Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

An introduction, The Sole Omega.

The smell of wet earth and fresh rain mingled with the scent of newly blooming flowers of early spring. This fellow settled in the corner of the armchair, as he always did, contemplating the contrast between the silent courtyard and the clattering bustle of his home. His long, pale fingers absently stroked the edge of his tea mug, it was already cold and made no difference to him, all the while he gazed at the familiar scene unfolding around him.

It was a day like any ordinary day in a place where he assumed he belonged.

Namjoon, their Alpha leader, was immersed in scattered papers, his brow furrowed under the dim candlelight. From time to time, he would look up, unconsciously searching for Yoongi, as if the Omega's mere proximity was comforting to his entire being. When their gazes would meet for a moment, Yoongi would offer him a slight nod. The two of them hadn't changed, they had always been like this, silently communicating with their eyes. Seokjin, the second-in-command, was gently bickering with Hoseok about the week's menu, while the third Alpha was trying to persuade him to include more spicy delicacies. "But Yoongi's stomach becomes upset when he eats too much spicy food," Seokjin protested, casting an unconsciously protective glance at the Omega. At the other end of the room, Taehyung and Jungkook, the younger Alphas, were playfully tussling as they tried to somehow demonstrate, with their distinct youth, dominance in an absurd competition that no one could understand the rules of. Their carefree, boyish energy filled the air with laughter, their home was warm, and Yoongi could not complain when he had a roof over his head, plenty to eat, and great companionship. Occasionally, one of them would run up to Yoongi, momentarily burying their nose in the Omega's neck as if seeking comfort, before returning to their usual rambunctiousness that characterised the place.

It had been that way for seven years already.

Seven years of cosy daily life routines and learned confidence. Seven years of playing the unobtrusive core that his little universe spun about. Seven years of being the only Omega of the pack.

But everything changed the afternoon Park Jimin came into their lives.

Jimin had been introduced as a Beta in need of a pack, he was new to the whole community and after months of making sure he was not a threat to them all, he was finally placed as a refugee in search of a family; the head Alpha of their whole community considered that the best decision would be to include Jimin into Alpha leader Kim's pack. His arrival did not immediately upset the balance of the group. On the contrary, his radiant personality and helpful disposition seemed to perfectly match them.

It was hard not to like Jimin.

Even Yoongi, who normally maintained a sensible distance from the new member, found it impossible to resist his charm. Jimin had that special quality of making everyone around him feel seen and appreciated, even for Yoongi, who tended to feel invisible - which didn't disturb him that much in reality - he had the same effect on him. He knew exactly when Namjoon needed his strained shoulders massaged, when Seokjin craved praise for his cooking, how to make Hoseok laugh harder, or when the young Alphas needed someone to join in their shenanigans instead of scolding them.

And Yoongi... Yoongi noticed every aspect of it. With Jimin, every day the pack appeared to be delighted with his arrival.

He admired how Jimin integrated perfectly into the territories he had never been able - or wanted - to explore. How he touched and embraced with a naturalness that he had always found so difficult. How the Alphas reciprocated that warmth with a devotion they had never shown him.

But it was not jealousy that he was feeling. At least that's what he told himself. But to say it was jealousy was simplistic and vulgar, it was much more than just that. It was something deeper, more insidious and Yoongi had no words to describe it or be exact with what he sensed. He pondered keenly... it was the slow realization that maybe, just maybe, his pack hadn't been completely satisfied with an Omega like him. That perhaps, in some hidden corner of their hearts, they had always longed for a more... typical Omega. One that leaned more toward social stereotypes. Yoongi was an Omega and Jimin was not, sure, but Yoongi did not seek physical contact at every turn, blushed at every turn, sought the ultimate attention of his Alphas, or put aside his own urges to indulge in the mandated rule of satisfying the members regardless. He was invariably independent, reserved, discreet, and thorough when it was necessary to show affection, and although his love for his Alphas was boundless, it was not all of it. 

That is what he always believed. And Jimin, even though he was not an Omega, displayed what he could not bring out of his nature.

And then, on a particularly humid evening, everything took an irrevocable twist.

Jimin collapsed.

A gasp from Hoseok startled everyone. Jimin's body burned like red-hot coals, his trembling was so intense that it made his teeth chatter. The worst was his scent - that Beta scent, somewhat neutral and mild that everyone was familiar with, was no longer the same; it had become sweeter, deeper, more...

"My goodness!" exclaimed Seokjin, eyes dilated, changing from his trademark black to a bright honey colour. The cry was one of total comprehension as the new scent filled the room and made his Alpha instinct kick in. "He's presenting as Omega!"

In that instant, as everyone rushed to Jimin's rescue, no one noticed how Yoongi stood completely still on the spot.

No one saw how his fingers clutched tightly to his garments.

No one noticed the flash of pain - of loss - that crossed his feline pair of eyes before he quickly lowered his head to hide them.

Because at that moment, Min Yoongi understood a devastating truth:

He would no longer be the only omega in the pack.

And something in his heart whispered to him that perhaps... such a role had never really been his, to begin with. 

Chapter Text

Chapter 1, The Addition to the pack.

The first time Yoongi looked at Park Jimin, he immediately and instinctively sensed that everything would be different.

It was not just his appearance but the way the group members seemed to respond to his arrival from the very first day. Regardless of the subgenre, this one seemed to have completely bewitched him. Yoongi was no exception, he would like to deceive himself and say that Jimin did not have him under his spell, but the truth was otherwise. He had undoubtedly even captivated the introverted Omega.

Hoseok, always the most expressive, had a smile on his face as he introduced the Beta into the pack. Jungkook, normally reserved with outsiders, was already offering friendship before Jimin finished saying hello. Even Namjoon, who usually kept a certain protocol distance with people, bowed his head in a welcoming gesture that had taken Yoongi months to earn when he first walked in. 

“It's only because the chief leader gave him to us,” Yoongi thought, staring from afar, always from afar....

The ultimate twist of irony was that Yoongi liked Jimin.

He rather liked him too much, probably. He felt no resentment as he witnessed each of the members open up to this new little fellow, but there was something he was hiding inside. Discovering what that something was would take him months to slowly and deviously understand. The Beta had a way about him that could hardly cause distress. Three days after his arrival, he had already learned the drink preferences of each member of the pack or how Yoongi liked a specific type of herb in the evening after his meal, and that Taehyung disliked drinking milk if it wasn't with honey added. Within a week he could tell when Namjoon was getting frustrated and borderline grumpy by the way he subtly voiced his frustration (something that usually only Yoongi would pick up on.) And, most disconcerting of all, he treated Yoongi with a blend of respect and familiarity that no other person had ever achieved before.

“Hyung, could you help me with this?” Jimin appeared at his room door one early evening, holding an unfinished winter robe. Yoongi's forte was carpentry but he had mentioned how his mother had taught him the basics of making garments for his future mates. 

“Uh...?”

“I asked the others but they told me you're the best at this,” Jimin explained, setting down a cup of boldo tea on his nightstand. “I thought maybe you could help me.”

Yoongi looked at the steaming bowl. Boldo. Just the way I like it. Just the hour he always drinks it. "When did he–?"

“Thank you,” he murmured, feeling something odd settle in his chest.

It was pleasant to be seen without having to be explicit about it. But it was also... a bit frightening. These were boundaries Yoongi couldn't walk through, he was always the one in charge of checking up on everyone else, but to be seen like that? it felt like he was somewhat unclothed.

Then came the complicated sentiments. 

When Jungkook started asking Jimin to train with him, Yoongi did not need to feel left out, he was not even involved in exercising at all! But he couldn't help thinking "Why don't you ask me?" Then when Namjoon spent nearly two hours in conversation about music theory with the Beta...a topic he would reserve for his nightly conversations with Yoongi on a regular frequency. Jimin hardly knew much about the matter, but that didn't stop Namjoon from pursuing the Beta instead of Yoongi as he used to before the new member's addition.

Yoongi woke up to find Jimin sitting in his spot - the one by the window where he always sat to read after breakfast - he was having a meal in his most sacred of places second to his bedroom– he felt enraged, how dare he usurp his spot? What if he dirtied it with breadcrumbs or poured hot milk on his pillows?-- Jimin was laughing nonstop, scoffing at something Seokjin had said as the Alpha spread extra jam on his toast. That's the jam Jin made just for me. He felt dumb and frustrated, yet did nothing about it. How could he... upset the pack dynamic over a capricious mood... that was not how Yoongi would conduct himself. But the whole situation was just too domestic and natural, the Omega's heart raced violently.

“Ah, Yoongi-hyung!” Jimin spotted him standing next to the stairs and, at once, gestured to stand up “Do you want to sit here? sorry, I didn't ask if I could sit in here.”

And before Yoongi could say a word, Hoseok snapped, “Don't be silly! You're from our pack now, you don't have to ask for permission.”

Yoongi averted his eyes; nothing was wrong. Everything was fine.

But it wasn't fine.

And as he poured hot milk with his shaking hands, he couldn't stop wondering: "How long have you been here? Three weeks? And you've already got my place?"

Worse of all, Jimin seemed genuinely unaware of its effect, he appeared to have no malice whatsoever. 

"Hyung!” the Beta caught up with him later that afternoon in the garden, where Yoongi had gone to hang up some laundry to calm his temper. “Hoseok said you're going to the village market tomorrow. Can I go with you? I want to get more material for the winter garment I'm about to make! I want to try to make lots of clothes for everyone, I still have months to try but I want to start as soon as possible.”

