Archive of Our Own ^beta

Still cloudy, Jimin noticed as he glanced up at the sky hemmed with dawn, yawning, stepping outside on the masonry balcony.

It had snowed the whole night yesterday. The lush greenery of the acreage stretched around Castle Orivae had mashed into a thick white line, separated from the rest of the capital by its uncrossable, fortified boundaries, the purple flags situated above them holding the glorious visage of Yanav to the sunlight, before the rays touched anything else in this land; as it always did.

The omega smiled at the sight, exhales turning visible as soon as they left his chest.

There was a peculiar breathless tranquility in this panorama, like the moments before a rainstorm. But outside these various protection runes cast on this wing, there was no actual tranquility anywhere near him, Jimin was equally aware; the fireworks had started painting whole Ividalia’s sky in festive colours since midnight.

His Imperial Majesty’s birthday was indeed an especially tedious affair by all means, just as Yoongi had warned him two months ago, in between narrating his own experience of witnessing it for the first time. But no amount of knowledge or stories could’ve prepared him for the exhausting responsibility of actually hosting it, even if his contribution had been tactfully minimised to the very tip of the iceberg.

The omega briskly brushed away the collected snow on the dark railings with one hand, forever enthralled by the exquisite feeling of its cold, delicate touch, humming to the muted music from the grand procession of the Goddess taking place in the Imperial temple inside Castle Orivae, the united voices of the priests almost mystic from this faraway, praying for a long and prosperous life for their Emperor and the empire.

Jimin closed his eyes, too. Lips opening in a murmured prayer, the answer already served in the pulse under his clear and vibrant mating mark.

He would’ve liked to be present in the temple at this moment, kneeling before the altar of the heavenly Mother himself, reminiscing those times he had done it in Ipreo for almost every year of his life, accompanying his own mothers. Well, he wasn’t allowed to this time, at least not until the sun warmed up the atmosphere a bit more.

His maa was present there on his behalf, however. She had been living in Orivae for the better half of the past month, relying most of her duties back in Ipreo on her ‘newly acquired employee’, as Jihoon joked about it nowadays.

His brother himself was preparing to leave the capital soon, preferably after Risu’s first birthday. The temptation to witness the hot white sand waves of Ceyon with its Prince by his side apparently too much to bear any longer. That forever shameless brat.

Little squirms in the bundle under his velvet cloak caused the omega to snap out of his fond reverie, senses attuned to each minuscule movement, arms holding the precious cocoon closer to himself in a better position with instinctual precision.

But it was of no use, Her Imperial Highness Princess Kim Juwon had already unlatched from his teat, big hazel eyes still half open, smiling up at him with all of her toothless gums on display, obviously milk drunk, a tiny mitten-clad hand clutching onto his chemise.

“Are you done with breakfast, madam?” Jimin cooed, brushing the soft black strands away from her forehead, placing a small kiss there, buttoning up his chemise with one hand. “Is this all you wanted? Just a few little gulps while I take you on an early morning stroll for five minutes on the balcony without your brothers?”

The pup giggled at his dam’s high pitched cheerful voice, eyes turning into crescents, not even deeming the question worth acknowledgement, or maybe it was a sentence too complex for her three months old self.

They didn’t understand words yet, or letters; Jeongguk had sagely adviced both of them just yesterday. But then Namjoon had cheerily snitched on him and told everyone at the dinner table how he used to regularly and religiously recite the Imperial constitution to Nayeon as the only bedtime story suitable for a Jeon when she was the same age, and that had been the end of it.

“So this is why you cried, cried, and cried until you woke up me—” Jimin smooched her pudgy left cheek, “—your abeoji—” then the right one, “—and both your two oppas, hm? Wonnie’s tummy just wanted a little milk and lots and lots of appa’s attention, that’s all?”

Juwon squeaked happily with no remorse, having her little nose mole booped by her dam’s fingertip, probably a confirmation that she, in fact, did just that, and will do it again soon enough.

“Oh my Goddess, my Wonnie is so naughty, so naughty!” The omega hoisted her upright against his shoulder, patting her back. “Is this any way to wake your abeoji up on his birthday? What will Tokki-unnie say when she hears about this? Even Risu-oppa will know about it!”

The pup burped, not particularly concerned at the prospect of her cousins knowing about her wrongdoings, snuggling closer to her dam’s mating mark, where her sire’s scent was the strongest.

