what am I going to do with you?”

“Your majesty…” Jimin drops to the floor, “I did not mean to be the cause of this.”

“What did you mean to do?” The king asks pointedly. “You’ve never shown any interest in matters of romance before.”

“Ah,” Jimin winces. He can’t very well tell the king his mommy told him to do it, “It’s just, I figured it was probably time to dip my toes into flirtation? I’ve been a man grown for five and three years.”

The king nods, still looking weary, “And you aim immediately for my highest military hand and my eldest son.”

“That was mere luck, your majesty, whether you want to believe it or not…they approached me first.”

The king chuckles, “I’m sure they did.” He leans forward, “If my advisors were here they would advise me to execute you immediately, you know this, right?”

“E-execute me? I-I didn’t—“ Jimin can’t breathe.

“Jimin-ah…the General would move heaven and earth to please you. He’s a decorated war hero…could you assure me a man so lovesick would never plot against his king? Maybe believe he could rule better, give you more, if he pushed me off my throne?” The king’s eyes glitter dangerously, hard under the light from the candles. This is a man for whom paranoia is a constant companion.

The thought had literally never occurred to Jimin, and he’s sure it must show on his face.

“Or Yunbae, young and full of anger and energy—say he pups you fast and now he’s got sons of his own and a beautiful omega consort..perhaps the noble families would find him a more attractive ruler to flock to than his aging father.” His bitterness seems to upset even him, mouth twisting up as he describes a betrayal like this from his son.

“Your majesty—I never thought—“

“I know, Jimin-ah. That’s why my advisors aren’t here and it’s just you and me talking. For the stability of the kingdom and the line of succession, I cannot give you these kinds of matches. You’re too much of a wild variable. Who knows what a man might do to make you smile?”

A chill runs up Jimin’s spine. Those stories of civil wars and family infighting and backstabbing writ in ink time and time again over these prizes, these male omegas.

“I don’t want any of that. I don’t want to be complicated for your majesty.” Jimin says quickly.

“I believe you.” The king sits back, “However, I do agree it might be time to find you a match. Unfortunately, my flower, I will have to choose someone for you that cannot threaten me through status or manpower. You may be dissatisfied with your mate.”

“I serve at the pleasure of his majesty.” Jimin says, heart pounding in his ears, “I will do as I’m commanded.”

“For now, return to the gardens. You should steer clear from the dining hall and promenade until the General and Yunbae are departed from the palace, understand? I will summon some appropriate mates for you to choose from, and we will put this whole unfortunate business to rest.”

Jimin bows again. The king dismisses him. Jungkook guides him out and back to the gardens. Jimin is numb.

Not executed, but not exactly off free.

Married and mated. The arranged kind, and likely within the week, as punishment for reaching too high. His mother’s face flashes into Jimin’s mind and he bites down on his tongue not to get angry. He never wanted any of this.

He waits until they’re back in his corner to show any emotion. The crimson flowers are stark, staring at him. He rips a bloom off. And then another. And another. He methodically strips every red petal off of the bush, and it’s only when his vision blurs and a drop falls on his hand does he realize he’s crying.

“Your grace,” Jungkook starts, sympathetically, but there he stops, trails off. There’s not much to say.

“What happened??”

His mother is here.

It’s not like it’s particularly surprising—after all he always comes to the same hiding spot—but his head is pounding and he can’t handle her right now.

“This is YOUR FAULT!” He savages, throwing the flower petals at her. She gawps, offended, but it’s not like she can do anything if a royal prince throws something at her. “I was FINE—even happy, and then YOU and all your wretched ambition—“ his throat closes up and he sobs.

“What. Happened.” She grits, teeth clenched, “What did you do?”

“Me?? I didn’t do anything but what I was told. I flirted with the alphas—the General went to ask the king for my hand—“

His mother gasps.

“But the Grand Prince challenged him to a duel and the King recognized all of this for what it was; a threat to the peace of his kingdom. He doesn’t know it was your scheme—you’re welcome, you get to keep your head—but now I am to marry an irrelevant powerless alpha of the King’s choosing, within the week.”

“Oh no.” The color has drained out of her face.

“You reached too high, and now I get to bear the punishment for it.” Jimin throws the last flower at her and it bounces harmlessly off her cheek. The bush is now completely bare of blooms, red petals scattered all over the ground. “Go away.”

She starts forward, and Jimin backs up a step to avoid her touch. “I said, leave me. Before I tell the guards you touched a member of the blood royal.”

Her face screws up, beyond angry and she rears back to strike him—

—Jungkook snatches her wrist.

“You must leave now. His grace commands it.” He escorts her, none too gently, out of the gardens and over to the concubine’s area.

Jimin sits down, suddenly dizzy.

“Your grace?”

“Jungkook-ah, get me out of here.” Jimin says, head still swimming. “Get me out of these wretched gardens.” 

“Your chambers? Jimin do you want to go—“ 

“No! Out, please, I need out of here.” 

Jungkook stares at him, nonplussed, “Your grace, I can’t kidnap a royal prince—“

“Please.” Jimin looks up at him. Jungkook looks completely disarmed, “Just for tonight? I can’t be here. I just need—please—“

Jungkook’s hands hover like he wants to soothe them over Jimin’s shoulders.

“Just for the night?” He looks side to side. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Jimin can’t believe it. “What do you mean, okay?”

“I mean okay. I’ll get you out of here for one night. But you have to listen to me and do exactly as I say.”