Yoongi looked at him sideways. Jimin was smiling. He always smiled nonchalantly.

“Sure” he said without hesitation “We leave as early as possible. The market gets very crowded in a fairly brief time.”

Jimin glowered as if he had been gifted the world.

“You're the best, Yoongi-hyung!”

When he left in a drunken leap of joy, Yoongi grabbed the next wet piece of clothing and hung it up with more force than necessary.

"I hate this," he thought as he stared at the drops running from the wet laundry through his fingers. "I hate feeling like this."

Because it wasn't Jimin's fault. It wasn't anyone's fault, honestly. Except, perhaps, his own. For not being enough. For not being more like him.

That night, he dreamt that the pack sat down to eat without leaving him a seat. And the most terrifying part was not that they excluded him, but that no one – not even himself – seemed to notice his absence.  

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎

Summer had set in with a sweltering heat when it all started.

Yoongi would later recall that it had been hot and humid outside. The dense, heavy atmosphere had not stopped Yoongi from sensing that something was wrong with Jimin. The Beta –ex-Beta now, as he would rectify a few days afterward– was once again sitting in his favourite spot, a spot that no longer belonged to Yoongi. The Beta was quieter than he usually was, fiddling with the edge of the curtains with his fingers in a steady manner. His face, typically glowing, was pale, with a feverish glow on his cheeks that did not go unnoticed by even the rest of the pack.

The first sign was the scent.

Only Beta and Omega stood alone in the kitchen. Yoongi was slicing some bread for lunch when a strange odour made him look up. It was something sweet, too sugary, similar to a ripe, delicious fruit.

“Are you okay?” he asked, passing him a drink in his hand unthinkingly.

Jimin lifted his gaze and grinned, but it was a faded version of his regular smile.

“Just a little tired, hyung. Thanks.”

His voice sounded hoarse, and before Yoongi could press on, Jungkook rushed into the kitchen, throwing himself at Jimin full of his customary stamina.

“Jimin-ssi! Are we going to train near the river? You promised to join me with that new routine–”

The impact resulted in Jimin folding on himself with a choked groan.

“Kook-ah, be gentle!” Yoongi instinctively responded, placing a protective hand on Jimin's shoulder, “Can't you see he's not well?”

But it was too late.

The fragrance crashed like a wave. It was sweet. Too sickly sweet. Like sun-ripened fruit or a mouth-watering pastry, mixed with something rich and deep, it was the scent of an Omega. Jungkook jerked back as if he'd been burned by it, and his golden eyes dilated with shock.

“Oh, no.”

What followed was utter chaos.

Seokjin arrived first, attracted by the perfume that now suffused the air. Then Namjoon arrived, his brow furrowed with concern. Hoseok and Taehyung showed up soon after, all of them crowding around Jimin, who was now visibly trembling and breathless.

“Jimin!” gasped Hoseok drawing all the members in unison. 

“It's a presentation” stated Seokjin after touching Jimin's burning forehead.

The Alpha leader was quick to react. “We should call the healer, I'll take care of it. Taehyung and Jungkook, you two prepare the room for Jimin. Jin, will you take care of the feeding arrangements?”

Commands poured out with an authority that made everyone move. All except Yoongi, who stood amid the turmoil, feeling like a spectator in his household. Jimin now found himself crying out. Everyone ran to him as he lay squirming on the bed completely soaked in sweat. His face was blood red and his breathing was labored. But the worst was his smell: that neutral Beta scent they all knew had transformed into something different, his whole complexion now screaming out Omega. And amidst the commotion, Jimin's eyes glazed open, instinctively reaching for Seokjin, clinging to his arm with desperate strength.

“It hurts,” he moaned, and his voice sounded broken, vulnerable in a way Yoongi had never heard before. The second Alpha in charge murmured something in such a soft tone... oh, so protective-like. Yoongi had never been addressed that way before.

The next few hours were painfully slow.

One of the village's leading healers arrived in less than an hour with Namjoon.

“It's a late Omega presentation,” diagnosed the elderly woman after examining the ex-Beta– “Unusual for someone of his age, but not entirely unique.”

“What does he need?” asked Seokjin before Namjoon could even open his mouth.

“The standard for an Omega in distress: contact, reassurance, lots of liquid and some food. AND plenty of perseverance. This could last at least days.”

When the healer was gone, the pack assembled into a formidable team.

“I'll take care of him tonight,” declared Namjoon.

“I'll cook soup,” said Seokjin.

“I'll take care of the medicinal beverages the healer gave us,” exclaimed Hoseok.

“I'll bring more blankets and fresh water,” offered Jungkook.

“I'll help you!” added Taehyung towards Jungkook. 

Yoongi had no idea what to do. And no one asked him either.

Yoongi stood and watched as his pack circled Jimin like planets around a new sun. The next few hours were a constant mess of activity centered on the new Omega.

Yoongi would quietly stand by, lonely in his own body and feeling tiny. He witnessed how Namjoon spent hours stroking Jimin's hair as the latter winced from the pain. How Taehyung chanted soft melodies to him when the fever woke him up. How Seokjin insisted on spoon-feeding him as if he were a small child. How Hoseok and Jungkook battled to be next to him in bed.  He had seen what they had never done for him. It was a raw fact, he had never been cared for that way. Not even during his worst heats.  Namjoon, who always talked about maintaining proper limits as one would expect from a classic Alpha leader, stroked Jimin's hair with a tenderness he had never seen previously; Seokjin, who disliked having to eat somewhere other than the kitchen, did not mind feeding Jimin spoonfuls of soup while he was lying on the bed; Hoseok, who loathed disorder, was patiently wiping Jimin's sweat without a complaint; Jungkook and Taehyung, the most eager young Alphas of all, were sitting still for several hours at Jimin's side. 

And most painful of all:

“Shh, you're all right, our precious Omega,” Taehyung murmured in a tone that was soft for everyone but hurtful for Yoongi, “We're here.”

"Our precious Omega."  Never, not even his family pack had called him that.

On the third night, when the fever reached its critical point, Yoongi tried to help. He had prepared a cold compress with soothing herbs, a recipe his grandmother had taught him. But when he walked into the room, the sight stopped him abruptly. Jimin was curled up against Namjoon's chest, with Hoseok and Taehyung caressing his back in sync. Jungkook was asleep in a nearby chair, but his hand held Jimin's foot tightly.

It was intimate. It was domestic.

It was everything Yoongi had never experienced within the pack.

“Shouldn't you rest?” he asked Seokjin, finding him exhausted but still watching over Jimin.

The Alpha just shook his head.

“I can't. He needs me.”

"I need you too," Yoongi thought, but the sentence stuck in his throat.

“You better get some rest, we'll take care of this here.”

The message was clear: We don't need you. You are a useless Omega and cannot help Jimin, a genuine Omega for this pack.

On the third day, when the fever had finally subsided, Jimin awoke changed. His eyes glowed brighter and his skin looked better. And his scent... it was now unmistakably of an Omega: vanilla and something slight to what seemed honey-like, even his scent was reassuring and addictive.

The pack gathered around his bed like devotees in front of a godsend.

“You're beautiful,” Taehyung muttered, unable to contain himself as he buried his nose into Jimin's neck.

Jimin blushed but didn't pull away. On the contrary, he sought contact with everyone, as if he needed them to breathe.

And they provided him with it. Without protest. In a natural fashion. They all matched each other.

When Yoongi ventured into the room, Jimin was sitting on the bed, surrounded by pillows and giggling softly. But it was different now.  His whole essence roared out: Omega. Omega. Omega.

“Look, hyung!” Jimin stretched out his hands towards him, “I'm like you now!”

The Alphas chuckled affectionately as if he were the most adorable little creature in the entire world. Yoongi forced a laugh and grabbed his hands.

“I'm glad you're better now.”

Yoongi lied. One of those sleepless nights he even dreamt that Jimin was dying from the fever. He woke up with guilt and felt disgusted with himself.

He could not accept the new reality of the pack. Not because he disliked Jimin. But because at that moment, with the Alphas grinning like fools around the new Omega, it struck him that maybe his ego was stronger than he first believed. He also uncovered a devastating revelation: They had chosen him and not Yoongi; Jimin was the kind of Omega any Alpha in the world would choose. Later that night, for the first time in years, Yoongi took some drug, one of many that his grandmother had taught him, but he had to be careful to take it. It was suppressants, forbidden medicine in the community, a taboo among Omegas, and considered a major transgression for wanting to strip your body of its natural purpose. The bitter drink stuck in his throat and for a moment he thought about not swallowing it, but Jimin's moans of pleasure made him no longer hesitate. The medicine was extremely bitter but not as bitter as the pain of listening, from his lonesome cold room, as the Alphas took turns making sure Jimin was satisfied, cared for, and comfortable, on his first night as the pack's Omega.

No one came to see if he was doing well, either.

And for the first time in seven years, Yoongi locked himself in his room and cried.

It was not over Jimin's mere existence. Not exactly. But for the aching awareness that perhaps, all this time, his pack had lied to him by taking him in, a heartless deceit that left him torn apart deep inside, and that they'd always wanted an Omega like Jimin. 

Except that Yoongi had never known how to be an Omega like Jimin. He was unorthodox, and for that, he was now facing the price.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2, Ancestral Medicine.

Jimin's scent took over each corner of the household. Yoongi could even detect it in his own chamber, and no matter how much he let the fresh air in, the fragrance would never disappear. Jimin stood everywhere, reminding him of what was now the new dynamic within the pack. It was a ruthless realisation that made his heart ache with increasing intensity with each passing day.