And he was happy the pups looked somewhat more like him. Hah.

Jimin pouted, offended. Nine months spent in his womb kicking his ribs and organs, born after he went through twenty six hours of labour, wholly dependent on his body to be fed, yet still all three of the triplets preferred their sire’s scent and cuddles over his. How was this even remotely fair?

“Want abeoji, now that you’re not hungry anymore?” The omega only stated the obvious, sighing, feet automatically heading back inside their warm bedchamber to obey these small strict orders like the heart-bound slave he was. “And I thought my Wonnie wanted to spend some quality time with me. Can’t believe I birthed three whole partial, biased—”

“Who’s biased?”

The question made Jimin halt in his tracks for a moment and look, to comprehend the sheer audacity of his mate properly. There he was, lying in their comfortable nest— which, again, he made!— after some solid hours of sleep, both Sihwan and Haein cuddled close on his bare broad chest, their tiny heads full of blonde and black hair respectively, staring at his omega with curiosity. And amusement.

He should’ve just taken his chance and slapped the alpha a year ago when Seokjin had suggested it to him, sovereign status be damned. Now he only had himself to blame.

“Your babies, Your Imperial Majesty.” Jimin stomped forward until he was at the edge of their bed, shed his cloak, and settled beside his husband in the nest with Juwon, the pup trying to lift her head to see from where her sire’s voice was coming from. Needless to say, the omega had never felt so betrayed in his entire life before.

“What could’ve my harmless babies even done to offend their dam so?” Taehyung laughed, a sleep-rough melody Jimin could hear all day, very much aware of what his babies have done, stretching his unoccupied arm to caress Juwon’s wool-covered head, the pup bonking his wrist with her forehead like it was an answer. “They’re too small to do any wrong, like their appa. Aren’t you, Wonnie?”

“Stop that, you’re teaching them bad manners,” the Empress warned, glaring, blush creeping up his neck, a burst of warm green tea fusing into the sweetening strawberries enriching the air, giving him away.

The alpha’s nostrils flared, petrichor and sambac jasmine sharpening to a yet more enticing note in response. The loose indigo chemise on his mate’s body was made of satin, nearly uncreased; a completely new one after he had torn away its predecessor in seconds last night, fresh red splotches just under the mate mark barely hidden behind its silk-embroidered shoulder. He grinned, canines glinting; his first birthday gift surely had been delicious. “Bad manners? But Omega-mine, you seemed to tolerate them just fine mere hours ago.”

The blush shot to Jimin’s cheeks in an increasingly furious shade, heart missing a beat, face practically matching his scent, mouth gaping and closing in disbelief. “You— how can you utter such raunchiness here! The babies are listening!”

“What? I can’t flirt with my own husband in my own bedroom?” Taehyung cocked a questioning brow, pouting, and the omega didn’t think he would ever get used to how fast the alpha could change his demeanour from a predator to a pup, and vice versa. “Not even when you smell like a delectable piece of strawberry-milk candy?”

“You’ve flirted enough, My Liege.” Jimin pointed at the three drowsy pups in their arms, suddenly turning deadpan, biting down on his inner cheek to not smile. “I don’t think I can handle anymore nights of being unable to move around on the bed without being manually rolled on my sides.”

“Now you’re just slandering me, Lord Jimin,” suppressing another laughter at the lovely memory of his husband being the cutest watermelon just a few months ago, the Emperor merrily protested, rubbing Haein’s back when he started to squirm, and the omega should really take his own advice and stop ogling at the flexing sinewy arms and smooth expertise of his husband as he did so. His alpha was such a good father, he sighed dreamily either way. “Must I remind you, it was you who had pulled me into your arms and flatly refused to let go when I was in rut, the reason why our babies are conceived out of wedlock?”

“And who was at fault for my such crass reaction?” Face on flames, the Empress simply refused to back down, knowing that he probably looked ridiculous while at it— rocking their pup to sleep, skin covered in lovebites under his sleepwear, doused in his alpha’s scent as he bickered with him. Life really wasn’t fair to Jimin. “Who deceived us all and ill-used each of my fears just to make me confess?”

Taehyung shrugged, smug. “Yet you fell right into my trap and confessed. I can hardly call that ill-use, my love.”