Jimin nods automatically. He’d do anything to not feel like this, have to stare at these same plants and pools and grasping palace dwellers jockeying for positions he couldn’t care less about.

~~~

“Keep your head down, stay close.” Jungkook shoots back to Jimin, for once the one leading while Jimin follows.

Jimin tugs at the sleeves of Jungkook’s borrowed jeogori, drowning him a little with the ill-fitting fabric, but it’s not like they could be inconspicuous sneaking out with Jimin in his own clothes. They stuff his silks in an unused room and exit out of a side entrance that Jimin has never noticed before, let alone used. It’s getting dark, sunset stretching out across the sky and lending some much-needed shadows to their flight.

Jungkook promised to take him to a bathhouse near the palace—as far as he would concede to go in order to have Jimin back in time tomorrow to meet the alphas the King was summoning.

For, of course, none of Jimin’s potential mates could be so well-titled to actually reside in the palace. Time for travel must be allowed.  

Jungkook weaves nimbly in and out of the alleys and Jimin does his best to keep up, keeping his chin tucked and trying not to look particularly yangban if anyone notices them. He leads Jimin straight out into town, to a grubby building backed up against the palace walls that stretches, low-slung and narrow, along the side street. The doorman holds out his hand and Jungkook places a few coins in his palm, and then Jimin is in another world.

The bathhouse has a bar and some tables set up in the first room with people milling here and there, some wrapped in towels, some fully dressed as they grab a drink or a meal to cap off the day. As Jungkook slides through the crowd Jimin panics and curls his hand into the back of Jungkook’s jeogori. If the touch startles his bodyguard, Jungkook doesn’t show it. The next room looks like a general lounging area, people chatting quietly.

Jungkook steers them over to a couple of unattended mats, and they sink to the floor. Jimin catches his breath.

“I’m sorry your grace, I know this isn’t exactly a grand adventure but it was the only place I could think of that was out of the public eye and also crowded enough to mask your scent.” Jungkook dips his head, apologetic.

Jimin is watching the busy room with wide-eyed wonder, “No, I love it. I love it, Jungkook-ah it’s perfect.”

The alpha cracks a smile. “Stay here; I will get us some spirits and you can forget about tomorrow for a little while.”

Jimin settles more fully on his knees, trying and probably failing to make the jeogori look natural. It’s true, as a prince he could dress similar to this, but as an omega with options he’s always felt he showed to greater advantage in the dramatic sweeping styles of hanbok for the princesses.

Jungkook is back quickly, with a bottle and clay cups and proceeds to pour for both of them. They toast each other and knock back the strong liquor. It’s filtered differently than Jimin is used to and Jungkook laughs at the look on his face.

“It’s probably a good thing this is only for one night; you’d be known as royalty the second anyone watched you for more than a minute.”

Jimin pouts at him, “Let me try again.”

They knock back another round and Jimin makes a heroic effort to remain expressionless, which makes Jungkook giggle even harder at the effort.

“You could practice day and night, your grace, and I would still know you’re not from this side of the palace walls just by looking at you.”

“That’s not fair!” Jimin yelps, “How am I different? I am only a little shorter than you; our hair is the same. Our skin is—“

“Oh your grace.” Jungkook sighs, “Don’t make me imagine you work-worn and calloused like me. There are too few truly beautiful things in the world as it is.” The words seem to register a beat too late for him, his mouth going slack, and then he busies himself pouring more drinks, staring at his hands.

Beautiful, Jimin’s mind latches onto it and plays it like a melody. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

“Jungkook-ah…” Jimin starts, mouth running away with him. Luckily it can’t get far, as an attendant comes in to inform the room that the hot spring pools are now available for use, and the room buzzes to life. It’s a relief, because Jimin genuinely didn’t know what he was going to say.

Instead, he runs to the pools immediately, swept up in the lounge room patrons’ enthusiasm. He’s caught by Jungkook stepping fully into his path, halting his flight.

“Your grace…it would be most improper for you to disrobe among such company.” He says, looking stressed.

“No one knows who we are here, Jungkook-ah. The only thing they need know about me is that I want to swim. You can’t expect me to come to a bathhouse and not swim.” He pulls his top layer of the jeogori over his head and tosses it to Jungkook, who snatches it out of the air, blush dusting the tops of his ears. Jimin giggles and resumes his run down to the hot springs, shedding clothes that Jungkook picks up one after another, bleating repeated entreaties to stop, wait, don’t—until Jimin is naked at the edge of the springs and turns to smirk at his sworn protector….

…only to see him frozen stock-still, holding an armload of Jimin’s clothing and staring.

Staring hard enough that the joke Jimin was going to make about how silly Jungkook looks carrying all of his things like a fussy mother dies on his tongue. Jungkook continues to stare, even as he drops all of the clothes in a heap on the ground.

“Have you changed your mind? Will you swim with me?” Jimin aims at diffusing the strange mood. Still though, Jungkook continues to stare. Under his gaze Jimin has the most pressing desire to tilt his stance and make it different; coquettish. He knows from his years of living among the concubines and wives of the king what he could do to make an alpha stare at him like this. But it’s Jungkook. Not just any alpha.

Who has never looked for so long, so boldly. Who called him beautiful just moments ago.

Without breaking eye contact, Jungkook throws a heavily muscled arm over his own shoulder to yank up his top layer, tossing it off and away and leaving him in his underclothes. They follow suit until alpha and omega, prince and bodyguard, stand across from each other clothed in nothing at all.

Jimin is the one wrong-footed now, all that divine nudity bestowed on his bodyguard is difficult to look at and difficult to look away from.

“Your grace…are we still to swim?” Jungkook asks, voice husky, as Jimin continues to merely stand there.

Jimin jolts back into his body—probably a ruddy pink from shyness—and flings himself into the water. It breaks the spell— the water is barrier enough to banish the heat in Jungkook’s gaze.

The bodyguard makes a much more dignified entry, wading into the water and apologizing to other patrons for the disturbance. Jimin surfaces to find Jungkook looking down at him, still making more eye contact than Jimin can ever remember in his entire life.

There’s water droplets clinging to his skin and steam rising from the pair of them. So Jimin just says it,

“I think this is the longest you’ve ever looked into my eyes.” Jimin says, low.

“It’s generally self-preservation.” Jungkook responds immediately.

“What’s different tonight?” Jimin dares to ask.

“It would be more dangerous to look anywhere else.” The alpha’s scent is strong, almost medicinal in the water. Jimin knows his own is spiking, honey and lilac giving the jumbled room of scents a touch of sweetness.

Jimin finds an opening to make it a game, take the sting of intensity out of the moment. He sinks down in the pool to his neck, practically kneeling in the water,

“There, better? Now there’s nothing to tempt you with.”

Jungkook, now looking at a royal prince down on his knees before him, has flushed an alarming shade of red.

“This is worse. This is definitely worse. Your grace, please get up.”

Jimin, who had been hoping Jungkook would laugh, pouts again. “Well why don’t you come down? It’s not like it’s easy to pick a place to look at on you either.”

Jungkook sinks down quickly, eyes large and round. The pools are a nice steamy temperature, quickly filling up as people crowd in. Jungkook and Jimin are naturally pushed by the flow of people off to a corner of the pool. Nearby, there’s a whole group of betas who smell strongly of spices from cooking, chattering loudly. The room is pretty rambunctious and Jimin drinks it up—this lack of propriety would never be tolerated in his majesty’s court.

Even at their most strident, the concubines weren’t inclined to splash each other or laugh hysterically at what their companions were saying.

When Jimin looks back at the alpha, he finds his sworn protector already looking at him. Jungkook quickly averts his eyes.

“I think I’d like bathing like this.” Jimin muses.

“You’d have to do it for yourself.” Jungkook reminds him.

Jimin thinks about Jungkook’s blush, his gaff about Jimin being beautiful.

“Why would I? I have you, don’t I?” He says this with a coy smile but his heart is pounding so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if Jungkook can see the pulse leap in his neck.

Jungkook sucks in air through his teeth, “Uh—well, I—“

The group of chattering betas roils in the water, joined by a few more people and churning in excitement. The added bodies smush Jimin all the way up against Jungkook in the corner.

Like a brand, white-hot and searing, Jimin feels Jungkook reflexively catch him, arm steady around his waist and hand splayed across the small of his back. The cramped pool pushes again, and Jimin is shoved forward into Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook’s knee slips between Jimin’s legs so now in addition to being burned by Jungkook’s touch at his waist, he’s pressed against him from legs to chest and everything in-between. Jungkook may have caught Jimin without thinking, but the realization of just how much royal touching (prohibited) while naked (super incredibly prohibited) and wet (not sure if prohibited but certainly not helping) is happening has him tense and terrified.

“Your grace, I didn’t mean—“

Jimin gasps when his crotch comes into contact with Jungkook’s, having straddled his leg and been pushed to be fronting on him. It’s a night of many firsts, all of which do nothing to dispel these…feelings…Jimin has been having for his bodyguard for ages now. The alpha runs a bit warmer than him, and his arms are strong and steady where they keep Jimin from being crushed or slipping into the water. Jimin is aware, blindingly aware, of how solid and muscular Jungkook’s chest is, his abs, his—nope, can’t go there.

Whether he is allowed to think about it or not, Jimin is still immediately shy. He wiggles a bit in Jungkook’s hold, brain a disorganized fuzz at the huge escalation of their dynamic.

“I’m…” Jungkook is deeply flushed, jaw taut and like he’d be leaning away if there were anywhere to go, “…your scent…”

Jungkook is back to not making eye contact again, but that is mostly because he’s staring at Jimin’s neck, the slope of his chest down to where his hips are just below the water, practically in Jungkook’s lap.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin hisses, not sure just by looking at Jungkook’s face if he’s made his bodyguard angry or uncomfortable (though it’s not a situation that’s his fault). “I got pushed.” Like that’s not obvious.

Jungkook frowns, looking pained, “It’s not your fault, your grace I’m, I— “he cuts himself off with a gulp, chin jerking away, and he looks humiliated. Jimin’s about to ask what happened when he feels the heavy—now much firmer—weight of what can only be one thing poking into his stomach.

“Your grace…” Jungkook looks positively distraught, “I beg—please pardon my—I’m so sorry— “

The crowd moves back the other direction like maybe some people got out of the pool. Jungkook releases Jimin as if he’s been shocked and Jimin takes several steps away, breathing hard. Neither of them can look at each other.

“Don’t apologize.” Jimin says, low. “It’s not…it’s no one’s fault.” He shifts in the water, hands loosely covering his own groin for…related reasons. All he can smell all around him is Jungkook’s arousal, his strong alpha pheromones.

Jungkook winces and he must be aware of it too.

“Can you…” Jimin hesitates, “Should we…”

“I think I should take you back, your grace.” Jungkook murmurs, “The crowded pools may mask your scent but if I smell this strongly someone is bound to wonder why.” He looks heartbroken, “I apologize for failing you.”

Jimin snaps his head back up to study the alpha, “You didn’t—that’s not what—“

“Let’s go.” Jungkook cuts him off. “Please.”

Jimin shuts his mouth at the pleading tone his bodyguard is using. He immediately vows to not cause Jungkook any more trouble tonight.

“Of course. I’ll follow you anywhere.” Jimin says, attempting to be lighthearted.

Jungkook’s mouth lifts fractionally in a smile but his eyes are dark, haunted. His scent is souring and because it’s so strong, people in the pools are starting to look at them curiously.

They quickly dry off and gather their things without looking at each other. Jimin sticks close behind Jungkook as he leads them back to the palace, but he no longer has the bravery to grab the back of his jeogori. When they’re back inside and they fish Jimin’s clothes out of their hiding place, Jimin changes silently. By the time they’re back to their established costumery and roles, the two steps Jungkook follows behind has increased to three, and all the arousal has bled out of his scent, replaced by misery.

The palace is asleep, so the walk back to his chambers seems even longer and more awkward than Jimin could have imagined. Instead of saying goodnight, he and Jungkook merely nod at each other as Jimin closes the door between them. He lets out a huge sigh. Jimin hears Jungkook settle in on the other side of the door and rakes a hand back through his hair, mind racing.

His attendant was dismissed earlier for a half day off so they could manage sneaking out, but as a consequence it now it falls to Jimin to undress himself, and his brain is a traitor. When he tugs at the clumsy knots and pulls the sashes open he thinks only of Jungkook’s strong, assured grip on his waist, the flex of his palm keeping Jimin in place.

It feels unholy, dirty, to imagine Jungkook undressing him, revealing his body piece by piece here in the dark and drinking him up with his eyes. It feels wrong, but Jimin has no luck fighting the thoughts. He’s engulfed, feeling Jungkook’s touch everywhere—from having never touched his bodyguard to straddling him naked has been quite a shock to his system. By the time he’s actually ready to lay down and sleep, he’s breathing hard and he knows it’s going to be impossible.

He lays in the dark instead, wishing he could throw open the door and pull Jungkook in and have his way with him…but cursing himself for wanting that because of the miserable look on Jungkook’s face when his instincts reached out for Jimin.

“I thought it was bad before,” Jimin whispers into the night, laying still and morbidly awake. He does not close his eyes for the rest of the night.