Three weeks after his unveiling, the ex-Beta stirred around the residence with a newfound familiarity, his body settling into his Omega status with a grace that seemed almost obnoxious enough to Yoongi. But Yoongi reminded himself that he had no right to judge him, that Jimin embracing his new identity as Omega was not outrageous...it was natural, and Yoongi was the one who had never accommodated Mother Nature's rules.

“Jimin-ah, try this!”

Taehyung was holding a piece of dried meat directly to the lips of the new Omega, who eagerly accepted it with an adorable shyness that was already his trademark. The table was full of special dishes —all Jimin's favourites— all prepared to ‘help strengthen his new constitution’, as Seokjin had proudly declared. The spicy odour made his eyes water, and his highly sensitive nose was unable to withstand the fiery burn in the air. Yoongi had always disliked spicy dishes. Yet, he looked at his plate, where his favourite mixed greens and nuts were missing for the first time.

“Hyung, do you want some?” Jimin pushed the bowl towards him with a giggle.

“No, it's okay,” replied Yoongi, and he almost thoughtlessly and rudely stuck his chopsticks into the vividly red-hot food.

Taehyung, who sat to his left, failed to register the whole interaction. He was too busy describing to Jimin how the Omegas of his home tribe, a small rural village far away from where he now lived, would celebrate the first few months after their presentation.

“They perform an official ceremony!”

“An official ceremony?” Yoongi's voice came out sounding raspier than he originally meant it to.

Taehyung blinked as if he was just becoming aware of his presence. “Ah, yes... It's a common tribal custom. It's for when an Omega is formally accepted into a pack.”

Namjoon hiccoughed awkwardly. “That's some traditions we're not used to, Tae.”

But Hoseok was already glowing with excitement. “We could do something similar! And in the flower garden near the river! Jimin-hyung sure loves flowers.”

Jungkook, yet another one who was unaware of what that implied, added with a teasing half-smile at Jimin, “I'm pretty sure your scent will attract all the bees!”

Yoongi mentally counted to five before standing up. “Um, I'm going to– I'm going to check on dessert.”

No one asked if he was alright.

Before Jimin arrived in their lives, story nights followed an unchanging ritual: Yoongi would occupy the left side of the little spot they had taken as a group nesting space, Namjoon would sit on the right, and the rest would settle in the middle as they arrived. Sometimes it was Yoongi who would read, but most of the time it was the pack leader.  Now, Jimin was in the middle, both symbolically and directly. The ex-Beta was holding a book, it was a fantasy one, and as was to be expected, even his literary inclinations remained straightforward to what an Omega was supposed to pursue. Nothing at all like Yoongi–he preferred mystery and realism. Then Yoongi watched from his side as Taehyung massaged Jimin's feet and Hoseok massaged his back and neck; how Jungkook shoved the snacks straight into his mouth while interrupting his storytelling, and how Seokjin constantly adjusted the blanket over his shoulders. What wounded him the most was witnessing Namjoon looking at Jimin with such a profound, smitten gaze–it was evident that he caught his heart with minimal effort on his part.

Yoongi used to loathe the idea of being treated as if he were fragile and made of ice. Now he longed for them to at least acknowledge he was still in there.

Halfway into the book, Jimin was dozing off, and Namjoon offered to complete the tale. It was not long before the ex-Beta fell asleep on the leader's shoulder.

“I'll put him to bed,” whispered the Alpha leader with a softness that was still most unfamiliar to Yoongi.

The Alphas wanted to take turns carrying Jimin as if he were made of a precious crystal, leaving Yoongi alone on the cushion as if he hardly belonged anywhere else. And as it was happening, Yoongi remained invisible to all of them.

“Do you think we should mark Jimin formally?”

Yoongi was unsure what on earth he should do. He stood up, thinking he could be useful and bring Jimin a cup of fresh water, but he hardly made it into the doorway when Taehyung's voice echoed in a whisper.

“It's too soon,” Namjoon replied, but without his usual assertiveness.

“But he's our Omega now,” Jungkook urged. “And we've been taking care of him for weeks already.”

Seokjin made a pensive noise. “Yoongi is also our Omega.”

Now there was a proper hush.

“Of course,” Hoseok eventually agreed. “But... It's different, isn't it? Jimin needs us to mark him and him to mark us simultaneously. He'd need it just as much as any newly presented Omega would.”

“And–Yoongi never wanted to mark anyone!” Jungkook added somewhat in defensiveness. The cup of water quivered in his hands, which could not remain steady. He dared not listen anymore, nor did he dare to enter Jimin's quarters.

That night, Yoongi peered outside his window, moonlight glistening on his face, and into his bedroom, which was dimmed by the burnt-out candle. He lit another candle, but only this time to find something under his bed. For a moment, he was overcome by lingering guilt, but he recalled the words of his wise grandmother, “An Omega should be able to choose when not to bear children. Having children is not always a blessing, and Heats are not always welcoming events.”

And thus, the night kept his secret as he blended herbs that remained forbidden among his fellow townsfolk; these were potent herbs, which not only suppressed heats but also acted as contraceptives in the same capacity. Yoongi looked closely at the tiny mirror that Taehyung once gifted him, and stared at the mark on his neck– the only evidence that he had ever been regarded as theirs - but it looked faded and brittle.

He swallowed the rest of the medicine in one swallow with no hesitation whatsoever.

“Stupid,” he muttered to his reflection. “They don't owe you anything.”

But the heart failed to follow the logic. The heart remembered every time Namjoon had promised him that he was plenty enough for the pack; every time Seokjin had taken care of his feedings; how Taehyung had sought his attention constantly; how Hoseok had offered him his nightly massages; and how Jungkook climbed into his lap and fell asleep in a contented manner. 

Those mundane activities were now a distant past. The heart remembered, and it bled in silence.

The next day, when he encountered Jimin alone in what was once his windowsill corner, Yoongi made an effort to be kind and forget how inwardly negative he was brooding.

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he brought him a small serving bowl of dried fruit.

Jimin brightened. “All improved now! The hyungs take such good care of me…”

“Yes, they've been very attentive Alphas…”

There was a silence after that brief exchange of words, but it was not truly an unpleasant one. Jimin carefully studied him before he spoke again.

“Yoongi-hyung... Are you jealous?”

The query caught him by surprise. It was not mocking, but genuinely curious.

Yoongi allowed himself to give a hollow sort of laugh. “No. I just... I didn't know they could get to be this considerate.”

Jimin blushed and foolishly wondered, “Oh... weren't they like this with you?”

Yoongi had a feeling that Jimin was not doing it on purpose. He was just like the average Omega —maybe that's why he was so well suited to the pack– sometimes he sounded a bit silly and naive, and other times he let his Beta upbringing slip that he was used to until his dramatic sub-gender shift. 

“They were never this sickeningly caring,” Yoongi retorted. “But it's about you, so I get it.”

Jimin was already making a speechless face, but Yoongi missed how the ex-Beta was now giving him a piercing, serious stare.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3, A malady of the soul.

The morning sunlight leaked through the window, it was far too early but Yoongi was already awake, his bony fingers checking the jars of dried herbs on the shelves in his area where he kept the remedies for both his pack and the townsfolk. The mornings were peaceful, the quietness contrasted with what was to be the next few hours. And so it was, the hustle and bustle soon clothed the silence; gradually, each member rose, and as was the daily habit, breakfast was crucial for a successful start to the day. It would be another typical day in which Yoongi would have to endure the internal turmoil of a home where he felt out of place. But the disturbance was not only within the pack's household, as out there, the people stirred with a murmuring sound that, though commonplace, now had an uncomfortable undertone behind it.

The comments came flooding in, and the people shamelessly addressed him.

“Did you see the new Omega here? He's so good at talking to everybody already,” came the voice of the miller's wife.

“At last, that pack is getting a proper Omega now,”  added the butcher as he sharpened his knives. “The Omega healer was always too... indifferent to fulfil his role effectively.”

Yoongi clenched his fist around his thatched basket, feeling the flowers he had picked moments ago melt away like liquid. The gossip of his infertility was spreading fast, and on their lips, Jimin's name came up as a possibility to fill the void Yoongi could never fulfill; they were all unaware of the fact that, in his seven years as the pack's Omega, the Alphas had never even attempted to impregnate him. Their shared bedtime had always been careful, almost ritualistic, as if they had to do it because it was an Alpha's duty to do so, or as if they were fearful of truly impregnating him, or as if they were unwilling to properly mark him at all. Perhaps it was the latter, or all of them, perhaps it was Alpha's ego that made them play their part when their bedchamber duties required it, but without the conviction to genuinely start a family in the traditional manner that their ancestors had encouraged them to do so.

As he passed through the church on his way to the forest, a group of old women stopped their conversation at the sight of him. But they did not stop fast enough for the Omega not to hear such slander.

"...my sister says the new Omega has already had his first heat, you can tell by the glow of his skin! That's a sign of good fertility, there will be a baby soon, don't forget my words!" he heard.

"The healer never showed that naturalness that an Omega should have. Maybe that's why..."

The words were stifled in their throats as Yoongi walked past them with his head held high, but his heart in pieces. Every step seemed to cost him more effort now, as if his body were heavy with an inexplicable burden. As he crossed the river, his reflection in the water showed him what he tried to deny: the ribs that were slowly marking under his tunic, the prominent dark circles under his eyes, and the mark on his neck that seemed to be fading with each passing moment.

