Chapter Text
Winter 1890, Busan
There is a new omega in the Busan's court.
A pretty female omega with a tiny waist and delicate features, long brown hair, pretty lips, and gentle eyes. Her scent reminds Seokjin of the summer ocean, with soft rosemary undertones. He looks at her when she walks through the corridors of the King's palace, and he feels lucky.
Seokjin feels lucky because, even if he lost his parents when he was a child, and his memories of them are just blurry images and vague scents, he is not a servant. After all, he is the King's nephew and the Prince's favorite and only cousin. Seokjin is lucky because if he wasn't born noble, he could have been a servant, sold as a prostitute, or as a slave. But he has noble blood, and his uncle was generous enough to raise him in the same way as his own son. Even if Jungkook is a beta and high in the hierarchy, his father, the King, conceded Seokjin to have the same level of instruction as the Prince. Mostly.
Seokjin is an omega, and when he watches the new maid walking in the long corridors with her eyes cast on the floor and her head bowed, he feels lucky because the only person he has to bow in front of is the King.
Truth be told, Seokjin keeps his head down most of the time, because the King isn't a good person. He is possessive, short-tempered, excessively authoritarian, sordid, and often proved himself to be the biggest coward in all the Empire. And the Queen is nothing more than an arrogant, selfish beta who doesn't care about anyone who isn't her son Jungkook and Seokin’s only cousin. When he looks at the royal family, Seokjin marvels at Jungkook's gentleness with parents like them. He knows that he helped to raise the young Prince along with their instructors, even if the entire court around them praises the alphas who taught the prince everything possible, from manners to speak appropriately, to history, to combat.
Of course, it's always about how the alphas are good at everything, even training future kings.
But gentleness, according to what the omegas servants whisper behind the thin walls of the palace, is a trait that Jungkook inherited directly from their uncles and transmitted onto him through Seokjin. He smiles when he casually hears them chatting about it, usually after bringing food to his rooms or serving tea in the afternoon, and a second before their voices are too far from Seokjin's ears.
Seokjin feels lucky because even if he knows the King and the Queen don't love him, he has Jungkook's affection and gratitude and the support of the servants. He feels lucky when Jungkook barges into his room with a new book to read together or a new drawing he can’t wait the morning after to show him, or when he comes to chat at night when they both can't sleep, and they always end in telling each other tales in which neither of them has noble blood, and they can do whatever they want because life is theirs to live.
Seokjin feels lucky on his twenty-five birthday because even if it's a cold December morning, the sun is shining high in the sky, and he can see the glittering of the sun rays on the surface of the sea, down to the coasts of Busan. The wind from the south is gentle and brings the promise of a warmer week without rain on the shores. He looks out of the window while having breakfast with Jungkook: seaweed soup with steamed rice, kimchi , and a piece of rice cake that one of the servants slipped in just for them because they looked too gaunt and pale.
"What are you going to do today, hyung?" Jungkook asks. His eyes grew two sizes bigger when he saw the rice cake, and they are still bright and full of enthusiasm.
Seokjin smiles, "I'll go visit my parents, and thank them for everything I have. And then I’ll walk to the beach," he replies. Every year Jungkook asks the same question, and this is always the answer.
Also, every year Jungkook pouts and looks down at his plate with a grim expression, with his eyebrows knitted in a frown, "That seems nice. I want to go with you..." he complains.
Seokjin shakes his head, munching on a big spoonful of rice with kimchi , "Jungkook-ah, you're the Crown Prince."
"Indeed I am, and?" Jungkook asks, "I can't remember the last time I've been to my uncles. I barely remember what they look like. A good nephew should know what his elders look like."
Seokjin laughs softly, feeling warm all over, "Yes, he should know it," he murmurs, looking down for a second, "I have some pictures. They're old and a bit worn on the edges but still in good shape... If you want to see them more often, I could give them to you."
"That would be nice, but, hyung," Jungkook's voice is a bit more serious now, but also incredibly soft, "I want to be with you. You're all alone every time you go to the graveyard. I want to be with you just once and hold your hand and thank them for giving me you."
Seokjin looks up at Jungkook. Every now and then, he allows himself to think about what his life would be like if they were really brothers. Would he love Jungkook the same way he just loves him as a cousin, or would the bond be even stronger? Could Jungkook be even sweeter than that? Even more thoughtful, even at his young age? Seokjin really has no idea but assumes that he's probably lucky enough to have Jungkook now as he is. And then he smiles and nods at him. He is about to say something but is interrupted by the boy who throws himself at him to surround his neck in an embrace, the air filled with his fresh mauve scent.
