Chapter Text
Jimin remembers fire.
Angry red flames, holding no mercy as they ripped through his village. Every time he closes his eyes he hears the screams of his people as they succumbed to the fire. Their piercing wails as they tried to run from the very people who were supposed to take care of them. The fire wasn’t the real killer, it was merely the scapegoat. The story the royals would spin when explaining what happened to the small village of omegas, a lie that would make it seem like an accident and not a direct attack.
There were hardly any alphas in the village, most of them becoming warriors for the crown at a young age. They didn’t have a choice in the matter; unless you were dripping gold, your choices were made for you. Royals were at the top of the chain. If you went against the crown, you were as good as dead; which is exactly why innocent lives were ripped to shreds with no regard. Some of the alphas from neighboring villages had asked for help in taking down the tyrants that controlled their every move. A rebellion was in the works but not everyone was strong willed enough to keep it under wraps. Money was always the factor that drove people to even the most heinous decisions.
Jimin had been too young to understand any of this. A naive kid who thought the royal guards that strolled through his village every so often were heros. He didn’t realize the monsters that lurked behind their facade.
He remembers his mother grabbing him, pushing him under a wooden desk and telling him they were to play a game. It was a game they had only played a few times before, one where his mother hid him away and told him if he was quiet long enough, he would receive a special prize. He was good at the game, sitting in complete silence while his mother talked in hushed tones with people he didn’t recognize. She made him promise that he wasn’t to say a word, that was the only rule, even if he heard something that scared him.
The last thing he recalls of her alive is her kissing him on the cheek, her eyes glistening with sorrow he didn’t understand. It was just a silly game. He didn’t understand why her face crumbled as she flattened his hair in her palm. She smiled at him, watery and unstable, promising him that if he just closed his eyes, it would all be okay in the morning.
[ “Eomma, what’s wrong?” Jimin asks, wiping the stray tears that fall from his mother's eyes. She tries to smile at him, the upturn of her lips not reaching her eyes.
“Jimin-ah, my precious baby you have to promise me you’ll stay quiet,” She pleads to him, desperation clinging to every syllable. “You have to promise eomma that no matter what, you won’t make a sound.”
“Will I win the game if I don’t speak?” His mother nods, more tears springing free as she presses soft kisses to his face. Her hand pressing across his hair, coming down to caress his cheeks.
“You’ll win baby. I promise if you close your eyes, you’ll be okay.”
“Pinky promise that I’ll get special snacks before dinner if I win the game?”
His mom chokes back a sob. Jimin frowns, grabbing his mother’s face, he doesn’t like it when she cries.
“It’s okay eomma, I don’t have to get special snacks if it makes you sad.”
“No baby, it doesn’t make me sad,” She promises. She holds a pinky out to him, smiling when Jimin’s smaller chubby finger wraps around hers. “I pinky promise.”]
She had lied to him.
Jimin had been young enough to hide, been young enough to not fully understand why she looked at him as if she was saying goodbye. Unfortunately, he was old enough to comprehend the carnage around him.
Jimin remembers his mother’s face, even if he wishes he didn’t. She was beautiful, or at least had been. Her eyes had been frantic as steps approached their wooden cabin, a hushed declaration of love slipping from her lips before she shoved him further under the small wooden table. She managed to hide him just before the entrance to their cabin was wretched open with enough force to make the entire frame shake.
Jimin was supposed to stay hidden but he couldn’t help peeking from the small space between the bottom of the table and the ground. He remembers seeing the guard, he was an alpha that had strolled through their village many times. His eyes were slowly bleeding into crimson, canines becoming more pronounced as he approached his mother with an animalistic expression coloring his features. Jimin’s own eyes widened as the alpha grabbed his mother, throwing her across the room, demanding answers she couldn’t give him.