“I—” Left speechless for a second, Jimin stared at his husband some more, before just giving up, shaking his head in resignation. “No, I understand. It was my fault. This is what I get by mating a cheeky little pup—”

“Who are you calling a little pup?” The alpha gently pushed himself up to sit without jostling his babies napping on him, freshly-clawed back reclined against the many barriers of pillows and covers reeking of their combined scents, turning to his omega, golden eyes narrowed in permissive irk. “I just turned thirty, Omega-mine.”

“So Your Imperial Majesty has no protests against being called cheeky?” The omega smirked, never not eager to tease his husband about their lengthy age gap, bringing his face closer to the other until they were just one stolen kiss away. “Am I right, Alpha-mine?”

Instead of replying with the same mirth, like ocean waves to the moon, Taehyung’s gaze dropped to Jimin’s full lips, still swollen from when he had chewed them raw last night, saliva pooling under his tongue. He licked his own lips, the omega’s eyes following the movement, breathe hitching, desire trickling into both their scents.

His husband was fairly insatiable, as expected of a young alpha in his prime. But Jimin— before Taehyung, he had never known want quite like this. In times of his heats it had been only pain, and outside a scarce occasion. Now a simple touch, a momentary glance, or even a single whiff of his alpha seemed to set his omega off; like at the ending shore of youth, he had once again woken up under the fierce fall of puberty.

Hardly a befitting behaviour on the dam of three pups, or worse, the sovereign Empress of Ividalia.

“You have to be present in the temple in less than three hours, My Liege. The clique of mages are awaiting your arrival,” Jimin softly reminded, grazing his nose against his mate’s unshaven cheek instead, the sensation of the alpha’s stubble pricking enthused goosebumps on his skin. “Hoseok has insisted on having as eventless a day as realistically possible this year, remember?”

“I’d consider bending some traditions to celebrate my birthday certainly realistic,” Taehyung whispered into his mate’s ear, nibbling on the firestone wing of his earring, causing the other to shudder. “And even if it isn’t, what differences would that make? You’re already quite familiar with the widespread tales of my tyranny, are you not, Lord Jimin?”

The omega smiled, bashful, ducking his head away to escape, but before he could, a sharp whine resonated between them, instantly snatching both their attention on Haein, the other ravenette pup in the alpha’s secure hold— tiny mouth slowly jutting out in a trembling pout, round face twisting in whatever hellish horrors infants encountered in their nightmares, and before none of his parents could react, the first scream was decidedly unleashed.

“Oh no oh no, why is my Innie crying?” Taehyung sing-songed in an even voice, bouncing the pup with one arm to not disturb his other boy, immediately schooling his scent back to soothing gentleness; Haein was especially sensitive to them. “Who is it that dares frighten my little boy, hun? Where is it? I’ll exile them all far, far away from this empire!”

Coaxed by his sire’s assuring requests, His Imperial Highness Prince Kim Haein finally opened his eyes, two whole teardrops rolling down from his slanted grey eyes, small frame reddening with the brute force of his cries, burrowing his face near the alpha’s mating mark, mouth searching for something familiar on his collarbone.

“Give me.” Jimin sat up before his mate needed to say anything, adjusting Juwon— now wide awake, watching the scene unfold with a curious frown— on his thighs, unbuttoning his chemise with haste. Taehyung wasted no time putting the pup into his omega’s anxiously waiting arms, holding his head up until Haein had properly latched onto his dam’s nipple.

“Aw, did Innie dream that I left him?” The omega held the tiny shaking fist of his baby into his own, kissing it, gently wiping his tears away, dabbing at the sweat collected on his forehead with his palm. Haein replied with a muffled noise of approval like he truly did, or even understood what his appa was asking him, staring at Jimin’s face to make sure he was real, noisily sucking milk with dire urgency. “He did? I’d never, my baby. How can I ever leave my Innie behind? I’d never!”

Taehyung relaxed as the pup slowly quieted down the more Jimin talked to him, instincts calming down with his baby’s regulated breathing. Haein was the smallest of the three pups, easily dwarfed in his two palms when he was born, but somehow had gotten the strongest pair of lungs on him, successfully keeping them worried and awake throughout nights; even now, when his omega’s diligent nursing had plumped him up to the same size of the other two.

A strong voice was inevitably needed to assert dominance when you’re the only omega among your siblings; after being subjugated to a rare half an hour of surveillance of the fabulous five, Hoseok had reached this wise conclusion a week ago, and Seokjin had nodded in agreement without refuting. Now, Taehyung was confident Woojin wasn’t this loud, but he also knew his own brothers, and considering it was wisdom from the only other sire of a baby omega in his immediate proximity, he’d gladly let his pup deafen him for the sake of asserting his hereditary dominance.