Seokjin feels lucky enough to be happy with his life, even if there are shadows at its corners.
—
After breakfast, Jungkook returns to his rooms to get ready, while some servants help Seokjin with his hanbok. There is something off that he can't quite get when they come to help him, and, instead of the simple pale green he wears every year, they give him another one: it’s his most beautiful hanbok, in dark blue silk, with embroidery of silver threads in the shape of the sea waves. Their scents are a bit sour too, but their replies are vague when he softly asks what's going on. They are worried about something, but they can’t speak.
There is an elderly omega among them, who's sternly observing how the younger ones dress him. Seokjin has known her forever. As far as he knows, she was the same person who also took care of her parents, and that impeccable behavior of hers kept her job all these years.
When Seokjin looks in her direction for an explanation for all that gloomy mood around him, she blinks once, twice, and then looks down with a wistful sigh, " Mama looks beautiful today. Absolutely perfect, like his father," she says. "I thought mama would love to wear his mother's necklace today, the white gold one with the blue gem. For good fortune."
Seokjin frowns, confused, "I never wear jewels when I go to see my parents. Why would I do it today?" he questions.
The omega stays silent for a moment before looking up at him with her brown, watery eyes, "The King wants mama to go to the throne hall," she explains, her voice low and old, "There is something that the King wants to discuss."
Seokjin pauses when he sees one of the servants coming to him with the necklace in his long, delicate hands. He looks at the old omega again, a feeling of dread creeping in his chest, tightening his throat, "I'm not going to see my parents today…" There is a hint of resignation in his voice, but he still smiles at her when he asks.
She doesn't reply. Nobody says a word, and Seokjin just waits, closing his eyes and repeating to himself how lucky he is.
—
Seokjin reaches the throne hall an hour later when he is dressed up to meet with the King, and the whole court, in what seems an official gathering. The room is filled with the King’s advisers, alphas, and betas whose eyes are glued to him since the exact moment he steps into the room. Immediately his gaze falls to the floor. The amount of scents is overwhelming, and even if some of them are betas and their scents are dull, his nervousness keeps him hyper-aware of everyone.
Among all the scents, he tries to focus on the most calming one: Jungkook's. It's faint, not only from all the others, but when Seokjin spots it, he focuses on it and peeks up in his direction, finding his young cousin looking at him with worried, clueless eyes. That's probably the main reason why Seokjin feels him so clearly, the beta is in distress, and Seokjin's instinct screams at him to reach him and calm him down.
Instead, he walks through the hall and reaches the throne, bowing low in front of the King, " Pyeha , I've been told you wanted to see me," Seokjin moves politely as he's been taught since when he was young. Then he looks up to see the pleased, smug smile plastered on his uncle's face.
"Ah, my son ," he always addresses Seokjin that way, a bit mockingly, and without a single ounce of affection. His voice sounds loud in the room. Louder, since nobody else dares to speak a single word, neither the Queen, whose bored gaze lingers on Seokjin for a while, before she rolls her eyes on the ceiling and sighs theatrically.
"I ordered for you to come because I have a present for your birthday," he pauses, "I'm confident you will gladly accept it." He doesn't wait for Seokjin to say something. His voice resonates in the room, filling it with his pompousness, "As you may know, I made a commitment to look after you and raise you as my own child. Your good looks caught all the Empire's attention. When you turned nineteen, I received a proposal, and I’ve been honored to promise your hand to our Emperor."
Seokjin's eyes grow wide; he looks up at the King, feeling sick. A disturbing sensation grabs the pit of his stomach, filling his mouth with saliva and making his head dizzy. There is a surprise all around them, and the hall fills with whispers and soft chatting.
Jungkook's scent grew bitter and Seokjin look in his direction for a moment before turning his eyes again on the king, " Pyeha —"
"Seokjin," the King’s voice interrupts him before he could express something. "Your pure blood was enough to guarantee you to grow healthy and to become interesting enough. This is a good way to pay homage to me, who raised you when you were alone," he grins without emotions. His lips are a stretched line of someone who has never learned how to smile with his heart but just straining the muscles of his face for official photographs and some diplomatic meetings. "I also hope you remember that after the incident with Gwangju, this is a golden opportunity to remedy the fact that you were not convincing enough with your previous betrothed. Don’t waste my gift."