~~~

When his attendant arrives in the morning to dress him—he is, after all, meeting potential mates today and so shall have to be looking his best—Jimin glimpses Jungkook through the cracked door and the bodyguard looks as though he hasn’t slept much, if at all, either. Jimin feels flushed, and restless, sweaty without doing much of anything and he knows this is going to be a long day.

There’s a bit of time to kill in the gardens since Jimin has been instructed to stay away from any public areas. It’s unbelievably awkward.

Often Jimin will not find Jungkook particularly chatty, or willing to talk with him, but this feels like a tangible thing. A wall, grown up between them even as the barriers of their stations were dissolved. And, speaking for Jimin, he wants to dissolve them further. Jungkook, however, seems to be in his own personal hell about the whole thing.

When Jungkook rebuffs his every attempt to engage or maybe unpack what happened in the bathhouse, Jimin is left more and more alone with his thoughts even though Jungkook is standing right there. The unfortunate part (other than everything) is that if he cannot think about Jungkook…all that is left is thinking about who he’s getting married off to. Which isn’t a particularly pleasant mental road to traverse.

He sits in his ornate silks, twisting his hands together and staring at the bare bush or the bench instead of his bodyguard. Jungkook, much more disciplined than him, is staring off into the middle distance, and occasionally scans around the gardens like any good sworn protector doing his job. He manages to do all this without ever glancing at Jimin. Even though Jimin isn’t looking at him either, he would know if those eyes found him for even a second from being so attuned to the alpha’s presence. 

Jungkook’s scent isn’t even particularly strong, but Jimin feels like he’s suffused with it. Amber is surrounding him, clawing its way into his brain and making a home. He rubs his own hands up and down his arms, bizarrely chilled even as a drop of sweat rolls down his temple. What’s wrong with him?

An attendant approaches. Jimin feels his heart leap up into his throat—he’s not ready to meet a new alpha in this state. He can’t do it.

“They’re here?” He blurts out. He immediately regrets speaking as the attendant and Jungkook jerk their heads at him, his tone too rough and affected to not betray his nervousness.

“Pardon, your grace, but I’m here to inform you that the King desires you meet a Lord Mujin in the west library in the still hour of the early afternoon.” He bows and backs away, leaving Jimin and Jungkook alone in silence again.

Jimin looks up at the sun; he has about three hours until he’s meant to meet this Lord Mujin…and in the west library of all places. How ironic.

“What do you think he’ll be like?” He asks aloud, feeling like he might burst if he has to keep sitting here in enforced silence. Jungkook stiffens at the sound of his voice and Jimin’s heart sinks even lower. They can’t even talk? 

“I’m sure his majesty found someone suitable, if maybe not particularly well titled.” Jungkook says blandly, diplomatically, and it’s an active fight for Jimin not to cry.

“I’m scared.” He says, and Jungkook bites his own lip, eyes cast to the ground, but says nothing. 

Jimin slumps into the bench like a puppet with his strings cut, “I hate this.”

“Your grace, it won’t be so bad. You still have your allowance from the king so even if Lord Mujin is a humble lord you will still be able to live comfortably—“

“How dare you.” Jimin says, cold. “I am no shallow, simpering fool.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, caught off guard, “Your grace? I—“

“I mean I hate THIS. What’s happening between you and me. This horrible distance between us—I cannot bear it. But of course you assume I’m worried his estate will be small or something. Of course.” Jimin is constricted somewhat by his clothes but he still carelessly rumples the silks when he curls into a ball on the bench. “It was no one’s fault what happened, Jungkook-ah and I need you right now but I feel as though we’ve never been further apart.”

