Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There's a silence that spreads across the council room that feels thick and daunting like that of an oncoming plague. There's a stillness amongst the alphas of the room, eyes trained at nothing in particular, fingers laced patiently in their laps and not a single one of them shuffles uncomfortably.

Because despite the poised and practiced patience that exudes the important looking alphas, their minds clash with worrying and troubled thoughts. No one is willing to say it aloud, but there is a consensus of fear thrumming in their veins, and it takes every ounce of practiced control to stop them all blowing up into pure panic.

It helps that they have chosen to put their faith in a Head Alpha who has never once bowed to opposing threats and pressures. Who remains cool and collected even when the situation appears helpless. For there is a great sense of welcomed relief when people can unite under a strong leader that is easy to put trust into.

It’s no secret that those in the Dìguó Tribe remain a joined nation purely for the fact the Yu Clan maintains it's lineage of strong alphas to lead them. It was more than simply a risque move for the Clans under the mountains to unify; it was a desperate last resort. One that has seen the likes of many-a-war from invading Clans, of whom feel somewhat threatened by such large numbers so close to their own borders.

Things are easier to deal with in small packages, but considering the Dìguó Tribe unifies a little over 20 clans, intimidation from the sheer large number is a given. But the first Yu Alpha knew the threat of war was a strong possibility, and the current Yu Alpha is continuously prepared for it.

Which is why the small gathering of important alphas now find themselves teetering on the precipice of fear and panic. Because once again, their way of life faces threat of invading clans.

The Yu Alpha has not sat once since the moment the council of alphas gathered, hands held behind his back, robes of scarlet dyed silk flourishing around his feet as he paces back and forth. Every now and then he will stop, hands fiddling with the jade pendant around his neck; the emblem of the Head Alpha, a reminder that the future of a large sum of innocent people rests on his shoulders.

As is always the way when one awaits important news, the time drags slowly until the doors to the council room are thrown open bringing in the oncoming storm they have all been waiting for.

"Yu Alpha," the deep rasp of General Min Ilsung greets the room, and with it garners the attention of every alpha before him. "Council members," General Minl greets, and being the ever well mannered alpha, spares a moment to bow to the Head Alpha, then to the room, before his face hardens in terrifying seriousness.

The Yu Alpha takes this moment to sit in his place at the top of the wooden table, eyes focused on his general while his fingers trace over the carvings in the wood. "What news do you bring us, General?"

Ilsung takes a deep breath, puffing out his chest and removing the hood of furs covering his head. "It is as we feared, the Běishān Clan have invaded us from the north."

There is a collective murmur that spreads around the room like the buzzing of bees, silenced only when the Yu Alpha raises his hand.

"My troops are ready to be deployed on your command, Yu Alpha," Ilsung continues. "Just say the word, and we shall bring victory to the Dìguó Tribe-"

"I don't like the idea of sending so few alphas into battle, the Běishān Clan are known for being sly and heartless," the Yu Alpha interjects. "They view battle as a right of passage rather than a painful experience, I don't want my people dying in vain, dying because we were unprepared."   

Ilsung runs a hand through the long graying locks of his hair, for once he hadn't bothered to tie them back. "With all due respect, I think my troops can stop them."

There's a sudden reply of hurried whispering between the alphas of the room, panic filled words slicing through the tense atmosphere and mixing it with the bubbling fear that they had tried so hard to keep contained. Min Ilsung is the strongest General the Yu Clan has ever had, his tropes are meticulously trained and are the very best of the best. If the Yu Alpha feels as though they are not enough force in the upcoming war with the Běishān Clan, then it leaves little hope to cling onto.

The Yu Alpha redirects his eyes to the table before him; there have been many war meetings conducted in this very room, the stories of their past battles and victories etched into the very wood they all sit around, and it reaffirms just how serious a situation they are in.

"No," the Yu Alpha finally speaks, "send out conscription notices to all the clans. Have them report for initial training within the week. We cannot afford to waste any time."

The chatter amongst the alphas ceases, all eyes falling to their leader, fear capturing their tongues and preventing them from voicing any form of support. Because in the face of war, importance and title mean nothing at the end of the day.

"So this is it, we are officially at war with the Běishān Clan," Ilsung affirms what everyone in the room has been so desperately trying to avoid. But there is no escaping the oncoming battle, not now that is on their doorsteps, there is no way to ignore it even if they wished too.

As the Yu Alpha traces his finger along the carvings of a cherry blossom tree into the table, he cannot help but to let out a heavy sigh. "Unfortunately yes," he says before slowly casting his eyes amongst the members of his council, carefully taking in every detail of their faces, carving their fear and worry into his heart to bear it as his own. "For many of us, this is the second time in our lives we are faced with war, and I fear it will not be an easy feat."

"War is never an easy feat, Yu Alpha," a member of the council finally speaks clearly into the room,. He takes a moment to swallow down a lump in his throat before stealing his nerves, "but we are ready and willing to fight, for you and for the people of our tribe and for our way of life."

Ilsung nods. "We stand united under the Yu Clan, we stand united as the Dìguó Tribe. Every alpha under your reign will fight with honor and valiance, I swear to you."

"Be careful, General. A single grain of rice can tip the scale, we must be cautious." The Yu Alpha stands to his feet once more, hands clasped around the pendant at his neck, suddenly feeling just how heavy a thing it really is. "Good luck."

_________

"Are you writing notes on your arm?" Taehyung snorts, snatching the wrist of his childhood friend and analyzing the ink that is drying against his skin.

Jimin rolls his eyes before taking his arm back. "Better safe than sorry," he mumbles before puckering his lips and blowing the ink dry.

He's not sure how long the two of them have been huddled together on the furs of Jimin's bed, as they had agreed to only talk for an hour, but it's most definitely been longer than that now. Jimin can feel the light of a new day creep its way through the covers at his window and the warmth of a new sun chase away the frost of the fresh spring night.

He can't remember what time Taehyung had climbed through his window, knowing only that it was a few hours after his parents had gone to sleep, but Jimin has never been very good at time management. The fact he thought only an hour of talking with Taehyung would be enough to prepare him for his matchmaker session is evident of that.

Taehyung rolls across the bed, forgetting about the tub of ink nestled between them. Jimin has to  speedily pull the bottle out of the way of his best friend’s ridiculously long limbs before he can stain the furs. "Could you possibly be a little more cautious of where your body ends and the world begins?"

"You should know me well enough to understand that will never happen," Taehyung snorts, pulling the furs around himself and inhaling. "Why do omegas always smell so comforting?"

Jimin knocks the top of Taehyung's head with the end of his ink brush, "This isn't the time for omega studying, this is the time for alpha studying."

Taehyung releases the furs, stretching his arms above his head which causes a golden slither of his stomach to peak out through his tunic top. "We've been at this for hours, Chim, there's not much else I can tell you."

Those words aren't very reassuring, considering Jimin only has three of them scribbled on his wrists.

Three words that are supposed to be everything an alpha looks for in an omega; poised, loyal and obedient. Jimin can't help but shiver at the sight of that last point; obedient . He's never been very good at doing what he's told.

Not that he purposefully does the opposite, it's more the fact that Jimin goes at a different pace from the norm, something he's hyper aware of and something he's trying really hard to fix.

Because this matchmaker meeting is crucial, after all.

"Hey," Taehyung's voice is soft as he looks to Jimin from where he's sprawled on the bed. "Why are you so worried? There's an omega for every alpha."

Jimin tries his hardest not to pull a sour face at his friend’s optimism. As an alpha, Taehyung will never understand just how one sided a statement that is. Because of course there is an omega for every alpha. But there isn’t always an alpha for every omega. Not if the matchmaker deems you unfit for mating, not if you’re a little unorthodox compared to normal omegas…

“Stop that,” Taehyung scolds lightheartedly, he’s always been able to read Jimin like a book without the need for the omega to voice his thoughts. “I’m an alpha and I like you.”

Jimin smiles fondly. “You have to, you’re my best friend.”

Taehyung has his mouth open to retaliate with another witty response, when there’s a harsh knocking at the door to Jimin’s room that has the alpha scrambling off the bed. Jimin’s trying really hard to take the situation seriously, but honestly the sight of a gangly Taehyung trying to fold himself into Jimin’s armour is hard not to laugh at.

“Jimin,” the serious tone of his father calls through the wooden door. Jimin doubles over on the bed, hands muffling his laughter as his father continues, “don’t you think it’s time you get up?”

“Y-yes father,” Jimin hiccups on his giggles and it has Taehyung glaring at him from where he’s twisted his limbs uncomfortably to fit in the armour.

“And Taehyung, don’t you think you should get home to your own family now?" his father adds, opening the door and bringing a warmth into the room that must be from the fire in the main room.

Park Sungchu doesn’t look particularly angry as his eyes fall on the young alpha hiding in his omega son’s room. There is a perfect expression of unsurprised disappointment etched into the man's face, Jimin's pretty certain that the frown lines around his father's mouth are a direct result of Taehyung's antics over the years.

It takes a few moments for Taehyung to unwind himself from his body contortion, standing out of the armor to smile politely at Sungchu. "Hello Sungchu, sir, I was just popping by on my way home to sleep and..."

Sungchu looks, among other things, entirely unconvinced of Taehyung's excuses, strong arms folded across his broad chest and eyebrow cocked. "I know you've been here all night, pup, you've been doing the same thing since you knew how to walk."

Taehyung merely shrugs. "Well then, you can't really be mad at me, can you?" he teases in a way that only Taehyung can. Mouth pulled into a childlike smile, full of mischievous innocence, and eyebrows wagging tauntingly.

Jimin slips himself off the bed, shivering when his feet touch the cold floor and pulls one of his furs around his shoulders. "Papa, where's your cane? You know the healer said you shouldn't be walking around without support," the omega scolds, tottering over to the door. "And have you had tea this morning?" he throws over his shoulder as he makes his way to the kitchen.

It's far warmer outside the cold of his room - the rest of the cabin has clearly woken with the dawn Jimin hadn't even registered had come, everything warmed to greet a new day. He can smell the remainders of breakfast as it simmers on the stove, obviously waiting for him to eat, and he can hear the crackling of the log fire in the living room.

He loves how his home always feels lived in , welcoming and warm, as if someone is always here even when the cabin is in fact empty. His father maintains that the only reason their cabin is a home is due to the hard work his mother puts into it. There is love laced through every surface and fabric of the place, a gentle touch given to it that only a good omega can bring.

Jimin would love nothing more than to be as good an omega as his mother one day, he knows it’s what his father wishes of him too and Jimin will give his all to bring honor and pride to his family.

"I have indeed drank my required three cups, you needn't worry," Sungchu responds as he takes a seat at the small table that separates the kitchen and living room.

Taehyung lets out an impressed whistle. "Three cups of tea? I feel like that's two cups too many."

Jimin pulls two bowls from one of the cupboards, mouth simply watering from the intoxicating smell of his mother's cooking. "If you're not a healer, then your opinion is invalid, my friend."

"Do your parents never expect you for meals?" Sungchu teases, rifling his hand roughly through the shaggy brown locks of Taehyung's hair. It's absolutely impossible not to love Taehyung, for the boy is nothing but lovable .

Besides, when one would bashfully apologize for being so cheeky, Taehyung instead beams as though he is being praised, and it’s so endearing. "Not when they know I'm getting better food over here."

The resounding smack to the back of the head has Jimin hiding his giggles behind his hand, swiftly placing a bowl of rice porridge in front of his best friend as he rubs the back of his head.

Jimin sits at the table next to his father, and there's something about the burnt cedar and pine-cone scent of the man that is utterly soothing. He shuffles as close to the man as possible, automatically leaning into the sweet warmth that his father exudes.

Sungchu chuckles softly, gently running his hand through the soft locks of his son's hair. "Are you ready for today?" he asks gently.

Jimin hums, filling his mouth with more food so he doesn't actually have to answer, but he nods his head so that his father doesn't pry too much.

The sigh Sungchu exhales feels laced with disappointment and worry and Jimin's grip on his spoon tightens. "Will you fetch me my cane? I think I'm going to go pray some more."

Jimin swallows his food. "More? How long have you been with the ancestors?"

"Clearly not long enough if you're not feeling confident," Sungchu replies, patting the top of Jimin's head in an attempt to get him moving.

Jimin hops to his feet, leaving his furs hanging over the back of the chair before he scuttles to grab his father’s cane from where it has been left by the front door. The windows on the front of the house remain drawn, though there are streaks of sunlight slipping their way through the gaps of the fabric and across the wooden flooring of the house. He can hear the faint chirp of bird call that signifies the start of spring, yet Jimin knows that if he were to step outside now he would still feel the cold sting of winter clinging to the air.

"What time is it?" Taehyung asks casually as Jimin brings the cane back over to his father.

Sungchu, with Jimin's help, pulls himself to his feet and steadies himself, placing most of his weight on the cane. Jimin bites into his bottom lip. He has always admired the strength and power that his father has, because even with a leg so badly injured it may never heal again, Park Sungchu never once complains.

The elder alpha places a gentle kiss to the top of Jimin's head. "A little after 8," he explains and the words take a few seconds before they sink into Jimin's head.

"Fuck!" the omega bellows grabbing up the furs from his seat and running back towards his room. "I was supposed to meet mother in town over an hour ago!"

Taehyung laughs heartily and loud in a way that only a best friend can do, whilst Sungchu huffs out a sigh in a way a knowing father does. "Jiminie, please don't leave the house before doing your chores."

"Taehyung," Jimin bellows slipping his head round the door of his room. "Feed the chickens."

His best friend chokes on his breakfast as he tries to swallow it down quickly. "I have my own chores to do, thank you very much."

Jimin glares at him. "You live here more so than your own cabin, at least help out a little."

"Sungchu! Control your son!" Taehyung wines like a small child who has been denied playtime.

But Sungchu is already out the door, knowing full well that it's best not to get involved in the friends petty quarrels.

"And don't tie the chicken feed to the dog again, I was cleaning the destruction of that little ingenious idea more days after," Jimin calls out to his best friend as he struggles to pull clean clothes over his head.

“The chickens were still fed, I don’t see what your hang up is,” Taehyung grumbles, before the sound of the alpha’s chair scraping across the floor signals he’s got up to help anyway.

Jimin giggles, trying his hardest to flatten his hair, "Thanks Tae Tae!"

___

Spring is Jimin’s favorite time of year, and the fact it’s starting to rebloom again around his clan brings nothing but happiness to the small omega. There’s a contagious chipper feeling that spreads through everyone, as if shaking of the shackles of winter has caused a merry nature to engulf them.

Usually when Jimin makes his way into the heart of the clan he takes the horse, but on days where the sky is clear and bright and there’s a slight warmth in the air, he can’t help but to take his time. He enjoys nothing more than meandering through the streets, his home is one of the most beautiful in all of the Dìguó Tribes , after all, the cherry blossoms expanding across the entire Clan and tinging it a sweet pink during spring.

Maybe Jimin loves spring the best because it’s the season of cherry blossoms and with it brings new beginnings. The omega can’t help but to wish on every cherry blossom bud that this season will see him impress the Matchmaker, be paired with a good alpha and make his family proud.

Something of which he’s most definitely not doing well at achieving thus far, as he meanders into the Matchmaker’s den with a giddy smile on his face three hours after the time he was supposed to be there.

The market square is as busy as it always is, people hustling with their own issues so much that barely anyone spares a chance to look Jimin's way. It doesn’t stop the young omega giving a pleasant good morning to those he passes, smile never once faltering on his lips.

There are rich smells in the air and brightly coloured fabrics dancing through his vision that are a result of excitement for the upcoming spring. The sweet aromatic scent of flower infused teas and rice cakes tickle his nose and have him stopping at every stall that sells them, cheekily stealing samples knowing the sticky treats smear on his cheeks and lips.

He’s scolded by every stall owner, their eyebrows furrowed and hands shooing him away with exasperated shouts and huffs. But Jimin can see the endearing smiles they’re trying so hard to hide behind their frowns so he just giggles before skipping away.

He runs his hands through the soft silky fabrics of the latest robes and garments that have been dyed in the prettiest of pastel colours. It feels like an eternity of winter since the last time he saw such nice colours, he’s so sick of seeing greys and blacks. He understands winter is a hard season to live through, but pandering to the misery it brings has always been something Jimin could just never understand.   

He passes the school yard, the pups huddled in the middle of playing with toys that Jimin is too old to know about now. He remembers coming to the school yard every day regardless of whether he had to attend lessons. He and Taehyung would play all day no matter the weather, drenching themselves in water and dirt during the hotter days and throwing snow at each other during the cold winter.

He remembers how excited they were to grow up and not have to listen to their parents rules any more, how eager they were to play dress up in their parents clothes hoping it will help them grow up faster. Jimin sighs, feet basically scraping to a halt as he watches ghosts of his childhood dance through the yard, almost as if it were yesterday.

He loved his childhood and has nothing but fond memories for it, but now, as he feels his heart skip a terrified beat at the future matchmaker session, he can’t help but wish he could go back to a more simpler time.

He wishes he never had to grow up.

Jimin sighs, knowing he’s wasting precious time, but he watches a just few more moments as the children run from each other screaming about something nonsensical, wide smiles on their faces. The majority of them are alphas and Jimin can’t help but think they were born lucky.

The throng of people thins as he reaches the outskirts of the market square, the important huts that house the ancestors of the clan loom large and bland over the main thrung of the clan, always watching, always there.

The huts used to scare Jimin, back when he was even tinier than he is now and had to crane his neck to look up at them. They were built of the finest wood, constructed by the hands of the finest craftsmen and though they have always been a key part of their clan, despite how much it has changed over the many years, the huts still stand strong.  

His mother is waiting for him on the front step of the Matchmaker’s den, hands fisted against her hips, foot tapping in that impatient way Jimin has come to learn means he’s in serious trouble. There’s a dangerous furrow to her eyebrows that puts an unflattering crease between her eyebrows and her plump lips are pushed out into an angry pout. His mother has always been known for being pretty, small and sweet in both personality and looks; a perfect omega mated to the perfect alpha stereotype.

Jimin never had any luck really.

Jimin’s glee slides off his face as fast as fast as snow on a hot roof, ducking his head a little under his mother’s crippling disappointment. He pulls a small cheeky smile to his lips as he stands sheepishly in the shadow of his intimidating mother, looking up at her through his long thick lashes.

“I’m here,” he announces in a sing-song voice that he hopes will lighten his mother’s mood.

Sadly, it only sours it.

She sighs, stalking down the steps of the Matchmaker’s den until she standing right in front of her son. “You promised me, promised me , you’d get here on time,” she growls through clenched teeth.

Jimin gulps, “I-I had chores to do…”

“Chores you do every morning, Jimin-ah.”

“They took a little longer…”

“Are you really going to lie to your mother right now?”

Jimin takes a deep breath, holding it in his lungs before letting it out. “No, mother, I’m sorry.”

There’s a moment of silence that passes between them, the sound of the bustling market square behind him fills their ears as Jimin lets his mother glare her disappointment at him. The younger omega feels bad, he really does, he doesn’t mean to always be late, he doesn’t purposefully try and ruin things before they’ve even happened.

He feels small under his mother’s unwavering gaze, feeling very much like a pup rather then an of-age omega, and that feeling terrifies him.

He ducks his head again, eyes watching his feet scuff against the floor until he feels dainty fingers under his chin, brining his sight back to his mother’s eye level. She lets a long sigh past her pink lips, expelling all negativity from them before settling a warm smile on her mouth.

“Let’s not worry about it now, okay?” she says, lacing as much reassuring warmth into her words as possible.

Jimin sighs, nodding slowly. “Sorry.”

She pecks the top of his head, scrunching her nose as she does. “You smell like Taehyung,” she scolds, instinctively scent marking him.

Jimin giggles, pushing against his mother’s nuzzling. “I’m not a pup anymore, stop that,” he huffs though the way his muscles relax under his mother’s soothing touch has him protesting weakly.

His mother plants a gentle kiss to the top of his head, leaning away to wipe the remains of his stolen treats from his face. “You’re nervous,” she comments gently.

Jimin shivers away from his mother’s pruning. “I’m fine, let’s just get me pretty shall we?” he says, swiftly changing the subject and leading the way into the Matchmaker den.

His mother doesn’t push him - instead, she carefully slips up beside him and tangles their fingers together as they make their way inside. She pushes the doors open for them, and Jimin finds his heart leaping into his throat; this is it, he’s finally here at the entrance to the rest of his life. A life that can be made or broken by one singular meeting with the pompous head omega of their tribe.

Jimin is shaking so much he can feel his teeth chatter, but his mother just clings onto his hand that little bit tighter and nuzzle once more into his neck. “You’ve got this my pretty pup, don’t worry, you’ll make me and your Father so incredibly proud.”

“Y-yeah,” he replies, but there’s no conviction in his voice.

__________

“Where is grandmother?” Jimin asks as the omegas of the Matchmaker’s den fuss with the tying of his robes. He’s never worn anything so extravagant in his life, not like his mother hasn’t tried to get him to wear prettier garments befitting an influential omega, but Jimin has always felt so restricted in them.

They robes are thick, layers upon layers and heavy fabrics that pull on his little body and make it even harder to walk. He had complained about the weight after the first three robes had been tied, but the omegas of the den has scolded him for it.

‘This is tradition little omega, do not complain about your heritage.’

His mother has been busy organising accessories in the corner of the room, not wanting to get in the way of the omegas that dress him. She’s been humming to herself all day, a sweet smile on her lips Jimin recognises as one of excitement and pride.

It makes the nerves in Jimin’s stomach twist so much he could vomit, he’s glad his mother is somewhat proud of him, but he just doesn’t want to imagine the look of disappointment that will wash over her face if he messes up. It would be a sharper pain than that of any knife wound.

“Grandmother said she had some last minute things to get you from the market,” his mother sighs, finally turning to him. One of the omega’s dressing him pulls the silk band around his waist so tight he gasps to breathe and it has his head spinning from dizziness.

“What a small waist,” an omega mutters to no one in particular, eyebrows frowning as she spins him on the spot to face her.

Another omega hums in agreement, tugging down on the hem of the heavy fabric so roughly Jimin almost crumbles to the floor. “Not good for bearing alphas,” the second omega comments before standing to her feet and walking away from him.

Jimin huffs, the soft tendrils of his hair that cover his forehead puffing up and away from his face, he hasn’t even started his interview yet and he’s already feeling like he’s failed. He feels his mother’s hands cup his face, turning it so that he can see her big brown eyes glittering with unshed tears.

She sniffles, smile wide on her face. “Minnie, you look so beautiful, baby.”

Jimin feels his muscles, tight with stress, sag under the soothing touch of his mother, a small little sigh falling from his lips as he nuzzles into his her warmth.

“Are you sure?” he asks quietly. “Because I feel like I’ve gained 40 pounds in clothing layers alone.”

She giggles, hands moving from his face to fuss with the strands of his hair, pushing them from his forehead and flattening them neatly. “The extra weight is good,” she explains, eyes focused on her task at hand. “It will remind you to walk in slow steps and not run.” She scolds ever so slightly, in that passive aggressive way that only mothers know how to do.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “I feel fat.”

One of the omega’s dressing him swatts his thigh like an adult would scold a pup. “Stop complaining, you are one of the healthier omegas that have walked through the den.”

Jimin furrows his eyebrows at the woman - she’s dressed rather blandly, in a simple pale yellow robe, rolled up at the sleeves so the fabric doesn’t get in the way whilst she works. Her hair is scraped back into a bun atop her head and it pulls the skin on her face so tightly it’s harder to know how deep her wrinkles actually are.

Her lips are thin, painted a brilliant pink, her face a powdery pale and her eyes are sharp and dark. Everything about her screams condescending and judgemental, an air of importance around her that Jimin supposes comes with the important job she has.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Jimin asks with a cock of his head, his question is met simply with a snort and a roll of the self important omega’s eyes.