Seokjin's heart sinks down in his chest. He looks at the floor, feeling guilt creeping all over him and the burden being thrown at his shoulders. He nods once, "Your generosity moves my heart." he murmurs.
"Good. My beloved sister, your mother, would be glad to see how well I've raised her orphan," he says, his voice is mincing, annoying as the sand in the eyes on a windy day. "The Empire delegation will arrive from Daegu in two days, you have plenty of time to prepare properly, and—"
"Father!" Jungkook's voice interrupts the King's monologue. Seokjin widens his eyes, too shocked to look at his cousin’s side, frightened by the sudden silence that falls in the hall, so deep that anyone could hear the beating of a butterfly's wings if at that moment it flew above them.
"Please, you can't send Seokjin away," Jungkook speaks bravely, but his voice shakes a little, and there is still bitterness in his scent. "He is my cousin, he is your nephew! How can you do this to him? How can you send him to the Mad Emperor?!"
Seokjin looks up. He didn't notice when Jungkook moved to stand in front of him defensively, his shoulders straightened and his chin up. Seokjin looks at Jungkook and sees courage, and then he looks at the King and sees cowardy.
When the King stands up and raises his voice, growling in a way that makes Seokjin bow his head low, lower, the omega knows that only a weak man would raise his voice to make other people listen to him. Still, in his weakness, he is the most powerful man in Busan’s territory.
"You will step aside, son, or your punishment will be far harder than a flog," he says. Seokjin can hear him moving while he leaves the throne and goes down the steps that separate it from the floor. "You will step aside, you will let your cousin leave, and you will pray that I will still allow you to be able to walk on your own legs so that you can go and visit him once a year if the Emperor allows it. Or if I will allow it."
Seokjin looks at the slick, wooden floor that reflects the lights in the room and the King’s features. And he sees it, in that exact reflection, the King's eyes are filled with the rage mounted for the outrage of a son who dared to express an opinion or his feelings.
Jungkook is lucky to be a beta, Seokjin thinks. Jungkook is lucky to be a beta because by now, an omega would have been—
"F-father, it's- it's not fair..." Jungkook falters, and Seokjin's heart breaks at that very moment. "You can't allow this, please... he's your nephew, you call him a son... how could you—"
The following noise Seokjin hears is the loud smack of a slap. Jungkook's words end in a surprised, pained moan. At that moment, Seokjin does the only thing he could think of and throws himself at the King's foot, kneeling down, joining hands in respect. "I am grateful to you for this gift! Please forgive my foolish young cousin, he is too immature to understand what he is saying and his tongue is faster than his reasoning!" and if he raises his voice, it is only to be heard above the anger that he knows is echoing in the King's ears, to plead him louder.
There is a long silence, during which he hears Jungkook moving back, he knows it's him not only because his scent is even sourer, while the King's is overbearing and burns Seokjin's lungs like smoke, but because he would recognize those steps everywhere: soft, light, familiar, a comforting sound.
At the same time, he feels the King's presence stilling over him, the overwhelming sensation of feeling mashed to the ground not only because he is kneeling in front of him but also because he must do so. As an omega, he must submit to the alpha.
"Very good," the King's voice sounds pleased, a bit too much. Disgustingly satisfied, and something in his scent makes Seokjin want to run away and cry for help. But he doesn't dare to move or to look up. He doesn't dare to say anything more. He bites his lower lip until it hurts and releases it only when he hears the steps of the King moving away from him.
Just as he recognizes Jungkook's steps, he knows too well the steps of the only alpha who was ever allowed to crawl around him. Even now, humiliated and small in front of the court, Seokjin feels lucky because the King never dared to touch him: he has only ever spied on him from the darkness in the corner of the palace.
"I’m tired of both of you kids," the King says, suddenly bored, "Someone makes sure the Prince and His Highness stay in their rooms until the day after tomorrow. I've had enough of this hustle and bustle."
Someone with a soft ocean and rosemary scent gently makes him get up, holding him by his elbows.
Seokjin doesn’t look around, his eyes are filled with unshed tears, and his guilt keeps his head low. At this exact moment, he knows that he will not say goodbye to his parents, but he still feels lucky because he will be able to say goodbye to Jungkook, at least.
—
The following two days pass in a daze. Seokjn has to pack his things, and some servant told him that the weather in the inland would be colder, so he has to choose warmer clothes. Jungkook asked him to borrow his favorite wool shawl the same day after the encounter with the King.
He has not returned it.