Jungkook shifts uncomfortably, his whole face cast away so Jimin can’t read his expressions,

“It’s too hard to be close to you, your grace. I am sorry to not be very supportive in this difficult thing, but I can’t…I just can’t.” He trails off, sounding guilty and hurt and a thousand other things.

“Will you leave me? When I’m mated and married. Will you ask to be released?” Jimin asks, but the tears are actively flowing now. He can’t imagine living forever with this new, distant dynamic, but he also can’t imagine living without Jungkook.

There’s a long silence. Long enough that Jimin has to wipe his eyes on the inside of his sleeve where it won’t show and try to get a grip. He’s still feeling so off-balance and overheated.

“No, your grace. I won’t leave you. Ever.” Jungkook finally says.

It’s pathetic for Jimin that his heart leaps at the words, that this would be enough, even after everything. Just the overwhelming need to keep Jungkook near—even if they can never be as easy as they were.

He dries his eyes and starts counting the minutes until meeting Lord Mujin.

~~~

The west library is tucked away down a long hallway branching off from the others. No wonder the grand prince thought it a suitable place to deflower Jimin—it’s obviously tucked away over here for people who do not want to be noticed.

“Message received,” Jimin mutters, bitter, as it’s obvious the King wants him to basically disappear even before he leaves the palace with a mate.

Jungkook opens the door for Jimin to the library, and he walks by him without a glance.

There’s an older man waiting in the room, short and slender, but with an array of expensive jewelry adorning his rather cheap clothing. Jimin takes all this in, reading Lord Mujin immediately as a fool or an unlucky man, having come from a family with money (hence the expensive jewels) but who has either lost or gambled the fortune for his own uses (the cheap clothing, even when visiting the palace). His eyes light up in pure, naked greed when Jimin walks in the room.

“I admit, I was confused why his majesty would summon me to the palace,” The alpha says, instead of a greeting, “But this is beyond my wildest dreams. I must have pleased the king.”

The door slides shut between Jimin and Jungkook, and Jimin feels itchy and unsettled. He bows deeply to Lord Mujin and settles on his cushion, pouring tea for them both. The alpha watches all of this, licking his lips, rubbing unconsciously at his norigae, the tassels swinging.

“It is my pleasure to meet you.” Jimin says quietly.

“Your grace the pleasure is going to be all mine.” Mujin says, smiling a greasy, crooked smile. He wrinkles his nose after a moment, “That scent…your protector is a whole alpha?” He scoffs, “Well we’ll have to remedy that. No lowborn guard is going to be stinking up my mate.” He frowns, “Odd the king didn’t insist on making him a eunuch long before this.” 

Jimin is off-put immediately. He tries to tell himself it’s the automatic assumption he’s going to be Jimin’s mate but the more honest reason is he doesn’t want to hear anyone talk about Jungkook that way, let alone threaten to castrate him to make him a “safer” servant,

“You’re too bold, my lord. I have other alphas to meet before I make my decision.”

Mujin’s face sours immediately, and his scent, which is some smokey, piney thing, becomes suffocating.

Jimin feels hot, shaky. He takes a sip of his tea and surreptitiously swipes a bead of sweat off his upper lip. What is wrong with him?

“The King is dangling a prize like you in front of me, and he expects me to wait patiently while an omega too silly and pampered to be trusted to choose a mate judges me?” His voice is dripping with poison, with intention.

Jimin looks up at him, needled, “Mind your tongue, my lord. I am a royal prince and will be titled that way—omega or not.”

Mujin sneers, “And yet the King offers you to me—be honest. Who has had you? No one would give an omega prince to a provincial lord unless you were damaged goods.”

Jimin scoffs, “You go too far. Goodbye, Lord Mujin, it was not nice to meet you.” Jimin moves to tuck his toes and rock back onto his feet, but quick as a snake Mujin is on him.

“I suppose if I take you now I wouldn’t have to rely on your foolish ‘choice’, would I?” The alpha hisses, pushing Jimin off balance so he sprawls back onto his butt, catching himself on his arms.

Jimin’s heart is thundering in his chest, the smokey scent of the alpha getting stronger and making him nauseous. He sucks in air and starts, “Jungk—“ he’s cut off by Mujin pushing on top of him and clamping a hand over his mouth, locking the other one around his neck. The touches burn, wholly unpleasant where Mujin is forcefully restraining Jimin.

“Quiet now, slut, you’re coming home with me one way or another.” Mujin grinds his wrist against Jimin’s scent gland, scenting Jimin with his strong bonfire smell. Jimin writhes, panicking at the clear intention. Mujin shoves them both over, flattening Jimin onto his stomach and twisting his legs up in his silks so he functionally can’t scramble away.

He noses along Jimin’s neck, his hair, his shoulder, scenting him all over, and Jimin feels like he’s drowning. Mujin’s hand is muffling his shouts, and the strong alpha pheromones are becoming more difficult to fight, pouring into his senses with the directive to stop struggling, be good for the alpha.

Mujin releases Jimin’s neck and goes fumbling with his silks. Jimin feels sure he’s going to throw up when the alpha’s scrabbling finally gets to his skin, and Mujin runs a hand up the back of Jimin’s thigh.

Jimin summons every bit of strength he possesses and twists, jamming an elbow back towards Mujin’s ribs. He makes contact, causing the alpha to wheeze but, more importantly, his hand to lose its grip over Jimin’s mouth,

“Jungkook-ah!! Please—“ Jimin shouts, clawing at the carpet to drag himself out from under the alpha, legs uselessly tangled in the layers of his silks.

Jungkook is through the door the next second, sword out and flashing as he snatches Mujin off of Jimin and slams him against the low table.

“You’ve committed treason, Lord Mujin.” Jungkook says, voice terrifyingly collected and calm, “I should kill you here for daring to touch the prince.”

Mujin’s bravado seems to have deserted him, his scent becoming sulfurous. “This omega was promised to me.” He says, stubborn but voice shaky.

“If that were true you wouldn’t need to assault him in a deserted library—no, you thought to put your thumb on the scale by behaving like an animal. Perhaps you’re familiar with what happens to rabid dogs? Hmm?” Jungkook leans his weight into the alpha, point of his sword pressing into the soft flesh of Lord Mujin’s belly.

“Jungkook,” Jimin gasps, unable to stand up. He’s very dizzy. Something isn’t right, “Please, I need…my room…please—“ he’s begging, trying and failing to get onto his knees.

Jungkook unceremoniously cuffs Mujin over the head, knocking him out, and sheathes his sword.

He steps over the slumped alpha and scoops Jimin into his arms. His face contorts, afraid, when he has Jimin up in the air,

“You’re burning up, your grace. Did he injure you?”

“No, no just get me out of here get it off, get it off,” Jimin repeats mindlessly.

Jungkook is already striding down the hall, back towards Jimin’s chambers. They leave the unconscious Mujin in the library. That will be something to deal with later.

“Off, off,” Jimin drones, and Jungkook quickens his pace.

He kicks the door to Jimin’s room open, and lays him carefully on his pallet. He closes the door behind him.

“Your grace, I’m going to help take your silks off, stop me if that’s not what you wanted.” Jungkook is already tugging at the knots, at the sashes, peeling layer after layer off of Jimin, believing him to be overheated or some other thing.

Jimin is rapidly losing rational thought. Mujin’s rank scent clings onto him, radiating around the room. As Jungkook gets Jimin down to his last, lightest layer of underclothes, his nose even wrinkles at how strong it is.

Jimin starts crying, “Off, off—“

Jungkook hesitates. “Your grace, you’re already…” he scans up and down Jimin’s body, blush dusting his cheeks, “The only thing left is to get you naked.”

“No, no.” Jimin struggles up to his elbows, Jungkook looking alarmed, “S-scent, scent he—he scented me—“

Jungkook growls. Loud.

Jimin gasps, eyes fluttering as he registers the strong, dominant tone. He slicks.

Jungkook has his hands in his own hair, pulling, “I’ll kill him.”

“No—“ Jimin sobs, throwing himself at Jungkook, who catches him and maintains the distance between them with a strong grip on Jimin’s shoulders, “Don’t leave—please I need it off—“ he tilts his head, offering up his scent gland, and he watches the pieces slot into place for Jungkook.