It was a hectic working day. Namjoon was checking some parchments, and it seemed that every ticking hour would bring with it a new wound.  It happened without warning, and as he walked closer, Yoongi spotted the pack's registers. His eyes caught a line written in Namjoon's neat calligraphy: “Park Jimin - full heat - no signs of infertility at the moment." Further down, his own name appeared, but he was unable to get to read the lines, for he was stopped.

“Do you need something?” asked Namjoon as he moved closer to him and covered the scrolls with more documents.

“I'm just here for…more ink to write additional prescriptions,” Yoongi lied, hiding his shaking hands.

Namjoon nodded absentmindedly, pointing to a vial on the shelf. “There it is. Jimin brewed it for me last night.”

Again, the leader always seemed to point out that Jimin, somehow or other, had taken his place. Yoongi also used to brew the ink, but even for that, he was no longer needed.

Outdoors, the sun was shining implacably as Yoongi walked to a neighbouring cottage to deliver medicine to an Omega who was about to give birth. On the way, he passed Jimin, surrounded by children offering him flowers. The younger Omega smiled at him, but Yoongi could only nod briefly before hurrying on.

But the worst was one night during the communal bonfire; the neighbouring pack were celebrating the birth of the new baby, the same one that Yoongi had brought to their home days before, with some medicinal plants that the midwife had requested. They came with their newborn baby. When Jimin took the child in his arms, everyone rejoiced as if they were witnessing a once-in-a-lifetime sight.

“Look how perfectly natural he looks,” exclaimed the mother of the Omega who had given birth. “You are a fully-fledged Omega born, my boy!”

When the baby was passed to Yoongi, the smiles froze. Or maybe it was his distorted imagination, he no longer knew what the truth or untruth was. The little one sniffled, and someone uncomfortably coughed. Jimin alone muttered a “You're doing great, hyung,” but even his voice sounded rather strained. He told himself again that it was utter nonsense, that he was imagining it, Jimin was not like the townspeople who would shamelessly whisper about him, making him feel inferior and hurting him blatantly. 

Returning home after so many people around him during the long day, Yoongi eventually found himself surrounded by the solitude and hush of the night; he checked himself by candlelight and noticed how the bruises on his body were growing, but when he touched them, he felt no pain, what did hurt was his chest, both philosophically and physiologically speaking. In his small mirror, he reflected the mark of the Alphas that was now barely a faint haunting memory on his skin. Out there, the laughter and singing from the bonfire raged on, mingling with the chanting of the river's never-stopping flow. 

And for the first time in seven years, Yoongi wished the waters would carry him away, like a dry leaf waved away by the waters.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎

Yoongi stared at his hands, once steady as he cut roots, which were now quivering like autumn leaves for absolutely no apparent cause. He was helping Seokjin with the butter; Jimin, of course, was with them. As he worked hard, he saw a purplish burn stretching from his wrist to his elbow. It was odd, but he had no memory of hitting himself. Still, Yoongi chose not to pay attention to his body, which was constantly giving him signs that something was wrong.

Yoongi was absent-minded. Whenever he went out to the market, he had to endure the comments of the townspeople. They were not straightforward, mind you, but they were not subtle either; some of those conversations still echoed inside his head.

"They say the healer never wanted children... that's why his belly is still flat."

"What a shame! An Omega without offspring is like a field without a harvest."

Many of those talks left him wondering whether or not he wanted to bring children into the world. He had never thought about it, and any other Omega would not ponder it too much since, with a traditionalist upbringing to the ideals of what an Omega and an Alpha had a duty in the world, there was little to question. But Yoongi was never anything ordinary among Omegas, his family came from a long line of Omegas who were gifted herbalists and midwives; his mother was not someone easy to bond with, he never had a father around, and the only person in his life who seemed to take him seriously was his grandmother. His grandmother, an elderly Omega woman who knew so much about human anatomy that she was named the main Healer and Midwife in her home village. But the person who taught her so much and gave her an outlook on life unlike the accepted norm had also long since departed from this world. Yoongi thought that, being in a pack like everyone else, even without his grandmother around, he would not feel lonely or alone. 

That was a huge oversight on his part.

Each day, his body would give him indications that he should take it into serious concern, and Yoongi ignored it. He, inherently wise, knew that the pains in his body were not something he should neglect for long, but to him, the emptiness and the void were worse. Or the certitude that, if he disappeared, no one would notice his absence until the herbal remedies ran out.

He secretly grabbed his suppressant jar, and it was almost empty. He mentally reminded himself to redo the drug. Yoongi shook it in front of the candlelight, counting the few remaining. He had been taking twice the dosage for weeks, and now his body was beginning to show the effects. But he was aware that it was much more than just the side effects of the suppressants. He felt his ribs under his baggy tunic, feeling with amused admiration at how much he had gotten slimmer. At least he now occupied less space. But what frightened him was what he discovered when he took off his robe, facing the mirror. The first spot appeared just below his right collarbone: a thin shade of purple, as if someone had spilled ink on his skin. It was painless to the touch, but it looked weirdly raw, as if his veins had decided to surface. From his right shoulder blade to his hip to his ribs, his skin was dotted with these uncanny patterns. Some were small, coin-like, others bigger and more elongated, like the branches of a dying tree.

A malady of the soul.

The rare condition that affected Omegas left behind by their packs. He clothed himself in haste without leaving a trace of skin uncovered. 

Yoongi wished to mislead his mind, to say he was in the wrong, but an early lesson while he traveled with his grandmother to another remote village left him with only one conclusion for life: Omegas with this type of condition seldom recovered.

He threw himself on his bed and pulled the covers over his entire body, leaving him in pitch darkness; he had no one to console him, therefore, with his own body to comfort, he hugged himself, curled up in a fetal position. He thought about telling the Alphas momentarily, but that would result in more gossip and internal pack unrest. The last thing he wanted was their pity, and if he had to die disgracefully as an abandoned Omega with no descendants, then that was the way it would be. If he was fated to be a broken and left Omega, even if it was a cruel destiny, Yoongi had no other alternative. 

While the rest were still at the bonfire, enjoying the warmth of the heat and the cosiness of fellowship, Yoongi closed his eyes and let himself be carried away by a strange feeling of drowsiness, and a peace, which, though it did not seem to be entirely convincing, prevented him from further tormenting himself. Because when Yoongi was conscious, he would think, and thinking is not always a good practice. He did not torment his mind, and the pain his body inflicted on him from the evident indications of a terminal illness did not prevent him from peacefully falling into a deep sleep.

Yoongi did not cry, although before falling asleep, he could still hear the crowd's roar at the open fireplace. He felt a stabbing sensation of yearning but shed no tears. That night, he did not want to weep again, and so he did not weep. He slept, not eating enough and not talking much to the Alphas in his pack or the local people, but instead of feeling empty, he felt absolutely nothing about it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4, Mulberries and natural stream of fresh water.

The sounds of the kitchen lured him out of his room. It was time for breakfast, but Yoongi had not risen early as he was prone to do.

The setting was the same as every morning; he had to get used to it, but he was unable to do so–  it was hard to get used to the routine in which one was invisible. There in the kitchen was Jimin, Seokin helping him at the fire stove, carefully checking that the delicate Omega didn't get burnt by the coals or the clay pots. Meanwhile, Jungkook and Taehyung were at their best stealing bits of food like mischievous young Alphas in their naughty little ways. Hoseok and Namjoon were immersed in an unintelligible conversation, however, they occasionally glanced at Jimin with a smile that made Yoongi's stomach burn. That was already a familiar sight, but he had yet to learn to accept it, and it always hurt in the deepest of senses.

“Yoongi-hyung!” Jimin was the first to notice, smiling with that radiance which seemed to exude from him most naturally. “Do you want to try my flat breads? I put cinnamon on them like the ones—”

“I'm not hungry,” he cut him off.

Seokjin, who was pouring tea, frowned. “You said the same thing yesterday. And the day before yesterday.”

Namjoon finally looked at him and at last noticed that there was another Omega other than Jimin. Yoongi laughed inside at the irony. “Are you sure you're feeling alright? You seem... rather sickly pale.”

Because I'm dying , he thought bitterly. But instead of saying it, he merely shrugged. “I'm just tired.”

Jimin looked at him questioningly, but said no statement whatsoever.

The table was full: warm bread, fresh honey, milk, and some sweet pastries that Jimin had made with Seokjin's help. Jimin, with his cheeks rosy from the steam of the oat milk, offered a piece of bread with honey to Yoongi, the latter only accepted it out of politeness but barely put a small piece into his mouth. Yoongi, on the other hand, didn't say a word and just ate a few bites from his plate. Seeing that no one was paying attention to him, he used that to his advantage and rose from the table to hurry off to begin his day's labor.

He did not reckon on the fact that there was someone watching him.

Despite the dizziness that followed him from the early hours, Yoongi grabbed his basket and headed for the forest. He needed to go and gather flowers, wild herbs, nuts, and berries— especially the latter to satisfy his poor appetite with what he liked to eat the most.

Jimin reached for him before he stepped out, and his fingers wrapped around his wrist with a surprising steadiness.

“Wait, hyung!” Jimin ran after him, carrying a linen bag and a small leather canteen. “I'll go with you.”

Yoongi wanted to refuse, but Jimin was already at his side, walking briskly through the trees.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄

The forest smelled of damp earth and dry leaves. As they picked berries, Jimin talked about simple subjects: how the birds hid seeds, which flowers were best for tea, how the river sounded the same regardless of the seasons...

But when they sat down by the water to rest, the direction of the exchange took an unexpected turn.

