Chapter Text
Chapter 1
“Hey,” Nam-Joon murmured, a smile twitching on the edges of his lips, “Be safe with my intended, okay?”
Ji-Min giggled, cheeks pink and blushy as he nodded, burying his face in his suitor's chest, only to squeak. Ji-Min always forgot how rough Nam-Joon’s clothes could be; the heavy gold thread that embroidered his coats were sharp, and they pricked Ji-Min’s sensitive skin.
“Ow,” Ji-Min whined, pulling out of his intended’s embrace to pout, lifting a hand to touch his scratched cheek. “Joonie.”
“Oh dear,” Nam-Joon cooed, leaning down with a fond indulgent smile. His hand ghosted over Ji-Min’s cheek, gentle even though there was absolutely no visible mark. “Same mistake again, dearest?”
Ji-Min felt his heart flutter, the way it always did when Nam-Joon called him Dearest.
He was Nam-Joon’s pretty, little Dearest.
The Omega Nam-Joon had courted for over a year. The only Omega that had ever caught Nam-Joon’s eye. The Omega Nam-Joon was going to mate.
“I’m injured,” Ji-Min blinked, eyes wide, deceivingly innocent as he pouted, “You wouldn’t let your intended travel injured and unaccompanied, would you?”
Ji-Min placed his slender hands on Nam-Joon’s chest. The thin, feminine rings on his fingers glittered ruby red; the jewels were stunning against the navy backdrop of Nam-Joon’s heavy outer-coat.
The tiny little rubies wrapped around his fingers seemed fairy-like in comparison to the bulky military medals shining over Nam-Joon’s chest.
Everything about Nam-Joon made Ji-Min feel small in the absolute best way.
Including how Nam-Joon was leaning over him, pressing a kiss to his temple that was equal parts besotted and condescending.
“I would never allow that. But you are neither injured, nor unaccompanied.” Nam-Joon said this wryly, looking down at Ji-Min as if the Omega had said something amusing.
“You aren’t coming with me. I’m unaccompanied.”
Ji-Min pouted.
Nam-Joon chuckled, pulling Ji-Min back in for another hug, Ji-Min’s cheek pressing against the itchy fabric again. He ignored it this time, too happy with the intimacy to complain about the small inconvenience.
“The lovely Omega Princess of Lilune, my Dearest intended, is traveling back home with a company of a hundred armed soldiers. That is larger than some royal guards, I’ll have you know. You are most definitely accompanied, over-accompanied, some might say.”
“They aren’t the same.”
“I should hope foot-soldiers aren’t the same as your intended.”
“Now you’re just being rude.”
“I can’t imagine anyone has the heart to be rude to you,” Nam-Joon sighed, pressing a final kiss to the top of Ji-Min’s head before pulling away, stepping back.
The crown in Nam-Joon’s ashy grey hair caught the sunlight, lighting up the sharp edges of the gold filigree. The sight was oddly reminiscent of a halo, and Ji-Min felt his heart melting once again for the love of his life.
Nam-Joon was so handsome, so kind and perfect.
Ji-Min had gotten so very lucky.
“You’re going to go home. You’re going to show off your final courting gift to your friends. And I’ll see you in three weeks time to conduct our mating ceremony,” Nam-Joon’s eyes were warm, but his tone was firm. He was serious now.
The words set Ji-Min’s mind at ease. Ji-Min would be at home for three weeks, and then he’d mate Nam-Joon.
It wasn’t nearly as long a wait as it seemed.
Ji-Min straightened slightly nodding, an adorable imitation of a soldier following an order, though the similarity was undercut by Ji-Min’s sparkling ruby tiara. “Okay.”
“Now unless you want more soldiers-”
“Joonie, you already doubled what I came with-”
“Then, I hope you have a safe and enjoyable trip, Dearest. I love you.”
The words were still just the barest bit novel; novel enough that they still felt like the sparks of a cannon rather than the tender wash of the tide. Ji-Min bit his lip, trying to control his gleeful smile, as he nodded.
“I love you, too.”
And then, Ji-Min was bundled up into his carriage, starting his journey home.
—
Two years after Ji-Min had come of age, his parents had thrown him a gala to introduce him to suitors.
Though many Alphas threw gifts at him, asking for permission to court him, only one suitor had caught his eye, introducing himself as Nam-Joon.
He had been an unimposing presence, a moderate height, an unscarred body with uncalloused hands and a clean-shaven face; a much welcome change to the warrior Alphas wandering about, trying to convince Ji-Min that they were anything but brutes.
With ash-grey hair, stunning dark eyes, and the prettiest dimples, he was one of the handsomest suitors that had approached Ji-Min that night.
Ji-Min’s friends disagreed, but Ji-Min wasn’t willing to budge on the subject.
Nam-Joon had been a warm, comforting sort of attractive.
The kind of beauty that reminded Ji-Min of the sun.
Nam-Joon had approached him slowly, politely bowing, before asking permission to speak.