When choosing which clothes to bring with him and which ones to leave, he thinks that there could be no cloth warm enough or smell quite familiar to release the dread he feels in his heart. Every time Seokjin's thoughts linger on the Mad Emperor, he feels goosebumps all over his skin and his chest tightening because if the stories around him are true, then he is going to live in a place even darker than where he is. Nonetheless, he smiles brightly every time a servant enters his room and softly congratulates, wishing him good luck and good health.
He received an infinite list of names he should memorize before entering the Emperor's court and avoid making a fool of himself. There are the names of the entire Imperial family, which is not so big, considering how powerful they are and how their power grew. He has to learn the ministers', the advisors', and the courtesans' names as well. The list came without the hierarchy ranks, only with the position everyone takes in the court. This means Seokjin will know their sub-gender only when he meets them, making him a bit too jittery and irritable.
It’s the last day he stays in Busan’s palace, in this place where he was born and where he became an orphan when his parents died of a rare disease. The place where he grew up, and the only things he knows he will miss, are all the omegas servants that have been gentle to him and Jungkook.
An hour after the sun has set, Seokjin is near the window of his chambers, set ajar to let the cool breeze of the ocean fill the room with its salty smell. He needs to imprint in his memory these perfumes while he still can breathe them before he spends the rest of his life in the inland, surrounded by fields of tea, vines, and freezing snow. His room is dimly lit by a single oil lantern at the small table, where he sits on a soft cushion, trying to focus on the second page of the infinite series of names. When someone opens the door of his room, sliding it softly, he startles, frightened by the slightest of noises: Jungkook's footsteps.
The young Prince freezes at the door when Seokjin looks in his direction, his eyes grow two sizes bigger, and his lips pursed in a slight ll pout, "Sorry, hyung, I didn't mean to scare you..."
Seokjin breathes, he is about to ask him to leave when he focuses on the mark on his cheekbone. Where the King has slapped him, there is a purple sign, yellow at the edges, and it must hurt because Jungkook's eye on that side is a bit narrowed. He shakes his head, "Don't worry, I'm a scaredy-cat..." he jokes.
Jungkook chuckles then and enters the room. He has Seokjin's shawl tightened all around his shoulders and neck. He goes straight to sit near him, his face dipping behind the soft wool, "I will return it to you, I promise." Jungkook says, probably sensing Seokjin's eyes on him. His gaze falls down on the list, and he sighs loudly, "I just... I want it to smell like me, so people would know you are not alone. They would know that if they hurt you, I will come for them."
Seokjin can't help but feel fondness. He sets aside his papers to slide near Jungkook and circles him with his arm, "Thank you, Jungkook-ah," he murmurs, his head lowering to gently bump against his temple, "You're the strongest person I know. I'm very proud of you, and I will gladly bring your scent with me." he says. And, even if Jungkook's scent is barely noticeable, Seokjin knows from how it sweetens that his cousin is pleased. So he smiles, even more, feeling really lucky in this very moment, and only now.
They stay in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other's company, and Seokjin thinks Jungkook has fallen asleep over his shoulder when he feels his head leaning on it. But then Jungkook takes in a sharp breath and talks, his voice a barely hearable whisper, "Why don't we run away?"
Seokjin stills, his arm tightening around the younger's shoulders, "Stop joking, Jungkook," he fakes a laugh, pulling away to look around them. Obviously, the room is empty, but the walls are thin, and there is always someone behind who listens and reports whatever is uttered by the royals. When he looks back at Jungkook and notices how the younger is about to say something, Seokjin places a hand on his mouth and shakes his head quickly, his eyes widening in concern. He doesn't know what Jungkook sees, but that's enough to convince him to desist from saying anything else.
The young beta sighs through his nose before gently taking Seokjin's wrist in his fingers and removing his hand, "You're right, hyung, you know I like to joke." His tone is light, simulated jovial, but his expression is sad.
They don't need to speak, the two of them have always needed just one look to understand each other. Sometimes, when Seokjin's eyes are mirrored in Jungkook's big ones, he can't help but wonder what their life would be like if they were really brothers... since even just as cousins, they only need a look.
Seokjin leans closer, and Jungkook hugs him tight, circling his shoulders with his arms. And when Seokjin starts crying in silence, as he always does when he feels lost as he is now, Jungkook rocks him gently, stroking his back and rubbing his nose against his neck, in an instinctive gesture of comfort. Jungkook's scent isn't prominent enough, but it's enough to make everything a little less bitter.