His mother giggles, smoothing her hands down the rich material of his outermost robe. “It’s as close to a compliment as you’re going to get in here,” she explains. “There are very strict rules about giving the omegas hope before they meet the Matchmaker.”

“We don’t want to set you up to fail,” another of the omegas in the room adds. She’s somewhat larger than the omega dressed in yellow, the pale green of her robes hug her hourglass frame and it causes the dark tones of her flawless skin to simply glisten. Jimin wonders whether it’s a requirement for all the omegas in the Matchmaker den to look beautiful.

Jimin shuffles on his feet as he feels the last of his attire drape over his head and flutter down his back. The veil is the lightest garment he's been dressed in, a pretty pearl white colour, falling just over his eyes but the material is thin enough for him to still see.

He's spun on his heels to face the mirror, the omega in yellow rubbing his upper arm in a firm supportive gesture, before slipping from the room. The other omegas follow her exit, heads bowed and hands placed delicately over their stomachs.

His mother moves to stand behind him, pulling his shoulders back so he stands straight before tenderly fixing things about his appearance to suit her liking. Jimin feels as though he's looking at someone completely different and it has a lump lodging in the back of his throat.

His skin is slightly paler than the usual caramel tinge to it, his hair looking so fluffy it could be made out of clouds, and his plump lips have been painted a deep red that makes them look fuller then they already are.

But it's the robes that shock him the most, the thick midnight blue robes that are cinched tight to his tiny waist and left to flow down his legs and puddle around his feet. The sleeves fall past the tips of his fingers, the fabric stitched with pretty silver embroidery; depict cherry blossoms and other flowers that feel silky to the touch.

The layers under the main robe are of silvers and creams, bland in design put help the richness of the blue pop in the dim lit den. The band of silk around his waist is of the prettiest pearl white, the colour matching with his veil, and is tied so perfectly Jimin cannot even see the knot. he finds himself stroking along the tails of the band, they look so pretty next to the dark colour of his robe and it feels so expensive in his fingers.

He appears so elegant, poised and breathtakingly beautiful - but he doesn't really look like himself . He looks like the perfect unmated omega, much like his mother had the day she went for her Matchmakers appointment; but he can’t help to feel like a fraud of an omega. These are all tricks and pretty things that help him look the part, but it’s all a costume for a role he doesn’t feel right playing.

His eyes fall to his neck, the pinkish mark that Jimin is so used to seeing has been purposefully left on full display when usually Jimin’s conservative clothing hides it. He always thought his unmated mark looks like a cherry blossom petal, pretty and inviting; just waiting for an alpha to bite into it and claim him.

He can’t help but feel it’s kind of sad to think that one day he’ll look into the mirror and no longer see the mark that symbolises he’s an unmated omega; he’s not sure whether he can carry the bite of an alpha as beautifully as his mother does.

"There," his mother sighs, voice laced with such pride and just a hint of wistful sadness at seeing her only pup old enough to leave her. "One last thing and you'll be ready," she whispers, leaving Jimin to stare at the stranger in the mirror before him.

He pushes his hair behind his ear, it's a little longer than he usually wears it, at his mother's request because it's easier to style. It flops into his eyes and falls a little down his neck so that it tickles at his nape.

Jimin fusses with his hair and the veil until he feels somewhat more comfortable in his own skin and lets out a long sigh. "Ancestors, please make sure I don't make a fool of myself," he mutters with a quick press of his hands together in prayer, he really needs all the help he can get.

"Did you say something, dear?" his mother asks returning with a white cloth in her hands.

Jimin shakes his head and offers the women as reassuring a smile as he can muster before cautiously stepping down from the dressing block. His mother is all wide smiles and eyes glistening with excitement as she runs one more look over him.

She carefully unwraps the cloth in her hands until Jimin can see the hair comb hiding under it. It's a simple affair, completely different to the attire he's currently dressed in; the dark mahogany wood of the ornament has faded with age and the white paint of the flower that decorates it is chipping in places.

"I know it's not really something for a male omega to wear," his mother begins, eyeing the hair comb with eyes full of distant memories. "But I had short hair when I went in for my Matchmaker interview, and my father had this specially made for me."

"It's very pretty," Jimin whispers as if a loud voice could disrupt the peaceful atmosphere that encases them. “Is this why you wanted my hair longer?”

She hums, pushing some strands of her son’s hair behind his ear before carefully slipping the ornament in place. “I just wanted you to take a piece of me with you,” she explains, pulling the veil a little further down over his eyes.

Jimin thinks he could cry, but the omegas of the Matchmaker’s den worked so hard on his face that he really doesn’t want to spoil it. So instead he throws his arms over the petite women before him and holds her as tightly as he dares without ruining his ensemble.

There quiet moment is interrupted, however, by the loud shouting of a frail voice that holds more power then that of an alpha’s punch.

“Jimin!” his grandmother bellows, voice greeted by the hushes of the omegas that work in the den. “Would you all remove the sticks from your asses? I’m old, let me shout,” she scolds in a sharply crafted tone.

His mother huffs, throwing herself over to the door and throwing it open. “Mother, in here,” she hisses waving her hand over.

Jimin is laughing behind his covered hand as he watches the small women shuffle to their room, hands carrying so many objects that he’s surprised they haven’t all spilled to the floor yet.

Grandmother Park is probably the best member of his entire family purely for the fact she doesn’t take any shit. Time has withered her body and aged her face, hair as silver as the glistening moon and hands shaking more than that of an earthquake; but her personality is that of a crackling fire and her will more stubborn that a rock.

She dumps her items onto the table, dusting her hands off before she fixes her grandson with a tight gaze. “You look beautiful,” she nods. “Damn those fussy Matchmaker omegas do a good job don’t they?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, “You saying I’m not pretty usually?”

His grandmother scoffs, “of course you are, no grandchild of mine could ever be ugly.” She picks up an item of the table, a pair of rabbit feet that has Jimin shivering. “I got enough luck for 8 people, so I’m pretty sure you’ve got this in the bag,” she grins a gap toothed smile that Jimin can’t help but return.

“Park Jimin,” a sweet musical voice booms around the den and brings all other conversations to a standstill. The omegas of the den all stop what they’re doing and turn towards the main door, bodies folded in half in as deep a bow Jimin has seen them do so far.

In the doorway to the main room of the Matchmaker’s den stands a kindly looking woman dressed in silver and cream robes that glisten with weavings of golden thread. Her hair cascades around her shoulders and down to her waist in a silver and white waterfall; her body stands tall and straight, confident and poised and authority sings from every inch of her.

There is a sweet and welcoming smile to her lips, her eyes are dark as they scan the sea of unmated omega’s waiting for their interview and it has Jimin gulping down a lump in his throat.  Around her neck swings a cherry blossom pendant the shimmering pink emblem of the Yīnghuā clan, the symbol of highest authority amongst their clan.

“Park Jimin?” the Matchmaker calls once more, pushing her silver hair behind her ear. “Would you please step forward?”  

Jimin grabs up his robes and hurries out of the room, waving a hand in the air to garner the Matchmaker’s attention. “I’m here,” he calls with a nervous lilt to his voice.

The den remains quiet, eyes snapping to Jimin before back over to the Matchmaker, of which is enough of a sign to know Jimin’s already messed up. It’s terrifying how quickly the kind smile drains from the Matchmaker’s face as she looks Jimin over, letting out a small sniff before turning to the paper in her hand.

“Speaking without permission,” she scoffs, making a note of his first infraction.

Jimin gulps. “Shit.”

His grandmother huffs, slipping the rabbits feet into the band around his waist. “She’s always been a bit of a bitch, don’t worry too much about it,” she reasures.

He tries to nod, tries to thank his grandmother for the encouragement, but there’s fear enclosing around his throat and he feels as stiff as a board.    

“Go on, love,” his grandmother says, giving him a little push in the direction of the door. “You’ve got this.”

But as Jimin walks towards the intimidating omega who is about to judge his future, he feels as though he’s walking to his death rather than a Matchmaking interview.

___________

I’ve heard a great deal about you, Park Jimin, and I can’t help but to think the whisperings were right. You may look like the perfect omega, but you are a disgrace.

He didn’t even have the guts to explain to his mother and grandmother, the tears clinging to the corners of his eyes alluding enough to his family of the utter disappointment he is. His fists balled in the fabric of his disgustingly heavy robes that feel as though they’re enclosing around him, trapping him and suffocating him.

“Jimin,” his mother begins with a gentleness to her voice that Jimin really doesn’t think he deserves.

She steps closer to him, but all it does is have Jimin flinching away, tears streaming unbidden down his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispers before he runs.

He runs straight out of the Matchmaker’s den, stumbling a few times on his endless robes until he finally gathers all the fabric up into his arms. He can see the looks passed his way as he runs, and suddenly the sweet faces of those he’s grown up around look so different under this new light Jimin has found himself in. Their usual happy smiles towards him have shifted to reveal cold judgemental glares that could turn him to stone.

He’s a disgrace, and everyone knows it - everyone’s always known it, apparently, and no one thought to clue him in on it.

His legs feel weak by the time he finally makes it home, chest raising and falling heavily from the ache in his heart and the stabbing in his lungs. His cheeks feel raw from where his tears have stained them to be then dried by the wind.

He wants to hide under his furs and sleep away the day, wake up to a new one that's infinitely better than this nightmare that he’s found himself in. But with the realisation that this isn’t a nightmare, this is horrifically his reality, Jimin finds himself collapsing at the gate to his home, dirtying the pretty robes as he falls into the mud.

He sobs into the overlong dark blue sleeves, staining the fabric an even darker colour with tears and for the first time in a really long time, he feels so utterly defeated. It’s as though he can never do anything right, never will be able to do anything right either just because of who he is. This was the one and only thing he was born to do, be a good omega and marry a good alpha so that he can bare strong pups.

This is all that has ever been asked of him from his family, this is what he was born to do, and yet he can’t even do what fate has assigned of him.

He grabs at the veil on his head, throwing it into the mud, anger and irritation at himself coursing through his veins. He snatches the comb from his hair, hand raised to throw it too, but his wrist is caught at the last moment.

“Don’t be too hasty now, pup,” his father mutters in a smooth deep timber that Jimin has come to associate with protection and home. He feels his arm go limp in his father’s hold, body sagging with an overbearing onslaught of calming alpha pheromones, yet all it does is crush his heart with shame.

His father is the last person he wanted to see, his body had propelled him home at the thought of being safe in his own den, in his weakness he forgot about who would be waiting for him.

He shies away from where his father sits before him, right in the mud along with him, injured leg stretched flat so as not to irritate it, and Jimin just feels impossibly worse.

The omega sniffles as his father’s calloused hand catches the stray tears that still slip down his cheek. The familiar calming scent of the alpha washes over him as calm as waves on the shore. Jimin takes deep breaths as he calms down, smelling a thick worry clinging in the air that Sungchu can’t hide very well. His father has never been very good at comfort, that was always his mother’s speciality, but the alpha is always very careful with his words.

Sungchu is an eloquent man, crafting responses the way an artisan crafts their work and when Jimin ever found himself feeling a little uncertain, he could always rely on his father to know what to say. Though he’s not certain whether any words his father wishes to gift him will do anything in making Jimin feel better right now.

All he has ever wanted to to is make his father proud, and today, he failed that.

Sungchu slips the comb out of Jimin’s hands, actions slow and deliberate as if handling a baby deer that’s easily startled. He lowers Jimin’s arm to his lap before leaning away from his son to marvel at the hair ornament.

“Things like this are pretty don’t you think?” he starts softly, Jimin’s eyes downcast at the mud.

Jimin shrugs. “It’s withered and old.”

His father hums, “Is it? Or is it just a little worn around the edges from all the love it’s received?”  

Jimin slumps onto his but, legs numb from where he’s been kneeling. He still can’t bring himself to look up at his father, too ashamed, too sorry, too disheartened.

“ I think it’s utterly beautiful, more so than anything made of jade or precious gems because you can see personality in this,” Sungchu continues and his musings have Jimin narrowing his eyes. “Now, don’t look like that,” Sungchu chuckles, forefinger catching Jimin’s chin and raising his head so that the father and son are eye level.

There is a knowing understanding that ripples through the dark irises of the alpha before him, a gentleness around the corners of his aged eyes that softens the face of his stern father in a way Jimin thinks he hasn’t seen before.   

Sungchu pushes the strands of Jimin’s hair flat behind his ear before slipping the comb back into place. “In this life we live, people don’t tend to look closer at those that are beautiful in unconventional ways.”

Jimin can feel his lip tremble as he bites back a whimper of tears, his father cupping his round face and placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. Jiin feels all his muscles slump further into the dirt as tension bleeds from them. He feels as though he should say something, but there are no words that make their way to his throat, so instead he simply relaxes in his father’s hold, feeling content to just be accepted.

The moment passes between them in tender and peaceful silence, and Jimin can smell spring on the air as it encases them.

It’s terrifying how suddenly peace can be shattered.

The sound of hooves approaching their den has Jimin suddenly snapping back to the reality of the situation they’re in. The young omega quickly jumps to his feet, stepping on his over long robes and ruining beyond saving. He carefully pulls his father to his feet, arms securely around the alpha to keep him steady on his injured leg.

“Jimin, step back,” his father says, voice dripping in an authoritative tone that feels almost like a comand.

Jimin’s grip doesn’t change. “You don’t have your cane I can’t- ” But Sungchu doesn’t listen, pushing himself out of his son’s hold.

Jimin watches with worried eyes as his father hobbles past the gate to greet the visitors; two male alphas dressed smartly in thick furs that make Jimin feel uneasy. It feels as though the alphas have no presence, almost like ghosts that could slip easily unnoticed through a crowd of thousands.

“Good day, can I help you?” Sungchu asks and Jimin finds himself shivering at the tone of his father’s voice. It’s sharp and commanding; an alpha voice that's crafted purposefully to demand respect and authority over all other.

One of the alphas hands a scroll to Sungchu, face blank and void of any kind of emotion. “I bring news from the Yu Clan,” he explains in a voice matching in authority to Sungchu’s. Jimin whimpers a little at the addition of another alpha voice, instincts screaming at him to submit and Jimin struggles so hard to fight them off. He’s never been around more than one alpha at a time as they try and battle for dominance; it’s more than a little unnerving.

His father takes the scroll from the alpha and opens it quickly to read.

“War?” Sungchu asks, voice even and flat, yet far quieter than the domineering tone he had conducted before.

The second alpha nods with a rough grunt, “the Běishān Clan have invaded from the north, all alphas of the Dìguó Tribes are to report to training immediately.”  

There’s a sickening feeling of impending dread that settles deep into Jimin’s bones, the words of the alpha echoing around his head like the echoing of thunder after it’s clashed through the sky. T his is not the first time their peaceful way of life has been disrupted by war--it may be the first time for Jimin, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t heard the tales. Listened raptly with the other pups around the campfires with the elders of their clan, or patiently heard the stories his grandparents and parents shared with him whenever he asked. War is seen by many as something horrible and yet something of a necessity, a way to preserve their unconventional way of life and to protect what they believe in.

But to Jimin, war means being forced to watch his ailing father leave their home to fight and knowing he will never come home. The need to protect the man that raised him, the man Jimin adores with all his heart, is a powerful emotion that floods his veins and has him running over to the intimidating gaggle of alphas with conviction etched onto his face.

“Please,” he shouts, standing in front of his father and subtly covering him. “My father has already once for the Dìguó Tribes and he-”

“Jimin,” his father warns and with the worry that’s currently pulsing through the omega’s veins the warning sharpness to the alpha’s voice is lost on him.

Jimin shakes his head, turning back to his father. “No, you’re hurt! If you go you’ll die! Surely the Yu Alpha will understand that and-” as Jimin turns his head to the alpha’s from the Yu Clan he’s greeted by the angriest of glares the omega has ever seen in his life. He squeaks, taking a instinctive step away from them, self preservation running through him as one of the alpha’s dismounts from his horse.

He struggles to hold his gaze with the alpha, that uncomfortable feeling of unease finds itself wrapping around Jimin’s throat like a python and suddenly Jimin understands why these alphas feel more dead than alive. They have no scent, there is no alpha smell from them and it sends the omega’s senses off balance.

The alpha stops a comfortable distance from Jimin, but it still causes his whole body to shake with uncontrollable discomfort, wanting more than anything to whimper and lower his head in submission. But that submissive side to himself is currently at war with the passionate need to protect his family. He just cannot fathom the idea of losing his father; the devastation of watching the alpha of their family leave would eat him away knowing he could have dones something to prevent it, but didn’t.

“Are you quite finished?” the alpha asks, voice thick with authority that has Jimin’s knees shaking.  

Jimin shucks in a quivering breath ready to fight for his father once more, when he feels a bruising grip clamp around his upper arm and yank him back towards the house. “Yes, he is,” his father answers for him. “I am ready to serve the Yu Alpha,” he replies bowing so deep in respect that his nose almost touches his knees.

Jimin wants nothing more than to pull his father up right, he shouldn’t have to show anyone any respect, not after the brave things he’s done for the Dìguó Tribes. He's a war hero, a man of honour who lost the full function of his leg and some of his alpha pride in the process. He shouldn’t have to die for their tribes, not after sacrificing so much already.

Yet the grip his father has on his arm just tightens more and has Jimin’s face scrunching in pain.

The alpha sniffs. “You would do well to teach the omega to hold his tongue in an alpha’s presence.”

Jimin feels disgusting; it’s not often he’s reduced to just a rank. Is that really what men from the Yu Clan think of omegas? Nothing more than bearers of pups, to be seen and not heard, a nuisance, secondary only to alphas. There are great tales of the head Clan, where the Yu alpha sits as equal to those he rules and does not put himself above those of the tribes he commands.

Yet in the face of an actual alpha under order from said Yu alpha, Jimin cannot help but to think maybe everything he’s heard is lies.

The two alpha’s leave with not another word, his father bowed low whilst they speed onto the next house with their bag of conscription notices, looking uncanny like messengers of death.  

Sungchu pulls himself upright with a poorly concealed look of pain on his face, but still refuses to lessen his grip around Jimin’s arm and let him help.

“Fa-” Jimin begins in a protesting whine of a voice, but the glare he receives in return is one so sharp Jimin feels it slice through his heart.

You are a disgrace.

_________

He sits inside the ancestors shrine until nightfall, silently praying, silenting waiting.

The stones of the members of the Park family before him are glossy under the pale light of a new moon, they reflect a young omega with a determined look to his face; driven by love and the need to protect.

His face is a little red from where he rubbed the delicate paint away, his lips tremble with unknown fear and the beautiful robes he had once been dressed in are folded neatly before his family shrine.

He can see the gentle candle glow from his family den just a little way behind him, reflected in the smooth surface of the stones he prays too.

He feels as though he’s been waiting for hours, yet his decision came as quickly as the snapping of a twig under foot.  

His eyes are set in determination as he watches his mother glide through the house blowing out the candles, as if the personification of night itself, until his family den is plunged into darkness. He waits silently for a few moments longer, legs aching from where they have been kneeled against the harsh stone floor of the ancestors shrine.

Jimin takes one final breath, folding his body in half until his forehead touches the floor in the deepest of bows, breath fogging against the smooth cold floor.

There are some words that just don’t need to be spoken, and maybe Jimin is a coward but as he pays respects to his heritage and his family, for what could be the last time, he cannot fathom the right words to say.

He’s quick as he moves through the den, knowing exactly which floorboards to tread upon that won't creak under his weight, moving with a light agility that comes from being so small. His father’s war furs are hung on display above the hearth in the living room so Jimin has to climb atop one of the stalls in order to read it.

He’s not sure what else he should bring, he can’t bring any of his own clothes as they’re too saturated in his omega scent. The young omega has never enjoyed the sight of his father’s war furs, the ominous reminder of a horrible past looming over him as he grew up is just not something that harbours positives feelings towards. But the furs are drenched in scent blockers, and if there’s one thing Jimin needs, it’s the ability to hide who he is.  

He creeps towards his own room, the door creaking ever so slightly as he opens it.

“You’ve been gone a long time,” a voice in the darkness calls out to him and Jimin drops the bundle of furs in his arms as his heart leaps up his throat.

He shuts the door swiftly and quietly before him; eyes adjusting ever so slightly in the thick consuming darkness until he can make out the figure hidden by shadows sat on the bed. His room is tanged with the crisp smell of freshly cut grass and dried barley, the scent knocking his heart into a fearful pace.

“Tae,” Jimin whispers, voice dry. He’d forgotten about Taehyung. His sweet and considerate best friend who had stayed awake with him the entire night, just to keep him calm. The understanding alpha who is nothing but patient and supportive of Jimin, who is the only alpha in his family and would ultimately have to fight for their clans safety too.

Jimin was too caught up in his own head, he had completely forgotten about the compassionate, sensitive and empathetic alpha who was never built to withstand the chaos and turmoil of war.  

Jimin crosses the room on light feet, falling before his best friend to take his larger hands into his smaller ones. Taehyung is shaking, the conscription notice still tightly grasped between his fingers and Jimin feels as though his heart could break all over again.

The omega pulls his friends hands to his face and nuzzles against them softly, gently, as they always have done ever since they were pups. “Tae, it’s going to be alright,” he reassures as best he can, the conviction in his voice surprising him ever so.

Taehyung whimpers, “I’m not a soldier, Jiminie, I don’t know how to hunt alphas, how to ki-kill, I- “

Jimin hushes him, squeezing his hands reassuringly. “I know, Tae, I know, it’s going to be alright.”

“How can you say that? How can you know?”

Jimin pulls a shaking breath between his teeth. “Because you’re my family too,” he explains on a voice so small and so quiet it takes such effort to speak it. “I may not be a good omega, I maybe a disgrace of a son and a Park, but I protect my family.”

Taehyung feels oddly still in his hands, breath falling shallow and harsh from his lips and Jimin can feel the gears in his head turning as he pieces everything together. “No, Jiminie,” the alpha gasps on a pained whine. “You’ll die, they’ll sniff you out and they’ll kill you.”

Jimin shakes his head, releasing his friends hands to lean up and catch the younger’s face between his palms. He can just make out the glistening of Taehyung’s eyes, unshed, frightened tears caught in the moonlight. “Not if I hide myself,” he says once more with conviction that surprises himself.

Taehyung shakes his head, “Omegas aren’t allowed to fight, the penalty is…”

“They won't find out Tae.”

“I can’t watch you die Jimin, please don’t make me go through that, I’ve already had to hug my mother today for what could be the last time and I cannot I can’t- “

“Tae.”

“You smell like lavender and hibiscus, Jimin, you were never any good at hide and seek as a kid because we could always smell you no matter how hard you tried to block your scent.”

“Taehyung.”

“And what about this?” He taps the unmated omega mark on Jimin’s neck and the touch sends shivers down his spine. “It’s right over your scent gland. That’s the first place alphas go for when they go for the kill, one wrong move and this gets exposed and - “

Jimin slaps the sides of his friend’s face just rough enough to silence him, but not hard enough to really hurt. “Nothing you can say can change my mind,” he explains on an even breath. “So you can either out me now and have me tried for treason, or help me out.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

Taehyung flinches at the harshness of the omega’s words, eyes shutting to let his tears cascade unbidden down his cheeks. He doesn’t speak, wordlessly nodding his head in agreement before pulling Jimin flush against him in a bone crushing hug. He nuzzles against Jimin’s neck, his face and his hair, releasing as much of his alpha pheromones as possible and it has the little omega hot in the face.

“W-what are you doing?” Jimin squeaks.

Taehyung hums, sniffing against Jimin and wrinkling his nose before scenting him again. “Hiding your scent,” he explains. “You wont smell exactly like me, but you wont smell like an omega either, it’ll be a good enough pass for when we don’t wear the war furs.”

Jimin nods, trying to relax as his childhood friend, practically his brother, intimately rubs his own earthy scent over him.

“I have high neck clothes you can wear that will cover your mark, it’ll also help to mask your scent,” Taehyung adds. “You’re gonna have to listen to what I say, follow my lead and keep a low profile, got it?” He stops nuzzling against Jimin, but his grip tightens in a way that has Jimin’s own tears catching in the corners of his eyes.