Jimin remembers her pleading for her life, sobbing at the feet of a man who didn’t deserve it. She swore to him, that her allegiance was for the royals, that she would never go against the crown. The pleads fell upon deaf ears. The guard didn’t care whether or not she was innocent, he had a job to do and an example to make. Jimin had tried to keep his eyes closed but had failed when he heard his mother’s bone chilling screams.
Jimin remembers the light as it left her eyes, her body thrown down in front of him. He was curled up into himself, biting down on his fist: a poor attempt at muffling his own screams. He was too young to understand why it was happening, why anyone would tear his mother away from him. Something heavy settled on his heart that day, something that threatened to crush him if he allowed it to.
The royal guard who murdered her found him easily enough. He remembers the alpha’s eyes, the way they held no regard for the atrocity he had just committed. The alpha had murdered Jimin’s mother in front of him. Had taken away the only person he ever truly loved without so much as a bat of an eyelash. It didn’t matter to him, the way he completely tore the innocence from a boy who had once been full of nothing but love.
The guard had spared him. Tossing him down onto the floor next to his mother, probably seeing no threat in a chubby faced nameless boy. Jimin had clutched onto his mother, her blood soaking his clothes as he sobbed into her hair. The guard stood there, watching the exchange with a sick sort of interest.
Jimin had stared at him, etching the guards face into the deepest parts of his mind. His eyes caught on the patch work on his sword case, MIN engraved into it like a branding. It’s the kingdom the guard had come from, one that Jimin would remember until the day he’d die. He would never forget the man who took everything away from him. He swore to himself - as he watched the alpha turn away with a twisted smile - that he would find him again. He would avenge everything he had lost.
[ “Disgusting little pup, aren’t you?” The guard spits at him. Jimin doesn’t say a word, clutching into his mother’s lifeless body. “You should be glad we saved you from a life as lowly as this one.”
Jimin doesn’t utter a word, his heartbeat hammering against his chest as the man jeers at him. His blood runs cold as his mother’s blood colors his hands.
“Got nothing to say you mutt?”
Jimin refuses to let any more tears fall from his eyes. “You'll regret it.”
The guard laughs in his face, not taking the threat seriously. Jimin though, promises to his mother that he will make true of his threat.]
Letting Jimin live, would come to be the guards worst mistake.
Jimin ran as soon as he was able to, leaving the only place he ever knew as home. He left his mother’s lifeless body to burn, let the fire that tore through her light a red rage in the pit of his heart. One that would fuel him to become someone he wouldn’t recognize, someone’s who’s soul died with his mother. To become a warrior — a monster, as some chose to call him instead.
He ran to the one place he knew no one would come after him, the place that was restricted for any of the village folk to wonder unless they wanted to face a fate completely unkind. The forbidden forest. A place that housed some of the worst people their land had ever seen, those who turned against the crown taking refuge in the shadows. He was nothing more than a child with no rank, he should have died in the forest. It should have eaten him alive. It hadn’t.
He thinks, it probably would have if it wasn’t for the alpha that had found him. Jimin had been shivering, small body burrowed under a fallen log, a sad attempt of a blanket made entirely out of branches and shrubs covering him. Tears stained his face as he tried to keep himself from freezing alive, his heart ached, sorrow crushing him. The lone wolf had approached him, probably thinking he would be an easy meal but was instead met with a small round faced boy, clothes soaked in blood as he weeped. The lone wolf gathered him in his arms then, promising no harm would come to him if he didn’t resist. Jimin didn’t know why but he let himself trust the wolf with scars covering his face, sniffling into the beautiful furs the man wore and thanking him.
[ “I promise little one, you’re safe with me,” The wolf says gently as he cradles him closer to his chest.
Jimin lets himself cling to the man, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks as they venture deeper into the forest. His heart is heavy as he realizes the further he makes his way into the darkness, the further he strays from his mother.
“Where’s your family little one?” The wolf asks him as they approach a small hut, hidden in the darkest depths of the forest. “Are you alone?”
Jimin nods against his chest, his small village, reduced to nothing but ash springing to his mind. There was no one left. He was the only one.