—
The morning after, Jungkook sneaks out of Seokjin rooms before the sun rises. They ended up staying together, talking all night, reminiscing old memories, and promising they would write to each other every and another week. And, like that, Seokjin's last night in Busan passed, with whispered oaths and until every last single tear had left their eyes and turned into giggles because when saying goodbye, it is always better to do it with a smile in your eyes and lightness in your heart, and not with a head full of regrets.
When the bright sun filters through the high windows in the throne hall, Daegu's delegation arrives. The room fills with whispers and murmurs, and Seokjin tries to understand why everyone is so surprised when the persistent scent of the omega walking right in their direction hits his nose.
The man carries himself confidently, his shoulders broad and straight, his chin raised and eyes glued to the throne and whoever presides over it, without a blink of an eye, without a tremor in the pupils. His nutmeg and raspberry scent is both spicy and sweet. In the short time the omega walks briskly to reach the Royal Family, silence falls again. Seokjin looks at the young alpha accompanying the omega. A tall, slender boy that looks younger than Jungkook, with a serious expression plastered on his delicate features.
The omega, wearing a turquoise hanbok with dense floral embroidery, stops precisely in front of the throne and bows his head in respect. He does not kneel, crossing his hands behind his back, " Pyeha ," he shortly greets the King alone and only, without addressing anyone else, or without even acknowledging their presence, for what it's worth.
The alpha stops a step behind him, one hand on the pommel of the sword hanging at his side. Seokjin recognizes the intimidation in that gesture, so he takes a small step to hide behind Jungkook and looks down at the beta’s nape in front of him.
"Welcome to Busan!" The King welcomes them with a voice that might seem pleasant, but Seokjin perceives hostility in his undertones. He has to bite his lower lip to hide that smile that comes with the King’s distress easily perceptible in his scent. "Namjoon, right?” he asks. The omega nods curtly, and when he remains silent, the King speaks again, “We had a banquet prepared to refresh you. You must be tired, and—"
"Thank you, pyeha , but we won't stop," Namjoon cuts him off. Seokjin widens his eyes and peeks in their direction, amazed when he realizes that he is not the only one holding his breath. Everyone in the hall is shocked. Starting with the King himself, his hideous Queen, Jungkook, and even the endless plethora of advisors filling the hall.
Namjoon seems indifferent, "If his Majesty, the bridegroom, is ready, we will leave within an hour. The Emperor wishes to formalize everything and—" he pauses. Seokjin sees his nostrils quiver for a single moment before his piercing eyes glue towards him and Jungkook. He may be an omega, but the depth of his gaze is impressively strong.
The King grinds his teeth, impatiently, "And...? " he presses, "Speak, omega, a King has no time to waste!" The King never liked half-sentences. Seokjin and Jungkook learned it the hard way from a young age.
Namjoon's eyes return to the king, at the exact moment when the tall boy behind him takes a step forward and widens his shoulders, his chest tight under the red and black vest he wears. If he refrains from drawing his sword, Seokjin notes, it's only because Namjoon raises his hand and blocks him, placing the back of his two raised fingers on his chest. "Soobin, we won't insult our guests," Namjoon speaks softly, his tone softened as he addresses the young alpha. "Take two steps behind and stay in your place."
Soobin recoils with a low growl, and, again, Seokjin's gaze is fixed on the back of Jungkook's head in front of him. Instinctively the young beta brings a hand back, and Seokjin grabs it, squeezing it tightly.
"I beg your pardon for the temper of my guard. He is young.” Namjoon smiles, his tone still soft in addressing the King, "And I beg your pardon for my distraction. The beauty of your nephew shines, even as he tries to hide it in the shadows."
Seokjin feels the moment when everyone's sight shifts on him. He closes his eyes for a moment before letting go of Jungkook's hand and, looking up to peeks at Namjoon, murmurs a shy, "I'm flattered," before the King has the opportunity to shut him.
And, of course, he does it, raising his voice directly at him, with a stern tone, "Don't speak if you're not given the permission, you slut—"
"I'm sorry again, pyeha , but I was addressing the betrothed. Nobody asked to your permission for him to speak. You have no rights on him," Namjoon intercedes, his tone patient and his scent increasing in sweetness thanks to the pheromones he is emitting to calm everyone around him. "In fact, you lost every right to him in the exact moment his hand was promised to the Empire. Another word in his direction without my permission, and the forty warriors who infiltrated your palace during the last years to keep the groom safe, will commit a massacre."