Jimin wants him to erase Mujin’s scent. With his own.

“Your grace…I c-can’t. I can’t. I’m not…” he’s breathing hard, “I’m not strong enough to stop there.”

Jimin is still crying, pushing his whole face into Jungkook’s chest, neck still tilted to give the alpha access, “What…makes you think I want you to?”

Jungkook’s grip becomes tighter.

“Your grace…”

“Please, Jungkook. Please. I can’t take it anymore.”

“You’re just upset. That alpha behaved so reprehensibly, when you calm down you’ll see—“

“I smell like him, his claim is all over me please I’ll rip my own skin off I hate it I hate it,” Jimin is inconsolable, fat tears running down his face.

Jungkook lasts a heroic five more seconds before he groans, pained and frustrated…and crushes Jimin close. He rubs his glands all over Jimin, systemically erasing any trace of Mujin. Jimin gasps at the touch of Jungkook’s lips to his neck, to the lap of his tongue against his scent gland.

Jimin’s scent grows, strong and sickly sweet as Jungkook laves attention all over him, smoke banished and replaced by Jungkook’s mellow amber, like a lifeline for Jimin to cling to in a strong sea.

Jungkook groans and presses Jimin down flat, nosing along his cheek and hands running down Jimin’s sides, pressing him down into the pallet and making him feel so protected, so covered in everything Jungkook.

Jungkook keens in the back of his throat and claims Jimin’s mouth in a bruising kiss. Jimin eagerly responds, arching up into Jungkook’s touch and trying to squeeze them together hard enough to make them one. But slowly, deliberately, Jungkook pulls back and untangles their bodies from each other. He backs away and sits on the edge of the pallet.

“There,” he says quietly, “Men will die for less, I’m sure. That’s my ration.”

Jimin, who’s feeling more clear headed without Mujin’s scent clinging to him, but more desperate with the touch of Jungkook’s lips, sits up.

“I want you.” Jimin says plainly.

Jungkook groans. “Don’t, Jimin.”

Jimin feels like he’s flying at the sound of his name. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Jungkook say it. And without honorifics, no less. 

“You don’t want me?” He pushes.

Jungkook glares at him, “That’s not fair.”

Jimin scoots closer, slipping his hands into the soft strands of Jungkook’s long hair.

“I’ve wanted you for years, Jungkook-ah. You have no idea about what’s fair.”

“Years?” Jungkook looks bewildered, “Your grace—“

“No. You said it; you can say it again. My name.” Jimin tugs at his hair, coming close enough to curl a hand into the collar of Jungkook’s clothes, “Please, Jungkook-ah. I’ve thought about nothing else since last night. Don’t torture me.”

“Jimin-ah,” Jungkook murmurs in a low, unbearably tender voice. “We can’t.”

Jimin starts crying again. What’s going on with him? Ever since last night his body feels so sensitive, like he can’t think clearly or feel comfortable. He’s never pushed this hard, felt this needy and wiggly and hot—oh.

As if his body was waiting for him to figure it out, a huge wave of heat rolls over him. Jimin contorts on the pallet, cramps coming strong—stronger even because an alpha who scented him is nearby and not knotting him. Jungkook’s pupils dilate at the aggressive shift to Jimin’s scent.

“You’re in—oh no—“

“Jungkook, please.” Jimin begs, reaching out for the alpha even as his whole body seizes up with blind, desperate need. “It hurts.”

Jungkook springs up from the pallet, backing away towards the door. He looks wild, terrified.

“Don’t leave me.” Jimin begs.

Jungkook looks feral, “You don’t mean that. It’s just your heat talking. Got triggered by that horrible intrusive alpha. I have to go, Jimin it’s not right for me to stay.”

“It was you!” Jimin insists.

Jungkook freezes.

“I thought I was just upset, I thought I was just nervous for today but ever since you touched me at the bathhouse I’ve wanted you so bad.” Jimin sucks in a ragged breath, “I feel so desperate for it. Jungkook-ah, I want you. You triggered my heat, and I want you to help me.” Jimin struggles onto his knees and bows, pressing his pounding forehead to the pallet and showing Jungkook his utter supplication. “If you help me I’ll let you go. I’ll free you from my service and you can go make your own life. Please. I’ll give you anything in my power. I know I ask too much.”

There’s a long silence. Jimin stays with his face pressed to the pallet, tears streaming silently as he waits any second for the door to open and shut, for Jungkook to go get a physician or someone to deal with him. He feels so stupid, tremors traveling up his arms from the cramps.

Then Jungkook settles on his knees in front of Jimin and lifts his face off the floor.

“Jimin…I am in love with you. If I stay and help you with your heat I will never let you go. You’re a prince, and the King has plans for you. But if I take you to bed now, you’re mine, do you understand? I can’t trap you like that. I can’t control myself when it comes to you.” He huffs, a self-conscious smile turning up the corner of his mouth, “Perhaps they really SHOULD have made me a eunuch long before this.”

Jimin struggles to his knees, and fumbles with the last ties on his own clothes.

Jungkook hisses when Jimin pulls off his last layer, baring his body to the room, his arousal obvious in the small space.

“I can’t love anyone else, Jungkook-ah. There’s only ever been you. Fuck everyone else. There’s only you and me.”

Jungkook appears to be struck dumb, staring at Jimin’s body. Jimin, made bold by his heat, reaches over and clasps Jungkook’s wrist. He guides the alpha’s hand to settle on his hip. “Touch me. Fuck me. Mate me.”

Jungkook exhales roughly when Jimin says that.

“I’m already yours.” Jimin murmurs.

Jungkook finally lifts his head, gives Jimin some good eye contact. Then he lunges.

Jimin’s back hits the pallet with Jungkook’s tongue in his mouth, the alphas hands greedy and grabbing where he pulls at Jimin’s waist, his leg, his shoulders, like he doesn’t know what he wants, just that he needs to be touching.

“Jimin-ah,” Jungkook hums, kissing down the side of his jaw.

“You don’t know how it makes me feel to hear you say my name.” Jimin is emotional over it, tracing his fingers over Jungkook’s lips. It feels crazy to be able to touch him, to let the intrusive desires turn into real touches. “It’s the only way I’m sure this isn’t a dream.”

“You feel so good to hold. I knew I was ruined with my arms around you last night. I was never going to be able to be rational about you again.” Jungkook is tugging at his own clothes now, and Jimin is eager to help, yanking at the ties to try and get his bodyguard naked and closer. “Jimin-ah, you don’t know how hard it’s been.”

It’s melodramatic, and it makes Jimin pause, tempted to laugh. But Jungkook is also naked, so Jimin takes the opportunity,

“Oh? How hard?” He asks, innocently enough, but also slides his hand all the way up Jungkook’s thigh to brush across his cock.

Jungkook shivers, hips tilting forward to press Jimin down against the pallet.  

“When you flirted at dinner I felt like I’d been hit by a brick. It was like you were magic.” He shakes his head, “I’ve been distracted by how pretty you are since we presented, but this was something new. I felt like I couldn’t look away.”

“Damn. Don’t tell me those historians were right about male omegas being nothing but trouble.” Jimin does another creative thing with his hand, and this time Jungkook growls. Jimin’s scent spikes.

“They definitely are. I’ve been cursed. I wanted to pull my steel and join the General and Grand Prince’s fight.” Jungkook slits his eyes, annoyed even at the memory of the other alphas.

Jimin has another wave of heat roll over him. “Do you want to talk about all the alphas who want me or do you want to fuck me?”

Jungkook growls again, louder, more purposeful. “Mouthy.”

“I’m in heat!” Jimin bleats, stung. “You’re depriving me, alpha, maybe I should find another to— “Jungkook cuts off that train of thought by grabbing Jimin’s waist and scooting him down the pallet, legs splaying on either side of Jungkook’s hips.

“For someone who has never been touched before you’re very eager to rush into things.” Jungkook murmurs. He slides his hands from Jimin’s inner thighs down his legs, cupping his calves and then his ankles to gently prise Jimin’s legs apart. Jimin, for his part, does his best to not jerk away, or try to close his legs, but he is breathing hard and feeling very exposed when Jungkook—usually so skittish with his eyes—stares down at what’s between Jimin’s legs with unwavering focus.