The river chirped softly as the waters caressed the polished stones. Yoongi dipped his wrists, feeling the cool relief against his feverish skin. Jimin sat beside him, barefoot, sinking his feet into the rush of the water.

Jimin pulled out bread and cheese, sharing it with Yoongi, who this time accepted without protest.

“I miss my father,” Jimin suddenly confessed, looking at the reflection of the sun on the water. “My mother died when I was a small pup, and he... well, he was never the same after that.”

Yoongi looked at him, surprised.

Jimin smiled, but it was a wistful one.

“I never picked berries before I came here,” Jimin confessed, offering him a handful of them. “My father said we Betas shouldn't pick or even eat such sweet treats. That it is Omega behaviour.”

Jimin's tone wasn't bitter, but it made Yoongi look at him with new eyes.

“Did he treat you poorly?” he asked, unable to help himself.

Jimin bit into a mulberry, and the crimson purple juice stained his lips, leaving a fiery reddishness on his mouth and jaw.

“I wasn't, honestly... he was always understanding, but when my mother... well, it was hard at times. Did you always know you were Omega?”

“Yes. My mother and grandmother were. Growing up around herbs and lunar cycles left no room for doubt.”

“It must have been nice,” whispered Jimin, “To have someone to guide you. My father tried, I know he did.”

The pain in that simple sentence made Yoongi, for the first time in years, speak:

“They... they taught me that an Omega is not just a womb to breed pups. That our spirit is like these mulberries,” he took one between his fingers, displaying his narration. “Sweet, and then soft on the outside, but at the same time, with enough strength to dye everything it touches with shades of deep colour to mark the path. Omegas, according to their teachings, are necessary, and without us, life ends abruptly. Omegas give life, Omegas must provide for their family, Omegas have the mental fortitude that Alphas or Betas do not have—they taught me that Omegas are the beginning and the end of life itself. We are gatekeepers in every possible way. Our job is not just to give birth.”

Jimin stood still, as if those were the first real words Yoongi had ever spoken to him.

“Then why are you... Why are you hiding?”

The wind stirred the leaves of the trees. The ensuing hush was welcoming.

“I'm not hiding,” Yoongi replied after a few seconds.

“You're lying.” Jimin didn't sound annoyed, just careful. “You walk away when the Alphas are pampering us. You take those bitter herbs that no one else spots. And... several times I noticed how drained you appear, hyung. But you never ask for help, you do it all by yourself.”

Yoongi closed his eyes. The evening sun was tinting his eyelids red.

“Do you know what it's like to grow up believing that your nature is a blessing... only to discover that, for other people, it's a flaw?”

Jimin nodded.

“Of course I do. I was a Beta too sweet for my own bloodline, an improbable fit to be Alpha, and now I'm an Omega, too late to be perfect. But you…” His voice cracked. “You are everything an Omega should be. Why can't they see that?”

The water kept flowing. Something inside Yoongi, too.

“Because they never truly felt me.” The confession came out like a sigh, surprising himself. “Seven years of guarded Heats, of caresses that never became more than just that, caresses. As if they were afraid to follow in the footprints. Even when I was taught that I, as Omega, should be the one to lead the way for my pack.”

Jimin paled.

“You mean... they never tried to...?”

Yoongi interjected, not letting him finish. It was painful to hear it out loud.

“Oh, they tried. Hard enough to silence their instincts, not hard enough to choose me.”

A leaf fell into the river, swept by the stream. Jimin followed it with his gaze before speaking, his voice softer than the murmur of the water:

“They... asked me if I wanted to be their official Omega. Yesterday.”

The pain was so sharp that Yoongi chuckled.

“Of course they did.”

“I said no.”

The world stopped for both of them.

“What?”

Jimin took his hand tightly.

“I'm so grateful to be here. You... you are my family now. I... I don't have anyone else. But I would never dare to take your place.”

Yoongi's heart shrank. He had felt bitter envy, even resentment, towards Jimin. But now he saw plainly that the young Omega was merely someone who sought to belong, just as he did.

“This pack is lucky to have you,” he murmured, and for the first time, Yoongi felt he meant it.

Jimin smiled, but before he could reply, Yoongi put a hand to his forehead, feeling the world spin around him.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ 

Hoseok's call was loud; he, along with the younger Alphas, went in search of their Omegas.

“Jimin! Yoongi! Lunch is-”

The voice cracked as he came upon the sight:

Jimin was kneeling on the riverside, hands stained with mulberries and tears.

Yoongi was trembling like a wounded fawn with his glassy eyes fixated on the water.

“What...?” Taehyung stepped forward, but Jungkook stopped him.

Something about Jimin's bearing —that mixture of fury and pain— paralysed them all.

“Stay back,” Jimin warned, in a tone none of them had ever heard before.

But it was too late.

Yoongi turned his head towards them.

His lips moved, forming a word that never sounded.

Then, like an old tree blown down by the wind, his body gave way.

“Hyung?” Jimin's voice sounded distant, "HYUNG!"

“HYUNG!”

Jungkook was the first to react, catching him before he hit the stones.

Yoongi's last thought before darkness enveloped him was that the day was breathtakingly pretty; the bright blue sky, with the birds singing all around, the sound of rushing water, and the wind combing through the trees was something he had always enjoyed witnessing.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄  ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄  ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ 

Chapter Text

Chapter 5, Centaurea cyanus.

The door of the main hut creaked under the bony knuckles of the old woman, one of the community's leading healers, whom both Hoseok and Seokjin had quickly brought to their home. Her cane struck with authority before anyone could make a sound.

“Where is my patient?” she asked, looking alternately at each of the pack with resolute eyes.

Jimin ran towards her and led her towards the chambers where Yoongi was lying, but the old woman stopped him with a beckoning gesture.

“I need to examine him alone.”

Namjoon stepped in the way all tensed.

“I am the Alpha leader of this household.”

The elderly healer did not flinch. She held up a withered hand bearing the scars of countless rituals, and did not hesitate to tell him:

“There are matters between healer and patient which are not for the ears of reckless leaders,” she stated fearlessly, for with years of experience, this wise woman knew how to deal with overbearing Alphas. She stared into Namjoon's eyes, almost daring him to continue disrupting her work. “Or would you rather have me leave and let your Omega remain like a silent, suffering one? A leader shouldn't behave like this, there are power ranks that extend far deeper than sub-genre of power.”

The harsh words had their effect, and Namjoon resolved not to meddle, even if he still found the idea of his Omega being with outsiders... or having secrets that he was unable to learn. But when everything seemed to calm down, the aged female recalled that Alphas will remain Alphas, eternally trying to subdue anyone in their way. And all at once, Hoseok took a step forward; the veins in his neck etched with rage.

“Do not imply such carelessness, Namjoon is an excellent leader! Yoongi is in good hands!”

“Then prove it by complying,” the old woman spat, pointing to the door. “Get out. All of you.”

Jimin clung to the door frame.

“I...I'm Omega too, I can help–”

“Ha!” the old woman snorted back in a sour sort of mannered grin. “You're a puppy who doesn't know the difference between affection and hierarchy. He,” She pointed to the unconscious Yoongi, “is the first Omega of this pack. To see him naked in vulnerability would be utterly disrespectful. Is that your sort of allegiance?”

Jimin blanched and stepped back. With a sharp slam of the door, she pushed them all out of the room.

The candlelight disclosed what the cloth had hidden: hands and fingernails as blue as azure wildflowers. The lips were chapped and split in lines of chronic dehydration. His capillaries throbbing with luscious blood, thin red lines mapped out like dry rivers. Ribs and collarbones stuck out under the citrine flesh. And what made his diagnosis painfully clear: the pack mark was now barely a faint silver trace on his neck, as if it were fading with time.

The healer pressed a finger on Yoongi's sternum.

“Wake up, child. I know you are awake.”

Yoongi's eyes opened, glassy but conscious.

“How long have you known?” she asked without forethought.

Yoongi swallowed sharply, and his voice came out as a scratchy hiss:

 
“Two moons... Maybe three.”

‘“Lies.” she growled while she patted his sunken abdomen. “These marks don't show up within weeks.”

She then fed him a bitter brew as she continued:

“The symptoms will worsen. You will cough up blood before the next full moon. What do you plan to do?”

Yoongi glanced at the door, where the restless footsteps of his pack members echoed.

“I will let it be... to let them be happy until I no longer manage to hide it.”

Instead, the older healer shook him with surprising force for her age.

“You fool! Do you think you deserve less than them?”

“They deserve a proper Omega, for sure,” he muttered, and it was the first time he'd ever said it out loud, “one who can give them pups!  One who will not shame them in the eyes of the townsfolk…”

She said no more of it, but merely watched him with pity.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄

The healer closed her pouch filled with healing herbs, and a sigh seemingly swept away years of wisdom and sheer frustration.

“Severe anaemia,” she said loud enough for all to hear. "He needs to rest, bone broth, and these infusions three times a day.”

The Alphas nodded, except for Seokjin, whose brows furrowed as he examined the old woman's blank expression.

“Just anaemia?” he asked as he crossed his arms. “The blue fingernails and his ponderous breathing don't look like simple exhaustion.”

Hoseok shot him a piercing glance before interjecting:

"Are you a healer now? Stop looking for trouble and help get the meal ready."

Before the elderly woman left, Yoongi managed to discreetly grab her sleeve.

“Thank you.” he whispered through dry lips. She looked at him with a mixture of both softness and disapproval:

“I'll be back in five days. Think about what I said, it's better to face this with someone by your side and not alone. It will be painful.”