The King falters, nervously licking his lips and looking around in the hall, his expression clearly lost. He clears his throat after a few moments, stretching a nervous smile before returning his eyes to an overly calm Namjoon, "T-there's no reason to bluff," the hint of a jittery laugh escaping his lips.
Seokjin is speechless, but, truth to be told, he is not the only one.
Namjoon purses his lips, his eyebrows slightly frowning, “Why would I bluff?”
Seokjin looks at the King and sees him looking around again, desperately searching for a sign of these said forty warriors, but when he’s about to say something, Namjoon speaks again. “You see, pyeha , I’m offering my respects to your noble family because your father, the King of Busan, was a respectable man and an ally. The Emperor would like to maintain this friendship, but it’s hard when his spouse is spoken lowly and threatened in front of his Ambassador”, he pauses for a moment, raising a hand to bring it to his dimpled cheek. Like a child whispering a secret, he leans a bit forward, but when he talks, his voice is high and clear, "In case you didn’t notice, I'm the Ambassador."
Jungkook instantly relaxes and takes a step aside, turning to gently tucking Seokjin by his elbow and walking in the Ambassador’s direction. “May I have the honor to properly introduce his Highness Seokjin of Busan, grandson of the former King and my beloved cousin?” he smiles brightly. Seokjin looks admired at Jungkook for a moment too long, when they both walk to Namjoon.
The omega smiles gently and bows at Jungkook, “It’s a pleasure, and you must be the wangseja , Jungkook if I’m not mistaken,” he keeps his eyes on the Prince, who nods a couple of times, his smile never faltering. Seokjin hasn’t seen it in a while, he would say something but he is still too surprised to do… anything other than stare at their interaction.
Namjoon’s gaze lingers a little bit longer on Jungkook, even when his face turns in Seokjin’s direction. Then, his brown, warm eyes are on him, and Seokjin takes a sharp breath. “ Mama , we’re ready when you’re ready,” Namjoon says before Seokjin could even think.
“I would like to say goodbye to the Prince,” he pauses, peeking at the throne direction, “And to the court.” Seokjin freezes when he feels the King’s gaze fixed on him so piercingly he could make a hole in his skull. The omega looks down to the floor, forcing a smile on his lips, even if he doesn’t want to. “I will miss them.” he lies.
Namjoon nods, bowing low in front of him and Jungkook, “We’ll wait outside, mama .” He pauses, looking at Jungkook and offering him that dimpled, bright smile they saw some moments ago, “Prince, I hope we’ll see you soon in Daegu. The Emperor would be glad to get to the younger grandson of his old friend.” he then looks at the King, his smile fading quickly. “This is an official invitation for the Crown Prince. I hope the King and the Queen will gladly accept it and offer their respect to the Empire for being so hospitable towards their son.”
Seokjin looks up just in time to see the King’s shocked expression and Namjoon’s sharp, amused smirk.
—
When Seokjin leaves the palace, he doesn't look behind. He didn't really need to say goodbye to the Royals: it was just an excuse to talk with Jungkook a little bit more and say goodbye to the people who showed him kindness. And, despite all, there were many, even some alphas. The last one to say goodbye was the old omega servant who was always with him in all these years. She kissed his hands and gave him a wooden carved box containing all his jewels. The omega said it's an object his mother had more dear than the same jewels it contains and told him to keep it with the same care his mother had.
It was a strange recommendation, but Seokjin didn't ask anything more because, after all those years of service, the least he could do was listen to the advice of the elderly omega.
He moves to Namjoon, waiting with Soobin in the center of the vast court in front of the palace entrance. Seokjin looks around and counts at least thirty people, all dressed in black and red, with clothes similar to the ones Soobin is wearing: everyone has a sword at their side, and some of them bring bows on their backs. Seokjin's eyes narrow when they're hit by the reflection of sunlight on the smooth surface of a gun, tucked into the holster of an alpha whose scent is a mixture of tangerines and the cold, pungent smell of the first snow.
Seokjin looks in that direction, but all he can see is someone tucked in all black, with a cape on his head, and dark feline eyes focused on him for some seconds. Then, the alpha turns to another one with a bright smile made of full lips and eyes turning into crescents, and a sweet scent of tea leaves and butter.
" Mama , are you ready?" Namjoon asks, diverting Seokjin's attention away from the two alphas. "Apparently, the King didn't give us a sedan chair for you. I’m sorry you would have to ride a horse to the station," he says, his lips frowning down in an annoyed grimace. Namjoon looks at the luggage a couple of servants are holding for Seokjin, and his expression sours even more. "Also, you won't need all those things. The Empire will provide it from now on. You're no longer a Busan's man. You belong to Daegu.'' His eyes focus on the jewel box Seokjin is holding. Namjoon's brow arches.