“Jungkook-ah…” Jimin whines, shifting his hips back and forth, “It’s embarrassing when you stare.”

“Forgive me,” Jungkook says, husky, “I never thought I’d be allowed to look.”

Jimin shuts his mouth as Jungkook runs reverent hands back up his legs to the soft part of his inner thigh, fingers dancing high and sensitive towards where Jimin is already slick and cramping.

“Can’t do it right away, okay? We have to ease into it.” Jungkook says, one hand petting Jimin’s hip while the other teases higher and higher with each swipe of his thumb. It’s all very sensual and physically slow, but Jimin is suddenly overwhelmed with all of the…everything that’s happening right now.

“How do y-you know? You’ve done this before?” Jimin’s tone is vaguely accusing, mostly because he can’t imagine when Jungkook would’ve been away from his side long enough to finger another omega.

Jungkook hitches his shoulder, “Not technically, but the soldiers and attendants around here have a lot of stories. And if you weren’t too busy being a nerd you could have heard some of them from the concubines.”

Jimin flops an arm over his face dramatically, “I can’t believe I’m considering letting someone who calls me a nerd and a virgin inside me.”

Jungkook presses two fingers right up against Jimin’s hole, “It’s never too late to change your mind.”

Jimin reflexively grabs his wrist, “Y-you’ll go slow, right?” His body is screaming at him to get that knot inside him, but faced with the reality of imminent new experiences Jimin still can’t banish the sense of anxiety.

Jungkook’s eyes go tender, soft. “Of course. Of course Jimin-ah, I’ll take care of you.” He soothes away the tension in Jimin’s muscles, petting his leg. He switches to one finger, circling the pad around Jimin’s rim, pressing gently. With eyes on Jimin’s face, Jungkook slowly slides the first finger in. Jimin’s body welcomes it, shaking and needy with heat. His back arches, a relieved sigh slipping out as he registers the sensation of being filled.

Jungkook works him open patiently, twisting and crooking his finger to try and encourage Jimin to relax. When the tension is gone from Jimin’s face, he adds the second one, stretching him a little more.

“You take it so well,” Jungkook praises, wide dark eyes fixed on his knuckles slipping in and out of Jimin, shiny with his slick. “Does it feel good, Jimin-ah?”

Jimin whines and nods, far into his heat brain enough to be less Jimin and more a bundle of delirious need. Later, when he has the presence of mind, he’ll be even more grateful for Jungkook than he already is, because a less good alpha wouldn’t take his time like this. A less good alpha would take Jimin’s responsiveness and eagerness as permission to do whatever he wants. But Jungkook, like always with Jimin, knows just what to do and what the omega prince needs.

By the time Jungkook works up to four fingers, Jimin is keening and arching and pushing his hips to meet each of Jungkook’s strokes. He’s greedy, grabby, reaching for Jungkook’s chest, his legs, trying to paw at his cock.

“Please,” he’s saying, “Please…”

And based off of the muscle working in Jungkook’s jaw and how strong his scent is, Jimin is going to get what he’s asking for.

Jungkook pulls out slowly, his entire hand shiny and wet with Jimin’s arousal. He wraps that hand around Jimin’s cock and gives it some firm strokes. Jimin jolts at the different stimulation, blinking and shaking his head as he swims through all these new sensations. Jungkook chuckles at him before bringing that hand to his face to lick at it, tasting the remains of Jimin’s slick.

Jimin gets shy and hides his face, “That’s so…”

“Taste good enough to eat.” Jungkook hums, shifting to lean over Jimin’s body, hips pressing against Jimin’s so their cocks brush against each other.

“Let me taste.” Jimin demands, imperious, and Jungkook leans down to lick into his mouth. Jimin can taste the tang of himself on Jungkook’s tongue and it’s simultaneously extremely erotic and extremely embarrassing.

Jungkook shifts, reaches down to where they’re pressed against each other and grips his own cock, stroking it and placing the head right up against Jimin’s hole, coating it with Jimin’s slick. He feels big.

In Jimin’s opinion, he looks big too but its not like he has a ton of experience in that area. Finally Jungkook looks as affected as Jimin feels, shuddering when he twitches his hips forward and his cock skims across Jimin’s entrance, sliding up and down, teasing himself as well as Jimin again.

“I’m going to fill you, sweetheart, are you ready?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin’s cheeks flame at ‘sweetheart’ and he nods, reaching up to twine his fingers into the hair at Jungkook’s nape, hiding his face in the alpha’s neck when it becomes too embarrassing to keep eye contact.

Oh, how thoroughly the tables have turned; who would have thought it would suddenly be Jimin who couldn’t look too long or too directly? Jungkook loops an arm under Jimin’s low back and pulls him even closer, using the other hand to hold himself steady and guide his cock inside his omega.

Jimin had said he was already Jungkook’s, but it was one thing to say it and another to feel Jungkook slide inside him inch by inch, stretching him out and claiming him in a very physical way.

“Fuck,” Jungkook’s voice is jagged, pitched higher than normal, “You’re so tight.” The alpha is panting as he takes it torturously slow, a necessity because Jimin is essentially one long unbroken whine, body jackknifing off the pallet despite Jungkook’s careful prep. “You have to let me in, sweetheart. Help me make it fit.”

Jimin yanks at Jungkook’s hair, writhing under him, but he takes the words to heart. He draws in long, slow breaths, trying to will his muscles to relax and let his alpha take care of him.

That thought, in particular, lets Jimin settle against the pallet. Jungkook bottoms out in a nasty grind, hips pressed flush to Jimin’s pelvis and his mouth hanging open, eyes squeezed shut.

“You’re so…” Jungkook forces his eyes open and looks at Jimin underneath him, “You feel unreal.”

“You’re too big.” Jimin says. He’s wiggling though, undercutting his words by the teasing roll of his hips, heat prompting him to get the alpha to move.

“Easy,” Jungkook grabs Jimin’s wrists and raises them both above his head, holding them flat against the pallet, “Easy baby, let me have you.”

Jimin pulls futilely at the hold on his wrists for a second before surrendering, legs falling even more open and head tilting, neck bared and scent pulsing through the room. Jungkook pulls out slightly before fucking back in with a groan,

“That’s it, alpha will make you feel good.” He keeps Jimin’s wrists in one hand and uses the other to grip Jimin’s hip, holding him still as he pulls most of his length out before sliding back in, slow and torturous again.

“Ah—“ Jimin thrashes as much as he can, which is mostly rolling his head back and forth and a futile kick of his legs, “Feels so…much.”

Jungkook does the same thing, slightly faster, grinding his hips against Jimin’s whenever he’s fully sheathed, trying to get him to ease up. His pace picks up gradually until the glide of his thrusts is smooth and even, the lewd smack of their hips making Jimin’s toes curl.

A wave of Jimin’s heat hits, bringing him frightfully close to orgasm with each deep stroke of Jungkook’s cock. His fingers are sweaty, his wrists slide in Jungkook’s hold but he’s still stretched out and pinned to the pallet, only able to take it as Jungkook stretches him out and stokes the fires of his heat.

Jimin cums for the first time when Jungkook hits a particularly deep stroke and he watches the alpha’s eyes roll back in his head, overcome with the way Jimin’s body is making him feel. One second he’s listening to that stutter in Jungkook’s breath, watching that pleasure wash across his face, and the next second he’s seized up, riding out his first orgasm on Jungkook’s cock.

“Fuck,” Jungkook whispers under his breath as he watches Jimin cum, all traces of propriety forgotten. “I won’t last.”

Jimin can confirm. When he shakes the stars out of his eyes he can feel the beginnings of Jungkook’s knot forming and tapping against his hole on the deepest parts of the alpha’s thrusts. Because he’s in heat, there’s no oversensitivity following his climax, only a desire to make his partner feel that good too.

“Are you going to knot me, alpha? Ruin and taint the prince?”

Jungkook growls; his thrusts get more frantic, releasing Jimin’s wrists to get a firmer grip on the omega’s hips and pull him down on his cock.

“Going to fill me good…claim me so everyone will know?”

“Fuck, yes” Jungkook grits out, “Mine, all mine—“ his knot has gotten quite big; big enough to make Jimin get wide-eyed again. How is he going to stretch that much? 