He blinks them away, nodding his head. “Thank you, Tae.”

“Don’t thank me,” Taehyung mumbles, rubbing his watery eyes into Jimin’s tunic. “Not until we return home, alive.”   

Jimin leaves Taehyung to pack for him, feeling far more confident about the whole situation than he had before. He places a gentle kiss to the powdery cheek of his grandmother first, holding his breath as he enters and leaves before he finds his way in his parents room.

He can’t bring himself to look at the peaceful face of his mother, knowing he might just crumble under the weight of his decision. But this is a decision that really he knew he had to no choice but to make.

He takes his father’s conscription notice from his nightstand and places his mother’s hair comb in its place. It’s a promise, a promise that he’ll come back.

________

“Repeat back what I just said to you,” Taehyung demands, face the most serious Jimin has ever seen it in his life and honestly it slightly terrifies the omega far more than he already is.

He takes a deep steadying breath as he pulls on Taehyung’s dark black tunic, making sure the collar fits snug against the column of his neck. “Don’t speak back to anyone, don’t bare my neck in submission no matter how much I want to, speak with confidence even if I don’t feel it and don’t lock eyes with another alpha.”

Taehyung huffs, clearly not overly satisfied, but really there’s not much else they can do in this situation. “Don’t leave my side.” He sags from where he’s stood outside their shared tent, waiting for Jimin to change. “Honestly, I feel like your family guardian spirit or something.”

Jimin giggles, pulling the top layer of his father’s war furs over his shoulders. “Aren’t you more like a lucky charm?”

The alpha scoffs indignantly. “Excuse you, I’m not a cricket.”

“Since when are crickets lucky?”

“Since always. Now hurry up, we’re already late,” Taehyung grumbles as Jimin pulls on his shoes. The omega takes a tentative whiff of himself and his nose cringes at the overwhelming scent of the rich earth that encases Taehyung. Not a single trace of something floral and light and omega which automatically makes Jimin feel more at ease.

“Jiminie!” Taehyung calls impatiently, and Jimin scrambles out of the tent before his best friend can burst a blood vessel from stress.    

The two friends jog their way down to the main training area of the army camp. The majority of the space is filled with tents and huts used for sleeping quarters and recreational areas, something of which surprised Jimin greatly as the main training grounds consisted of a densely thick wooded area and an open field of freshly trimmed grass that houses sparing rings and archery targets.

It’s the first time Jimin has ever been inside the Yu Clan’s borders; the mental image painted in his mind from stories he overheard of travellers through his own clan has so far been greatly shattered. Maybe Jimin hasn’t seen the best parts of the Yu Clan, but honestly there is nothing particularly grand and overwhelming about the heart of the Dìguó Tribes.  

They fall in line besides two alphas who look as young as Jimin and Taehyung, and the thought that a lot of youth have been pulled from their families and thrown into battle is not one that settles well with Jimin.

Taehyung takes his place next to the alphas, making sure Jimin is downwind and on the end before he clears his throat to get their attention. The alpha next to him has hair the same colour as the sun, fiery orange and blindingly bright. His skin is sunkissed gold and his lips are pulled into the warmest of smiles, dark eyes soft as they look Taehyung over.

“You know what’s going to happen today?” Taehyung asks, a confidence in his voice that Jimin pays extra special attention to. He’s never really seen Taehyung interact with other alphas, and his best friend has reiterated numerous times to him over the night that alphas never lose face around other alphas, no matter what situation they’re in.

‘Any sign of weakness is a sign of submission.’

There’s a subtle puffing of the other alpha’s chest, face still kind but it hardens slightly. “Captain Min is going to address us, and I think we start training immediately,” he explains in a voice of equal strength and confidence.

It has Jimin’s knees shaking, this is something he knows is going to take some getting used too.

Taehyung cocks his head to the side. “Who’s Captain Min?”

Another alpha peers around the first, regarding Taehyung with a shocked expression. “He’s General Min’s son? The Yu General’s son? Min Illsung, head of the army under the Yu Emperor, that alpha’s son?” he lists, waiting for one of the titles to stick with either Taehyung or Jimin, but both boys remain blank.

The second alpha is an incredibly beautiful mix of beauty and strength: with full peach lips, broad shoulders and eyelashes so long they kiss his cheeks every time he blinks. He flicks his head, huffing strands of his light brown hair from his face. “Honestly, where have you two been living? Under a rock?”

Jimin gulps, he guesses it’s now or never. “We’re from the Yīnghuā clan,” he explains as casually and confidently as he can, even going so far as to pitch his voice lower.

Taehyung flinches, the moment of truth hanging in the air between the four of them.

But the first alpha just whistles. “Oh yeah, that’s the furthest clan to the south of the Dìguó Tribes, I hear news doesn’t often travel down to you,” he laughs, heartily and loud, mouth forming a sweetheart shape as his bady wracks with mirth. Jimin and Taehyung let out a collective breath they hadn’t realised they were holding.

“I’m Jung Hoseok of the Dōng Hé Clan and this is Kim Seokjin of the Táohuā Clan,” he introduces. “Our clans neighbour the Yu Clan, so stick with us; we’ll keep you informed.”

Jimin smiles. “That’s so nice of you-” he begins, but a sharp jab of Taehyung’s elbow to his stomach cuts off his words.

“Thanks,” Taehyung blurts out bluntly as Jimin huddles over clutching his stomach.

Hoseok’s eyebrow is raised inquisitively as he watches the two friend’s peculiar movements, but before he can comment on their oddness a harsh hush falls about the new recruits and all eyes snap towards the impressive looking tent that looms before them.

A man of short stature steps before them, irises of harsh obsidian set in elegantly cat shaped eyes scan the new soldiers before him and he lets a long and somewhat irritated sigh past his lips.  

“That’s Captain Min Yoongi,” Hoseok whispers. “He’s the best soldier the Yu Clan has had since, well…”

“Since his father,” Seokjin finishes.

Jimin nods, eyes turning back to the intimidating looking alpha before him only to find a dry lump in his throat.

Captain Min Yoongi wears no war furs, no clothing that blocks his scent as the other new recruits do before him, and Jimin finds his whole body shivering as the overwhelming scent of sandalwood and autumn leaves fills his nostrils.

Taehyung stiffens, reaching out to entangle their hands together subtly, coaxing Jimin to calm down.  

“Soldiers,” Min Yoongi rasps in a voice so deep, so gravely and oh so domineering in authority that Jimin has to take deep steady breaths to stop himself from whimpering. “I am your commanding officer,” he introduces, walking in strong strides along the front row of new recruits, eyes weighing up the worth of each alpha under his command as if inspecting fresh produce for the Yu emperor himself.

Jimin is breathing through his mouth, harsh and loud but it’s the only way he’s going to keep himself from fully crumbling under the intimidating authority the Captain holds. The rich scent gets stronger the closer he gets to Jimin; Taehyung’s hand the only thing anchoring the omega.

God, maybe he’s in way over his head here.

“You’ve got this,” Taehyung whispers as if sensing the self doubt and panic flooding through Jimin’s system. The words are comforting, do little to gather Jimin’s ‘alpha confidence’, but they help to steady his shaking.

His best friend lets go of his hand once the Captain stands before Seokjin and from this close, Jimin can see the spackling of freckles across the milky pale skin of the alpha. His hair is cut in a style that Jimin has never seen before, buzzed short in an undercut, with long strands of shimmering silver hair pulled into a tight bun on top.

“So if you wish to stay alive,” Min Yoongi speaks once more, voice barely above a conversational pitch yet it echoes through the field and back to Jimin’s ears like the banging of a temple bell. “You best do as I say.”

Jimin’s eyes are focused on the intricate tunic of the Captain pulling deep breathes through clenched teeth as he wills himself to look in the face of the alpha that now stands directly before him. Stupidly, despite everything Taehyung had told him, he locks eyes with Yoongi, catching the way the alpha’s dark brow cocks in mixture of what Jimin can only assume is surprise and interest.

His mouth is pink, a light soft pink that pulls into a pout that Jimin finds somewhat cute regardless of the intimidating aura Yoongi emmits. Their heights are similar, Jimin barely turning his head up at all to be able to lock gazes with the Captain, and the omega finds it somewhat strange. He’s never met an alpha so small before, yet Jimin knows that the man’s build means nothing from the way he carries himself.

There is more authority in Min Yoongi’s piercingly sharp gaze then that of any large beefy alpha.

He hums, stepping just a little closer into Jimin’s space and the omega finds his eyelashes fluttering, feeling as though he’s drunk on Yoongi’s scent. The omega is no stranger to being around alphas, is hardly affected by the scent of one after growing up smothered by Taehyung; yet here he is feeling as though he could disintegrate into a phantom heat at any moment.

He’s never been more thankful for the scent blocking furs around his ridiculously hot neck in all his life.

“What’s your name?” Yoongi asks, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

Jimin pulls a deep breath through his lips, pushes all thoughts about the alpha’s scent from his mind and focuses carefully on his words: but nothing comes out of his mouth.

Yoongi huffs, stretching a hand out to Jimin. “Let me see your conscription notice.”

Jimin tries hard to keep his hands steady as he reaches into his pocket and pulls the scroll out for his commanding officer. Yoongi snatches the conscription notice from Jimin’s hand, their fingers brushing ever so slight and Jimin bites down on his bottom lips to conceal his whimper.    

The Captain reads over the scroll with a confused furrow of his brow, “Park Sungchu? The Park Sungchu?” he asks, eyes catching Jimin’s gaze once more.

The omega nods, feeling Taehyung’s worried stare burning into the side of his head. He lets out a hearty cough, as if restarting his system before reaching deep within himself to find his voice.

“Yes,” he finally responds voice quiet but strong and Jimin’s is just thankful it doesn’t break. “I’m his heir, his alpha heir, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Yoongi repeats with a sniff. “I never knew Park Sungchu had an alpha heir.”

Jimin mentally panics, balling his hands by his sides. “He doesn’t talk about me much,” he explains all in one rush of breath that has the Captain furrowing his eyebrows even further. Whether in concern or distaste, Jimin isn’t sure, but one thing he is sure of; is that his omega side is whimpering in his head at disappointing the alpha.

Yoongi scoffs with a quirk of his lips. “I can see why,” he comments dryly and the words take a moment to sink into Jimin’s head.

Was that supposed to be a dig?

Suddenly Jimin finds his little body filled with annoyance and irritation at the alpha’s snarky remark, jaw clenched and eyes darkening; wanting nothing more than to chew Yoongi out. But a hand clamps down on his shoulder, grip so tight Jimin can feel fingernails digging into his skin; even through the thick furs.

Yoongi shakes his head somewhat disapprovingly before turning his back on Jimin and sauntering away, without so much as another sarcastic word or intimidating glare.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” Jimin spits under his breath, feeling more like himself the further Yoongi moves away from him.

Taehyung’s grip on his shoulder never lessens. “He’s the top alpha around here Jimin, and you should be damn grateful your cover wasn’t blown just then.”

Jimin grumbles, folding his arms about his chest. “He should be damn grateful I didn’t bloody his nose.”

“Walk before you can run,” Taehyung sighs, expelling all his fear in one long breath.

_________

“Park Jimin!” his name is bellowed around the archery field for what feels like 7th time in the last half an hour alone.

The omega flinches, the booming voice startling no matter how many times he hears it. It feels as though he’s being singled out; as though the big strong alphas know that he’s not really who he’s pretending to be, and their instincts are telling them to attack.

So what he’s not the best archer out there? Hoseok managed to just barely miss shooting Seokjin in the ass all but an hour ago, and no one singled him out.

Yet here Kim Namjoon stands in front of him once more, with a look of disappointment etched onto his face; the kind of disappointment that parents and teachers work so hard to perfect.

‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.’

Kim Namjoon, scribe for the Yu Alpha and one of Yoongi’s right hand men, carries a gentle intimidation and holds a sweet dimpled smile that leaves Jimin incredibly confused. He’s learned not to trust alphas as far as he can throw them; yet Namjoon’s smile is so sweet that Jimin really wants to believe it’s genuine.

Jimin sighs, lowering his bow and straightening his posture. “Yes, sir?” he asks, the tremble of his voice well and truly gone after 5 days of being around so many alphas. His omega is still not having the best time dealing with all these alpha pheromones, but it helps that Taehyung is a calming scent for him.

He has also come to find that the longer he’s around the alphas the easier it is to withstand their scents. Even wrapped in their war furs, Jimin can just faintly smell the alpha’s scents; the blockers in the clothes clearly not good enough to hide scents form an omega nose.

Namjoon pulls his lips into a thin line. He’s tall, far taller than the majority of the soldiers at camp, so Jimin just feels even more out of place standing in front of him. “Park, your posture is still completely off. It’s dangerous.”

Jimin lets a gentle breath past his lips, pushing out all his frustration. “At least I haven’t shot anyone,” he mumbles.  

“Excuse me?”

Jimin coughs, feeling Taehyung’s warning glare from the other end of the field. “I said I’ll try better, sir,” the omega corrects.

Namjoon sighs, the alpha is always sighing and Jimin’s pretty sure it’s to stop himself from just losing it. It’s no secret that the new recruits aren’t the best batch of alphas the Dìguó Tribes have had; and Jimin is probably the worst of them all right now.

The rest of the training ground is quiet, pretending to practice as they sneakily watch Jimin’s scolding out of the corner of their eyes. It takes all of the omega’s self control not to just glare at every single alpha and stick his tongue out at him.

“Just, try harder,” Namjoon finally says turning on his heels to the rest of the group. “Let’s stop here for the day, we need to hunt before the sun sets else no one will be eating tonight.”

There’s a collective groan that echoes through the training ground, half in exhaustion and half in relief of which Jimin really wishes he could join in on. They’ve been training since dawn, 4am till 6pm and Jimin can feel his arms and legs shake from overexertion.  

But he still hasn’t managed to land an arrow on the target yet, and he’s sworn to himself that he would at least get one on the board before he sleeps.

Taehyung sighs, easily understanding the determination in Jimin’s eyes. “It’s just archery, you’re good at running and stuff so don’t get hung up on this,” he says.

Jimin huffs, knocking another arrow in his bow, “yeah well I’m not going to run away from a fight when the time comes, Tae.”

“If it means keeping yourself alive, then hell yes you will.”

Jimin levels his best friend with a serious gaze. “Save me some food, alright?”

“I’m not going to leave you here alone,” Taehyung scoffs, arms folded about his chest. “If you’re going to starve yourself then I’m going to starve with you.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Jimin mumbles taking a deep breath before pulling the bow up and taking his stance. “Besides, I concentrate better when there’s no annoying alpha scents around.”

“So I’m annoying now?”

Jimin lets go of the string moments after it’s been pulled back, knowing the arrow’s not going to hit the target before it’s even left the bow. It veers far to the left, slamming itself into a tree trunk and Jimin groans, “Yes, you are.”

“Just, please don’t be out here all night?” Taehyung finally relents.

Jimin shrugs. “I’ll try,” he offers before storming off to collect his arrow.

It’s not long before Jimin is left alone in the field feeling incredibly calmer than he had all day. He’s finding it difficult to relax, whole body on edge like a live wire, one touch or one word can just send him into a shuddering mess.

He takes another deep breath, notches the arrow once more and takes up his stance. He holds his position a little longer than before, one eye shut to get a better idea of where he’s aiming, takes another deep breath and lets go.

Only to watch the arrow fall short of the target and imbed in the floor.

He sighs, stretching out his arms as he collects the arrow again; it’s frustrating, but he’s found over the years that just getting worked up doesn’t achieve anything. He may have to work a little harder than all the alphas he’s found himself around, but that’s okay, because he’s determined to get there.

He takes up his stance again, pulls in a steady breath, yet just as he’s about to release the arrow his nose is hit by the faint scent of sandalwood and autumn leaves and it sends shivers down his spine. He turns quickly on his heels, eyes comically wide and mouth practically watering as his omega keens. He finds Captain Yoongi standing on the other end of the field, head cocked and eyes narrowed right at Jimin.

He’s wearing his war furs, the scent no way near as strong as the first and only time Jimin has seen the alpha, and Jimin curses his omega biology for practically searching Yoongi out amongst all the alphas here.

Dangerous.

Jimin pinches his arm to bring himself back to reality, turning on his heels and taking up his stance once more. Yet again, however, the arrow misses, flying right past the target and flopping to the floor a few few behind it. Probably his weakest attempt so far, but it’s hard to concentrate when obsidian eyes are glaring holes in you.

“Park,” Captain Yoongi greets in that irritatingly cold way alphas do with each other. Jimin shivers as he returns from collecting his arrow, the intimidating alpha standing with his arms folded across his chest. Jimin was hoping the man would simply ignore his failing attempts at archery and go on his very busy day; yet here he is, making his omega whine and body shiver.

Jimin bows his head ever so slightly. “Captain.”

“Your stance is wrong,” Yoongi explains, cutting straight to the chase. Jimin can’t find himself surprised - the alpha screams blunt and straightforward.  

The omega hums, notching another arrow and turning back to the target. “So I keep being told,” he grumbles, pulling the bow up once more. He places his feet firmly in the ground, pulls the string snug against his lips and bends his bow arm.

He tries to find his calm once more, breathing deeply and evenly despite the way his heart is pittering a little too heavily in his chest. But then he feels the scent of sandalwood and autumn leaves envelop him, warm strong arms wrapping themselves around him, not touching, just hovering, but it’s enough to send prickles along Jimin’s skin.  

Yoongi's hand smooths somewhat delicately and gently over Jimin’s elbow, pushing it lower and twisting his arm into a slightly different angle. “You’re not rotating your elbow straight,” the alpha explains, voice ghosting over Jimin’s ear; pitched so deep and so quiet it resonates in the omega’s chest.

There’s a small gasp that hitches in Jimin’s throat at the touch, face hot and skin burning under Yoongi’s fingers. He lets go of the arrow prematurely and watches shamefully as it pitifully flops to the ground a few feet in front of them.  

He whines like a child, wanting nothing more than to hide his face in his hands.

Yoongi laughs, a breathy staccato of a laugh that sounds more like a little cackle and it has the tips of Jimin’s ears red. “Sorry,” the omega mumbles, reaching down for his arrow. “I never expected archery to be so hard.”

“Well it’s not everything, you might find yourself better at hand to hand combat,” Yoongi explains. “You’re small; makes you nimble.”

Jimin rolls his eyes returning to his position. “I’d rather be good at everything.”

The alpha hums, body coming up behind Jimin once more, hand lowering his elbow, mouth incredibly close to his ear. Jimin’s skin feels as though it’s sparkling like fireworks, goosebumps rippling over the surface and the omega struggles to control his shivers.

“That’s a little ambitious for someone who’s not good at anything,” Yoongi says with that sharp harshness to his voice that reminds Jimin of the crisp bite of a winters breeze.

Jimin pulls his lips into a flat line. “I’m trying,” he responds the sudden irritation spreading through his veins a good distraction to the way Yoongi’s touch burns on his skin. He focuses all his energy into correcting his posture the way the alpha’s hands moved it to; squints at the target, lines the top of the arrow to the centre and takes one last steadying breath.

He releases the arrow with low expectations; only to find it embedding itself into the side of the target.

There's a brief moment where Jimin slowly comprehends what just happened, eyes growing in excitement and mouth drawing into a little ‘O’. He whips his head round to Yoongi with a little triumphant gasp. “Did you see that?” he exclaims unable to curb his happiness, he’s been trying to hit this target for hours.

Yoongi looks a little taken aback by Jimin’s response, face blank from it’s usual calculating and judgemental look, mouth slightly agape as he watches Jimin wriggle in excitement.

The omega giggles as he practically skips over to the target and pulls his arrow out. “I did it,” he marvels spinning it in his hands.

There’s a small cough from the Captain that grabs Jimin’s attention from the arrow. “You seem awfully proud of hitting the target once out of hundreds of tries.”

Jimin pouts. “Can you not just let me have this?”

Yoongi cocks an eyebrow. “Are you looking for praise, Park?”

The omega in him whines in yes, but Jimin swallows that down quickly, lowering his head as he trudges back over. He’s so used to being happy over little achievements, it’s hard to take things calmly, it’s been even harder not having anyone praise him for doing well.

He’s come to find that it’s equally as hard being an alpha as it is being an omega at times. Jimin wonders how any alpha can grow when they’re never given any nurturing words and kind touches.

Why does the strength of an alpha lie in their ability to show no emotion?

He picks up his bow from where he had left it on the ground, only to find a hand on his head ruffling his hair gently. Jimin’s eyes sparkle in surprise as they raise to meet Yoongi looking as stoic as ever, despite his uncharacteristic mannerism.

“Now make the same shot 100 times more,” Yoongi gruffs, retracting his hand just as quickly as he had placed it atop the omega’s head. Jimin nods, body warm and smile pulling wide across his face. The alpha huffs, eyes directed away from Jimin, before turning to leave without even saying goodbye.

Maybe Captain Min Yoongi isn’t as scary as everyone makes him out to be.

_________

Jimin’s not sure how it came about, but Yoongi takes to personally training Jimin everytime the omega decides to stay behind to practice on his own. Not just with archery, but with everything; sword combat, hunting, climbing and hand to hand fighting.

He has to admit that it helps - the Captain knows what he’s doing, has knowledge and skill far greater than the brief demonstrations Namjoon shows them before setting them free to practice. Jimin finds himself relying more on his senses than he initially thought he should, his omega nose sniffing out another alpha from a good few yards away and even further if the weather calls for wind.

It helps him to anticipate his partner’s moves as they spar - he can smell the change in their scent with each move of their limbs; stronger when the alphas wish to put move strength behind a punch, weaker when they’re focusing on footwork and smaller jabs.

The omega never saw himself as being good at anything; but with each evening of Yoongi’s careful teachings, Jimin can feel himself getting stronger. He can definitely see his own improvement - a month after that first night he managed to hit the target with his arrow, Jimin can now hit the bullseye every time.

Really, he only has Yoongi’s teachings to thank for that.

“A lot of new recruits focus more on physical strength alone,” the Captain explains as he settles them both on the grass of the field, cross legged and knees only inches apart. He shuts his eyes and Jimin follows instinctively, regretting it immediately. With the lack of sight, his sense of smell is heightened and even though Yoongi is bundled in his war furs, Jimin’s nose can pick out Yoongi’s scent easily.

Jimin has taken to breathing through his mouth a lot being around Yoongi. “Isn’t that what you need the most when fighting?” the omega asks in a small voice, feeling the calm of their campsite for the first time since he came.

There’s always groups of alphas loudly walking around, bickering or laughing, fighting both in practice and out of it; not an ideal environment for one to find their inner peace. But as the alphas greedily converge around the slowly roasting meat of the day’s hunt, their voices travel further and further away from the training ground.

The omega hasn’t realised how much he had been craving peace and tranquility, not until Yoongi brought him to a calm still.

The Captain scoffs, “Sure, physical strength is what’s going to let you overpower your enemies. But if you don’t have the mental strength to analyse your enemy and predict their moves in advance, then that physical strength is nothing at the end of the day.”

Jimin hums. Yoongi’s smooth deep baritone the only thing he can focus on. There’s something oddly calming to Jimin about the alpha’s voice, soothing in a way Jimin’s never experienced before. There is most definitely something different about Yoongi than the other alphas he’s been thrown together with.       

There’s a thruming of excitement through Jimin’s veins whenever he sees Yoongi, an anticipation for something he can’t quite understand, a dangerous anticipation.

Whereas Jimin has come to understand and handle the mingling scents of the alphas he is training with, even the spicy tang Namjoon carries that always leaves a tickle in Jimin’s nose, with Yoongi it’s different. No matter how long the omega finds himself in close proximity with his Captain, it still feels like the first time.

“As alphas, we’re biologically strong, but being able to rely on our instincts and senses without letting them completely rule us is what tips the odds in one's favour,” Yoongi explains further.