Seokjin looks down at his own hands. His grip on the wooden thing tightens while trying to ignore the ominous feeling sliding down his chest at the words belong to Daegu . He swallows past the knot tightening his throat, "Can I, please, bring it with me? Just this object."
"The Emperor can give you boxes twice the size, even fuller of jewels, or gems or whatever you desire," Namjoon replies calmly. Seokjin looks up at him and hesitates, about to give the jewelry box to one of the servants behind him, when one of them, with a familiar ocean and rosemary scent, steps forward and says something only for the Ambassador to hear. Seokjin recognizes her: she's the last one who came to serve at the court. Namjoon exchanges a long look with her and then nods. His sharp eyes shift on Seokjin again, "It seems I am wrong. There's nothing more precious than that object." he smiles. He doesn't really say anything more than that, but even if he doesn't express it, there is a slight apology in his words.
With that, Namjoon turns around to regroup all the people around them, and in less than fifteen minutes, they head to Busan's train station.
While moving away from the palace on his horse, holding the jewelry box near his chest, Seokjin finds himself becoming more and more calmer. He doesn't realize the soothing presence of the scent of tangerines and snow mingled with tea leaves and butter until it fades once they get on the whistling steam train.
—
The trip is not long, but Seokjin finds himself restless the more they leave the coasts behind, reaching inland to Daegu. And the gloomy clouds forming in the skies he sees through the windows of his train aren't of any help. He has been left alone in a luxurious wagon, full of food and drinks, but he feels nauseous. He has felt this way since his uncle announced his arranged mating, but now that the moment is approaching, he feels sicker. So he sits in silence on the puffy sofas, trying not to think he is leaving a bad place to an even more dangerous one.
Everybody knows the Mad Emperor and how he reached that position. He is a tyrant and a dictator. He literally conquered the majority of the territories from south to north, setting the capital in his hometown, Daegu, which once was a smaller city of tea merchants and now is the neuralgic core of the Empire. He took everything forcefully, assimilating weaker kingdoms, destroying smaller monarchies, or forging alliances that led small kingdoms like Busan, Gwangju, and Seoul to have a minimum of freedom. The only place that has remained entirely neutral is Jeju, a small fishing island that's not all that interesting.
And then there is that nickname, Mad Emperor , that people whisper in a hushed voice because it is too disrespectful and yet terribly accurate. Seokjin has heard stories about how he changed his mates until he had an alpha heir from the last one. Of the previous partners, nothing was ever known. So, since there is already a successor, Seokjin wonders why the Emperor wanted to finalize an agreement that seems to have been made years ago. His reasoning is interrupted when the door of his carriage is opened, and Namjoon looks inside with a small, gentle smile on his lips.
" Mama ," Namjoon nods his head in greeting, eyeing the table of food left untouched. "Any betrothed who enters the Empire must abandon everything of his native land. Your jewelry box will be guarded with great care, but your clothes and the jewelry you wear are... unsuitable." He pauses for a second, inhaling through his nose, and pursing his lips in an attempt to hide some annoyance, "There is a bath ready for you, in the adjacent wagon, and new clothes."
Seokjin breathes, closing his eyes for a moment and trying hard not to feel embarrassed by the way Namjoon is acting with his sniffing and grimacing, "Is my scent is so disgusting?"
"Your scent is dulled to the King's," Namjoon says quickly. Seokjin looks back at him, frowning with parted lips. "Believe me when I say your scent is one of the most pleasurable things I've ever felt. And, forgive me for being so blunt, but it disappears under the reek you bring with those clothes. It's almost like..." he falls silent.
Seokjin keeps staring at him, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping when he's left suffocating out of the water. He never realized it, but now that Namjoon has brought this detail up, his uncle’s burnt charcoal scent coating his clothes hits his senses. Almost like Seokjin has been... marked. He stands up slowly, feeling too dazed to move normally. He places the jewelry box on the sofa and moves toward Namjoon. "The bathroom, please?" When he speaks, his voice is barely a whisper, but he manages to smile at the Ambassador even if he feels fainting.
Namjoon doesn't say anything else. He guides Seokjin through another empty wagon and stops to let him enter the one furnished and used as a bathroom, where there is a screen made of wood and rice paper, a bathtub full of steaming water and foam, and a toilet. Seokjin has the strength to wait until he is left alone again before falling on his knees by the toilet and throwing up whatever was inside his stomach.