“So that’s why you were crying so loud, Innie? You couldn’t find appa in your dream?” The alpha cooed, kissing the pup’s feather-soft hair, eyelashes wet. “My strong, brave boy.”

As if that was a challenge, the remaining bundle in his arms stirred with a latent gurgle, both their adoring eyes following the sound, finding Sihwan groggily blinking his hazel, astonishingly long-lashed eyes open, doughball cheeks squished on his sire’s firm chest, visibly disgruntled after being awakened by his younger siblings for the second time this morning.

“Oh my, did Innie’s cries wake our Hwanie up?” Jimin fake gasped, animated bewilderment on his face. For being three months old, the eldest of the three pups definitely acted like it; already developing a bit of an attitude at this tender age. There was no telling how he would behave after waking up without his consent—which was often the scenario, truth be told— but being in an engaging atmosphere with calm, regulated scents sometimes resulted in a positive reaction. Sometimes.

“Shh, nobody says anything else, it’s still midnight in Hwanie-land,” Taehyung dramatically shushed none in particular, covering the pup’s exposed ear and open eyes, holding him closer to himself for maximum comfort, if that was even physically possible. “The sleep-fairies have said he’ll be napping until both Innie and Wonnie fall back asleep.”

The alpha said; but either the sleep fairies had made no such announcements, or being the sovereign heir first in line to the throne of Ividalia, Sihwan simply refused to adhere to anyone else’s authority; instead of crying, he immersed in trying to turn his head in his father’s hold, squirming in attempt to free himself, twisting in his pink swaddle while simultaneously drooling, an effort so valiant and painfully adorable, both his parents broke into giggles.

“Ay, Your Imperial Majesty must let my son do whatever he wants,” Jimin chided his husband with faux seriousness, bouncing Juwon on his lap, the pup again on the verge of knocking out, Haein’s eyes closing in with the steadily increasing amount of milk and comfort flowing in his system. “Shouldn’t abeoji, Hwanie?”

Sihwan chirped.

“Your son does whatever he wants anyway, my Empress,” Taehyung relented his hand, shaking his head, wiping away the drool from his baby’s chin, heart pressing at the bars of his ribcage, swelled with as much affection as his mortal body could carry. “I’m just His Imperial Highness Prince Kim Sihwan’s unhired unpaid butler, futilely striving for his welfare."

“That’s because he has obtained his personality from you,” the omega coolly reminded his mate, resting his head on the alpha’s shoulder, smiling, so unbearably fond.

More than just personality, actually; even through the early newborn redness, it was Yoongi who had pointed that out to him first, awfully experienced with births and infants like the omega royalty of Ceyon he was. Out of the three babies, Sihwan resembled his sire the most— mole on the lip, lashes brushing on cheeks, big ears, and toothless smile boxy. The only one blonde like Jimin, though; Jihoon had predicted he’d grow up to be a seasoned heartbreaker for that alone. Jimin had elbowed the younger in the ribs for that.

“From me?” Taehyung blinked, making meaningful eye contact with the baby busy yawning on his own tubby fist, suckling on it next, a clear sign of what was to come. “Where?”

The omega bit his lip, trying to control his bubbling glee. It was so incredibly entertaining to tease the father of his babies. “In being a determined, stubborn brat.”

“Oh shut it, that’s enough!” The alpha barked out his annoyance, no real heat behind his tone, rolling his eyes. Jimin could see from where Sihwan got his attitude. “Here, hold and feed your hungry partner-in-conspiracy, me and my little girl will take ourselves out of this disrespectful conversation.”

“My partner-in-conspiracy?” Frowning, opening the last two buttons of his chemise, the omega extended his other arm, his husband deftly settling the hungering pup in his hold, picking up Juwon into his own arms, the baby completely unstirred, always content to nap on her sire’s familiar, warm chest, blanketed in their parents’ mixed scents. Sihwan also easily latched onto Jimin’s bare breast after some adjusted positioning with Haein, even holding it with a tiny hand just to make sure his food wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. “My Liege, with all sense of propriety I was reared up with, I must say— all of your pups are your minions!”