Yoongi pretended not to hear that. 

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄

When the members went to sleep -after properly feeding Yoongi- Jungkook stood in the doorway of this Omega's bedroom as he twisted the end of his outer tunic.

"Can I... stay here?" he asked with a softer-than-usual voice.

Yoongi nodded, too weak to feign indifference.

The young Alpha settled next to him on the bed, careful not to disturb him. With timid steps, he began to stroke Yoongi's entangled hair, just as he used to do all the time, years before, when the young pup's bad dreams would keep both of them awake.

“Do you recall?” said Jungkook, “The first time you let me sleep out here, there was a thunderstorm…”

Yoongi closed his eyes, reminiscing. That night, Jungkook, then a newly arrived puppy among the pack, was frightened by the thunder and had come to take shelter in his own bed.

Now, the roles were inverted, but the bed was the same.

“Forgive me.” Jungkook's voice cracked. “I should have noticed something, but I let you get sick.”

“It's not your fault,” Yoongi replied, looking up at the ceiling. “I'm weak. Omegas shouldn't get sick this easily and in such a foolish manner.”

Jungkook suddenly jumped, his eyes sparkling with a look of unusual intensity on his face:

“Don't say that! You're the strongest Omega I have ever met. You work until you collapse, you heal everyone without asking for anything in return…” — His voice softened—, “You were never weak. On the contrary, it seems that I, being an Alpha, was always a coward.”

Yoongi didn't retort, but allowed Jungkook to intertwine his fingers with his.

“I promise to take better care of you,” the Alpha tenderly pleaded, sealing the oath with a brush of their foreheads. “We all will.”

In Yoongi's heart, those words collided with a sceptical stonewall. He could tell that when dawn broke and Jimin appeared with his radiant smile, Jungkook would run to him again like a needed puppy.

But for that night, he pretended to believe Jungkook.

...But it was hard to do. And as Jungkook snored peacefully wrapped around his waist, Yoongi watched the first purple streaks creeping up his slender wrists. He focused on Jungkook's breathing, almost as if even in his sleep, he feared losing him. He was being delusional, the sick one was him, not Jungkook or any of his Alphas or Jimin.

Regarding Jimin... Yoongi wanted to sleep and forget, but he kept in mind all that had happened before he collapsed. His brief conversation with Jimin was something he had not planned. He had been overtaken by the spur of the moment... he had said too much. Yoongi had many secrets, he must ensure not to let them out. Only Mother Earth could hear the darkest revelations of his past and present.  

Yoongi had his daily journal of his herbal research hidden tucked under his pillow, but at first glance it looked like that, but in the middle of the diary lay written notes of every symptom of his decay that would eventually be the end of his existence. 

Yoongi closed his eyes and squeezed Jungkook's hand with what little strength he had left.

He tasted it… he tasted a bit of the sweet poison of a promise that would not last.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎  

Chapter Text

Chapter 6, Withered Spring.

Jimin walked in, trying not to make a sound, he carried with him some of the remedies the old woman had prescribed: fresh Chamomile (for headaches), Yarrow (for skin irritations,) and Valerian Root (to strengthen energy.) Upon entering, he found the Omega sleeping peacefully. It was an almost heavenly sight, except for the fact that he looked drained. But Yoongi was not alone, he was asleep next to Jungkook. Both seemed gentle together. Jimin had no restraint in grinning at the endearing display. As he arranged the quilt to cover them both without leaving even a thin inch of skin exposed, his eyes widened in surprise. He was settling the pillows, and he spotted that something was sticking out that was definitely not fabric... it was a small, soft book... a small notebook. Jimin was not one to take other people's belongings without permission, but he thought that maybe Yoongi had forgotten to put it away when he fell asleep, and it could be uncomfortable to sleep with. As he took it, trying to be thorough so as not to wake either of them, he studied it. It was a simple record of medicinal herbs of all kinds. Or so he thought at first.

The first few pages were filled with herbal and remedial names. But as the pages went on, Yoongi's handwriting became shaky:

“Day 37 without Namjoon smelling me. I know my scent disturbs them; it's not pleasant, but at least before, he tried to conceal his distaste. I want to blame it on Jimin's arrival, but he's a mere Beta, and I can't blame him for my lack of sweetness when it comes to my own Omegan aroma.”

“Today Taehyung referred to me as the healer, not as his Omega. When did I stop being their Omega? It reminds me of the village residents, they don't see me as an Omega either. Maybe I was never meant to take this role. I'm a failure to my pack.”

“I prepared the ink last night before Jimin did. I felt useful, but then I remembered that it doesn't matter if I do it anymore. I don't understand my purpose in this world.”

But that wasn't all... and Jimin let out a gasp as he reached the last entrance:

“The bruises have reached halfway across my body. The healer confirmed the disease I thought I had. I want to plan my days from now on, but what's the point? They are so blissful... and they already have Jimin. I don't blame them, if I were Alpha, I would choose him too. I'm invisible in many ways. Maybe it was always my fate to be this way.”

A tear fell onto the page, smudging the ink.

“Jimin?” Yoongi's hoarse morning voice startled him. “What...?”

He followed his gaze to the open journal. His whole body tensed.

“Yoongi…”

“Why are you grabbing my possessions?” cut off Yoongi in anger.

Jimin dropped to his knees. He begged for forgiveness, again and again. Yoongi didn't understand if it was for reading his diary without his permission or for the contents in it.

“Why didn't you ever say anything?”

Yoongi sat up weakly and replied, “What for? To be babysat out of obligation? Out of pity?” A dry cough rattled in his chest, interrupting him momentarily. “I'd a thousand times prefer their indifference to their pity.”

Jimin's reaction was split-second, he cupped his face in his hands, forcing him to look at him and pleaded with his words, “It's not pity! They...They love you, they're just idiots, and they don't know how to show it.”

Yoongi looked at him with earnestness. His last words before ripping his diary from Jimin's hands were:

“It's not hard for them to show how they feel when it's about you.”

Jimin made up his mind not to hesitate. Yoongi was experiencing a myriad of emotions and had every right to feel either sorrowful or annoyed, or even to feel hopeless altogether. But Jimin didn't want him to be alone... never alone like he used to be.

“I'll be by your side no matter what. Yoongi, I promise, I won't let you down. You're not invisible, I can see you!”

“Why?” was all Yoongi could manage to ask.

Jimin stroked the blurred marks on his neck with genuine soul-splitting softness:

“Because we Omegas do not abandon our own kind.”

Yoongi tried to look away, ashamed, as if his written words would give him away for a felony he never wanted to admit to. But Jimin didn't let him get away. Gently, but firmly, he clasped his hands around Yoongi's, noticing how they trembled. Jungkook, who had remained asleep until then, stirred restlessly, as if Yoongi's pain reached him even in his dreams. Jimin couldn't help but look his way, wondering how long the rest of them had been ignoring the cues.

While Jimin and Yoongi were deep engrossed in their conversation, their gazes filled with tears and their hands clasped together, neither noticed the dark eyes that slowly opened. Jungkook had awakened to the whisper of their voices, but something in Yoongi's tone, fragile–different from his usual composed serenity– kept him watching silently. He couldn't quite grasp what was going on, but the words he could hear made his whole complexion bristle: “sickness,” “indifference,” and “invisible.” And then, he caught a glimpse of the small notebook abandoned to one side, its pages slightly open as if begging to be read. With careful movements, fearing the sheer paper rustling would give him away, Jungkook reached out and picked up the diary. His heart pounded as his eyes roamed over the lines written in trembling handwriting, each word more piercing than the preceding ones.

“Day 37 without Namjoon smelling me.”

“I am a failure to my pack.”

“The bruises have reached halfway across my body.”

Bruises? A disease?

Suddenly, it all made sense: the times Yoongi had strayed away without a word of warning, how his scent had grown fainter over time, and the way he always seemed to be trying so hard to smile even though his eyes were empty.

And they had noticed nothing.

A muted rage, mingled with a choking guilt, coursed through his system. How was it possible that none of them had noticed? How had he, who had always sworn to protect his pack, failed miserably?

Jimin kept talking, making promises that Jungkook felt should have left his lips a long time ago. But now he couldn't move; he couldn't speak. He could only read on, caught up in the confessions of a pain that should never have existed.

Until, unintentionally, his fingers squeezed the paper too hard.

The crunch was minimal, but it was enough.

Yoongi turned his head all at once, eyes dilated as he caught a glimpse of Jungkook with his diary clutched in his hands.

“J-Jungkook.” his voice sounded slurred, as if he didn't have the strength for anything anymore.

Jimin glanced at him as well, but instead of the appalled expression Yoongi witnessed, only determination was found in Jungkook's eyes.

The diary fell down to the floor, lying open wide on the most painful of pages.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄

Jungkook stood up and dragged the rest of the Alphas to Yoongi's side. This was different from their usual raucous mornings; they were all in despair and shouting at each other. Yoongi felt tired, confused, and lost. He just wanted to sleep and pretend it was just a bad dream. 

“Look at him!” Jungkook roared, holding up the pages of the diary. "What kind of Alphas did we become?"

Taehyung stepped back, turning white. 

"This is a lie. We always…"

"Always what?" interrupted Jimin. "We always ignored him? Did you prefer someone easier to love?"

Hoseok took the diary with trembling hands. 

And Namjoon... Namjoon broke apart.

“I... I didn't know…”

“That's the point!” Jungkook pushed him against the wall. “We never wanted to know! We turned out to be terrible Alphas, we're a disappointment!”