“What happens if we let our senses and instincts control us?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi chuckles, “We’d be nothing more than omegas.”

Jimin can’t help but flinch, his omega whimpering pathetically in the back of his head like a kicked pup. “O-oh, I see,” he mumbles, eyes opening.

Yoongi opens just one of his eyes, “I’m kidding, Park,” he replies dryly before shutting his eyes again “We fight so the omegas don’t have to, they’re strong in a different way - without them our legacy cannot be continued.”

Jimin’s eyes fall to his stomach, palms resting gently over it. He’s completely lost all his baby fat, his jawline sharper than he ever remembers it being, and his stomach is as flat as a board. His body is stuck in a weird middle; somewhere between a skinny runt and slightly toned warrior. It’s alien to him; not completely strange, just different, but either way he knows he can’t even claim to look like the ‘perfect omega mate’ anymore.  

Too skinny, not good for bearing alphas.

“Park?” Yoongi asks, voice a lot closer than Jimin was expecting and it has the omega jumping out of his skin. “You okay? You not feeling good?”

Jimin’s face blushes as he brings his gaze up to meet the alpha, eyes worryingly watching the way Jimin is holding his stomach. He can’t deny it feels good for someone other than Taehyung to be worried about him, for an alpha to be worried about him. But Jimin cannot let himself lean into that way of thinking.

For all Yoongi - and the rest of the camp - knows, Jimin is just as much an alpha as the rest of them.

So he shrugs, dropping his hands from his stomach to pull a cheeky smile to his lips. “Probably just hungry.”

Yoongi looks considerably relieved, leaning back on his hunches and out of Jimin’s personal space. “Well, one more spar and then you can go and grab whatever's left of the day’s hunt.” He winks with a small quirk of his lips. “If there is anything,” he adds.

Jimin giggles, a trait he’s having a hard time making more ‘alpha like’ - how can you control the way you laugh? Jimin will never understand and will just endure Taehyung’s warning elbow jabs to his gut over it.

It’s not that much of a big deal, his giggle somehow brings a small smile to the stoic Captain everytime Jimin laughs in front of him, which makes Jimin feel incredibly proud. Yoongi never smiles for anyone else, so the omega can’t help but feel as though he’s doing a good job.

Yoongi jumps to his feet, pulling Jimin up after him and then pulls out a small piece of white fabric from the pocket of his furs. “Put this on,” he commands, thrusting the cloth in Jimin’s direction.

The omega cocks his head not really understanding. “How?”

Yoongi flicks his forehead, dropping the cloth in Jimin’s outstretched hand. “It’s a blindfold, Park,” he teases before stalking away from the omega to take up his own position.

Jimin sighs, tying the thing tight around his head and effectively knocking out his sight. It puts him on edge, fingers twitching at his side wanting nothing more than to unblind himself. But he takes a few deep breaths through his mouth before taking up a solid position.

“I’ll go easy on you,” Yoongi taunts from the other side of the field.

Jimin grumbles, “What an honour.”

“Listen for my movements, feel the change of wind as I move, use your other senses where your eyes cannot help,” Yoongi reminds once more and Jimin nods in understanding.

He takes a tentative sniff, the mouthwatering sandalwood and autumn leaves scent faint but a little closer than Jimin likes. He takes a step back, feet a little unsteady as he tries to find a new center of balance. He locks his elbows to his sides, tightens his fists and focuses on his hearing.

Yoongi is light footed, always managing to sneak up behind Jimin despite his omega constantly on the lookout for him. But he can just about hear the rustling of grass before him and he takes another small sniff to find the alpha’s scent has increased.

A right hook, not too strong in power but enough to knock Jimin off balance. It’s hard to anticipate how fast Yoongi’s fist is travelling towards him, so Jimin ducks as soon as he figures out the alphas move, feeling the fist just miss him by a hair's width.    

Yoongi is quick to make up for his missed hit, leg swinging low to try and knock Jimin over, so instead the omega barrel rolls out the way. This leaves his back to the alpha, and he can just hear the chastising tittering echoing in his head.

Don’t leave your neck bare, alpha.

But Jimin isn’t an alpha, he’s lighter on his feet, sees things in a different way from the normal ‘alpha’ way of doing so. He’s happy to be ruled by his instinct and senses; so instead Jimin waits completely exposed. He waits until he can feel Yoongi right behind him, so close that his scent engulfs Jimin as though in a back hug.

The scent is stronger than usual, causing Jimin to breathe silently through his mouth so that he’s not put off by the overwhelmingly wonderful smell. He can tell Yoongi is going to go straight for his neck; they’ve been taught to always go for the kill, of which is an easy feat to achieve if you aim for a person’s scent gland.

Jimin grabs at Yoongi’s wrist just before his hand connects with his covered neck, using all the strength in his legs to flip the captain over him and pushing him flat on his back against the grass. Jimin sits himself over Yoongi’s chest, legs tight against the alpha’s sides and the omega rips the blindfold off in triumph.

“I did it!” he exclaims with the biggest smile on his face, eyes creasing into crescents as he stares down at the Captain’s stunned expression. He lets out a little giggle, wanting to wriggle in pride, but he manages to squash down that need. “Did you see, did you see?” he instead asks, not caring in the slightest that he sounds like a pup seeking approval.

Yoongi’s eyes are comically wide, losing their elegant cat curve in favour of blowing round and glassy. There’s a tint of red to his cheeks Jimin can only assume is from exertion, and possible mortification at being beaten, and his lips hang open a little dumbly as he stares at Jimin.

The omega is about to giggle at the shell-shocked look on the Captain’s face, when suddenly he feels long fingers in his hair, pushing lose strands that had fallen into his face behind his ear - he knew his hair was too long.

Jimin gasps, breath catching in his throat from the oddly intimate touch and his whole body freezes. He swallows, even though his mouth is dry, and suddenly he’s very much aware of the compromising position the two of them are in.

“You know,” Yoongi begins, fingers lingering against Jimin’s temple. “You’re so different from other alphas. So petite, so emotionally led. It’s kinda cute,” he chuckles, words spoken with a casual ease as if explaining the weather.

But they resonate much deeper within Jimin and the omega finds himself drawing a deep breath through his nose, teeth clamped shut to stop himself from whimpering.

O-oh.

A bad decision, a bad decision indeed, as Jimin is hit by the strongest wave of sandalwood and autumn leaves yet; the scent knocking the sense straight out of Jimin and his pupils dilate. His blurring vision just manages to notice that the alpha’s war furs have been knocked off from around his shoulders.

Jimin stupidly breathes in the comforting scent once again, unable to control himself, control the omega in him that’s been dying to just drown in this scent. Yoongi smells just so different to anything else Jimin has ever smelled; crisp and inviting, strong yet gentle, the alpha smells of warm autumn nights, of the last remains of sunlight of summer, of tranquility, of home.

“Jimin?” Yoongi asks softly, and the omega can’t help but whine this time. That’s the first time Yoongi has said his name, and god does it just sound so right whispered in the alpha’s deep rasp of a voice.

Jimin slaps his hands to his mouth, praying that this can’t get any worse.

But then he feels it, a small wet patch on the back of his tunic, not quite slipping down the back of his legs yet, but enough that he can smell his own slick.

Jimin jumps to his feet, omega screaming at him to go back and snuggle in tight to that welcoming scent once more, and it takes all of his self restraint to stop himself from giving in. He’s come this far, he’s not going to blow everything he’s worked so hard on over something as stupid as his omega biology giving him away.

“I-” Jimin begins, not sure what to really say in the face of the situation. His thighs are closed tight, Yoongi looks perplexedly worried and all Jimin can feel is utter shame bubbling through his veins. “Food,” he finally manages to spit out, leaving the alpha lying in the grass as he runs away.

_______

“I thought you were taking heat suppressants?” Taehyung spits as he stands on look out while Jimin strips out of his tunic.

The omega’s face is flushed violent red. “I am,” he insists, unable to confide in Taehyung exactly what happened. He really can’t handle his best friend worrying anymore than he already is. “But I’m the only omega surrounded by alphas dripping in thick pheromones, stuff like this is bound to happen.”

“I thought you were used to all the alpha scents by now?” Taehyung quips, leaning against the trunk of the tree Jimin is unchanging behind.

“Yeah but slip-ups happen,” Jimin justifies waddling out from behind the tree wearing nothing but a towel.

Taehyung’s eyes blow wide, hands rushing up to cover the omegas neck with a look of pure white hot fear across his face. “You can’t just casually have that out, Jimine, we’re not the only ones that like to bathe here.”

Jimin batters his friends hands away. “At midnight? Please, everyone is already knocked into food comas by now, it’s fine.”

“You’re too relaxed.”

“I’m not, you’re just too protective.”

Taehyung huffs, blowing hair out of his face. “I love you, Jimin, excuse me for not wanting to see you dead.”

“No one is going to find me,” the omega reiterates once more, linking his hands with Taehyung’s and pulling the fully clothed alpha to the water. “Now please let me clean the uncomfortable wetness from my thighs?”

Taehyung shivers, letting himself be dragged to the edge of the small lake a few yards away from base camp. Jimin has been avoiding the lake their entire stay, mainly at Taehyung’s request, the alpha just too fearful that Jimin could be caught. But with each day of hard combat training, Jimin finds himself sweating something nasty, making his scent stronger in the air to the point Taehyung has to basically cling to the little omega at all times.

His best friend has stated numerous times how disgusting sweaty scent marking is, so really this bath is a good thing for the both of them.

Jimin lets out the longest sigh of content as he lets the cool water soak his aching muscles, sinking right under the water until it tickles under his chin. It’s not like he has any scented soaps or oils to help clean away the dirty and grime coating his skin, but he feels somewhat cleaner as the fresh water laps over him.

“Alright, that’s enough, out now,” Taehyung calls from the lake’s edge, body jittery at the prospect of them being found.

Jimin glares at him. “I just got in.”

“Alphas barely wash anyway, you’ve done more than needs be.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Alphas are disgusting.”

Jimin ignores Taehyung, swimming a little further towards the middle of the lake despite his best friend’s worried nagging. He feels a little more at ease, heart rate steadied to a normal pace as he swims, the need for tranquility finally found. He knows Taehyung is right, and he doesn’t plan to let the alpha worry for too much longer, but this is the calmest Jimin has felt in a month, and he needs this.

“Jimin!” Taehyung whisper-yells, voice a little more urgent in its tone. It has Jimin spinning back to the shore.

He can see two alpha’s just a little further down from Taehyung, already stripped off their tunics and furs, toes dipping tentatively into the water. Jimin can just about smell the faint scent of salt water and coconuts on the calm wind; Hoseok and Seokjin.

It doesn’t take long for one of them to spot Taehyung, the boy isn’t exactly doing a very good job at keeping a low profile as he nervously paces on the shore, clearly panicking.

Hoseok waves his arms in the air as if dancing some bizzare dance, mouth pulled into a wide smile, “Oh, Tae, wanna join us?”

Jimin ducks in the water, as far down as he can without suffocating himself and prays with all his might that no one spots him. It’s dark enough that they probably won’t, but if there’s one thing Jimin has learned from the last month of the two alphas he has come to know as friends; is that Seokjin is incredibly observant.

Taehyung panics, as he always does when he’s put on the spot. “Yes! But over there!” he bellows, storming down the shore line and throwing his arms over the bare shoulders of the alphas. He spins them to face away from Jimin and leads them further away from where the omega is swimming.

Jimin waits, feeling a little like a water sprite as he floats in the calming currents of the lake’s waters. Neither Taehyung, nor their two other alpha friends turn back to look at him, and Jimin takes his chance to slink back to the shore.

His heart is thumping in his chest, not even bothering to dry himself as he throws the clean high necked tunic over himself. His hand finds purchase over his unmated omega mark, pushing the dark fabric against it. He counts his heart beats to calm down, waits until his heart is hammering at a normal pace before he picks up his ruined clothes and towel.

He can hear the splashing of the alphas in the lake and Jimin mentally sends his thanks to his best friend, before heading off to find him clean, dry clothes. He’s never been more thankful for Taehyung in his life.

_______

Somehow, Jimin’s weird behaviour hasn’t managed to deter Yoongi from teaching him. The omega spends another month growing stronger under both the captain’s tutelage as well his second in commands. Jimin finally sees a genuine smile from Namjoon the first time Jimin returns from the hunt carrying a deer behind himself, the alpha’s face warm rather than cold with forced content.

Yoongi maintains that there is no limit to improvement, and it becomes an unspoken understanding that the two meet after the day’s training to further practice, and though Jimin is a tired, aching mess by the end of each day, he wouldn’t give up his personal lessons with Yoongi for anything.

However, one evening has Jimin waiting alone in the archery field, hours after the time Yoongi usually shows up. Initially Jimin doesn’t think much of it - the alpha is a very busy man and has far too many newbie soldiers under his command to spare so much attention to Jimin. But there’s a small niggling in his gut that tells him something doesn’t seem quite right.

After lacking the concentration to actually notch an arrow in his bow, Jimin gives up with his training in favour of sniffing the Captain out. The alpha spends most of his time in the main tent, the strategy tent as Jimin has come to know it by, and so considers it his best bet at tracking Yoongi down.

He can smell the alpha before he even walks inside, the scent of sandalwood tangy in distress and annoyance to the point Jimin can’t even smell the calming undertones of crisp leaves. It has Jimin worrying, body moving on instinct as he peeps inside.

Yoongi is slumped over a large map decorated in wooden pieces, like a chess board; if you can call a war map something as innocent as a game of chess. The alpha has his fingers pulling tightly at his hair, the usual bun atop his head lopsided and messy, strands of silver dangling into his face, and there’s a deep worried crease between his eyebrows.

Jimin lets himself into the tent without asking for permission, not even caring that it could see him being scolded within an inch of his life. He has the strongest need to help, to soothe the desperate looking man before him.

“C-captain?” Jimin asks gently, not expecting the alpha to jump out of his skin at the sound of his voice.

Yoongi’s eyes are sunken into his face, deep set bags from lack of sleep hanging under his eyelids and his pupils dance a little crazily as they look at Jimin. He takes a deep breath through his teeth, pushing the loose strands of his hair away from his face.

“Park, sorry, we’ll have to cancel our training for the day,” Yoongi explains in a calm voice that Jimin thinks is anything but. It wobbles around his vowels, pitches a little higher than normally and it has Jimin’s omega pushing him further into the tent.

“Are you okay?” he asks gently once more, knowing how grumpy alphas can get with lack of sleep; Taehyung is a nightmare.

Yoongi narrows his eyes. “Do I not look it?” he snaps.

Jimin sighs. “Honestly? No, you don’t.”

The alpha scoffs, standing to his feet. “You never really know when to hold your tongue, do you Park?”  

“Nope,” the omega replies without missing a beat. “So, do you want to talk about it?”

“And you would listen to my ramblings?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, to which Jimin is all too eager to nod at. “Even though it brings no merit nor fortune to you?” Jimin nods once more, pulling as reassuring a smile to his lips as he can, yet Yoongi just scoffs at his kindness. “No alpha wants to listen to the complaints of man, especially when we have a war to win.”

Jimin huffs, sitting himself in the chair across from Yoongi and folding his arms. “Well, I do,” he argues, puffing his cheeks out. “So I shall just sit here incase you want to share things with me.”

Yoongi’s eyes trail lazily over Jimin for a while, the silence hanging between them thick and palpable, the intensity to which Jimin is being observed something that has the omega feeling incredibly small. But he’s trained hard enough to be able to withstand the intensity of alphas, even if the alpha before him makes all his patience and practice for nought sometimes; he’s still strong enough to hold his own.

Eventually Yoongi sighs, plopping back into his seat and resting his pretty, sharp jaw in his hand. “You really are different,” he comments offhandedly and Jimin lets out a nervous chuckle in response.

“Maybe it’s the way my Clan is,” he justifies a little poorly.

Yoongi hums. “You’re from the Yīnghuā Clan, right? You and Kim Taehyung?” Jimin nods, words caught in his throat at the mention of his home aches in his chest. “I hear it’s very beautiful there.”

“It is, during the spring the flowers are something utterly incredible to behold.”

“Do you miss it?”

“An odd question to ask, of course I miss it.”

Yoongi is silent for a moment, finger running along a blue line that spans the length of the map on the table. “Then let me rephrase it; do you miss the Clan or the people that make up the Clan?”

“I don’t really miss the people, save for my family,” Jimin begins, that lump in his throat feeling somewhat painful now. “They- I didn’t really leave on good terms with them.”

“Oh?”

Jimin nods. “My father was very adamant to come here, and I was very adamant to not send the stubborn brute off to his death- wait, we’re supposed to be talking about you here.”

Yoongi has a cheeky glint to his eyes, mouth pulling into a small smile and Jimin can’t really find himself feeling irritated at the alpha’s deflection technique. “Sorry, I like hearing you speak, your voice is pleasing to listen to,” Yoongi explains and Jimin struggles against his own body to fight of the rising blush to his cheeks. “But from what you’ve said, you wish to bring honor to your family, honor to your father?”

Jimin swallows hard. It’s been a while since he was haunted by the disappointed look his father gave him all those months ago; but at the same time it’s hard for Jimin to completely forget it. Hard for the omega to find strength when he knows the last time he saw his father, he was bringing shame to him.

Not a day goes by where Jimin doesn’t fear to be found, he cannot even fathom what would happen to him let alone his poor family he left back in Yīnghuā .

“I’m determined to bring honor where I’ve only brought dishonor before, yes,” Jimin explains, knowing that the only way for him to not crumble under pressure and fear is to keep moving forward.

“That’s admirable,” Yoongi says voice laced with empathy. “All children wish to bring nothing but honor to their parents.”

“Something of which I’m sure you do everyday, Captain.”

Yoongi doesn’t answer Jimin, eyes focused on the war map before him, nibbling nervously on his fingernails. The omega wants to pull his hand from his mouth and offer his own hand to squeeze in nervousness instead. Jimin recognises the face of worried shame, seeing it one too many times reflected on his own face. Who would have thought the son of the Yu General and a poor excuse for an omega from Yīnghuā would have so much in common?

“Sometimes parents forget to voice their praise,” Jimin begins, resting his hand gently on the table, stretching ever so slightly towards Yoongi in some form of comfort. “That doesn’t mean they don’t think any less of you.”

“It’s been too long since I last heard from my father,” Yoongi explains, voice the quietest Jimin has ever heard it. He rests the hand he had to his mouth on the table, fingertips so close to Jimin’s own, yet not touching, never touching. “He’s leading the attack from the front. Realistically, I know no news is good news. This camp is never meant to see the battlefield, we are a last resort; a safety net because the Yu Alpha would like to see as little casualties as possible. No one here willingly chose to fight in this war, and I feel guilty hoping that our chance to fight may actually come.”

“Why?”

“Because we all have something to prove to our parents, don’t we, Jimin?”

The silence rings in Jimin’s ears, echoes through his heart as he locks gazes with Yoongi. For the first time he feels as though he’s really seeing the alpha before him; all intimidating masks dropped to leave nothing but a scared pup wanting to prove himself.

Which really, isn’t that what humanity is at the end of the day?

Jimin would be lying if he said he wanted to go to the front lines. He has seen the way war destroys; seen it in the way his father hobbles through life ashamed at his weakness. He doesn’t wish to see pain and suffering, especially now that he has come to know and grow fond of so many faces that he shall battle alongside of.

But he also knows that unless he fights bravely in the name of the Yu Alpha, actually tries to protect the Dìguó Tribes from their enemies instead of just training to do so, than he shall still return to his father with nothing but shame. He has something to prove; to make going against his father’s words worth it, he has to bring home honour to the Park name.  

Yet the omega also knows that his image of war is nothing in comparison to actually being there. Knows he shall never be fully prepared for what awaits them out there.

Jimin sucks in a deep breath, words still scrambling to form coherently in his head to say in response to the alpha before him. He wants nothing more than to bring him comfort, but how can he do that when Jimin himself is struggling to deal with the same thing?

“Hyung!” A voice ringing with urgency calls before a young man bursts through the tent.

Yoongi and Jimin jump to their feet at the sudden intrusion, Jimin slinking back as he's assaulted by the distressed scent of chestnuts. More like burnt chestnuts from how frightened and worried the new alpha is that stands before them.

Yoongi is cool, though his voice rings with alarm. “Jungkookie, what are you doing here?”

The boy, whose hair is fiercely red and skin a soft golden, places an ivory scroll on the table, knocking wooden battle pieces off the map. Jimin recognises the symbol of the Yu Alpha immediately and fear clenches at his chest like the ominous claws of darkness.

“Father called for you,” the boy explains, he must have just come of age and the fact he is dressed in war furs has Jimin’s stomach churning. He’s just a boy, still a pup; his face is soft in it’s features, cheeks round with puppy fat. “You’re needed at the front."

Chapter Text

The strength of a leader is something Jimin hasn’t really comprehended before. He’s never been given the opportunity to lead - omegas are supposed to be led , after all. But he watches the way in which Yoongi carries himself, broad shoulders squared and head held high as if he’s ready for whatever life is about to throw at them.

But Jimin can smell the subtle stale twang of dying leaves and burnt sandalwood that the alpha hides well behind his thick war furs. The omega has never wanted to comfort another person before more in his life, the distressed smell from Yoongi so subtle but enough that it lingers on Jimin the way muggy air lingers before a storm.

The camp packs up everything they need after Yoongi announces the plans to move out to the front line. It’s decided that not everyone shall leave, Yoongi wants to save some soldiers just in case, not wanting to waste all their firepower because the alpha knows not to underestimate the ruthless wrath of the Běishān Clan.

Ultimately, everything boils down to age, a cut off point is issued so that the younger alphas are spared the bloody, traumatising insight of war. There are many complaints, namely from Yoongi’s own younger brother, Jungkook, who has been tasked to stay behind with those too young to fight and continue to train them.  

The younger alphas see their chance at missing out on the fight as a direct disrespect, but Jimin sees it as a merciful.

Taehyung is the youngest alpha that joins Yoongi’s troops, a fact that Jimin is equal parts happy and terrified about. For his best friend is still so young at heart, despite the fact the boy towers over Jimin now, but without him, the omega is certain his confidence would falter.

They trek for three days and three nights, the morale of the group of alphas fluctuating like that of the temperature as they pass through various clans that belong under the Dìguó Tribes. Some clans hurry from their dens to shout words of praise and thanks as they pass through, the alpha soldiers feeling as though they are a parade of heroes.

Jimin catches the eyes of every pup, sparkling with excitement and unknown gratitude. They’re too young to understand what’s happening, but their parents flatter the soldiers with high praise that helps in calming Jimin’s nerves. War may be horrific, but it’s, unfortunately, a necessity and for the first time since Jimin left home he’s really understanding the gravity behind bringing honour to one's family and clan.

But then there are those moments in the voyage that bring morale to such a low point Jimin feels it stabbing sharp at his chest.

Their journey is taking them north, past the Yu Clan but never directly going through it. Instead, they bypass to the east of the capital, through the Dōng Hé Clan. The news of their arrival must have spread to the clan faster than they could walk, and the soldiers find the place eerily empty.  

People peer at them as they pass, from the safety of their dens, children are called inside from where they had been playing outside and merchants cower away from the main roads, clearly not wishing to sell them anything.

They walk through the Dōng Hé Clan like an omen of death, the soldiers’ fear and worry bleeding through their scents and suffocating the air.

But none more so than Hoseok, who walks stiff as a plank, hands clenched into tight fists by his sides. Jimin walks behind him, close to Taehyung who has been shivering in fear since the moment they stepped foot into Dōng Hé territory.

Hoseok’s head turns to a particular den, near the edge of the clan’s borders a fair distance from the main square and his eyes harden at the sight. Seokjin places a reassuring hand upon his friend’s shoulder from where he marches beside him, and Jimin finds his gaze wandering over to the den.

