Chapter Text
“I’m by no means a storyteller,” said the raven-haired woman. “As you can see, no one dares approach me like this.” She motioned to her arms and face. Beneath the hood, the greying hairs, the horrifying burn marks and scars, you could tell that she was once beautiful. “Yet here we stand at the gates of this crumbling castle, which I used to call home, which I once loved and hated, so I think I shall indulge in a little tale of my own. Oh, don’t mind me, this is just my final goodbye to this wretched land.”
By the oceans here, the Zenin castle stood alone. To many, the kingdom was forever blossoming and never waning in power, with its riches from the seas and nearby mountains and its strategic location as a popular calling port. But some looked on in envy, gossiping about black markets which dabbled in illicit goods like mermaid’s flesh and dragon’s blood, and spreading rumours of a cursed bloodline that never produced a proper Alpha head. Yet the Zenin’s had nothing to fear even if those rumours were true, for they had the protection of strong allies, the almighty Gojo’s, the traditional Kamo’s, even the reclusive Itadori clan.
But you already know this, don’t you, traveller? In that case, you would also have heard of how the Zenin’s were always buying the largest bulks of the finest silks, paper and ink from the Kamo kingdom, even if they couldn’t properly afford it. Those silks would be dyed and sewn into elegant kimonos, decorations and, importantly, bedsheets.
You see, under that glamorous facade, the Zenin’s were a dying clan. For years, they longed to produce a legitimate, Alpha heir who could lead and produce pure, Zenin offspring. But perhaps the rumours were true, or someone jealous of their power cast a spell on them, but every child born in that family was Omega. Submissive, powerless. In order to keep enjoying the privileges they had for so long, they had to send these Omegas to their allies to be wed.
And so it was born out of sheer greed and hubris, the Zenin tradition of framing and hanging up the silken bedsheets upon which the Omega bride and Alpha groom had consummated their marriage. Those white squares speckled with crimson blood were the family’s only pride and joy. On the morning after the couple had mated, a Zenin attendant would carry the stained sheets out of the room, to the highest balcony of the castle, and declare to the whole kingdom their Omega’s purity, which had been taken by the chosen Alpha only.
Imagine a whole hallway of these sheets in gilded frames, with the names of the Zenin Omega and the Alpha from whichever ally kingdom labelled beneath. You would not find paintings or writings about these mysterious Zenin Omegas, for they were mere commodities. The highest honour bestowed upon them was to be named in this hall of stained bedsheets.
Disgusting, isn’t it? Yet this kept going for decades, while the Zenin’s despaired at the lack of legitimate Alpha heirs, they continued giving away Omegas in exchange for wealth and peace. Across the lands and seas, Alphas and Omega-handlers would bring their Omegas to gaze at this hall of sheets. It served as both a promise and a warning for these Omegas, for at the end of this twisted gallery, one large square without any frame was put up. There was no label beneath it, although it is clear that a Zenin Omega was wed to someone. The silk was stretched and pinned neatly, with no creases, and no blood.
Ah, you’re staring at me as if I have grown a second head. You heard me right. There was nothing on that silk, yet it seemed to have everything to tell. You could read it as clear as day. The burning shame that the Zenin’s would have felt that morning when the attendant brought the sheet out with shivering hands, the untold story before and the unspoken consequences after that.
Who was that Omega, you ask? Nobody knows for sure. The Zenin’s have produced many female and male Omegas, after all. But there was only one who became the talk of the town for a period of time. They said that he (yes, he) was the only Zenin born out of wedlock, that he did black magic and therefore had eyes the colour of the clearest jade, something you could never find in the kingdom. But whoever he was, he was like smoke and shadows. Nobody could ascertain the existence of this particular Zenin, or say that he was the owner of that blank sheet.
As for the sad Alpha groom, there is no answer as to who it was either. Could it have been the Gojo clan’s strongest with all-seeing eyes and hair as white as snow? Or the illegitimate heir from the Kamo clan who was the epitome of filial piety? Perhaps one of the Itadori twins infamous for their brutality and conquests across the land? And really, who had already claimed that Zenin Omega for themselves?
Quietly, angrily, the Zenin family hung up the sheet and swept the incident under. Not long after, a huge fire broke out, burning everything except that piece of fabric. Was I there? Really, are you asking me that?
Whenever an Alpha or handler brought their Omega to the gallery of sullied silks, they would lead their charges to that final canvas and barely hold back grimaces and displeased growls.
But away from the eyes of their owner, the Omega who looked up at that stark whiteness might smile.