The younger Omega stepped in, pointing at each of the Alphas, including Jungkook:

“This is everyone's fault, it's not just Namjoon. And we must all work it out together. Resorting to violence will only make Yoongi's health decline further.”

Yoongi, looking extremely gloomy, struggled awkwardly into a sitting position.

“Stop it,” he said as he coughed. “I don't want... this. Just leave me alone.”

Jungkook kneeled, taking his frail, thin hand. Now he could sense how skeletal he had become. He had been a fool not to notice the signs out there!

“No. I will not leave you alone if it means that you will keep getting worse.”

“What if I can't recover?” –Yoongi whispered, looking Namjoon in the eye for the first time, “What will you do then? Force me into something that's hopeless?”

The Alpha leader groaned as a wounded animal, but it was Jimin who spoke in reply:

“Then we will walk with you all the same. But we won't leave you alone ever again.”

Yoongi's first tears fell on Jungkook's intertwined hands.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄

The mood turned somber and heavy after such a revelation. Yoongi, his Omega, was truly sick, and apparently it wasn't just anaemia as Seokjin suspected. The smell of burning herbs filled the kitchen where he was roughly pounding ginger roots. Tears blurred his vision, but he did not stop his work.

“It strengthens the body's circulation and warms the muscles,” he kept repeating, remembering Yoongi's instructions when Hoseok had once fallen ill. 

In the wilderness of the backyard, Namjoon was crying like a puppy howling alone in the forest. Seokjin tried to ignore those sobs, but they mingled with his own, and it was impossible to avoid each echo of a brittle cry. And while the Alphas were sinking in guilt –himself included– Seokjin was doing the only thing he knew: he tried to be helpful at home. He stocked the pantry with Yoongi's favourite treats, even if Yoongi hardly took a single bite. He always tried to take food as a natural relief, but now his Omega wasn't even well nourished. Seokjin had set himself the role of being the one to feed each of them and had failed to notice that Yoongi wasn't even eating properly.

But that night, seeing Yoongi spitting blood, he broke his silence:

“Enough!” he shouted, throwing a cup onto the floor. “What the hell are we doing?”

Taehyung and Jimin looked at him in surprise. Hoseok was still tucked into a corner, patting the back of his leader, who looked like he was going to be the next sick one out of guilt.

“I don't know,” Jimin admitted. “But we can't let him go like this.”

Meanwhile, Jungkook was wiping Yoongi's sweaty forehead. The latter was running a bad fever.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄

No one could fall asleep. Before Yoongi's fever prevented him from being conscious, this Omega, with a sublime effort, had spoken words that none of them would forget for a long time.

“I don't want your sacrifice or your grief,” he said, looking especially at Namjoon. “I never wanted it.”

“But…” Taehyung tried to touch him, but Yoongi pulled back.

“Do you know why I got sick?” he asked, blurting out the words in a broken whisper. “It wasn't because of ignored Heats, or cold nights with no one by my side.... It was because I was never chosen. And now that you see me rotting away, you intend to choose me out of self-pity?”

Seokjin sat beside him with the weight of truth heavier than his guilt:

“It's not pity. It's that... we didn't know how to love properly.”

Yoongi's cough filled the hush and stained his handkerchief crimson. When he looked up, his eyes shone with a chilling tranquility:

“For now, you all must learn to love through loss. And if you do the same to Jimin, I will never forgive you, whether I am in this world or not, I will never forgive you at all.”

Then, as he closed his eyes, he left behind the shattered Alphas around him. It was still spring, but it no longer seemed as warm and joyous a season as they often recalled. 

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄

Chapter Text

Chapter 7, Skin Oaths.

The mournful silence in the cottage was one they both craved but still wanted to avoid; that quietness was broken only by Yoongi's softly labored breathing. Jungkook was clutching the diary between his hands, his white knuckles from squeezing it hard. Jimin looked pale and tired, but didn't allow himself to rest, not with Yoongi's condition. On the inside, he blamed himself, but he chose not to; he was certain it wouldn't do any good.

“You don't get it,” Yoongi muttered, looking away, “there's nothing to be done.”

“That's not true!” —Jungkook growled, but his voice cracked— “We can't just... let you go.”

“It's not your decision,” Yoongi replied with a calmness that made their blood run cold, “It's mine.”

He tried to sit up, but the pain that was shooting through his chest prevented him from doing so. The purple marks under his clothes seemed to burn, and each burn reminded him of how little life he had left.

“I can leave. Right now. You don't have to burden yourselves with this.”

“Yoongi!” –Jimin grabbed his arm desperately— “Don't even think about it!”

But Yoongi just jerked back, and his eyes glittered with resignation.

“What's the point of staying? I'll be a nuisance.”

Jungkook kept squeezing the diary, as if by doing so he could erase the written words and give Yoongi back the hope he had lost. Jimin wouldn't take his hand off Yoongi's arm, fearing that if he let go, the Omega would disappear forever.

“You are not a burden,” Taehyung suddenly whispered, his voice so firm that it surprised even Yoongi, “You never were.”

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut; he was already both exhausted and reluctant to talk about it.

“Don't lie to me,” he muttered, “I know what you think. I don't blame you guys. I never did.”

Jungkook could contain himself no longer. With a sudden jerking motion, he threw the diary to the ground and leaned in close, grabbing Yoongi's shoulders with a force that made Yoongi look up at him in astonishment.

“It's not fair. It's not fair for you to give up without even giving us a chance to fight for you.”

Jimin nodded back, stepping closer.

“We're not asking you to believe in miracles,” Hoseok mildly said, “just to believe in us this time. We promise not to let you down.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Until Yoongi broke that silence.

“I am not sure I could do it,” he admitted in an almost inaudible whisper, “I don't have the strength to continue any longer. I accepted my fate long ago.”

Jimin did not hesitate. He cupped his face and held it in his hands, forcing Yoongi to look at him.

“Then let us be strong for you. We will get through this.”

And then, something in Yoongi's eyes shifted. It wasn't hope, not yet. But maybe... Maybe he wasn't so sure he wanted to leave anymore.

He came to his senses, he could not allow himself to fall for this deception!  Yoongi violently jerked away, pushing Jimin's hands aside as if his touch burned.

“No!” —His voice sounded harsh and broken— “You don't understand. I don't want your help.” 

He rose shakily, the bruises painfully pulsing beneath his nightclothes like the bites of ants. Jungkook tried to support him, but Yoongi pushed him back with a growl that didn't sound at all human.

“Yoongi, please,” Taehyung reached out, but the Omega backed away like a cornered animal.

“Do you think I haven't tried?” –he spat the words bitterly– “I've fought alone for years. Every day, pretending to be fine. Every night, drowning my crying moans in my pillow so as not to disturb all of you.”

Taehyung blinked. Hoseok gritted his nails into his palms until they bled.

“But now…” Yoongi's voice broke into a heartbreaking sigh, “Now I'm tired. So tired…”

A shiver ran through the room as the Omega brought his hand to his chest, where the marks spread like poisonous roots.

Yoongi had given up completely.

Meanwhile, in another part of the village, Seokjin was knocking urgently on the door of the old healer.

“There must be something…” —he insisted, his hands trembling— “Something we can do!”

The elderly woman looked at him with world-weary eyes, as if she had witnessed this scenario a few times already. With a sigh, she walked over to an old carved hardwood cabinet. She pulled a book covered in dust and tattered leather ties.

“There is a ritual. One that is done under the full red moon. But it is not a cure, it is a possibility. Nothing more.”

Seokjin opened the book with trembling hands, his eyes scanning the pages filled with ancient symbols and drawings of bleeding moons.

“Will this work?”

“Yoongi's soul may or may not heal. But the vast majority do not survive the process. The pain consumes them before the moon finishes its glow.”

Seokjin closed his eyes, holding back tears.

“But... Have any of them made it?”

The old woman nodded slowly.

“I only know about one pack, far to the north. Their Omega survived. Now he is full of life.”

That was enough for Seokjin.

Later that night, Namjoon listened wordlessly as Seokjin told him everything, his hands holding the precious book as if it were a lucky charm.

“We have to go,” Seokjin said, “Even for the sake of knowing whether it's real or not.”

Namjoon glanced towards the room where Yoongi was lying in his bed, most likely in the act of planning his escape right then and there.

“We can't lose him,” he muttered, as if he finally understood the weight of his own words, “not a second time.”

Taehyung, who had remained quiet until that moment, looked up with determination.

“Then let's go. Tomorrow.”

The next day, the Alphas departed.

With the sacred book in hand and the name of the distant pack on their lips, Seokjin, Namjoon, and Taehyung headed into the forest determined to seek answers.

Meanwhile, Jungkook stayed behind, monitoring Yoongi like a guardian wolf, refusing to let him escape.

The cottage fell into a hush as the rest of the pack left, leaving Jungkook and Yoongi alone. The surrounding smelled of dried herbs and burning wood, but underneath that odour, Jungkook could smell Yoongi's sweet, fading scent, growing fainter and fainter... as if he was already fading away.

“I won't leave you alone. Not even for a second.”

Yoongi didn't reply as much as he didn't move away either. He allowed the youngest Alpha of the pack to draw closer, as if deep down, this single possession was the only remaining element keeping him alive.

Meanwhile, in the main town centre, Jimin and Hoseok worked among the village people, setting up flower arches and preparing the offerings for the Red Moon Festival, a ritual that occurred each year.

“Do you think it will work?” Hoseok asked quietly, as he braided willow branches with expert hands, “The ritual Seokjin mentioned…”

Jimin tightened his lips.