He wishes he hadn’t the moment he spies a woman, nay, a mother, crying in the window as she watches the troops pass. He struggles to hold down his whimper of sadness, Taehyung clutching his hand tightly to keep him grounded. He’s not sure how Hoseok manages to walk past the den with his head held high, but in that moment Jimin realises just how much strength the alpha holds.

The pack of soldiers move swift through the Dōng Hé Clan, but Seokjin never once removes his hand from Hoseok’s shoulder.

___________

“Think; what’s worth fighting for?” Namjoon asks as he sits himself around the small fire Seokjin had started the moment they had stopped for the night. The temperature had noticeably dropped the further north they headed, the snow of the northern mountains whispering its way down and reducing them all to shivers despite their thick war furs.

The pack sit in the middle of the forest that lines the border of the Fēng Clan, the northernmost point of the Dìguó Tribes territory, and the calm before the battle they have been marching towards. They are tired, legs shaking from their long journey, and they need to rest up to their full strength before they brave the front lines.

Yoongi had commanded them to camp for the night, eat, sleep and drink gluttonously and Jimin is more than happy to be given a respite.  

Seokjin scoffs, folding his furs closer around his neck. Jimin has learnt that the Táohuā Clan sport some of the warmest temperatures throughout the Dìguó Tribes; poor Seokjin looks the most like an icicle right now and if Jimin weren’t so weak to the cold himself, he’d offer the alpha his own furs.

“Aren’t we all fighting for the honour of our clans?” the eldest alpha stutters through chattering teeth. “Or the Yu alpha or something.” Seokjin’s words trail off as he sneezes, looking mighty displeased with the cold climate.  

Namjoon sniffs out a small laugh. “Sure, that’s the official story, but personally, what do you fight for?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes, but a cheeky smile pulls at the corner of his lips. “Are we supposed to answer with omegas?” he asks snarkily and Jimin stiffens from where he’s sat on the floor.

Namjon shrugs. “If not omegas, what else do you personally fight for?” His question is rhetorical, but Jimin can think of many other reasons just off the top of his head. But of course, he can’t say anything of these out loud, his teeth biting painfully into his bottom lip to keep himself quiet. Taehyung isn’t sat with them, stuffing his face with the leftovers of food from their hunt and he needs to keep himself level headed.

Seokjin shivers, shuffling a little closer to the fire. “Do any of you even have an omega at home?”

“I have a few,” Namjoon explains looking the epitome of smug and the look boils Jimin’s blood. It’s not a rare thing to find one alpha chasing numerous omegas while they look for their mate, in fact some clans encourage it, it makes the alpha look strong.

Yet if the roles were reversed, the omega would look nothing more than cheap and nasty rumours would follow them like a bitter scent. The difference in standards had always annoyed Jimin, but none more so than spending months surrounded by entitled alphas.

Hoseok leans across to shove at Namjoon’s shoulder. “Don’t show off. The fact you have numerous omegas means you’re difficult and prioritize other things over finding a mate.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Namjoon grumbles.

Seokjin snickers, “Means you’re a workaholic and no omega takes you seriously.” The heel of Namjoon’s foot digs into Seokjin’s side in a manner that Jimin is certain is supposed to be playful, but holds a little too much power behind it for his liking.  

“When you sit in a position of power, like myself, it’s hard to find genuine omegas that like you for you and not your title,” Namjoon explains.

Hoseok scoffs, “Alright for some.” Namjoon glares at him, but the man continues. “I’m not of high standing in my tribe at all, I’ve got slim pickings, my friends.”

Jimin swallows the urge to inform the alphas that omegas get no choice at all, they’re bought and sold like produce so they should count themselves lucky. But instead he hugs his arms around himself just a little tighter, nails digging into the rough fur of his sleeves to the point he could rip the material.

“It would be nice to have an omega that is literate; we’re a farming family,” Seokjin explains, rubbing his hands together for extra warmth. “It’s a skill vastly needed if we are to remain profitable.”

Namjoon hums. “Ah, even in the Yu Clan literate omegas are hard to come by.” He scratches at the back of his neck and lets out a long sigh. “The ones that are, well, they’ve usually been promised to an alpha before they come of age.”

Not unless you’re a disgrace.

“How about you, Jimin?” Hoseok asks, snapping the omega out of his own thoughts. “You’ve been awfully quiet, does the youngest amongst us already have an omega back home?” he teases.

“The alpha heir of the great Park Sungchu of course already mated the moment he became of age, no?” Namjoon goads and Jimin feels his stomach drop.

He wishes more than anything Taehyung was with him right now. “I’m not mated, nor do I have a potential mate,” he explains carefully.

Seokjin nods. “What are you looking for in an omega?”

He’s not looking for anything.

He shrugs. “How about an omega who’s got a brain, who always speaks their mind?” he offers and realises as soon as he’s said it that it’s the wrong thing to say. He doesn’t need validation from anyone for the way he is, and he doesn’t think he wants to hear their snide remarks either.

Namjoon snickers, “Park likes them wild I see.”

The omega narrows his eyes. “Wild?”

“Just because an omega is tired of alpha entitlement does not mean they’re wild,” a raspy voice interjects the conversation and it has every back straightening. Yoongi squats before the fire, large pale hands reaching out for the warm flames. “Honestly, Namjoon, if you had been oppressed for generations I think you too would have something to say about it.”

Jimin’s cheeks rosy in a way that he knows has nothing to do with the heat of the fire. The smell of smouldering logs and crackling flames is suddenly replaced by warm sandalwood, calming and content and lacking the distressed twang Jimin had been smelling for days now. He smiles, shuffling a little closer to Yoongi, but he darts his hands towards the fire to mask his actions at the last minute.

Namjoon looks a little more than guilty. “Sorry.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes before his gaze lazily lands on Jimin. “Kim Namjoon is the only alpha in a family of 5 omegas, he’s just winding you up for the sake of conversation.”

“Hyung,” Namjoon whines. “Don’t bring my siblings into things.”

Yoongi scoffs, “Your youngest sister bit the hand of an alpha boy who tried to pet her head when she asked him not to. By your definition, that would make her wild, too.”

Hoseok is trying his hardest not to smile, schooling his expression poorly. Seokjin on the other hand looks as though he’s about to burst into fits of laughter, unashamed of the fact he would be acting poorly before his commanding alpha.

“She’s allowed to defend herself,” Namjoon responds sourly.

Yoongi shrugs. “Isn’t the speaking of one’s mind also the act of defending oneself, especially in the cases of omegas who have no say in the way their lives are run?”  

Jimin is nodding, the action drawing the attention of the captain, who cocks a small smile. “I knew there was a reason I liked you, Jimin,” he nods before pulling himself to his feet. He leaves without another word, Seokjin and Hoseok already passing teasing words to Namjoon now that they have been left alone.

But Jimin can’t find himself joining in with the light teasing, his brain carelessly wondering towards taboo topics, such as what kind of things Yoongi looks for in an omega.

All things Jimin can never be, he realises downheartedly, not if he wishes to survive this war.

____________

Destruction.

That is all that awaits the pack of soldiers once they breach the forest into the Fēng Clan.

Every den has been burned to the ground, debris and rubble the only remnants of there ever even being a clan here to begin with. Jimin can smell burnt flesh in the air, the tang of iron and blood and it churns his stomach painfully so.

How many? Jimin wonders, the back of his eyes hot as he sucks in a shaky breath. How many people this time? Mothers, fathers, innocent children? How many more lives must be dragged into a fraught war that’s done nothing but take, take, take?

He clenches his hands into fists and continues forward.

There are tendrils of smoke billowing into the air, thick with death, that alert the troops to the sobering fact that they just missed saving this Clan by moments . The unsettling feeling of failure only darkens their hearts as they stumble their way towards the main square. Produce scatter the dirt tracked streets, still ripe, fabrics stained in red and black billow in the cold sting of the wind and before the steps of the elders den lay a pile of bodies that cause a whimper to escape past Jimin’s lips. Another clan lost.

But what hits home is that this could be his clan, too. If they don’t make it in this war, what happens then? Jimin closes his eyes and all he sees is his mother’s calm, ever-reassuring smile. His father’s quiet strength. The warmth and comfort of his furs back home. Everything he misses and everything he’s fighting for.

Taehyung pulls the omega into his side, hiding his own face in the neck of his best friend and Jimin can feel tears collecting in the young alpha’s eyes. He breathes in Jimin’s scent deeply, calming down his emotions and hiding his tears before he has to return to being the stereotypical strong alpha.

“Search for survivors,” Yoongi orders, his voice cold and even.

No one wants to see more of the destruction of a once thriving clan, but their bodies move under the command of the alpha’s voice. Jimin squeezes the hand of his best friend before he walks in a direction away from the elders den, away from the bodies. He treads carefully through the splintered wood of family dens, cleans away the rumble and remains as if picking up each blackened part of the destroyed homes could have him finding people trapped underneath.

But then his foot presses against something soft, and upon looking down he finds a doll made from silk and dirtied from soot. His hands shake as he picks the toy up from the ground, dusting away the grime as best he can, but it’s stained the once pretty silk a colour that is unsavable.

It’s only then he cries.

“Captain!” a voice bellows loud through the eerie silence of the destroyed clan and it has Jimin swiping the tears quickly from his eyes. He scuttles back towards the main square, rag doll clutched tightly in his hands. The northern mountains are closer than Jimin realised, the impressive things towering ominously over the Fēng Clan and sending down a sudden flurry of snow that sets a deeper chill to Jimin’s bones.  

Everyone is gathered back before the elders den by the time Jimin returns, the dead have been lain respectfully in rows, hands clasped peacefully atop their chests; but Jimin sees nothing peaceful about this situation. He pushes his way to the front, eyes scanning from Taehyung until he sees his best friend clasping dapple grey fur in his hands.

He stands before Yoongi; eyes nervously switching from the fabric in his hands to the captain, but the unnatural stiff posture to Yoongi is what causes Jimin to stop pushing forward. The omega’s eyes widen when he realises what Taehyung is holding; the hood of war furs, severed from the garment in a manor he’s certain is not pleasant.

“Wh-what’s happening,” Jimin whispers, the doll gripped so tight in his hand he feels as though he could pop the stitches of it.

Seokjin is by his side, head downcast. “That’s the general’s furs,” he explains.

Jimin feels his throat dry. “General Min’s?” he asks to which Seokjin merely nods in reply.

“I’m sorry,” he hears Taehyung say before he hands the furs to Yoongi. The Captain’s hands don’t shake as he takes the fabric into his hands, turning it over and over in his grasp as if searching for his father within it. Jimin’s hands shake for him, wanting to reach out and comfort the alpha, who’s face remains stoic, strong in the face of such heartbreaking news.

The distressed smell of dying leaves and burnt sandalwood is brought to the omega on the backs of the cold mountain winds and a whine rumbles in the back of his throat. He reluctantly swallows it down, roots his feet more securely in the cold dirt as he fights the pressing need to soothe Yoongi, encase him in Jimin’s scent and shoulder the pain he currently bares.

“J-Jimin,” Seokjin says, voice laced with confusion as he turns his downward gaze to the omega’s face. “Are you, okay?” the alpha asks, words purposefully crafted as if he wants to ask something else.

Jimin doesn’t have the time to respond or comprehend the reason behind Seokjin’s confused gaze, as Taehyung flops himself over Jimin’s shoulders and subtly scent marks the omega. He watches carefully as Seokjin turns his head away, brow furrowed as if trying to solve a complicated puzzle but Jimin can’t find it in himself to be worried.

“Calm down,” Taehyung whispers into Jimin’s ear. “You smell so sad.”

“I am sad, Tae,” Jimin justifies, but lets his best friend smother him in his calming earthy scent.

The alpha doesn’t stay too long wrapped around Jimin before he turns back to the sobering sight of their commanding alpha. Yoongi speaks not a word as he walks past the rows of bodies in the street, right to the end, pulling an arrow from his quiver as he walks. He buries the arrow head securely into the dirt, dusting away the light flurry of snow on the ground before he places the hood of fur over the top.

Jimin’s breath is ragged as he tries to keep himself rooted where he stands. Surely every alpha around him must know how devastated Yoongi is right now, but Jimin’s omega nose can smell it bleeding through the scent blockers of the man’s furs. The fact Jimin can smell the utter distraught from the alpha and is unable to do anything about it is driving his omega insane; he needs to comfort.

“It looks as though the Běishān Clan have retreated back towards their territory,” Namjoon explains, pulling the attention of the soldiers from Yoongi. He nods towards the mountains that tower before them. “We’ll make way through the northern passage, we still have the element of surprise on our side, let’s keep it that way,” he orders, ushering the alphas in the direction of the path.

It’s with heavy hearts that the pack begin to move onwards, struggling to pull their sorrowful gazes from their captain to the journey before them. One by one, soldiers march past Jimin, but the omega cannot find it in himself to join them. Soon there is only himself, Taehyung, Seokjin and Hoseok remaining and Jimin is thankful that he’s not the only one struggling to move on so quickly.

“I feel like there’s more we should do for the dead,” Taehyung states in a voice dipped in guilt.

Hoseok hums, resting his hand on the younger alpha’s shoulder. “There is nothing more we can really do for the dead other than mourn,” he explains. “At least we can move forward and prevent history repeating itself.”

Taehyung nods, resting his head on Hoseok’s shoulder. “It smells bad,” he mumbles.

“With time the smell of death will pass and life can begin again,” Seokjin explains gently coaxing Taehyung and Hoseok into moving. “But that won’t happen unless we fight.”

Taehyung whimpers, “But more death will come from fighting.”

“Sometimes, it’s necessary.” Seokjin doesn’t believe his own words, Jimin can hear no conviction in them and it churns his stomach, boils his blood. Why does anyone have to die? Who has the right to decide who lives? None of them are gods, they are all children forced to be adults to early. For some, this could be the last thing they do before their life is taken too early.

He watches as Yoongi kneels carefully in the cold dirt, flurries of snow sticking to the rough fabric of his war furs. His face remains blank; dark eyes dim and without the sparkle of life Jimin had been so used to seeing. The alpha rests his palms against the dirt, lowering himself until his forehead rests against the floor and there he remains; bowed in deep respect for his lost father.

Jimin can’t even comprehend exactly what the man must be going through - unable to grieve, unable to inform his family, unable to cry . The entirety of the Min family now falls upon Yoongi’s shoulders; he’ll have to be more than just a brother to Jungkook, more than just a son to his mother. Yoongi is now the main alpha of the Min’s and he’s only been of age for so few years.

It’s not fair.  

No amount of honor is worth this, surely?  

“Jimin, are you coming?” Taehyung calls, the trio have moved further away from Jimin without the omega even realising, too caught up in his own head. He squares his best friend with a sharp gaze, bottom lip pulled between his teeth and without the need for words the apha nods in understanding - giving Jimin his space.

Jimin looks down at the doll in his hand. It’s as cold as ice despite the fact it’s made from fabrics and when the omega hugs the toy to his chest it doesn’t get warmer. He walks carefully towards the grieving alpha, body still folded in his bow. The wind from the mountain is stronger than before, harsh as a whip and it stings Jimin’s cheeks, and it doesn’t help that they’re wet from tears.

He stops inches from the alpha, kneeling beside him to place the doll against the arrow, protected from the elements by the hood of fur. Yoongi doesn’t move, not until Jimin places a reassuring hand to the captain’s back and he feels the man flinch.

“He would be so proud of you, General ,” Jimin whispers and the words seem to be Yoongi’s undoing. A shiver of silent sobs rack the alpha’s body, his stiff posture melting into his sadness, face nuzzling into the crook of his arm to hide his tears.

Jimin isn’t sure how alphas are supposed to comfort each other, or whether they even do. It wasn’t something he ever thought he needed to ask Taehyung about. But as he feels and smells the heartbreak radiate off Yoongi, Jimin doesn’t think he can hold back the need to comfort anymore, and in such a painful situation; what does rank matter?  

He places a hand over Yoongi’s, where they lay shaking in the dirt, before he carefully wraps his other arm across the alpha’s back and rests his chin atop his shoulder. It’s no way near as warming as Jimin would like, he’s not even sure whether the interaction is comforting for Yoongi, but it’s the only thing he can bring himself to do without going full omega and scenting the sadness away from the alpha.

They stay huddled in the cold for a few a while, Yoongi’s tears dampening the sleeves of his war furs, body hiccuping sadness and Jimin’s hold only tightens.

As he feels the alpha begin to regain his composure, Yoongi’s fingers twitch ever so slightly before they wrap themselves around Jimin’s small hand. He squeezes the omega’s fingers just once, brief and all too quick, but it holds all the thanks and understanding any words could ever give.

And then their quiet moment of grief and comfort is ruined by the echoes of screams.

____________

The pair run as quickly and quietly as they can, Yoongi’s face hardened into something dark, prepared for whatever situation they are about to stumble into. Jimin can’t say he feels the same, he doesn’t think anything can really prepare him for what he’s about to run into, but he trusts in Yoongi’s training enough to keep him alive.

They don’t make it far from the ruined remains of the Fēng Clan before they hear the heavy sounds of battle, a symphony of cries in pain and anger, the clashing of metals, the sting of arrows and the booming of canons echoing through their ears. Jimin skids to a stop on the outskirts of the fight, heart hammering like the beating of a drum in his chest, but Yoongi powers straight into the front lines, ramming his shoulder harshly into a Běishān warrior and sending him to the ground.

“Namjoon!” the captain bellows, spotting his right hand in the middle of the frey, fingers at the throat of another Běishān soldier. Namjoon rips through the enemy alpha’s scent gland with his bare hands, eyes darkened to a point Jimin can no longer see the gentle touch to them anymore.

It’s haunting how quick things move in battle—Jimin has no time to gear himself up, to ready his nerves before he’s being charged by an unknown alpha. His war furs are pure white, like that of the snow decorating the northern mountains, and he moves with a swift speed that reminds Jimin of a ghost. The omega plants his feet firmly in the dirt, pulling his dagger from its sheath.

With a grit of his teeth he swipes his blade before him, nicking the scent gland of the alpha and staining his white furs with droplets of scarlet. It knocks the Běishān warrior off balance, legs wobbling, grace faltering and Jimin uses his disorientated state against him. He kicks hard at the chest of the enemy alpha, knocking him to the ground before drawing his blade in a deep, long cut across the man’s neck.

He doesn’t give himself a moment to dwell on what he’s just done, wiping his blade clean on the Běishān soldiers ruined furs before running towards Yoongi.

It’s clear there are more of them then there are of the invading clan, but something about the situation seems strangely off. He slides up besides Yoongi, the captain shouting out harsh and fast commands as he watches his own men easily overcome the smaller Běishān soldiers.

“Yoongi,” Jimin says body jittering with adrenaline. “Something’s not right.”

Yoongi spares Jimin a moment's glance before his eyes are back surveying the battlefield. “I know, it’s too quiet,” he agrees.

“Do you think it’s an ambush?” Namjoon asks, easily landing an arrow in the heart of a Běishān warrior that had cornered Hoseok. “How would they have known we were coming?”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow to slits, fists clenched by his sides. “They sent the message in my father’s name,” his voice is the darkest Jimin has heard it and it sends shivers up his spine.

The foreboding sense of doom in the air makes Jimin feel sick, but fuels his adrenaline. He spins on the balls of his feet, eyes scanning the mess of brown furs until he finds his best friend with a blade against a Běishān soldier’s neck, menace lacing his usually friendly features.

Jimin stumbles as he moves towards his best friend, mind propelling him to reach Taehyung and fight alongside him. But he catches an unknown scent on the backs of the cold mountain winds that raises his hackles and has him bearing his teeth towards the mountain path.

“Park?” Yoongi calls, hand gripping at the omega’s upper arm.

Jimin shudders. “They’re here.”

The mountain path winds steep and long away from the Fēng clan. The road to the Běishān clan’s territory appears to be an easy one, but the ominous looming of mountain peaks over it and the thick coating of snow across it says otherwise. Jimin can no longer hear the sound of fighting, an eerie quiet engulfing the company of alphas as they all watch a lone figure, far in the distance, walk tormentingly slow towards them.  

As they walk, their scent carries on the cold winds to Jimin, but the omega can’t really call what he smells a ‘scent’, for he’s assaulted with the sickening smell of death and blood: a bad omen.

It’s not long before the figure stops, joined by numerous soldiers behind them, so many that the path is completely blocked by the blinding sight of white war furs. Jimin assumes the alpha in front is the Běishān general, the obscenely large number of alphas under his command not something anyone could face and come out alive.  

Jimin’s heartbeat stutters. Too many—there were too many of them.

“Get ready,” Yoongi commands pulling his dagger from its sheath. “If we die, we die with honour.”

Jimin wants to scoff, he really does. Of course they’re going to die if they fight such a large enemy head on like this; the chances of survival are zero. They need a plan, a tactic that can give them an upper hand in the situation. They need some miracle to wipe out half of the Běishān soldiers to at least even the playing field.

“How many cannons do we have left?” the omega asks, brain moving faster than his body can keep up with.

Yoongi removes his tight grip from Jimin’s arm. “Two,” he states. “Barely enough firepower to make a difference.”

Jimin begs to differ.

He catches Taehyung’s eye. The alpha he has come to see more as a brother than a friend, has a mask of pure white horror across his face. He’s not alone in his fear; Seokjin looks as though he’s going to be sick and Jimin can see Hosek shivering even though the alpha is so far away from him.

Why do they have to fight a battle they’re going to so obviously lose?

Yoongi has turned to Namjoon, rattling commands to his right hand and whoever is closest to him. Jimin spots the last two cannons sitting unattended a mere five feet from him.

He guesses it’s now or never.

No one pays him any mind as he walks towards the canons, everyone far too interested in what their captain has to say that he could practically pass as invisible as he secures one of the weapons in his arms. He’s never held a cannon before, but they’re lighter than he anticipated, filled with gunpowder and the tip of it has a wolfs face snarling sharp intimidating looking teeth carved into it. Ironic seeing as anyone faced with the firepower of a canon would never really get to see the intimidating head of it as they flee.

He can hear his heart pounding in his ears, drowning out the sound of the Běishān soldiers as they scream war cries. They’re a good enough distance away from the Dìguó soldiers that they have enough time to prepare as best they can for the attack, but really they’re all just preparing for death.

Jimin pulls the hood of his father’s war fur tight over his head, takes a deep breath and before he can second guess his plan, runs as fast as his feet can carry him.

“Jimin!” Taehyung cries from behind him, the scream from his best friend is shrill and it cuts deep in the omega’s heart. “You promised me! You promised!” Taehyung’s voice gets smaller as Jimin runs further and further away from him, but the omega doesn’t have time to let the guilt settle in his stomach.

He’s running on pure adrenaline and praying on pure luck to see this plan through. Jimin lets a small prayer of thanks slip past his lips for whichever alpha’s stopped Taehyung from following him. If this is a suicide mission he would rather it be done alone.

“Stop that, Park Jimin, this is not a suicide mission,” the omega scolds himself, voice falling harshly from his lips as he picks up his pace. It’s so incredibly hard to run through the thick layer of snow blanketing the earth, his thighs and chest burn but he pushes through it, determination set into his brow.

He’s so close to the Běishān general that he can see the glinting of teeth through a wicked smile. The enemy alpha’s war furs are tailored in a way that his arms and legs are on full display, and decorating the milky white of the man’s skin are foreign patterns and symbols painted in blue dye. Jimin knows the sight is supposed to be intimidating, but nothing about the alpha scares Jimin.

He finds himself unable to be scared of an alpha so pathetic he finds joys in the maiming of innocents.

About 500 yards from the Běishān Clan, Jimin drops to the ground, rooting the canon securely in the snow and fumbling to pull flint from his pack. There’s a stillness to the air, as if time is toying with him; playing his nerves like an instrument as Jimin struggles to light the canon.

“Shit Park, make sure you’re capable of following through with a plan before you execute it,” Yoongi quips and the scent of autumn leaves and sandalwood calms Jimin enough to catch a spark on the fuse.