“I know what that’s like.” The wolf pushes open the door to the small hut, a bath of golden yellow light engulfing them. Jimin feels the warmth from the lanterns immediately, his cheeks thawing from the bitter cold of the dark winter night.
He places Jimin down, letting the small boy burrow into the various thick furs strewn across the makeshift bed. It doesn’t take long for Jimin to fall asleep, small body exhausted from the extensive trauma.
When he sleeps, he hears their screams.
He feels the heat from the fire suffocating him.
He sees his mother’s face as she told him she loved him for the last time.]
Jimin later learned the wolf’s name to be Minho, a trained mercenary. He was a might alpha, one that struck fear all across their land due to the legends of his mercilessness. He never missed a target. Jimin never figured out how he became the man he was, never brave enough to ask about his tragic past. It’s where they were so similar, both carrying a heaviness around their heart that morphed them into people they never thought they would be. If there was one thing Jimin could understand, it was sorrow.
[ “Why did you let me stay?” Jimin asks one day, as Minho places a bowl of meat in front of him. “I was nothing but a child weighing you down.”
Minho sits next to him, taking a moment to think about his answer. “Your eyes held a sadness I’ve only seen once before. Eat boy, this food wasn’t easy to catch.”
Jimin rolls his eyes but grabs a piece of the cooked meat, shoving it into his mouth. Minho watches him eat with thinly veiled fondness, a warmth radiating from the assassin that only Jimin is allowed to see.
“I don’t regret it,” Minho tells him, passing a few more pieces of meat off to Jimin from his own plate. “I would do it again.”
Jimin smiles at the man, marvelling in the way Minho’s scars shift when he returns the youngers smile. “You said you’ve only seen that sadness once before, from who?”
Minho’s eyes shift to a folded up piece of paper sitting on his study. Jimin’s never opened the parchment but he knows it comes from someone the assassin once held dear.
“From my own eyes.”]
Minho had somehow learned to love him, letting him stay with him as he grew from a chubby awkward child to a lean man with striking features. Jimin thinks it’s because they both had nothing else. Their families nothing more than a hidden memory, trapped only in the back of their minds, memories they wished they could forget in hopes that it would ease the pain. He helped teach Jimin how to channel that anger into something useful, something that could release the built up tension he wore around him like a shackle. Trained him to contain the fire that raged behind his soul and only use it when it benefit him.
[ “Focus on me little one,” Minho tells him, tracking his every move with his eyes. “Don’t worry about those around us, focus on your own strength.”
Jimin exhales sharply, forcing himself up from the ground. He wipes at the mud covering his torso, grabbing his spear from where it was knocked out of his hand. He’s angry but it isn’t helping him. His movements are uncontrolled, sporadic in a way that become easy to detect and defend against.
“I know you feel the rage, it burns you.” Minho steps closer to him, placing a large scarred hand on Jimin’s bare chest. “Don’t let the fire engulf you, let it guide you.”
Jimin closes his eyes, willing himself to find a place of peace within his mind. He thinks of his mother’s laugh, the twinkling sound replaying in his mind as he gets in his defense stance.
“Use the anger,” he hears Minho reiterate to him. “Let the pain guide you. Let it course through your veins.”
The image of his mother morphs slowly, her sparkling eyes becoming frantic as she pleads for her life. Her happiness dimming into unplacated fear.
Jimin tightens his grip on his spear, eyes opening, his irises burn with contained fury. Minho nods at him, beckoning him closer.
When Jimin attacks this time, he doesn’t fight against the fire, he runs with it.]
When Jimin had finally shown his ranking, he was relieved to find out he was an alpha. Minho seemed pleased as well, urging him to shift so they could go for their first real run together. When Jimin shifted for the first time, he felt the power he now wielded. Strength coursed through his veins as vengeance became his only priority.