Jungkook grins above him, baring his teeth, “You’ll be good for me, won’t you omega? Take all of it?”

Jimin nods eagerly, grabbing his own thighs and rolling his hips back and more open.

“Yes—oh fuck—“Jungkook bears down on Jimin, nipping at his collarbones and with one long press…his knot pushes inside.

Jimin moans, the stretch so intense but so good in the context of his heat. He himself cums again when Jungkook’s knot pops, filling him with the alpha’s cum and giving him that satisfaction of being stuffed full. Jungkook’s arms are shaking but he doesn’t let himself collapse on Jimin, instead kissing blindly at Jimin’s shoulder and ear as he rides out his orgasm.

For a few moments there’s nothing but their ragged breathing in the quiet room. It’s hard to tell how long passes before Jungkook lifts his head to look at Jimin with hazy, glazed eyes.

“Jimin-ah,” He says, and the tone is so warm and soft that Jimin leans up to steal a kiss. Jungkook returns it eagerly, tongue pushing sluggishly into Jimin’s mouth. He shifts them both to be lying on their side, Jungkook knotted inside him and curled around Jimin from behind.

Jimin’s heat is still burning under his skin, but having the alpha snug inside him and draped around him is enough to keep him clear-headed for the moment. Jungkook kisses the back of his neck,

“Did I hurt you?”

Jimin smiles, “Someone’s full of himself.”

He can feel Jungkook smile into his hair, “Actually, someone is full of me.”

Jimin bats at his hip half-heartedly, “Beast.”

When Jungkook’s knot goes down, he goes to pull out and Jimin digs his fingernails into his leg, “No.”

“Jimin-ah—“ he starts, in his patient protector voice, “—we need to—“

“Again.” Jimin says bluntly. He twists in Jungkook’s hold to press a kiss to his slack mouth, “More. I want more.”

Jungkook groans, and his cock flexes inside Jimin, making him hiss.

“It’s just your heat. You’ll be so sore if we don’t take it easy.”

Jimin grinds his hips down on Jungkook’s cock, making him yelp and grab at Jimin’s waist to try and get him to stop, “Ask me if I care.”

“Fuck, I’m getting hard again.” Jungkook says and it sounds dangerously close to a whine.

“You have such a dirty mouth, I didn’t realize,” Jimin says, kissing the mouth in question.

Jungkook wraps a hand into Jimin’s hair and returns the kiss for a moment before using Jimin’s hair and the hold on Jimin’s waist to roll Jimin onto his stomach and pull his cock out. Jimin is complaining immediately. Jungkook hitches Jimin’s hips up and teasingly drapes himself over Jimin’s back, cock teasing at the underside of Jimin’s balls.

“You want alpha to take you like this?”

Jimin hums and pushes himself up on his elbows so he can tilt his hips back, beckoning Jungkook in.

“Yes, alpha. Please—don’t like being empty.”

“Shit—Jimin you can’t just say that.” Jungkook mutters, even as he rubs the head of his cock against Jimin’s hole. It takes a second for Jimin to understand what the teasing touches mean, until he realizes Jungkook is gathering his cum that had leaked out and pushing it back inside when he mounts Jimin from behind.

Jimin moans when he realizes, “Oh that’s…that’s so—“

“You like that?” Jungkook grinds his cock in deep, “Like it when I don’t let you waste it?”

“Fuck, Jungkook—“

“Now who has the dirty mouth?” Jungkook sets a harsher pace this time, pitching Jimin forward with each thrust so he has to catch himself on his hands and brace. Before long he’s meeting Jungkook in his rhythm, making their hips smack together loud with how much he’s fucking back on Jungkook’s cock. Jungkook re-grips his handful on Jimin’s hair and pulls, making Jimin arch beautifully and take him deeper. This angle makes Jimin yelp with each thrust, voice echoing off the walls of his room.

“That’s it baby, let alpha hear how much you like it.”

Jimin feels vaguely like he might cry from just how much pleasure he’s swimming in. Instead, he just screams and cums again, spasming on Jungkook’s cock. The alpha takes longer to knot this time, gruff and grunting and nipping at the back of Jimin’s neck when he shoves his knot inside again. Jimin has stretched enough to accommodate him now, already used to the shape of him so it doesn’t sting so much the second time. Jimin feels dizzy from the teases of Jungkook’s teeth. After being knotted so well and so thoroughly, his heat is chanting in his head, “Mate, mate, mate.”

Jungkook pulls out and flops next to Jimin on the pallet when his knot goes down. They’re both panting now and drenched in sweat. Jimin is annoyed by the steady seep of Jungkook’s cum down the back of his leg. That’s not how this is supposed to go. As soon as he can feel his legs, he struggles to his knees and swings a leg over Jungkook’s lap.

Jungkook looks up at him with soft, low-lidded eyes and automatically his hands come to steady Jimin where he’s straddling the alpha’s lap.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?”

“More.” Jimin demands.

“Don’t be greedy.” Jungkook chides, but there’s no bite in it.

“Mine.” Jimin says, firm, rocking his hips in Jungkook’s lap. He’s rewarded by the alpha’s cock twitching to life once again, flexing up against his backside.

“You’re going to kill me.” Jungkook groans, but he helps Jimin steady his cock and sink down on it until he’s seated in Jungkook’s lap with a satisfied sigh. Jimin rolls his hips in little absentminded circles. Jungkook watches him, dark eyes never leaving Jimin’s face, “Feel good, sweetheart? You want to always be full of me?”

“Yes.” Jimin says immediately, “Always.” He leans down and teasingly noses at Jungkook’s scent gland. “Mine.”

Jungkook stiffens. “Jimin-ah, the King…”

“I’m yours. Aren’t you mine?” In his heat-addled state, Jimin can’t understand the logic of Jungkook’s warning. He only feels the rejection. He rocks his hips again, enjoying the way his insides squeeze the alpha’s cock and make his eyes flutter. “Is Jungkook mine?”

Jungkook’s big hands squeeze his sides, “Of course I am. All I am belongs to you.”

“Mate.” Jimin says, “Mate.”

Jungkook gulps and looks at the ceiling, “I know you asked for it earlier but…Jimin-ah…I don’t know if you can be sure when you’re in this headspace. I don’t want you to have a clear head and feel like I tricked you.”

Jimin frowns, “Haven’t I been good for you,  alpha?” He punctuates this by starting to bounce in Jungkook’s lap, making him curse.

“Fuck—shit—of course you are. Of course.” Jungkook swallows hard, “You have no idea how hard it is to not claim you.”

Jimin ducks down, quick like a snake, and sinks his teeth into Jungkook’s mating gland, claiming him. Jungkook gasps, reflexively holding Jimin closer. Jimin sits back, a drop of Jungkook’s blood clinging to his bottom lip.

“Seems pretty easy to me. I’m in heat, not a different person. You’re my mate, alpha, I don’t understand what is complicated about that.”

Jungkook is looking at him with wide-eyed wonder. He bursts into laughter, “The flower of the summer palace, royal prince and son of the king…just claimed a lowly bodyguard. Jimin…they’ll never let us stay in the palace after this.”

“Then we will leave.” Jimin isn’t exactly playing fair, still riding Jungkook’s cock while all of this is happening, “You’re mine and I’m yours. The only place I’ll ever call home is where I can be with you.”

Jungkook stares at him for a long moment before pushing himself up on his arms to kiss Jimin in his lap. He cups Jimin’s jaw, tilting his head to bare the omega’s scent gland. Jimin’s honey and lilac scent swirls around them. Jungkook studies his face, “You’re mine?”

“Every part of me.” Jimin answers, voice steady.

Jungkook sinks his teeth into Jimin’s neck, and the bond is complete.

After that they get a bit distracted by each other’s bodies, and after two more knots and several more positions, the fog leaves Jimin’s mind.

He wakes up curled in Jungkook’s arms. He’s sore, and sticky, and frustratingly empty, and incandescently happy as he looks at his sleeping mate.

“Mate,”he whispers to himself. “Mate, mate, mate.”

Jungkook twitches in his sleep but doesn’t wake up. Jimin traces his eyebrow and the shape of his nose and lips. He feels an almost manic desire to keep touching Jungkook, like if he stops his lover will disappear, and it will all have turned out to not have happened at all.

The door slides open. Jimin’s attendant is there.

“Your gra—oh.”

He stands there.

Jimin stares at him.

The attendant looks at Jungkook.

He looks at Jimin.

Jungkook gives a little snore, dead to the world.

Jimin smiles up at the attendant, determined to not be afraid, “It’s exactly what it looks like.”