Ji-Min’s eyes lingered on the man’s heavy golden crown, but the stranger hadn’t given Ji-Min his title, so Ji-Min ignored it. If the man didn’t consider it important enough to introduce himself with, then Ji-Min was sensible enough to not question it.
Once Ji-Min had given the man permission to speak, Nam-Joon had gestured to the sugared Reqard fruit in Ji-Min’s hand, and had promptly told him why it wouldn’t taste as good out of season.
Apparently, the monsoon season led to more water in the fruit, meaning it would be much more bland than fruit grown in the warm season.
Ji-Min had blinked, confused at why the stranger had felt it necessary to point that out.
“If you want fruit, I suggest Mahwara fruit.”
Ji-Min scrunched his nose. “I’ve heard those are bitter. Mother says I can’t eat them.”
“They’re shipped from Kimina, in the North. They thrive under the cold temperatures of the Monsoon season. They start to ferment in the heat, which is what makes them bitter in the summer months.”
Ji-Min blinked, “Ferment?”
The stranger smiled, shaking his head as if Ji-Min had said something adorable.
“Fermentation is how alcohol is made. Alcohol is the bitter taste in Mahwaras, which is likely why Her Majesty says you can’t have them.”
Ji-Min’s eyes widened, “There can be alcohol even in fruit? Oh dear.”
This was news to Ji-Min.
Alcohol was forbidden- sinful for Omegas to imbibe; he had thought wines were the only source of alcohol. It appears that Ji-Min was wrong.
How close had Ji-Min been to sinning? How many times had he considered trying one? How many Omegas had Ji-Min seen consume them?
It was an outrage that this information wasn’t common knowledge.
“They only ferment in the summer. They’d be safe now, Your Highness,” the stranger reassured.
Ji-Min, however, was still focused on this revelation.
Fruit can contain alcohol?
“It’s improper for Omegas to have alcohol,” Ji-Min frowned.
“It’s the middle of the monsoon season, Your Highness. It’s impossible them to contain alcohol at this time of year.”
The man’s argument was logical; he was clearly well-read on the matter. He had been right about the Reqard fruit being bland. He knew how alcohol is made.
It made sense that his assurance would be trust-worthy.
But this wasn’t a small matter- consuming alcohol was sinful; Ji-Min couldn’t trust the purity of his soul to a mere stranger, even an intelligent one.
“Still. Mahwara’s are forbidden for a reason. It wouldn’t look right for me to have it.”
“I’ve heard that you’re the height of propriety, Your Highness. Your Omegean subjects strive to be as virtuous as you. People speak of your beauty across the continent,” the stranger said, honesty in his eyes and voice, “Surely, a trying a fruit couldn’t taint a reputation as renowned as yours?”
Ji-Min bit his lip, feeling a prideful blush warm his cheeks.. “I suppose you have a point.”
“I thought so,” the stranger nodded, “Some monuments are anchored so deep into the ground. It would take nothing short of a typhoon to topple them.”
It was a novel experience, having his ego stoked.
Most coddled Ji-Min, promising to protect his innocent, promising to shield tiny, little Ji-Min from the sins of the world. And, in stark contrast, here was this man telling Ji-Min that they weren’t a cause for worry at all. That Ji-Min, pretty, weak Ji-Min, was untainted by the temptations around him.
“My virtue is a monument?” Ji-Min questioned, face so hot with embarrassment.
“It’s far more striking than any temple I’ve been to.”
Blasphemy.
Ji-Min’s eyebrow twitched, the urge to rebuke the man was near overwhelming.
But, for some reason- Ji-Min swallowed his words, too curious, too intrigued with this novel experience of being flattered, to chide the man for sinning.
“And in comparison to a typhoon,” the stranger trailed, pulling out a Mahwara fruit from behind his back. The stranger’s shoulders straightened, as he ducked his head ever so slightly. Proud but deferential. His confident voice lost it’s bluster as he gave Ji-Min an incredibly earnest look. “This seems like a rather small boon to grant me. This is the sweetest fruit in the palace, Your Highness. I guarantee it. You deserve nothing less than the sweetest of pleasures, and if you grant me the right to court you, I will ensure you’re surrounded by such for the rest of your days.”
Ji-Min looked down at the Mahwara fruit resting innocuously in the stranger’s hand. A small perfectly spherical fruit, coated in bright waxy yellow skin. It could be poisonous, could steal away his virtue in the eyes of the Goddess before Ji-Min even swallowed a bite.
If even a drop of alcohol touched his tongue, Ji-Min would be forever tainted.
But the stranger had sworn the fruit was safe.
The stranger looked at him imploringly, caring and kind with honest eyes.
Ji-Min, tentatively reached out, picking up the offered fruit and raising it to his lips.
The stranger’s eyes twinkled.
Ji-Min bit down.
Sugar sweet juice flooded his tongue, saccharine and tropical, not even a hint of alcohol in its taste.