They trained endlessly. Jimin becoming a skilled fighter before the age of sixteen, so skilled in fact that Minho began bringing him along any time he had an assignment to fulfill. Jimin didn’t think he would be able to stomach being an assassin but he came to find that he was incredibly good at it. His pretty face earning him the trust of their targets, none of them suspecting the vicious nature he kept bottled just underneath the surface.
[ “You never speak of her,” Minho tells him one night as they lay on the cool ground after a run. “It must hurt to keep her memory locked away in the darkness of your mind.”
Jimin stares at the stars. “She was my entire world.”
“Fate is always unkind to the most beautiful of souls,” Minho says offhandedly. Jimin turns to the aging man.
“Do you ever think of vengeance? The way it destroys us?”
Minho hums, stroking his stomach slightly. He turns to Jimin, a contemplative look on his wrinkled face. “I think we are already destroyed souls. The vengeance we crave has nothing to do with the darkness we keep.”]
He had been eighteen when Minho had come to him, asking if he was ready for the one target he trained his whole life for.
[“You found him?” Jimin asks, looking up from the sword he had been in the middle of cleaning.
Minho nods, stepping into their small hut. He places his helmet on their small round table, removing the furs from around his neck. “Going by the description you gave, I’m positive he’s the man.”
Jimin leans back in his wooden chair, the wood creaking below him as his weight get’s shifted. He places the sword down on the table, focusing on the way it gleams slightly against the sunlight streaming through their open window. “When will the attack take place?”
“As soon as we can work out a plan,” Minho tells him, probably already calculating the logistics of the entire thing. “We can take a few of our trusted, just in case things go south.”
Jimin could walk away now, not stoop to the level of the royals. He knows he doesn’t have to turn down this path. His mother’s face pops into his mind, her once beautiful face morphing into broken screams and a sea of blood. The image burns into his mind, his fist clenching with a mixture of anger and anguish.
“I’ll be the one to kill him.”]
Had made a promise to the innocent child that died along with his mother. He would get his revenge.
It had an easy enough hit, one that Minho had helped him orchestrate. Minho had found the guard as Jimin described him and monitored his rotation schedule for the castle. Every other night he was to watch the front gates, leaving him as an open target. Minho had promised to flank him but this wasn’t his fight, this was Jimin’s. He knew the younger was a trained warrior, a diligent fighter with sharp reflexes that could handle the kill on his own.
Jimin was ready.
They rode out on horseback, hiding in the shadows of the night until the guard was in front of them. Jimin felt the same fire course through his veins - burning as bright as the one that had ripped everything away from him - as he saw the man that mangled his heart and left him with nothing more than a shallow hole.
It was almost too easy killing the guard. He never saw it coming, hardly had time to react before teeth were tearing through his neck. Jimin phased back, wanting to see the man's light dwindle his eyes the same way he was forced to see his mothers. The alpha withered on the ground, pleading for mercy as he began choking on his own blood.
[ “Why are you doing this?” The man gargles, his own blood threatening to choke him.
Jimin crouches down next to him. “You don’t remember, do you?” The guard looks terrified but no ounce of recognition flickers across his face. “You took everything from me and you don’t even remember the carnage.”
The man continues squirming below him, death slowly creeping up on him. Jimin finds he doesn’t take pleasure in the way the man begs for his life.
“I promised you, you would regret letting me live.”
Right before the light vanishes from the man’s eyes does Jimin see the recognition color the guards face. It brings him no solace.]
Jimin showed him the same mercy his people were shown. The same mercy his mother was shown.
None.
—
Jimin knows not to trust royalty. That much was obvious, with his already rocky past regarding royals. When he took over as the main mercenary after Minho passed, he realized just how deceitful many of them were. Family was a word that held little to no meaning to a majority of them. They could kill their own brothers in cold blood if it meant obtaining the power all of them so desperately craved. Which is why it never surprises him when relatives of the crown seek his set of special skills.