He doesn’t spare the captain a glance, aiming the canon towards the tip of the intimidating mountains. “Should you have abandoned your troops like that?” Jimin smirks, not really sure where he’s finding the ability to tease in the face of such dire circumstances.

Yoongi scoffs, “Your aim is off, the Běishān general is…”

“He’s not what I’m aiming for,” Jimin mutters, covering his ears as the cannon fires.

For a moment everything stops, no one moves, no one says a word as their eyes follow the journey of the canon, soaring deftly through the air.

Then the Běishān soldiers laugh.

But their general laughs the loudest as he walks the last few yards towards Jimin and Yoongi, grey eyes hard and sharp, tongue swiping across his lips as if hungry for a fight, one Jimin is all but ready for.

Yoongi growls, low and deep in his chest, an alpha warning for the Běishān general to back off, but Jimin knows the enemy alpha won’t listen. Not when he thinks he’s got the upper hand in the situation.

“In about two minutes, we need to start running,” Jimin whispers under his breath.

“I won’t run from a fight, Park,” Yoongi snarls, notching an arrow to his bow and taking aim at the Běishān general.

Jimin places a reassuring hand on Yoongi’s thigh. “Trust me, there’s no need to fight.” Yoongi’s posture takes a few moments to relax, but he keeps his aim as the Běishān general stops mere feet from them.

“Is this the best the Yu alpha has to offer?” the alpha snears, voice sharp like the blades of knives rubbed against each other and it sends shivers across Jimin’s skin. “How pathetic,” he spits and Yoongi flinches.

But then the booming sound of the cannon connecting with the mountain resonates through the air before the rumbling of an avalanche shakes the ground. There’s a sudden fear pulling at the Běishān general’s mouth, for the invading clan were born and raised by the mountain, the sound of runaway snow must sound like the bringing of doom to them.

Jimin smirks. “Who’s pathetic now?” he taunts.

The enemy general watches as the snow moves as fast as a coursing river, slithering it’s way down the mountain sides. His alphas scramble in any direction, no coordination between them as they find an escape from the oncoming snow and in their panic find themselves being sucked under by the blanket of white.

“Yoongi, run, run now, ” Jimin calls, tugging the captain to his feet.

“Fuck,” the alpha curses. “We can’t outrun that.”

“Not if we don’t go now ,” Jimin spits pulling Yoongi roughly behind him.

They don’t make it far, however, when the unsettling scent of death catches on the wind, closer than Jimin would like. He shoves Yoongi out of the way, turning on his feet just in time to find his neck greeted with the sharp edge of a blade.

“You won’t survive this,” the general threatens pushing the dagger so tight to Jimin’s scent gland that the omega can feel it slicing through the fabric that wraps securely around his neck.

“Wanna bet?” Yoongi growls before the tip of his arrow embeds in the general’s shoulder. But the alpha doesn’t even flinch, the dagger pushing even harsher at Jimin’s neck. Pain lances through his skin. The alpha general laughs, deep and maniacal as if overcome with madness. He forgets about Jimin, lunging at Yoongi ready to smack the back of his hand across the captain’s face.

But Jimin is quicker, delivering a sharp kick to the general’s ankle to throw the man off balance before he uses his own body weight to push the enemy alpha into the snow. There’s a flurry of limbs, Jimin feels the sharp blade slice across his scent gland and down his neck before he can wrestle the dagger out of the general’s hands.

“This isn’t the end, soldier, ” the general cries.

Jimin can hear the rumbling of snow gaining on them, and without a witty comeback he slams the blunt end of the dagger against the alpha’s skull knocking him unconscious.

“Let’s move!” Yoongi yells, pulling the omega to his feet and dragging him back down the mountain. There’s no one waiting for them at the end of the path, Namjoon clearly moving their own troops back to the safety of the Fēng Clan and it gives Jimin’s adrenaline a boost.

The mountain path curves as it enters the Fēng Clan territory; Jimin’s never really been around this much snow, but logically he thinks the bend in the avalanches trajectory could potentially slow it. The real hope is that the snow won’t make it’s way back to the Fēng Clan at all. It’s not like they’re far from the ruined clan, but with the many obstacles along the mountain path, Jimin’s fairly certain the snow won't reach the market square at least.

He picks up his pace, footing overtaking Yoongi’s until the omega is the one pulling the alpha back down the mountain. He spares a glance over his shoulder, thankful at the decent distance they have from the snow, but Jimin knows better than to underestimate nature.

He’s honestly not sure where he finds the strength to keep running, maybe from Yoongi’s hand as he grips tight around Jimin’s own. Maybe it’s the high that he just faced the Běishān and lived to tell the tale. But either way Jimin doesn’t stop running until they find themselves back in the main square of the Fēng Clan, the familiar faces of their comrades cheering upon their arrival.

It’s Yoongi that pulls Jimin to a stop, the omega stumbling over his feet and almost planting face first into the floor if it weren’t for the strong grip the commanding alpha still has on his hand. There’s a moment of silence as all eyes carefully spy the mountain path, ready to run at the first hint of snow. The rumbling of the avalanche echoes ominously around them, like the deep roar of a demon.

But ultimately, there’s no large amounts of falling snow that follows them and a collective sigh of relief spreads out amongst the Dìguó soldiers.

“What in the name of all that is good was going through your goddamn mind, Park?” Namjoon bellows taking three large strides towards Jimin and engulfing him in a tight hug.

The omega’s hand slips from Yoongi’s, and there’s a petulant wine that bubbles at the back of Jimin’s throat from the lack of contact, but he just manages to swallow it down.

“Now Namjoon, be gentle, Jimin just saved my life,” Yoongi warns.

“He just saved all our lives,” another voice corrects and Jimin thinks it sounds an awful lot like Hoseok’s, but it echoes in his ears as if the person is shouting at him from far away.

Namjoon lowers Jimin to his feet and his legs feel like jelly at the loss of his adrenaline. He has a sudden need to be hugged by Taehyung; to apologize and beg for forgiveness for worrying him, but as he opens his mouth to speak he feels something warm dribble from his lips.

“Jimin?” someone says, but again the voice seems so far away, he looks around his for the source of the noise but for some reason his vision is hazy, blurred to the point he cannot make out anyone in front of him. Since when was he this unhealthy? There’s no way he should be this exhausted from running downhill a short distance.

He tries to speak again, but he can taste something metallic on his tongue. He furrows his eyebrows, placing a finger to his lips and looking down to find it stained with blood.

“Oh,” he mutters, not really understanding what’s going on. There’s someone at his side, arm around his waist and they smell like autumn leaves, like comfort and security and Jimin melts into their side. “Y-Yoongi,” he mutters, blood warm and uncomfortable on his lips.

“Hold on, Jimin,” Yoongi says but it doesn’t sound like an order, his voice is soft, almost like a plea and the amount of worry and care behind it has his chest tight. “Don’t close your eyes on me, you hear?”

Jimin sighs, feeling his body go completely limp, legs collapsing under him.  “I don’t think I can follow that order,” the omega says before everything goes dark.

___________

Something feels icy cold and yet burning hot at the same time. Like liquid lava is being poured over his neck for it to only cool and freeze after a few moments of contact with his skin. It hurts, it really hurts, far worse than anything he’s ever experienced before and yet he can’t bring himself to shout or move and even cry. He’s immobilized in darkness, unseeing endless night that pushes heavy on his limbs and has him pinned where he’s lying.

At least he thinks he’s laying, what on he’s unsure, but his head feels supported by something soft whilst his neck is being assaulted by blinding pain. There are whimpers clawing at the back of his throat, scratching it dry with their need to escape but Jimin’s mouth remains shut as though it’s been sewn closed.

He tries to pick out scents of what’s around him, wanting nothing more than to find the smell of something comforting and cling to it. But all he smells is the stinging harsh scent of medicinal herbs and it churns his stomach. He wants to be sick, there’s too much going on and he needs to move, to scream to shout to say something and yet he remains suffocated.

“Is he going to be alright?” a voice asks and the sudden sound in the vast vacuum of eerie silence terrifies him.

“He’ll survive the wound,” another voice. “But whether he’ll survive what comes after is unsure.”

The pain stops, his body relaxes and suddenly he can breathe again, though it’s harsh and hurried as if worried that this oxygen could be his last. He’s expecting more pain to come, a sickeningly horrible feeling of anticipated foreboding shivering across his skin. But the pain never comes, and the welcome relief of it has him sinking deeper into the fabric bellow him.

Maybe he sleeps—Jimin’s not, sure but the next time he comes back around to that isolating darkness it’s different. He doesn’t feel as trapped, his body moving as easily as usual and he can taste his voice on his tongue. But his throat is dry, scorchingly dry like that of desert sand and he finds his lips smacking together for moisture.

He groans when he feels a hand under his head, lifting him into an uncomfortable position that ignites a heated pain across his neck. It feels like flames are dancing over his skin and this time when he whimpers the noise echoes pathetically around the room.

“I’m sorry,” someone mutters, the voice so familiar but there’s a groggy haze over Jimin’s mind that makes recalling on memory a little harder than he would like. He blinks open his eyes slowly, the dim light of candles catching in his blurred vision first and the sudden light has a headache pinching at his temples.

Seokjin is holding a ladle of water to his lips and slowly Jimin sips from it, eyes carefully spying the face of the alpha before him. He looks so worn, so tired in a way that doesn’t come from exhaustion of the body and it worries Jimin more than he would like.

Jimin pulls himself up from the bed once he's drunk half the ladle, his body feels heavy but not at all as painful as he expected it too be. His neck burns, but only when he moves it and he can feel all ten fingers and toes.

“What happened?” he asks in a voice so dry it sounds as if his throat has been cut on sandpaper.

Seokjin lets out a heavy sigh, a sigh that carries the weight of a grave situation; before he sits back on his heels. “The Běishān general sliced up your scent gland pretty badly,” he explains, eyes trained on the ladle as he places it back in a bowl of water on the floor. “You’re so lucky we’re in a clan full of medicinal herbs, else I don’t think we would have been able to heal you.”

Scent gland. A cold shiver of dread snakes its way down Jimin’s spine as his hands gently trace over the bandages across his scent gland. “Oh,” the omega whispers. The bandages are thin, he can feel the remnants of a deep slice running along the length of his neck, right over his unmated omega mark. Jimin’s hands still over the mark, hidden behind the white bandages and as the severity of the situation dawns on him, his whole body shakes.  

“Yes, oh ,” Seokjin says pushing a hand through his hair. “Jimin, I tried my best to keep them out of this tent whilst you were defenceless but the captain is growing furious with every day he doesn’t get to see your progress.”

Jimin’s mind spins, dizzying in the amount of thoughts flying around in his head that he struggles to pull one out. “Y-you saw it,” he wheezes.

Seokjin nods. “I did, only I’ve seen it, for now.”

Jimin swallows thickly, but his throat is dry once more. “S-Seokjin, I had to- you, you don’t understand I-”

The alpha holds a hand up to silence him. “Whatever your reasons are, I’m sure they’re equal parts noble and stupid. But this isn’t the issue right now, you need to run.”

Jimin’s eyes blow wide. “Run? You mean desert everyone like a coward? Why would I do that?”

“Do you know what happens to omegas that sneak off to war, Jimin?” Seokjin counters, voice low and curt.

Jimin takes a deep unsteady breath, “I do, but I’m not a coward…”

“They’ll kill you, Jimin,” Seokjin spits. “Do you not understand what kind of shit you’ve gotten yourself into? It is decreed by the Yu alpha himself that no omegas are permitted to join the army on pain of death .”

“Where’s Taehyung?” Jimin asks, hands trembling as he tries to stand himself to his feet.

Seokjin is by his side quick as a flash, gripping the omega’s upper arms for support as Jimin scrambles to his feet. “I gave him a tea that will knock him out for a few days.”

Jimin narrows his eyes. “Why would you do that? I need him here, he can mask my scent and I can hide the scar and…”

“Kim, is Jimin awake?” the unmistakable rasp of Yoongi calls beyond the flap of the little medical tent’ opening. The two freeze in their movements, the erratic beating of Jimin's heart echoing loudly through his ears.

“This is your last chance, please, please , run,” Seokjin whispers. “I can at least protect Taehyung, but I’m sorry, there’s nothing more I can do for you.” There are tears gathering in the corners of the alpha’s eyes, a tremble to his pretty rouge lips and suddenly the weight of Jimin’s decision feels ten times heavier then it did when he first left home.   

“Kim!?” Yoongi bellows voice laced with apt irritation.

Jimin shakes his head. ”Thank you, Seokjin,” he says, fingers squeezing around the alpha’s wrist. “You can let the captain in now.”

Seokjin stares teary eyed at the omega for a few moments more, before he carefully lets Jimin go. He angrily wipes the tears from his eyes before he about turns and pulls the tent opening wide. “He’s all yours, Captain,” Seokjin mumbles, storming past Yoongi without another word.

The captain looks somewhat confused for all of three seconds, before his nose crinkles at what Jimin can only assume is his own omega scent. Their eyes meet from across the tent; the inky pools of Yoongi’s irises harden like ice, turn glossy like glass and he can see his own face reflected back in them.

He doesn’t really need to say anything for Yoongi to understand. Because with the unwelcome cold breeze of the northern mountains into the tent, Jimin can smell his own scent for the first time in months, permeating everything around him.

Yoongi takes three slow steps towards him, face a purposeful blank canvas that does nothing for Jimin’s anxiety. He waits with bated breath as the alpha’s fingers catch at the edge of his bandages before it’s ripped away from his neck.

A look of utter betrayal etches deep into every line of Yoongi’s face, features darkened and fingers balling into fists. “ Omega ,” Yoongi hisses through his teeth, and the word cuts more than Jimin had expected it too.

He takes a weak breath, hands clutching at the hems of his tunic top, “Yoongi, please, listen to me,” Jimin begins taking a step closer to the alpha, only for the man to take one step away from him. Jimin tries to pretend like the sudden rejection doesn’t hurt, gritting his teeth to push through his explanation. “My father, he already fought for the Dìguó Tribes and lost his mobility and his pride and so much more. I couldn’t let him go with a clear conscious knowing that would be the last time I would see him, I had to—”

“You lied to me,” Yoongi interrupts in a sharp cold voice.

Jimin flinches. “I did what I had to do, please you have to understand—” he reaches out for the alpha, not sure what the action is intended to do, but the heavy scent of dead leaves and burnt sandalwood stings his nostrils in the worst way. Yet his hand is battered away in a harsh slap, the alpha turning on his heels and storming rom the tent. “Yoongi, please!” Jimin begs, chasing after the captain on shaking legs.

He stumbles out onto the main square of the Fēng clan, his comrades and friends heads all snapping in synchronisation towards him like a rehearsed move. A look of shock fans across the Dìguó soldiers like a wave, all of them taking a noticeable step back from Jimin as his omega scent hits them like a brick wall.

The cold of the icy mountain air stings across his newly healed wound, his unmated omega mark burning like a beacon for all the alphas in the vicinity to see.

“Yoongi, wait, listen to me—” Jimin pleads.

The captain stops in his tracks, hands clenching and relaxing over and over again by his side until finally he grabs an arrow from his quiver and his bow from his back. He spins swiftly on his heels, and with practice ease aims the tip of the arrow for Jimin’s chest, but the omega stands strong in the face of the threat.

Jimin locks his gaze with Yoongi, watches the debate rage across the alpha’s hurt and disgusted features as the eerie silence rings around them.

‘I’m sorry.’

Yoongi’s eyes widen in pure sadness at the mouthed apology from Jimin, bow lowering from it’s aim and his hands shake in their grip around it. He tightens his jaw, teeth clenched and body rigid, closing his eyes from the sight of the omega before him. He takes a long steadying breath of which Jimin is certain smells of nothing but him, before his eyes open darker than before.

He throws the arrow the the floor, secures his bow to his back and straightens his posture as tall as possible. “A life for a life,” Yoongi explains. “My debt is repaid.”

“Yoongi—” Namjoon begins, gingerly making his way over to the captain.

But Yoongi merely shakes his seconds concerns off, turning to the remainder of his troops. “Move out,” he commands and no alpha dares disagree with the order. The troops move with ghost like swiftness as they pack up camp, placing the injured on the backs of horses or the wagons that once held canons and no one spares Jimin a second look.

Almost like he’s invisible, which he supposes, that’s just what omegas are.

Seokjin places a sleeping Taehyung into the back of one of the wagons, covered in thick furs, and Jimin is at least thankful that out of everything that’s happened, his best friend will be okay.

It takes no more than 30 minutes for the camp to be cleared away, and as Jimin watches the troops he had come to call comrades and friends leave him alone with nothing more than the clothes on his back, he slumps to his knees in the snow-dusted earth and cries.

__________

Jimin spends a whole half an hour feeling sorry for himself as he gathers up what little supplies he’s left with. There’s a first aid kit hidden behind some rubble of the elders den and he assumes it’s probably Seokjin doing whatever he can for the omega even when things look bleak.

His mind is plagued with harsh realities about the fact Jimin now has to return to the Yīnghuā clan with neither honour nor an excuse and face his family. He wonders what’s worse—Yoongi leaving him alive in the cold, or returning to greet his father with nothing but apologies on his lips.

He shivers at the thought that maybe to die in honor would be better than to return home empty handed. The fact his brain so readily and easily provides that thought after spending so long around alphas that have been raised to think the same, sickens him. Life is more important than any kind of dishonor, and although it took him withstanding the harsh realities of war first hand to understand this, Jimin thinks the knowledge he’s gained is worth it.

By the time he’s done feeling sorry for himself his emotions have shifted into something akin to fear; for what is really waiting for him back home? His family, naturally, despite the sinking unknown of how disappointed they are with him; but really that’s everything. There is no life waiting for him at the Yīnghuā clan, not since his future was cursed by some bitter old matchmaker. But more than anything, now that he’s had a taste of how the other half live, Jimin’s not sure whether he wants to return to a life as an object.

No alpha will ever pursue him and he shall never be allowed to pursue an alpha, and at the end of the day an unmated omega is a worthless omega. Or at least, that’s what he’s been brainwashed to believe. Yet he can’t go home and rock the boat of rank norms, not when he has nothing but failure and dishonour clinging to him like a bad scent.    

He doesn’t want to live a life dictated to him by others, he wants to live a life that suits him and his differences. He’s always looked at the way he is—outspoken and abrasive—as nothing but a hindrance. When really he should be celebrating his attributes for they’re what carried him so far through this war.

But in the height of his confusion and worry; Jimin’s heart echoes with regret. He could never bring himself to regret leaving home and taking his father’s place; but he regrets the amount of people he’s inconvenienced along the way.

He regrets the pressure he put on his best friend, the suffering that Taehyung undoubtably went through as he lived cautiously through the past month just waiting for the moment they would discover Jimin’s secret. Jimin was more than willing to risk his life for his family but he hadn’t truly realised just how much Taehyung also risked protecting him. He hopes the alpha wakes up gently without the burden of hiding Jimin any more, he hopes he doesn’t make a big fuss about the fact Jimin is missing, he hopes Taehyung doesn’t cry.

And then his thoughts land on Yoongi and that’s where they unwillingly stay as Jimin kicks up the snow dusted earth at his feet. Why does he feel the most regretful when it comes to the captain? What possible reason is there, for Jimin to feel so incredibly sick to his stomach whenever he remembers the disappointed and hurt awash Yoongi’s beautiful face?

You lied to me.

For some reason Jimin can’t fathom why out of all the things for Yoongi to be mad at Jimin about, lying to the alpha is the top of the list. What were they if nothing more than commander and foot soldier? There’s no way someone as prestigious and influential as Min Yoongi would find himself falling for another of the same rank, it’s not uncommon but incredibly rare and something many don’t approve off. They were close because they were friends, they had found an understanding in each other, a comfort that they couldn’t find from others, that was all it was, right?

Right?

Jimin’s thoughts never get to answer his own questions, for the echoing sounds of blood thirsty screaming permeates the air and has the omega jumping out of his skin. With his heart pounding in his ears he finds his body moves on instinct, huddling behind the ruins of a family den just off the main square. He holds his breath, eyes trained on the mountain path praying to all that will listen that he’s just hearing things.

He catches the scent of blood and death first, carried heavily on the backs of the cold mountain winds and it has Jimin hiding further behind the rubble. He claws at the cold earth, slathering it across his skin to mask his scent and he finds his hands shaking. Where the hell has all his courage gone now that he’s an omega again?

The Běishān General breaks through the tree line of the mountain path first, a fire raging in his pale grey eyes. The hood of his war furs has fallen, revealing a roughly cut mop of wheat blonde hair atop his head; ironically angelic. He’s flanked by four alphas, all female with war furs so thick and heavy Jimin is surprised they move at all in them, let alone with the grace they do.

“We make haste for the Yu Clan,” the General snarls, voice ripping through the calm air like razor blades and sending tingles along Jimin’s skin. “For that Dìguó soldier may have slowed us down but he hasn’t defeated us.” They don’t stop moving as they blaze through the ruined square, kicking produce out of their way as they go and shaking off the remains of snow still clinging to their furs.

“But, General,” one of the Běishān soldiers begins. ”The Yu Clan isn’t somewhere we can just walk into and—”  

Her words are silenced by the swipe of the General’s blade across her scent gland, the alpha choking on her own blood as she falls writhing to the floor. The remaining three alpha’s don’t even batter an eye at the murder of their own tribe member, sparing not one glance towards the slain Běishān soldier as they continue on their journey.

“By my hand, The Yu Alpha dies,” the Běishān General promises, wiping the spilled blood of his soldier onto his war furs.

Something churns in Jimin’s gut; warns him that despite their small numbers, the inhumane nature of the Běishān Clan will see to it that the Yu Alpha, and everything Jimin knows, will crumble before them.  

And suddenly all thoughts of Jimin returning home vanish.

_____________

There’s not really a plan that Jimin is following besides one that involves going with the flow. No one batted an eye at him as he emerged panting heavily into the heart of their tribes’ capital clan. Every member of the Yu clan, and Jimin supposes other clans too, lined the streets in their best clothes singing and dancing to tunes of victory.

Preempted victory.

He tried to get those nearest him to listen to his warning, tried to rally people to help him fight; but with his omega scent clinging to him no one dared believe him.

Through the streets walks a procession of heroes; soldiers that Jimin once called his comrades march with sullen spirits. Their faces lowered to the ground, unable to enjoy the celebration clearly made for them. Dancers dressed in the most impressive wolf costumes twirl elegantly around them, musicians play songs of gratitude and the shouts of the Dìguó Tribe rattles through his ears.

He sees Taehyung near the front of the soldiers, feet scraping heavily across the floor as if he were a child on his way to be scolded. His body posture is small, the alpha curling in on himself and Jimin is certain he can see dried tear tracks stained down his best friend’s face.

It hurts his heart and he allows himself the punishment of the sting of guilt for a few seconds before he focuses on the task at hand. Namjoon and Yoongi lead the procession, the smell of dead leaves and burnt sandalwood drifting harshly to him on the warm breeze and guilt builds in his stomach again.

Yoongi looks confident, for all intents and purposes. He appears like a successful captain that’s about to become a very decorated war general. But Jimin can feel the alpha’s sadness and hurt as if it’s his own, and something tells him that none of his former comrades would listen to him now.

Which is why Jimin currently finds himself covered in the finest of silk robes befit the Yu alpha’s omega hand servants. He feels a little clumsy in all these fabrics, heavy on his frame in a way that restricts his movements. But the fact he’s going to be right next to the Yu Alpha, disguised in plain sight, makes it all worthwhile. Being small and invisible to alphas actually comes in handy only this once, as the omega found it scarily easy to sneak his way into the palace den and steal the servants’ clothes.

He keeps his gaze downcast as the Yu alpha passes him, the procession of soldiers flanked by Yoongi slowly making their way up the steps of the palace den. He snakes a side glance at Yoongi, the dark of the alpha’s eyes just as hard and icy as the last time he had seen him. The omega buries his face a little further into the veil over his head, not wanting to risk being caught. He’s not sure whether Yoongi would remember his scent, but Taehyung isn’t far behind the officer and he can’t risk his best friend giving his position away.