“What vulgar accusations on my tiny babies, by their own dam!” Taehyung bemoaned, holding his heart like the word directly wounded his feelings. “Even after whenever I come back from the long gruelling hours of sitting in the Council I find my pups happily cuddling to you, Lord Jimin, how can you say that?”

“Good sir, your pups only cuddle me because of milk!” The omega argued, lap full of his two sons doing exactly that, no further evidence needed to prove his claim. “Otherwise they don’t sleep until you lull them to sleep, cry if your scent gets washed off them, get cranky if they don’t hear your voice for half a day!”

They certainly did those. The alpha cleared his throat, not sure how to respond to these truthful allegations, hiding his chuckle on his daughter’s head.

“And you’re laughing.” Jimin pursed his lips, once again feeling betrayed, this time by none other than the love of his life. “First I get reduced to mere cattle, now I’m a jester as well.”

Taehyung nearly guffawed, holding himself back at the last second to not disturb his pups. “Cattle? Omega-mine, that is a bit too exaggerated.”

“Absolutely not.” The omega shook his head in denial, steady in his position. “Risu raises hell screaming and kicking if someone takes him from Seokjin, even if the someone is Hoseok; and Tokki? The only reason she hasn’t joined Jeongguk on expeditions yet is just so she can cling to Namjoon all day instead, following everything he says like the gospel! But look at me, only sought by some for milk,” Jimin glanced at the sleepy pups with a pout, face cinching in a scowl as he turned to his husband, eyes full of complaints, “and by some for flesh! What am I if not cattle?”

“You’re censuring me again, love. I’m not that shallow.” Taehyung chuckled, lovingly holding his mate’s chin, dropping a soft kiss on his mussed blonde hair, the omega’s disquiet never strong enough to deny himself these tokens of affection. “I too like myself some milk from time to time.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, knocking off his husband’s chin from his head with an exasperated whack, strawberries turning tart around them. “Get away from me, you hypocritical, perverted rascal! You’re impossible!”

The alpha threw his head back on the nest pillows, holding his daughter a little better, honey laughter echoing off the far and near walls of the bedroom, magic trapping warmth on them, almost as much as there was inside his chest.

There were many, many precious treasures found throughout the vast lands of Ividalia— in its waters, in its forests, even in its rocks and dirt— those which were valuable in and outside of this empire he ruled; but how unbelievably sweet it was, that this quaint morning of his birthday had so easily gathered everything that was priceless to him right here in their bedchamber, on this one single bed?

Whatever fire was inside the omega, fuelling his will to banter, melted into liquid amber at the sight of his husband’s unbridled joy, brimming at the edges of his heart, ever shimmering with tender, undying heat. This man right here, was his salvation, and yet every one of his ties; sunbeams threaded into his dark unruly curls, a golden halo— a whole god sitting beside him, for him to call his; heaven’s gift to all this land, and to Jimin alone.

“Now Omega-mine, my humour is not so bad,” regaining his composure from the throes of amusement, the Emperor shimmied beside his husband from behind, gently pulling him into his arms, the omega’s head falling to rest on his shoulder with not a second thought; in practice, and in want of a peace his soul couldn’t live without, “that you have to shed tears of disdain at this hour.”

Jimin shut his eyelids with a toothy chuckle, the teardrops locked behind his lashes freely trickling down his cheeks, before they were flicked away by quick fingertips, another kiss dropping in his hair.

Once upon a time, Park Jimin, the eldest son of the late Marchioness of Park March, had made peace with how life was for him. Quiet, lonely, and lightly degrading at times, but overall nothing he couldn’t get by; he used to swear.

But now?

With his nests warm, lap full, and soul reclaimed, there plays an everlasting song in his heart, trilling his heartstrings with newer melodies with each new day that arrives; and Kim Jimin de Ividalia, the Empress of the nine kingdoms can gladly admit he has never been more content to be proven so wrong.

“Well…? Say something, love?”

The omega opened his eyes, finding his alpha staring at him with his golden moon gaze, with bottomless softness that felt like a shower of ambrosia on his weary skin, boxy smile equally sweet and oh, how easily would Jimin deny heaven and its pleasures for this delight.

“I love you.”

Nothing more than an aching whisper; but Taehyung exhaled, shaky, pressing their foreheads together through a long blink, hand intertwining with his mate where he was holding Sihwan, arm bounding around their content babies; scents inseparable, the purple diamonds of their matching wedding rings sparkling iridescent under the glow of the soft morning.

“I love you, too.”

And Jimin would never need anything more.

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