—
It snows when Seokjin steps into the huge clearing in front of the Imperial Palace, surrounded by high walls that barely allow a glimpse of the city.
After calming down, still traveling on the train, he stripped off his clothes and took a hot bath which, at least, loosened the tension under his skin for a while. Namjoon and another omega helped him dress up with a light lilac hanbok, with delicate all-over floral embroideries of a darker purple and gold. His hair was combed to reveal his forehead, and he was given gold drop earrings and a bracelet with a small pendant embossed with the imperial family crest: a tiger.
He demanded that his old robes be burned, except for the shawl with the soft mauve scent Jugnkook left on it, while Namjoon placed a fur-lined cape over his shoulders. Seokjin wasn't surprised to see a satisfied expression come across the omega's face, and, honestly, he felt better too.
The journey from the station to the palace was very different from his departure. As soon as he got off the train, he headed for the horses but was blocked and directed to a sedan chair supported by four strong alphas. Seokjin has never received such treatment, not that he has ever asked for it, and the embarrassment was such that he hid inside the tiny cabin and only peeks out every now and then to make sure the four alphas were okay. Or they weren't fatigued.
He didn't see much of the city, but he heard enough to understand that the streets had been emptied for their passage because there wasn't a sound outside that would suggest life, other than the trampling of the few horses and the footsteps of the same guards who escorted Namjoon to Busan and back.
Now, as he observes the staircase that leads him to the palace entrance, and whatever is inside it, Seokjin feels the discomfort again. He wonders how Jungkook is doing if he managed to keep his promise to go and bring flowers to Seokjin's parents' grave. He wonders when he will be able to see him again. He wonders if the sun still shines in Busan and if that same sun would warm this place too.
Seokjin slightly jumps when a guard, a young alpha whose scent is a mixture of brown sugar and cinnamon, stops beside him, bringing over his head a fabric umbrella. "Mama will get sick," the alpha says when he turns to look at her. She has a round face, with almost perfect almond black eyes and long hair. Her features are sharp and yet delicate. Seokjin can't really stop looking at the slope of her nose, straight and perfect, and the cupid bow of her upper lips. She looks back at him, right in the eyes, "When mama is ready," she says.
And Seokjin hesitates, looking behind him to search for Namjoon, "We don't wait for the Ambassador?" he asks with worry sitting on his chest for a moment until the alpha scent becomes a bit sweeter.
She gives him a small smile when he looks back at her, "The Ambassador is talking privately with the Emperor. Do not worry, mama, I will keep you safe until you meet with him.” Her words are soft and gentle, and her voice is deep and soothing. Seokjin nods dumbly, a bit less in distress but still feeling entirely out of place when he starts climbing the stairs, along with the alpha.
In the short amount of time they walk, he looks again at her. She looks all around, but there is no alarm in her eyes, and her expression is calm and unreadable. Only when she gazes at him with the corner of her eyes, does she smile again, "Hye-jin."
"Sorry?" Seokjin blinks.
"My name is Hye-jin. I think mama should know since I will keep him safe," she explains patiently, walking a half step behind him, close enough to make him feel a little less uncomfortable. Seokjin nods shortly, finding himself grinning when they reach the entrance.
They are greeted by an elderly alpha and at least a dozen other servants whose scents help him understand that most of them are beta, and there are only a couple of omegas.
Seokjin briefly observes the old woman, whose pale lips are drawn into a thin line, and graying hair pulled back neatly with a silver clip in her hair. He bows his head low to her, and when he looks up again with a pretty smile ready to be shown like he’s been taught, he is blown away by the shocked expression on her features.
Seokjin stares for a second too long, catching a breath, before looking down and speaking, "Did I do something wrong...?" he asks her.
From the corner of his eyes, he can see the woman just bowing down to him and holding that position while she speaks, "Mama would never do something wrong.” she says. And when he is about to reply, she speaks again, her voice is firm, but without the display of authority, Seokjin is used to seeing from an alpha. “The Emperor will receive you tomorrow. If you want to rest, your rooms are ready."
The other servants bow to him even more deeply.
Confused, Seokjin looks at Hye-jin without voicing the question he evidently has in his eyes. The guard stares with wide eyes, lips slightly curled, before her gaze on him softens. "Mama must begin to act like the Emperor's mate."
She takes a step back, pursing her lips in a gentle smile, "Mama doesn’t have to bow in front of everyone anymore."