The ruckus of the people is silenced by a subtle wave of the Yu alpha’s hand. Jimin has never seen the Dìguó Tribe’s Head Alpha before but has heard rumors of how daunting it is to be in the alpha’s presence. His robes are the colour of Jade itself, not a wrinkle nor thread out of place and they trail behind him like a tail. Under the subtle glow of the red lanterns that adorn the main square, the pendant of the Yu alpha gleams proudly around the head alpha’s neck, intimidating in its own right.

“My people, heaven smiles down upon the Dìguó Tribes,” the Yu Alpha’s voice bellows strong and mighty through every corner of the main square. The authority is palpable, his statue tall and intimidating, yet there is a kind crooked smile on the worn alpha’s face. He takes the few steps necessary to reach Yoongi, delicately thin fingers reaching out to rest feather light on the alpha’s shoulder. “Your father would have been proud,” the Yu alpha praises.

Yoongi’s face remains blank, looking like a picture perfect alpha general as he bows ninety degrees in respect to his head alpha. Jimin takes a tentative sniff in the stale air; he smells sweet confectionary and bitter drinks, sweat and something floral all mixed together. But he smells the subtle scent of death and blood that he’s looking for and his hand clutches at his dagger hidden within the confines of his long robe sleeve.

They’re here.

There’s rustling from the dancers closest to the Yu Alpha, their steps subtly moving closer and Jimin’s eyes catch the strange movement. He matches their pace, moving cautiously closer to the head alpha, knuckles practically white on the grip of his dagger.  

The Yu alpha turns to the remaining soldiers with a brilliant smile across his face. “You have all done well,” he says arms stretch wide beside him and in that moment Jimin catches the nauseating scent of the Běishān General so heavily he can practically taste it on his tongue.

“Not good enough!” a snarl rips through the silence.

The dancers closest to the Yu Alpha shred their costumes to reveal the three Běishān soldiers underneath. They carry wicked grins, and before them stands the Běishān General teeth knashed together as a growl tears harshly through them. The General throws himself at the Head Alpha whilst those around them remain somewhat stunned where they stand. His dagger poised ready to plunge into the neck of the Yu alpha, but Jimin greets the despicable Běishān General before he can reach his target.

The clang of metals colliding stings harshly through the air and has Jimin wincing ever so slightly, pushing back against the Běishān General with all his might. His little frame barely blocks the Yu alpha, but he’s an obstacle in the way of the General’s mission which is a least something.

The general snickers, face pushing right up into Jimin’s. “Who knew the Dìguó Tribe is so weak on alphas they had to train omegas to fight.”

Jimin grits his teeth and pushes against the force of the general. “Bite me.”

The alpha lets out a mighty growl, pulling back the arm with his dagger to swipe against Jimin once more, but the omega is ready for him. His dagger slices at the general’s hand, just deep enough to draw a fraction of blood and it has the alpha’s dagger scattering across the ground.

“You’ll pay for that,” the general grumbles. But before Jimin can let out a witty remark, the enemy alpha yanks on the hem of the Yu alpha’s sleeve and throws the man over his shoulder.

“Oh no you don’t!” Jimin bellows pulling up the skirts of his robes and following after them, but a hand comes down harshly on the back of his neck and it has him crumbling to the ground like paper.

“Chim!” Taehyung yelps, skidding across the floor until he’s knelt next to the omega. “You hurt? You good? Tell me you’re okay?” his best friend asks, and his hands shake as they hover over Jimin.

The omega simply rubs the back of his neck and throws a weak smile Taehyung’s way. “I’m fine, I promise,” he says, eyes watching as the Běishān soldiers escape into the main den with the Yu Alpha.

His best friend lets out an audible sigh before thumping Jimin a little harder than necessary on the arm. “When this is all over, I’m going to kill you,” he swears.

Jimin winks, pulling himself to his feet. “Good, wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Park, what happened, how are you here?” Namjoon asks, face flushed with confusion.

Jimin slips his dagger into the thick silk band around his waist and pulls his veil from his head. “I followed them here,” he explains. “I saw they had survived the avalanche and I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.”

“Isn’t that what omegas are supposed to do?” Yoongi comments dryly, eyes narrowed so sharply at Jimin that his look could very well pierce through the omega’s skin.

Jimin swallows down the whimper that bubbles up his throat, his omega clearly unhappy at the fact he’s disappointed Yoongi so much. “Look I’m sorry I lied to you, okay, but right now none of that is important…”

Yoongi scoffs, “I fight alongside those I trust, how can we accomplish anything with a snake like you among us.”

“Captain,” Seokjin warns.

Yoongi silences the alpha with a glare before returning it to Jimin. “This is, and never was, your fight, Park . Go home.”

Jimin sees red, face scrunching in anger as he gathers the skirts of his robes once more and storms over to the captain with the world’s biggest grudge. “Listen here, this is everyone's fight no matter their rank. Do you think rank mattered to those of the Fēng Clan who were slain in their homes? We are all stuck in this war, and I’m the one with intel that can help you out here, Min . So either suck up your pity party, forgive me for being born an unfavorable rank to you and let’s save our home, okay?”

The silence that echoes around the gaggle of soldiers spans longer than Jimin thinks is good, but before he can complain about it Yoongi lets out a gruff sigh. “Fine, what’s your plan?” he asks.

“We gotta get inside,” Jimin replies.

Hoseok scoffs, “No shit.”

The omega glares at him. “There’s a small food entrance round the back of the palace den, its how I got in before,” he explains, pulling his dagger out of his silk waistband and slicing the overly long robes of his skirt. When his legs can move freely Jimin sends them all a wild smirk. “Follow me, alphas.”

____________

It’s a little more of a squeeze for the naturally bigger alphas, but the six of them manage to slip their way into the den without being detected. They learn news from one of the kitchen hands that the Běishān General and his three soldier alphas have barricaded themselves in the throne room.

Jimin doesn’t have the heart to ask how many casualties there are, but the ghostly pale to the poor omega’s face is enough understanding for him.

Yoongi commands that Hoseok, Seokjin and Taehyung focus on getting the Yu alpha out alive, whilst Namjoon and Yoongi will deal with the last of the Běishān soldiers and their general.

“You should get out now,” Yoongi explains, subtly pushing Jimin back towards the way they had come.

Jimin stands firm. “I’m not going anywhere, how many times do I have to tell you?”

The alpha grumbles, “You’re a civilian.”

“A civilian trained by you ,” the omega snears. “Are you questioning your skills, captain?” Yoongi looks torn between offended and something softer that Jimin can’t quite put his finger on. But ultimately the alpha caves and allows Jimin to help so long as the omega leaves with the Yu Alpha.

The six of them run through the extravagant hallways of the palace den, nothing but their mingled panting making any sound in the eerie silence. Hoseok stops at a staircase to the left of the entrance to the throne room, pointing subtly at a little window half way up.

“I’ve been here once before,” he whispers. “My parents had a meeting with the Yu alpha to which I was too young to attend so I watched from up there.”

“Is there glass?” Namjoon asks.

Hoseok nods. “But it’s thin, easily breakable.”

Yoongi hums, “What about the drop? Is it far?”

“Not too bad, nothing that could incur injuries if we jump,” Hoseok reassures before leading the group towards it. They all peer through the window, gauging the layout of the room below them whilst Namjoon wraps his hand in the sleeve of his war fur.

Jimin watches with narrowed eyes as the Yu Alpha stands before his throne, the Běishān General circling him like a lion to its prey. The alpha soldiers stand guard at the door; bodies rigid and poised, hands on the daggers at their waists and smirks on their lips.

Just as the Běishān General raises the tip of his dagger to the throat of the Yu alpha, Namjoon smashes his way through the glass. All eyes of those in the throne room snap towards the noise, irritation poisoning the angry features of the Běishān General as he watches Yoongi and Namjoon drop down from the window first.  

“You just won’t quit, will you?” the enemy general snickers, eyes carefully watching each alpha make their way into the throne room. Seokjin and Hoseok land after their Captain and his right hand, automatically turning themselves towards the alpha soldiers blocking the exit.  

Namjoon scoffs. “Kind of the point of a war, don’t you think?”

Taehyung slips through the window next, Jimin bringing up the rear and with the soft landing of the omega in the room brings all enemy alpha eyes snapping towards into him. Jimin can smell his own omega scent thick and heavy in the air, spicy like that of nutmeg and cinnamon. A smell so light yet so strong that he can see the way it dilates the pupils of the Běishān alpha’s before him.

The Běishān General tuts, “Well well, little omega, nice to see you again.”

Jimin clenches his fists. “I wouldn’t call it nice.”  

There’s a ripple of a laugh through the Běishān alphas, the soldiers by the door edging their way closer to them, daggers outstretched in their direction. Taehyung takes position alongside Seokjin, the two alpha’s poised to meet their targets when they finally decide to stop playing games and charge. Meanwhile Hoseok gingerly sidesteps around the outside of the room to get closer to the Yu alpha unsuspected. It’s obvious what Hoseok is doing, his movements so clear in the harshly still room, yet Jimin realizes that the thick scent of omega is the only thing keeping the Běishān General’s attention away from Hoseok.

“Come to die a hero’s death?” the Běishān general taunts, the pearly whites of his sharp teeth glisten under the dull lantern light of the throne room. Jimin curls his fists, teeth clenched so tight it aches his jaw. “Not that you would be honored as a hero, no one will remember your name, omega .”

“Someone kill this asshole before I get really mad,” Taehyung snaps.

Yoongi’s scent hitches in its intensity, shifting the dynamic of the room so that all alpha scents are suddenly spiked in warning. “With pleasure,” the captain spits, lunging forward to swing his fist into the side of the Běishān General's face. It’s a direct hit, but the impact does nothing besides make the crazed alpha’s smirk grow and Yoongi has to stumble back to avoid being knocked over by a rebound shot.

Jimin can just about see in his peripheral the clashing of blades glinting menacingly under the gentle light as Taehyung and Seokjin fight against the remaining Běishān soldiers. Jimin knows he should help even the odds, but his instincts tell him to wait, wait just a little bit longer. His eyes scan the room, mind running through so many scenarios of escape in his head that it makes him dizzy, but there are only two exits; the main door and the window they had just smashed their way through.

Ultimately if they can slip the Yu Alpha out the main doors of the throne room and back to the main square where there are more Dìguó soldiers than they have a better chance at keeping him protected. But Jimin’s mind races beyond that simple plan, wondering whether they can keep the Běishān General inside the throne room and dispose of him here rather than publically to reduce hysteria amongst the people.

His eyes spy a delicate curtain of white cotton just behind the Yu alpha and omega’s thrones, it’s pulled slightly ajar and behind it Jimin can see something shiny glinting at him.

Weapons.

His eyes widen at the brilliant spark of a full plan. “Namjoon,” he calls, gaze still cast on the small room by the throne.

The second in command spins on his heels, just narrowly missing the tip of a dagger against his cheek. “What?” he spits, clearly not in the mood for small talk.

“Idea,” Jimin explains. “Leave with the Yu Alpha,” he orders, not realizing the sharp undertones to his voice as he bolts his way across the room. Thankfully the Běishān General is too busy in his scuffle with Yoongi to notice Jimin, nor notice that Hoseok has the Yu Alpha flung over his shoulder and is bolting to the main door.

Jimin rips open the curtains to find a small room lined with swords longer than the mere daggers he has been trained to fight with. Each one looks equally as impressive as the last, some made with blades of iron, some with silver and it takes Jimin awhile to realize that these swords have been crafted through different eras of history. He doesn’t have time to admire the long swords, however, urgency flooding his veins as his hands reach for the newest, most impressive looking scimitar of the bunch. The hilt of which is encrusted with jade and flecks of gold, the blade a shimmering silver so beautifully polished that Jimin can see his own reflection in it like that of a mirror.

He leaves the room on hurried feet, the sword held carefully behind his back. The element of surprise is really the only thing they have going for them right now, the Běishān General is too flooded with anger that it’s clouded his judgment and Jimin is betting everything they have on the hope that if the General believes Jimin to be unarmed then it will make the alpha cocky. With a deep breath, Jimin slips the sword through the silk band around his waist, the hilt of the sword tickling against the small of his back before taking his dagger into his hand.   

The omega watches as Namjoon takes down the last of the alpha soldiers, throwing a worried glance towards Jimin as he kicks the dead body away from him. Taehyung and Seokjin have already made haste out the room, the Běishān General none the wiser as his eyes dance with fiery furry. He repeatedly slashes his dagger at Yoongi, movements continuingly poised and perfect, never once showing signs of fatigue. Yet the captain jumps out of the way of the blade at the last second, as if dancing a fatal dance, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead and hands shaking around the grip of his own dagger.

But eventually the exhaustion gets the better of Yoongi, as his cheek is nicked ever so slightly by the General’s blade and he crumbles to his knees from the shock. The General grabs Yoongi by the bun of his long silver hair and drags him up painfully. “You took away my victory,” he seethes.

Horror fills Jimin’s entire body as he watches the Běishān General raise his dagger ready to slice across Yoongi’s throat. He tightens his grip on the dagger, brain working on autopilot as he flings the small blade in right at the General’s face. The dagger tumbles through the air, the hilt of it clumsily connecting with the enemy alpha’s forehead before clattering to the floor of the throne room.

The Běishān General’s wild dark eyes widen in pure indignation before snapping his sharp gaze towards Jimin. “And what do you want, little omega?” he seethes, grip tightening in Yoongi’s hair to the point the captain’s face crumples in pain.

Jimin worries his bottom lip between his teeth, whole body shaking before he swallows all his nerves down. He knows this is no time to be fearful, because he’s looked this pathetic alpha in the face many times before and knows he’s nothing more than scum. He furrows his brow, hardens his glare and with the strongest voice he can muster says; “Actually, I think you’ll find the one who stole your victory, was me.”

The Běishān General snickers, laugh sharp and harsh like that of nails across stone and it has Jimin shivering. “What a loyal omega, you care so much for this alpha that you’d risk your own life for him? You’d lie for him?”

“Why is it so hard for you alphas to believe that an omega can do something of their own volition. We are not dictated by alphas, we have minds of our own, we have a will of our own,” Jimin snaps, hands gripping at the high neck of the servant’s robes he still wears, pulling them roughly down to reveal the freshly healing scar across his unmated omega mark. “We can protect our people and families just as strongly as that of any alpha. ”

There’s a moment of thick cold silence that spreads through the air of the throne room like the winds of winter, heavy and terrifying to the point Jimin can hear his own accelerated heart beat pounding in his ears. The Běishān General stands frozen in his tracks, body shaking with what Jimin can only assume is bubbling rage, eyes narrowed to slits as his gaze burns into the marred unmated omega mark on his neck. Then as if the room is suddenly charged with lightning, the enemy general screams a blood curdling cry before he throws himself towards Jimin.

There is a look of full blown madness about the alpha’s face, all logic stripped from him as the poison of anger spreads through his veins, fueling his movements. But this is exactly what Jimin had hoped for, and with every inch closer the deranged looking alpha gets to him, the louder his heart beat rings in his ears.

He can just about hear Yoongi calling his name, his voice thick with a worry he never thought he would hear from the alpha again. He wants to placate him, promise Yoongi everything will be alright but he’s currently biting so hard into his bottom lip to stop himself from shaking that he’s drawn blood.

The Běishān General is merely 10 feet from him when Jimin reaches behind him and grasps tightly at the hilt of the sword. His breathing stops, there’s white noise crackling through his ears and he can feel his heartbeat slowing. As the Běishān General stands all but 5 feet from Jimin, the omega pulls the sword from his back and swings it in a harsh sharp arc in front of him.

It’s as if everything moves in slow motion, he can see the blade glisten as it glides through the air, see the realization of what’s happening dawn slowly on the face of the alpha before him. His fierce features bleed into a look of worry, eyes blown as wide as the moon, teeth unclenching and mouth falling slack. The general stumbles back a few steps as he moves out of the swords trajectory, tripping over his own feet as his initial anger washes into fear.

The tip of the blade slices through the fabric of the Běishān General’s war furs, cutting right across his torso and has the alpha hissing in pain. Jimin is surprised the sword is so sharp, he barely put any pressure into the swing once it connected with the alpha. He had intended it as a warning, a way to knock the general off his guard so Jimin can deliver the final blow.

Even though he hadn’t mean to injure the alpha yet, the omega’s plan hasn’t been ruined just yet and whilst he still has the General blindsided, he lunges forward and runs the sword straight through the alpha’s heart.  

The room stills again, Jimin’s hand trembling as he keeps the sword buried tight in the chest of the Běishān General.

The omega witnesses the man’s eyes slowly lose the flame of fury that had been dancing through them,  watches the colour drain from his face, the tautness in his muscles slack and feels the warmth of blood stain his hands.

Jimin thinks if he never has to see death again it would be too soon. He cares not that this man carried out such terrible things to his enemies and his comrades—death is death, and Jimin never wants to be an executioner again.

He lets go of the sword, the dull thump of the man’s lifeless body slumps to the floor and Jimin’s eyes follow it as it falls.

He did it, he killed the Běishān General, he helped defeat their invading army but for some reason he doesn’t feel all too happy about it.

There are warm hands that cup his face and pull his vision away from the dead alpha, thumbs stroking gently over the apples of the omega’s cheeks and swiping away fresh tears Jimin didn’t even realize he’d been crying.

“Hey, it’s over now,” Yoongi mutters, body far closer than it has ever been before. Jimin takes a stuttering breath, tastes autumn leaves and sandalwood on the back of his throat and lets Yoongi’s scent settle him just a little.

“I-I killed him,” Jimin states on a quiet breath.

Yoongi nods, eyes strong and unwavering as they lock with Jimin’s gaze. “Yes, you did.”

“I’m a murderer.”

“You’re a hero, Jimin,”

The omega huffs, feeling the blood on his hands dry sticky. “What’s the difference?”

Yoongi lets go of Jimin’s face, using his dagger to rip a square of fabric from his own war furs so as to clean away the scarlet stained to Jimin’s skin. “The Běishān General was a murderer, he killed for the pleasure, for the glory. Did you kill this alpha with the same thought in mind?” Jimin shakes his head, more tears slipping from his eyes. “Exactly, you killed because you were forced to. You killed because it was a last resort. You saved millions of people by doing this Jimin, I will not have you thinking badly of yourself or what you have done.”

“Death is death,” Jimin replies, shivering as he watches Yoongi scrub gently at his hands. The majority of the blood has already started to dry, the remnants of it seeping into his skin. He remembers the fight on the mountain path, the enemy alpha he had killed them has no face in his mind and he feels even more disgusting for not being able to honour their memory.

“It is, but for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you,” Yoongi says.

“For killing people?”

“For valuing life.”

Jimin returns his eyes to Yoongi’s face feeling the weight of his horrible action grow somewhat lighter, as though he’s just shared the burden of it with the alpha captain. Yoongi looks so tired, his usually pale face flushed a little pink and the light scratch from the Běishān General’s blade across his cheek has dried a crimson red.

Jimin slips his hands from Yoongi’s and gently traces the cut with a feather light touch. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Yoongi catches his hand, holds it within his own as if holding something so delicate, so easily broken or lost and it sends tingles across the surface of Jimin’s skin. “No, you made sure of that,” Yoongi says, voice so quiet and deep that Jimin has to strain to hear him.

“Did I earn your trust back?” Jimin asks, utterly terrified to hear the response.

The alpha squeezes his hand, eyes cast down to where their hands are entwined. “You did, however there were far safer ways to earn it.”

Jimin snorts, “What does it matter if it means I am trusted again.”

Yoongi hums, pretty pink lips pulled into a sweet pout that makes the Captain look far younger than he actually is. “Jimin I – “

“What in the name of our ancestors happened?”

Jimin and Yoongi part as if struck by lightning, standing as far away from each other as possible, eyes wide as they face the stone cold expression of the Yu Alpha before them. The man looks far more unkempt then the first time Jimin laid eyes on him, his hair in disarray, his face flushed and his expensive robes creased and wrinkled.

His eyes snap between the alpha and the omega then to the dead general on the floor and a small gasp catches in the back of his throat. He laces his fingers together, hidden behind the long sleeves of his jade coloured robes before he straightens his posture.

“I see,” he says, voice a smooth monotone purposefully void of emotion. “This is your doing, is it not, omega?”

Jimin feels his heart drop, his gut twist and he has to clutch at the skirts of his robes to hide his incredibly clammy red hands.  

“Yu alpha, I can explain—“ Yoongi begins, but his words are silenced by the raising of the Yu Alpha’s hand.

“I know enough, Captain Min,” he responds, lacing his hands together again. “My scribe has already explained to me the situation.”

As if hearing his name, Namjoon appears behind the Yu Alpha looking incredibly sheepish. “I’m sorry, I sent my report before this, I- I didn’t know,” he tries to explain, but his words clearly fall on deaf ears, the Yu Alpha doesn’t even acknowledge Namjoon’s presence.

Instead the leader lets out a long winded sigh, and narrows Jimin with an even sharper look. “I have heard a great deal about you, Park Jimin,” he begins, walking a painfully slow march towards the omega. Jimin can feel his heart hammering hard in his chest, eyes unable to look away from his head alpha, as if the man’s gaze holds hypnotic qualities. “You stole your father’s war furs, ran away from home,” he lists, each point punctuated by another step closer to Jimin. “Impersonated a soldier, deceived your commanding officer, dishonored the Dìguó army—”

“I know, and I just—“ Jimin tries, but again the Yu Alpha silences him with a raise of his hand.

He stands before Jimin now, taller than the omega remembers, eyes harsh, gaze so piercing Jimin feels it slicing through his skin. He has never wanted to flinch away from anything more in his life. He bows as deep as he can, nose practically touching his legs in as high a show of respect as he possibly can give. Yoongi may have let him go with nothing more than a warning and dishonor on his name, but this is the Yu Alpha he stands before; the very man who rules over every clan under the Dìguó Tribe. There is no way he can cheat death once more, and Jimin is resigned to the fact that his time is pretty much up.

“But,” the Yu Alpha begins, a sudden softness to his voice that Jimin thinks he might just be imagining. “You have saved us all.”

Jimin blinks, wondering if he’s suffering from an adrenaline crash and subsequently hallucinating. But there are fingers gripping gently under his chin, slowly pulling him back to a standing position, and Jimin gasps at the gentle smile about the thin lips of the Yu Alpha. He removes his touch from Jimin’s chin, lacing his hands together once more and bows .

The omega freezes in panic and confusion, eyes dancing towards Yoongi only to find such a soft look across the alpha’s face before he too bows his head deeply. He manages to swallow down a squeak at the sight, eyes finding Namjoon at the door joined by the majority of the Dìguó soldiers; Hoseok, Seokjin and Taehyung close by Namjoon’s side. His best friend has tears in his eyes, his cheeks wet as he bows along with the rest of Jimin’s comrades.  

Never before has a head alpha ever lowered their head to anyone, let alone an omega. Jimin tries to remember the last time an alpha showed such respect to an omega in general but his memory comes up short. It is expected of an omega to show gratitude to an alpha, yet an omega is expected to do their duties without the need for thanks and acknowledgement.

He’s speechless, stunned to silence of which is a feat in and of itself considering how opinionated Jimin usually is. But he couldn’t care any less, because he’s done it. He’s proven that an omega can be just as strong as that of any alpha.

He’s brought honor to himself and to his family even though he was told that would never happen.

The Yu alpha raises his head, such a kind and gentle look of thanks etched into the withered face that it has Jimin smiling brightly in return. “Park Jimin, I would like you on my council, such a brilliant mind should not be put to waste.”

“Thank you,” the omega whispers. “But with all due respect, I think I’ve been away from home long enough.”