They want him to do their dirty work, make it look like nothing more than a mere accident so they can move in on what they believe was always rightfully theirs. He doesn’t question it. He has to survive somehow and if him being known as one of the most dangerous warriors and assassins this region has ever encountered helps keep him paid, well that’s just how life works.
Since Minho passed, he takes on most of the higher profile cases. Not many assassins feel adequate enough to go up against the crown without getting caught. It’s a meticulous job, one that usually requires heavy planning in order to slip in and out of kingdoms undetected. You only know of Jimin if you run in the darkest of circles. Most of his clientele comes from his late trainer, knowing if Minho trusted someone to help him after running alone for so many years, he must be worth something valuable. Jimin aches when he thinks of him. Minho was the closest thing to a father he had ever had. It was a peaceful death, in his sleep, his old heart finally succumbing to the extensive pressures it’s faced. Jimin hopes, that if there is heaven, Minho finds the family he was never able to move on from.
Jimin doesn’t particularly like taking on high profile cases though. Sure the money is great, enough to sustain him for a couple years depending on how high up the chain the target is. The calculations and the gruesome planning that goes into royal hits sometimes feel as if they outweigh the fortune that comes with it.
It’s why he’s hesitant when it comes to his latest request.
“You don’t want me to murder the king?” Jimin clarifies, leaning back in his chair. The man before him is a stubby looking thing, hardly any taller than Jimin himself but a lot rounder. He’s someone Jimin wouldn’t trust if he met him on the street, something about the man foreboding. “You want me to kill his son?”
“Yes,” The man tells him, his small fists balled up at his sides. “I’ll handle the king myself.”
“It’s a bit odd.” Jimin has been contracted to kill many royals but he’s never been contracted to kill someone of such stature. “What threat does the prince wield that compels you to something as heinous as murder?”
The frump man’s face turns sour. “He’s an omega.” He says it as if it’s reason enough to have someone murdered. Jimin doesn’t quite understand the unabashed prejudice some alphas feel towards omegas.
“You want his life taken due to his rank?” Jimin asks. “There must be more to this that you aren’t explaining.”
“Is it your job to murder or to ask questions?” The man bites back, obviously fed up with the multitude of questions being thrown his way. Short fuse, Jimin notes to himself mentally.
Jimin smiles wryly at the man. “It’s my job to know every possible outcome before blindy rushing into something. You think of me as a dumb man, but I can guarantee, I’m smarter than you and your entire kingdom.”
Jimin stands up and makes his way to his dagger case, pulling out one of the smaller ones he’s grown fond of. The handle is gold, the intricate designs of trees reminding him of the stories his mother used to tell him as a kid, the stories of fairies hidden within the forest. He wonders idly what forest the fairies reside in, the only forest he knows wields nothing but darkness.
“He’s a threat to the natural order of things,” The man finally spits. “He has his father running our kingdom to the ground with the ideals he brings to the table. I won’t just sit idle as they ruin everything our family has worked so hard to upkeep.”
“If he’s a prince, he’s heavily guarded at all times, even in slumber,” Jimin reminds him. He’s killed plenty of noble folk but a prince is his highest ranking target yet. “How do you expect me to slip in and kill someone of such rank without being caught? I won’t die for a check.”
The man steps forward, to which Jimin raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t appreciate his space being encroached upon. “I have a plan for that.”
“Which is?”
“We have a royal walk through coming up,” The man begins explaining. Jimin leans back against the counter of his kitchen, still playing idly with the dagger. “The prince will be walking through the village connected to our estate, meeting with commoners and such.”
“Surely you don’t want me to kill him in such an obvious manner, the king will know it was a staged attack,” Jimin counters. Anyone with a functioning brain would be able to see the set up. It would be a messy pay off, one that he wouldn’t want to take part in.
“Of course not but we can stage a kidnapping in order for you to gain the King’s trust,” The man further explains. “You defend the heir to the crown and then we get you a job as a royal guard.”