~~~

“I mean it definitely could’ve gone worse.” Jimin says cheekily, as he and Jungkook watch the servants load up their carts that will carry their possessions to their new home.

Jungkook rolls his eyes at Jimin, his healing mating bite a stark red against his skin.

Jimin had been promptly dragged before the king along with Jungkook who was cruelly shaken from his much-needed sleep by the palace guards.

The king was livid at first, but after Jimin explained about Mujin (who had been found by an attendant knocked out in the library with a very spotty memory about what had happened) and going into heat, the king softens enough for Jimin to say,

“Your majesty wanted me with someone who was not a threat to his rule. I cannot think of anyone more suitable for that role who would still be a good alpha to me.” Jimin bows deeply, “We will leave, your majesty, and not insult the sanctity of your family or your halls with this decision, but I beg you for my life and his; please let me keep him.”

The king was quiet for a long time.

Jimin had been so nervous, trembling both from post-heat exhaustion and fear where he stood before the king.

Then the king rolls his eyes, “A wild card, indeed. Fear not, little flower, I do not have the heart to end your happiness or excise you from my kin.” He waves a hand vaguely, “I will give you an estate in the south, and an allowance, and you may return to court for holidays and by invitation. You can stay my flower.” The king had smiled, then. “A bodyguard, hmm? I admit, I had not thought to go quite that humble when trying to get you out of my hair.” The whole room had chuckled. The king even bade Jungkook come before him and formally ask him for Jimin’s hand.

He married them himself right there in his chambers, and then went to break his fast.

Jimin and Jungkook started packing.

Jungkook is pleased, but for the sake of Jimin’s recklessness about the whole thing he’s doing a lot of sighing and long-suffering staring off into the distance whenever the subject comes up. They travel south together, seen off by the royal family and they both smile at the sight of Jimin’s mother looking drawn and miserable, mouth like she’d been sucking on a lemon at her bargaining tool married and mated to a commoner.

The house the king bequeathed to them is surprisingly generous, with a full staff and lovely views of the sea. When Jungkook lays him down in their new house and they make love that first night, it feels like the first time all over again.

When they’re spent and overheated Jungkook gets up and throws the doors open, letting the sea air in to dry the sweat on their skin.

“Are you happy?” Jimin asks him impulsively.

Jungkook looks at him for a long moment before striding across the room and flinging himself on top of Jimin.

“What a stupid question.” He mutters. “Ever since your heat I wake up every day in my wildest dreams.” He rubs his face in Jimin’s hair, making the omega laugh and thump his chest to get him to quit.

“Are you sure YOU’RE happy? Not a general, not a grand prince. Not even a country lord.” Jungkook’s tone is mild, but he’s got a bit of a frown growing on his face. Jimin reaches over and pushes at the corner of his mouth,

“Not a one of them love me like you do, or ever could. And I could not love them either, not while you breathe.” He thinks for a moment, “Plus I doubt any of them have as nice of a cock as you.”

Jungkook barks out a laugh, but he’s already pushing Jimin’s leg up and situating himself between Jimin’s thighs, “Just nice? That’s all I get?”

“Well, I don’t quite remember…” Jimin says with mock contemplation, “You might have to remind me.”

Jungkook swallows anything else he might say with his kiss and shows him exactly how nice it is. Loudly. All night long.

When they finally fall asleep, Jimin kisses Jungkook’s pout, making him grumble and nuzzle closer.

“Thank you.” Jimin says, into the night air. He’s not even sure who he’s thanking. “Thank you for letting me have him. Thank you for letting me escape being a page in a story.”

The last male omega of the dynasty slips quietly between the lines of the history books. Because history books don’t mention many happily ever afters.