“Very well,” the Yu Alpha nods, bending down to retrieve the dagger of the fallen Běishān General. “Take this, so your family know what you have done for me to the world knows what you have done for the Dìguó Tribe,” he explains, presenting the dagger to Jimin who takes it with shaking hands and another bow of thanks. “And this,” the Yu Alpha adds, pulling the shimmering jade crest from around his neck and placing it atop the dagger in the omega’s palms. “So the world will know what you have done for the Dìguó Tribes.”

“Yes, Chim! The hero of the Dìguó Tribes!” Taehyung bellows from the doorway, snatching the attention of everyone in the room, but his best friend doesn’t seem to care in the slightest. There’s a large boxy smile across his face, hands slapping together in the beginning of a makeshift cheer and there’s more tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. “If I don’t hear you all clapping for Jimin then best believe I’m going to smack each and every one of you on the head!”

Namjoon is the first to join in the cheer, hands clapping together as loudly as he can, deep cheers echoing around the throne room before it’s drowned out by the cheering and screaming of the rest of the Dìguó soldiers.

Jimin’s chest feels as light as hot air. A hero, they called him.

A war hero, just like his father.

Jimin bows once more to the Yu Alpha before he scurries his way over to his fellow soldiers, wanting nothing more than to throw his arms around his best friend and thank him for all that he’s done. But he’s stopped half way across the room by an arm closing around his elbow, spinning him away from the cheers of the soldiers by the door.

Yoongi looks a little awkward, eyes wide as if confused by his own actions.

“Oh yes,” Jimin begins, turning his body to face the alpha. “You had something you wanted to say to me?”

The captain merely nods, releasing his hold on Jimin’s arm to run his hand across the back of his neck. There’s a strange tang in his usual autumn leaves and sandalwood scent, somewhat sour as if from worry and it has Jimin stepping just a little closer into Yoongi’s personal space.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks.

Yoongi takes a deep breath before locking his gaze with Jimin, his eyes swimming with a look of deep adoration that has Jimin’s omega singing. The alpha nervously licks his dry, chapped lips, swallows thickly and shuffles awkwardly on his feet.

Oh .

“Jimin, I-“ he begins, and the omega is pretty sure his heart has stopped beating, his breath caught on his tongue. Suddenly Jimin is all too sure what he expects to hear from Yoongi, and for some reason it doesn’t confuse nor worry him in the slightest. He’s instead excited for them, so impossibly ready for them, his omega is desperate to hear sweet words from Yoongi and finally, finally drown in the alpha’s heavenly scent.

He has no need to hide anymore, no need to shy away from Yoongi and force himself to believe they are nothing more than soldier and commanding officer. Jimin’s heart and his omega have had enough of being ignored and he’s more than ready to accept this bubbling feeling of admiration he has for the alpha. Admiration he had been so stupidly trying to convince himself was in regards to how good a captain Yoongi is.

But he knows that’s not the case, knows that he craves that rich scent of autumn leaves and sandalwood in a way far more intimate.

“Yes?” Jimin probes, stepping just a little closer. He feels as though he has starlight in his eyes, blinded by his little revelation and his palms itch around his war trophies, wanting to drop them in favour of holding Yoongi’s hands within his own.

But then the alpha sighs, body slumping as if all confidence escapes him and instead fixes Jimin an awkward smile that looks more like a grimace. “You fight good.”

“Oh,” Jimin replies, so utterly dejected he fights to keep the hurt whimpers from his voice. “Thank you.”

And with a nod of his head, Yoongi walks away.

____________

Nothing has changed and yet everything looks so different to Jimin as he walks through his clan. The year he has been away has easily cleared his vision, seeing the Yīnghuā clan with new eyes. It’s strange, how he left his home at the beginning of spring and now returns to that season slowly dying, the soft pinks and whites of the cherry blossom petals scattering across the earth as though a dusting of snow.

It smells so heavenly, sweet and pungent the way a clan known for beautiful flowers and plants should smell, but more importantly it smells like home. He feels his body relax as he walks the familiar paths, re-sees the same dens of his clan members, and the landmarks of the main square look far less ominous as he passes them.

There are no people in the streets; the early morning dawn chases away the dark of the night as people huddle in the warmth and comfort of their homes. Only Taehyung and he wonder through the slumbering clan, smiles wide across their faces and hands clutching each other tightly.

“Well, this is me,” Taehyung sighs, stopping before the gate of his family den. His look lingers on the door to his home, cheeks rosy with anticipated excitement and body buzzing to be back in the warmth of his family. He lets out a long sigh, as if exhaling the last of the wars burdens. “It feels just so good to be home.”

Jimin drops his bundle of gifts and untangles their hands, wrapping his arms around the waist of his best friend and burrowing his face into the alpha’s shoulder blade. After a year of covering himself in the rich earthy scent that Taehyung holds, the omega thought he would grow sick of it. But he inhales deeply, feels his body melt as though stepping into a warm bath and hugs his friend impossibly tighter.

“I will never be more thankful than for everything you’ve done for me,” Jimin whispers into the warmth of Taehyung’s simple brown tunic. The two of them had never been happier to shed the stiff and heavy war furs, the warmth of the impending summer making them far too hot and thick to wear much longer.

Taehyung pats the backs of Jimin’s little hands where they connect across the alpha’s stomach. “That’s what family does, Chim,” he replies in a tone so mature that if Jimin weren’t currently crushing the boy between his arms, he’d think Taehyung has been replaced with someone else.

Clearly Jimin’s not the only one to change over the past year.

The friends separate with a small wave and a promise to see each other later, Taehyung’s excitement to be home carrying him on hurried footsteps to his front door.

Jimin walks slowly to his own den, not really sure how he’s supposed to be feeling at the prospect of seeing his family again, but knowing he’s nothing but confident in returning home. For surely his father cannot be angry at him for bringing such honor to their family?

The den hasn’t changed since he left. It carries the same warmth of a home full of love that his mother tries so hard to maintain. It has the same number of chickens clucking noisily in the yard and there is the familiar billowing of smoke from the chimney where his mother has started the morning fire.

The Parks were always early risers.

It’s a quiet calm as he walks to the front door, nothing but the noise of animals and the light wiping of the wind can be heard and as Jimin pushes the door open. He’s proud to see the action is done with steady hands.

The inside is void of people, though the fire is blazing large and strong. There is no smell of home cooking in the air, no sound of pattered footsteps against the smooth wooden flooring and Jimin cocks his head in confusion. He spies a bundle of furs wrapped up in a chair by the fire, small and hunched forward in the seat. He pads carefully through the house, kneeling by the chair and pushing the furs back from the head of his grandmother as she snoozes in the warmth of the fire.

The sudden exposure to the cool dawn air has the old woman groaning, eyes adorned with aged lines blinking restlessly and slowly awake and her sweet button nose, so similar to his own, scrunches in irritation. Her pupils are so pale in comparison to the dark black they once were, her eyesight fading her in her later years, and her face shows signs of a long and well lived life, her youth faded physically but not mentally.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she raises one of her withered boney hands to his face and traces the round of Jimin’s cheeks with a finger. “Did I make it to heaven?”

Jimin smiles, taking hold of his grandmother’s hand and pressing the palm flat against his warm face. “Not yet, no,” he replies softly, eyes closed as he basks in the powdery warmth of his grandmother’s touch. “We still have much time to spend together.”

Realization dawns gradually on her old face, thin lips splitting into a wide gap-toothed smile. “I always knew our ancestors were good for something,” she says.

Jimin cocks his head to one side in question. “How so?”

“I prayed for them to watch over you, to bring you home when you had finished your journey,” she explains. “I owe them the best rice wine Yīnghuā has to offer.”

Jimin giggles, wrapping his arms around the frail woman to carefully squeeze her for all the love she has to give. “God, I missed you,” he whispers as he pulls away.

“As did we,” she agrees, taking his hands and swinging them playfully in the space between them. “Your absence has been very much noted in this house. It’s cold without you, Jimin-ah.”

“Where are they?” he asks, not wanting to delay the inevitable much longer.

His grandmother’s face turns sad, nodding in the direction of the back yard. “They sit together most mornings by the ancestors’ shrine. Your mother hasn’t been sleeping; she’s restless in a way that only her alpha’s settling can help.”

Jimin winces at her words, swallowing down a wave of guilt. “And father, i-is he mad?”

“It is not for me to say,” his grandmother replies diplomatically. “But understand that whatever his words to you may be; so long as you found what you were looking for through this journey you chose to take, then that is all that matters.”

Jimin hugs the woman once more, half for luck and half because he still feels the need to be close to her just a little longer. Maybe later when the news of his return has died down, he can walk with her into town and sit with her under the dying cherry blossoms. He realizes that he never really did that much before, despite how much his grandmother loved to just sit and enjoy the world with him.

“Will you come?” he asks.

She nods. “I’ll be right behind you, go, be as brave as I know you are.”

Jimin nods, shouldering his resolve and collecting his bag from the floor. He holds his head high as he makes his way to the ancestors’ shrine. He knew the risks that came with going to the army in his father’s place; he knew that this act would not be looked at favorably by anyone. But he is nothing if not responsible; certain in his choices and incredibly proud of the journey he’s undergone.

The ancestors’ shrine sits at the back of the Park property, under the biggest and most beautiful cherry blossom tree. The tombs of shiny black stone sit proudly under the impressive grey slated hut, possibly the most expensive part of the entire den. His father had always maintained that those who came before us should always be respected: even in death.

It’s a peaceful area, away from the noise of the den and the streets beyond it. Flowers of differing varieties, colours and smells decorate its perimeters and every member of the Park family finds tranquility sitting beside the shrine sheltered by the impressive tree.

There he sees his parents, sat upon a bench of stone with faces so weathered and saddened that it punches holes into Jimin’s already fragile heart. His mother’s face is hidden in his father’s neck, her teeth worried painfully hard into her bottom lip that Jimin is certain she is probably whimpering in distress. His father looks no better—dark, heavy circles decorate his almond eyes, hands shaking around his mother as he engulfs her in as calming a scent as possible.

His feet move on their own, pulling Jimin towards his parents as if drawn to them via a magnetic force. His scent must catch on the wind halfway across the garden, as both his parents heads snap towards him, their bodies standing so quickly to their feet Jimin is surprised they don’t collapse from head rush.

The pair stand with their mouths agape as Jimin hurries to them, the omega lowering himself to his knees before his father and placing his bag atop his lap.

“J-Jimin-ah,” his mother stutters, voice catching on a sob at the back of her throat. His father turns to her, instincts sensing her distress and sour scent. Sungchu settles his omega, nuzzling against her neck and sitting her back on the stone bench before returning his attention to Jimin.

“Father,” the omega begins, lowering his head. Sungchu says nothing, watches carefully as Jimin unravels the fabric bag in his lap. The man’s injured leg shakes where he stands, all his weight resting on his cane and Jimin decides to make this quick so that his father can sit as soon as possible.

“I present to you the dagger of the Běishān General,” Jimin continues, offering the blade out to his father, who takes it quietly with his free hand. “And the crest of the Yu Alpha,” he places the jade pendant atop the dagger before lowering his head again. “They’re gifts, to honor the Park family.”

There’s a beat of silence that echoes through the beautiful garden like the ominous tolling of a gong. Jimin’s body is rigid, his brain ticking through so many different responses that his father could give him, each one shaking his resolve and confidence.

But what he doesn’t expect is for his father to drop the war trophies to the floor as if they mean absolutely nothing to him. Jimin’s face snaps up from his bow to watch the dagger and crest clatter to the grass before his entire body is surround in the warm welcoming scent of his father.

Sungchu’s arms wrap strong and tight around his son, pulling him as close to his chest as he possibly can before he unabashedly nuzzles the omega. “Jimin,” he sighs, as if the word had been a long forgotten treasure to him he never thought he’d get to speak again. “The greatest gift and honor, is having you for a son,” he praises and the words trigger tears to fall hot and unbidden down Jimin’s full cheeks.

He feels the arms of his mother wrap around them too, the three of them huddled together on the dewy grass of the dawn, surrounded in all the love and warmth Jimin could ever have wished for.

“We missed you so much,” his mother sobs.

Jimin’s hands wriggle out of the embrace so he can clutch tightly at the robes of his parents, nuzzling against the welcome scent of family. “I’m so happy to be home.”

____________

It’s interesting how things click back into place so easily and so naturally. Jimin returns to his chores, his father returns to avoiding the recommended three cups of tea the healer told him to drink, his mother’s smile returns and his grandmother’s sass has Jimin giggling once more.

It’s hard for him to even imagine that not so long ago he had driven a sword right through the heart of an alpha general from a brutal outsider clan. With each day the war grows more and more distant, and after two weeks of being home again, his accomplishments and adventure becomes nothing more than dreams that haunt his sleep when the night comes.

Everything is as it ever was; better even, now that he feels as confident in his skin as he always should have been. But he can’t help to think as though something is missing.

“Enjoying watching the world turn?” his grandmother asks one afternoon as Jimin sits beside the ancestors shrine, enjoying the warmth of the summer breeze from the shade of the bare cherry blossom tree.

The omega sighs, curling his knees up to his chest and subsequently catching the long trails of his robes under his heels. He hadn’t intended to come home and immediately start wearing the pretty omega robes that his mother always buys for him. Despite posing as an alpha for a year and denying his omega biology, Jimin’s pleased to smell like himself again, yet still has no real desire to be dressed as pretty as a doll.

But the smile that blossomed on his mother’s face the day she walked in to see him holding one of the robes was enough to change Jimin’s mind. Originally, Jimin had planned to wear only the under layer, as it’s neck was high enough that it covered his scared unmated omega mark. Despite how uncomfortable he feels in layers of silk, it’s still far better than continuing to steal Taehyung’s high neck clothes.

He lets his mother pick out his outfit for the day, the woman knowing far more about the fashion of omegas than Jimin ever will. Today sees him dressed in robes of pastel pinks and green, synched at his small waist by a band of white silk embroidered with a white flower design. The sleeves are tight around his arms, chopped just above his wrists and the tails billow around his feet, thrown easily around by the summer breeze considering they’re far lighter than the winter robes he wore for his matchmaker meeting.

Each morning he leaves his room dressed looking the epitome of a well bred omega, despite everyone knowing he is far from it. Yet every morning his family greets him for who he is, his father slipping the beautiful old hair ornament of his mother’s into his hair.  

“It moves slowly,” Jimin comments, fingers running through the emerald blades of grass by his feet.

His grandmother hums, “As it should.” She lowers herself slowly to the floor, stretching her legs out in front of her when she is seated comfortably on the grass. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she says.

Jimin chuckles. “Dangerous.”

She swats her grandson on the arm playfully. “If the war taught you to be disrespectful then I won’t hesitate to send you back,” she teases. Jimin shrugs in as close to an apology as his grandmother is going to get, to which the old women merely sighs over before she continues. “You were around so many alphas, none take your fancy?”

Jimin stiffens, memories of a certain captain with the scent of autumn leaves and sandalwood flooding his memory. He has been doing so well in ignoring the alpha, moving on from what he stupidly assumed was mutual feelings of love between them.

Now is not the time to relapse.

“The war was not about finding a mate, grandmother,” he sighs, fingers unconsciously brushing against his scent gland, feeling the rough surfaces of the bandages he has taken to wrapping around his ugly scar. He may not be embarrassed by what he has done, but he is more than a little uncomfortable by the disgusted looks sent his way from the people of his clan.

If he was undesirable before, he’s not sure what he is now—utterly unwanted, maybe?

The old woman huffs and folds her arms about her chest. “I know that,” she counters with a roll of her eyes. “But come on Jimin, you brought home a dagger, if you asked me that was a perfect opportunity for you to bring home an al-“

“Jimin-ah!” his mother calls across from the den, her sweet voice tinkling on the back of the summer breeze to them and snapping Jimin’s head towards her. “There’s someone here to see you,” she explains with a wicked smile across her face that sends warning shivers across the omega’s skin.

His mother side steps from the doorway, revealing the visitor in all his glory. But Jimin doesn’t really need to look at the man to know who it is. For his nose picks up the wonderfully intoxicating scent of autumn leaves and sandalwood instantly, body craving the scent like a drug and it has a small whimper escaping his lips.

Yoongi stands just as handsome out of his war furs as he does in them, his casual robes of dark blues and blacks hold a plain and simple design that matches the alphas no nonsense attitude. The sleeves fall a little long on his short arms, the skirts reaching his ankles and the alpha has untied the bun from atop his head to let his silvery hair fall over the top of his undercut.  

His smile is small and nothing if not gauche, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet as he waits awkwardly in the doorway to the den.

“Holy shit,” his grandmother mutters letting out a soft whistle. “Sign me up for the next war.”

It’s Jimin’s turn to playful smack his grandmother on the arm in warning. The woman chuckles in response as Jimin clumsily standing to his feet, careful not to trip over the endless amount of pastel skirts around his little legs. He locks eyes with Yoongi, the alpha’s smile widening, and Jimin stupidly shoots the man a pathetic little wave.

He ignores his grandmother’s snickering as Yoongi confidently strides his way across the grass, hands flapping nervously by his sides and for the first time since the two had met, Jimin can’t see Yoongi as anything more than a bashful-looking alpha.

It’s incredibly cute.

“Jimin,” Yoongi greets on a whoosh of a breath, as if he’d been holding it whilst walking over to him.

“Yoongi,” the omega replies, hands fiddling nervously in front of him.

“Grandma,” his grandmother interjects and it has Jimin sending the old woman a sharp glare.

Yoongi laughs stiffly, running a hand over the back of his neck. “Would you sit with me?” he asks Jimin, hand gesturing towards the stone bench a few feet away.

Jimin nods, gathering his annoying skirts in his hands before leading the way over to it, Yoongi hot on his heels. The alpha stays close to him, but it’s not as close as Jimin’s omega wishes, the scent of autumn leaves and sandalwood so light that it barely brings any comfort to Jimin.

He sits first, Yoongi taking a deep breath before he joins him, hands resting carefully in his lap. Jimin’s leg bounces beneath his skirts, teeth worrying into his bottom lip as he waits for the alpha to speak. But Yoongi simply stares at him like he’s a work of art on display, eyes wide and full of that adoration that Jimin was certain he had seen the last time they had met.

But this love is purely one-sided, is it not?

“Do I have something on my face?” Jimin asks, fingers brushing against his flushed cheek.

Yoongi shakes his head a little too hard. “No, it’s fine, perfect even.”

Oh.

“Why are you here, Yoongi?” Jimin asks on a quiet voice, eyes watching the way his hands fiddle in his lap.

Yoongi sighs, straightening his back. “You forgot something,” he explains. “I came to return it to you.”

Jimin cocks his head to one side, “I did?”

The alpha nods, mouth opened to continue on with his peculiar little excuse when his eyes land on the omega’s neck and his face turns from anxious distress to saddened concern. “Bandages?” he asks, fingers reaching up to touch the white fabric wrapped around Jimin’s neck.

The omega flinches at the touch, pulling away from Yoongi to wrap his hand around his neck protectively. “They’re the best thing I have at hiding, it ,” he laughs humorlessly.

“Hiding what?” Yoongi asks in a voice so painfully confused. “Your scar?”  

Jimin nods, fingernails absentmindedly scratching at the bandages. He scoffs, remembering the grotesque looks the alphas of his clan gave him the first and only time he had walked through the main square upon his return.

“I must hide because I’m ugly,” he explains, leaking as much venom into his voice as he can possibly muster. He saves the entire Dìguó Tribe and yet he is still viewed as nothing more than a broken omega. Yoongi pulls Jimin’s hand away from his neck, snatching the omega’s attention back towards him. “Don’t—“

But the alpha shakes his head, sending Jimin a comforting look with soft eyes full of understanding. “Trust me?” he asks and the omega nods slowly, immediately and confidently.

Tenderly, Yoongi’s long pale fingers work at untying the bandages from around Jimin’s neck, unraveling each layer with delicate care until the white fabric flutters to the floor by their feet. He folds over the high neck of Jimin’s pastel robe; eyes fluttering as the omega’s nutmeg and cinnamon scent encase the two of them.

Jimin’s never had a chance to fully appreciate just how right their scents are together, but as he sits inhaling their mingled autumn leaves and cinnamon smell, the omega thinks he could no longer be without it.

The scar is long, curving round from the bottom of his earlobe to the base of his neck, running right through his unmated omega mark. His mother had tried to placate him about it; tell him that when his alpha claims him, his bite will look far better against the scar than the strange dark unmated mark.

Jimin didn’t have the heart to tell his mother that with something as ugly as this on his skin, no alpha will look at him with anything other than disgust.

Well, not all alphas, as Yoongi sits before him with eyes as wide as the moon, glistening with an adoration that Jimin is positive he’s not imagining this time. The alpha’s fingers trail feather light along the scar, his touch burning along Jimin’s skin and igniting a flame throughout his veins.

“Ugly, you say?” Yoongi ponders on a deep rasp, shaking his head in disagreement of the words. “You are far from ugly,” he states, fingers tracing over the outline of his unmated omega mark. “Not so perfect, but oh so beautiful. That’s you in your entirety, Park Jimin.”

The alpha’s words wrack a shiver through Jimin’s spine, a whimper escaping his lips and it has his fingers twitch with the need to be closer to Yoongi. His omega sings in the back of his head, urging him to reach out and pull Yoongi into him, to inhale that wonderful scent of his and smother himself in it.

But he doesn’t have time to act on his impulses. Because as if sensing Jimin’s need to be closer, Yoongi buries his head in the crook of Jimin’s neck, nosing along the scar that decorates it and Jimin’s hands find purchase tangled in Yoongi’s silver locks.

The omega gasps, feeling the way their scents mingle in a far more permanent manor, permeating the air so strong that Jimin nearly chokes on the wonderful way autumn leaves and cinnamon combines.

There are no words said between them, the need to scent and be scented overwhelming them and causing their instincts to take over. Jimin has wanted to do this for so long that his body practically implodes from how impossibly amazing it feels being cocooned in everything Yoongi .

But eventually the two separate; hands still clung tightly to each other as if the whole moment is nothing more than a dream that could easily slip through their fingers. There’s a wide smile on Jimin’s lips that Yoongi mirrors, dark obsidian eyes melted into pools of black ink.

The omega gently knocks their foreheads together, wrapping his arms securely around Yoongi’s shoulders. “You said there was something I had forgotten?” he whispers into the space between them.

Yoongi sighs in content, hands slipping up from the side of Jimin’s neck to cup the omega’s cheeks instead. “Yes, let me give it to you,” he says, twisting Jimin’s head up before he presses their lips together.

To begin with it’s nothing more than a light brush of their lips, warmth blooming from the touch and sending delicious shivers down Jimin’s spine. Yoongi trails his warm lips from the omega’s mouth along the scar of his neck, planting an extra kiss to his unmated omega mark that has Jimin’s toes curling.

He whines long and unabashed, fingers scratching against the nape of Yoongi’s neck as the alpha trails hot kisses back up the omega’s neck to his mouth once more. Jimin takes the lead then, his omega screaming at him to get on with it after being forced to wait so long for this moment. He throws himself at Yoongi, practically knocking the alpha off of the stone bench to the grassy floor, holding the man’s body as close to him as possible while he tangles their lips together.

Their kiss is full of unbidden passion and overwhelming emotion; a constant playful push and pull between them. Yoongi leads the pace of the kiss, pouring all unspoken love into Jimin’s mouth, whilst the omega teasingly nips at the alpha’s bottom lip, moans wantonly into Yoongi’s mouth; wanting so much more but knowing to be patient.

Jimin is practically sitting in the alpha’s lap by the time they break away for air, blissful smiles on their faces as they cling tight to one another.

“W-would you like to stay for dinner?” Jimin asks, once he manages to find his voice again. His cheeks blush a soft red at the utterly casual invitation after such an intimate moment.

“Would you like to stay forever?” his grandmother interrupts once more, to which Jimin has the maturity to simply roll his eyes at rather than engage.

Yoongi chuckles, hands slipping away from Jimin’s cheeks to tangle with his fingers instead. “Dinner would be great.”