“A guard?” Jimin hums because it makes sense. If he were to get close enough to the prince, earn the trust of both of them, the killing would be easier. He wouldn’t have to worry about slipping in undetected, he would instead hide in plain sight. He’s still hesitant, knowing this job would be one of the riskiest he’s ever taken on.
“You become his guard, I’ll vouch for you and then when we stage our coup and the prince dies we can simply blame it on you being taken down by too many invaders.”
“If you already have a plan in place, why do you need me?”
The man rubs his chin, obvious aggravation coloring his features. “There are many still loyal to the crown, we would need you to take care of his other guards before we would be able to touch him.”
“I don’t know if this is a job I’m willing to take,” Jimin finally decides. There were too many variables that could cost him much more than he was willing to risk. The man doesn’t seem to agree with his decision because he strikes at him, a poor attempt at an attack.
Jimin saw it coming. It was one of the first things Minho taught him when he got into this business. He could read people, predict their actions before they made them. Jimin counters his attack, grabbing the man by his neck and placing the now un-sheathed dagger blade against his cheek.
“I commend your bravery,” Jimin breathes against his neck. “Even if it is muddled in your stupidity.” Jimin flips them around, pinning the man against the dirt wall of the hut.
The man struggles against his hold, panting slightly. His eyes dilate in fear as the blade moves down to press against his neck. “I promise, I’ll make it worth while.”
“This means a lot to you.” Jimin cocks his head to side slightly. “Why?” There has to be more to the story.
“The king killed our father,” The man finally chokes out. It’s not what Jimin expected. “He killed him and took over, completely changing everything we once stood for. It’s my duty to put an end to it.”
“What kingdom do you travel from?” Jimin asks, pulling the dagger away from the man’s neck but keeping it ready in his hand.
“I’ve travelled quite far,” The man informs him, his voice steady but the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead giving away his uneasiness. “I’m from the Min kingdom.”
The world around Jimin stops, the air in his small hut becoming almost too thin for him to breath it in. “The Min’s?”
“Yes.”
Jimin is suddenly pulled back to the flames, his entire heart burning as his mother’s dying screams come rushing back to the forefront of his mind. The guard turning to look at him with a sinister smile, his sword dripping with blood,
his mother's
blood. The Min’s were the same kingdom that ordered the attack on his people. The same kingdom that tore his heart apart and threw it to the ground.
[ “At one point, you have to let go of the anger that plagues you little one,” Minho tells him, coughing pathetically into his hand. When he pulls it away from his mouth, Jimin notices small trickles of blood staining his hand.
“I have,” Jimin tells him gently. Not wanting to upset the elder man as he lies on his deathbed.
Minho levels him with a disbelieving look. “You lie to me as if I haven’t raised you myself.”
Jimin sighs, standing to grab fresh water to keep by the elder wolf’s bedside. Minho watches him in silence. He works swiftly around their now upgraded hut, neither of them caring much for the finer way of living. As long as they were together, they had all they needed.
“I can see it in your eyes,” Minho eventually says, once Jimin joins him back at his bedside. “You still carry the same pain you have since you were a boy. It didn’t diminish even after you got your revenge on the man who took her life.”
“I don’t know how to let it go,” Jimin admits, feeling vulnerable. His eyes sting with unshed tears.
Minho reaches a frail hand out to him. “One day, you’re going to find someone that extinguishes the fire trapped in your heart. Someone that will make you want to let go of your past and move forward.”
Jimin doesn’t believe him. Doesn’t think any amount of love can save him from the monster that consumes him. “You never did.”
“Oh but I did little one,” Minho tells him softly. He smiles at Jimin, reaching out a hand for him to hold. “I found you, after all.”]
The words replay in his mind. He knows he shouldn’t accept the job out of pure anger, as an act of revenge. To have your feelings personally involved with your job is a disaster waiting to happen. He knows this but it doesn’t stop him from letting the man go. He drops to the floor, crumpling at Jimin’s feet as he gasps for air.
“I’ll take the job.”