“It has to work,” he replied, though his voice sounded more like a plea than an affirmation. “We must trust it will work.”

Hoseok nodded, but his gaze shifted to the forest, where he knew Namjoon and the other Alphas had set off in search of answers.

“The Red Moon has always been a symbol of bad fortune and conflict between gods…” —he muttered, “‘I'm afraid. I don't want to think about this again, I want to trust that he'll be better and he'll be saved.”

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄

The crackling fire raged on the chimney, casting golden shadows on the wooden walls. Jungkook settled Yoongi on a pile of furs and blankets, making sure he was warm. The Omega, although weak, kept looking at him with those big eyes that seemed to contain all the pain in the world.

“You don't have to do this,” Yoongi muttered, watching Jungkook prepare a chamomile and honey infusion for him. “You could be helping out for the upcoming festival.”

“I'd rather be here,” –Jungkook replied softly, reaching over to help him sit down– “with you.”

His hands, large and calloused, held the cup as Yoongi drank. It was such a tiny gesture, but it made Yoongi's heart race loudly.

“Why?”

Jungkook didn't hesitate.

“Because I love you.”

And then, as if those words had broken something inside him, Yoongi let out a shaky sigh. Jungkook didn't think twice; he wrapped him in his arms, allowing the Omega to rest his head on his shoulder.

“Sleep,” Jungkook whispered, stroking his hair with gentle fingers, “I'll be here by your side the whole time.”

Yoongi couldn't help but close his eyes, feeling for the first time in a long time... that he was safe.

In the heart of the community, the atmosphere was cheerful, full of music and laughter, and everyone was helping to prepare for the annual festival, but Jimin and Hoseok were unable to enjoy it. They were forced to stay there, doing their duty as members of the pack. As they helped, the murmurs started pouring in.

“Have you heard about the Min Omega? They say he's so sick he can't even get up…”

“Why, it's not surprising. He was never a genuine Omega, that little burden. He couldn't even give pups to his pack.”

Hoseok tensed immediately, his eyes flashing angrily.

“What did you say?” he snapped, stepping forward into the group of chattering plainsfolk.

Jimin grabbed his arm tightly.

“No.” —he warned him in a low voice— “This is not the time for this.”

“But they're talking about Yoongi as if he's...!”

“I know,” Jimin cut him off, gritting his teeth, “But if we pick a fight, we'll only make it worse. Let's wait for Namjoon and the rest to come back.”

Hoseok sucked in a deep breath, holding back his fury. He knew Jimin was right, but every word he heard scorched his spirit.

It was then that an older woman, one of the female weavers, approached with a sympathetic look.

“Don't listen to them, darlings,” she said to them in a low voice, “They don't know anything.”

Jimin nodded, grateful, but the woman continued:

“Although... you should talk about it as soon as possible. I hear the elders are considering requesting Namjoon to declare you the head Omega, since you can bear children for your pack.”

Jimin turned white, “What?”

Hoseok was on the verge of an emotional breakdown, but Jimin stopped him with a single glance.

“It doesn't matter,” he whispered, “None of this matters until Yoongi is well.”

Back at the cottage, it was the third day that Yoongi and Jungkook had stayed with no one else around. It was just the two of them.

But the third night they spent alone was quite unique.

Jungkook was lying next to him, his breathing calm but alert. Yoongi would watch him from side to side, noticing how the golden light stroked the shapes of his features: the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, and the shadow of his eyelashes on his cheeks.

He really did look beautiful.

And for a moment, Yoongi blocked his mind.

He forgot the bruises of purple tracing their way up his chest. He forgot the frailty that lay thick in his bones. He forgot that he had accepted death.

For in that instant, only Jungkook existed.

Then, a memory flashed back to him:

He, barely sixteen years old, was freshly integrated into the group. Shy, insecure, and reeking of fear. And Jungkook was standing next to him, still young, but with a grin that brightened up the whole world. “Hyung,” he would call out to him, and followed him everywhere like an eager puppy. “Can I help you? Can I go with you?”

Yoongi would always disapprovingly frown, but he never pushed him away.

"What's on your mind?" Jungkook's raspy voice brought him back to the current scene.

Yoongi blinked, startled to the realization that he had been smiling.

“I was thinking about... When you were an annoying brat,” he muttered, but there was no harshness in his words.

Jungkook laughed with a warm giggle that sent a jolt through Yoongi's insides.

“I was always your annoying, spoiled brat,” admitted the Alpha, turning to look directly at him. “You always seemed like such a cool Omega to me.”

Their eyes met, and the entire atmosphere thickened.

Yoongi felt a heat run through his body, a longing he hadn't felt in years. But then, realization hit him: his thinning body, the marks that rendered him torn. He averted his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” the Alpha asked, as blunt as ever, but with a tenderness that made Yoongi's heart race.

The Omega looked at him in astonishment.

“What?”

“Let me make you feel good,” Jungkook whispered, slowly moving closer, “let yourself be pampered tonight.”

Yoongi needed to say no. He wanted to remain aware of how worthless he was and how sick he had become. But when Jungkook's lips were brushing against his, he could only close his eyes...

And let himself be swept away.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄

The journey had been long and tiring. Namjoon, Seokjin, and Taehyung had been wandering through deep forests and sharp mountains for days, guided by the old healer's indications. The ancient book was weighing heavily in Namjoon's backpack as a constant reminder of what awaited him ahead.

Finally, at sunset on the fourth day, they found what they were looking for:

A village hidden among the trees, protected by stones carved with ancient runes.

“Are you sure this is the place?” asked Taehyung, cautiously sniffing the wilderness.

But before Namjoon could answer, a figure emerged from the trees.

It was an Alpha, tall and sharp-eyed, with scars running across his bare torso.

"You are not one of us," he said, not as a question, but as a fact.

Namjoon tensed, but nodded.

“Our Omega... is dying.”

The stranger eyed them for a brief second, then turned wordlessly, motioning for them to follow him.

The village was bigger than it looked from the outside. Round wooden huts were lined up around a central open space, where a massive tree with deep crimson blossoms stretched its branches over a stone shrine.

That was where they were led.

The commanding Alpha spoke again. “My pack is the only one that has overcome the Malady of the Soul.”

And Seokjin simply couldn't contain himself: “How? What did you do?!”

“It's not just a ritual. It's a sacrifice.”

Taehyung felt cold.

“A…sacrifice?”

“The Red Moon demands blood,” the Alpha explained, pointing to the runes on the tree, “blood of the sick Omega... and blood of those who claim to love the Omega.”

Namjoon didn't know how to stomach such words.

“What do you mean, precisely?”

It was then that a smooth but assertive voice responded:

“It means that if you want to save him, you will have to suffer alongside.”

Everyone turned their heads.

It was him.

The surviving Omega.

He was younger than they expected, with honey eyes, tanned skin, and silver hair; the purple scars on his neck showed that he, too, had been on the verge of death.

“The ritual does not heal the body,” he explained, as he poured them a nourishing brew, “It heals the soul. The disease comes when an Omega loses its place in the pack... when they no longer feel wanted.”

Seokjin felt a sharp pain in his chest. That explained everything...

“And the sacrifice?” insisted Namjoon.

The Omega looked at his Alpha, and for the first time, something dark crossed his face.

“During the ritual, the bonds are purified with pain. The Omega must face every emotional wound... and the Alphas must absorb a portion of that suffering.”

“How?” Seokjin asked.

“Under the moon, you must offer a pledge to the wrath of the deities. The Red Moon stands for times of conflict among the divine, you must appease their thirst with something in return. If the bond is true, the Omega will heal. If not…”

He did not finish the sentence. He did not need to.

Taehyung felt his heart sink. There were so many instances... so many times they had taken Yoongi for granted.

The Alpha pointed to the black stone altar where wilted crimson flowers danced in the late wind.

“The price is not blood,” the Alpha revealed, as the Omega beside him poured a mixture of ground roots and ashes into a bowl crafted. “It is a sacrifice far greater than your bodies’ red stain.”

Namjoon suddenly found all the air escaping from his lungs.

The Omega, whose marks mirrored Yoongi's, shone in the light, his eyes lifted in sadness:

“For your Omega to live, your pack will never conceive pups. Fertility will be the payback.”

Seokjin stepped back as if he had been punched in the face.

“And that will ensure that he lives...?”

“No,” the Alpha cut him off, rawly, “It only evens the odds. Fate will decide if your Omega is strong enough.”

Namjoon stared at his own hands, imagining for a moment the children they would never have. Jimin and Yoongi, whose bellies would never be full and rounded. To Jungkook, the younger Alpha, whose bloodline would die out with it. The pain was sharp, but the image of Yoongi perishing in bed made it bearable.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄

Back in the cottage, the air stank of chamomile and more bitter herbs.

“With absolute rest,” the old healer said as she checked the bruises on Yoongi's ribcage, “you might get a year. Eight months, if you insist on moving.”

Jungkook, who hadn't left the Omega's side for an instant, gritted his teeth.

“That's not enough.”

“It is what it is,” —Yoongi whispered from his bed, surprisingly composed. His eyes, once filled with terror, now reflected a ghoulish peacefulness— “It's enough for me.”

Jimin, who was in a corner preparing another infusion, let out a choked sob. Hoseok could not say anything, knowing that if he did, he would cry like Jimin.

Later that day, the moon filtered its silvery light through the windows of the house, its light brushing over Yoongi's haggard body as it moved. Jungkook bent down to adjust the woollen blanket, his fingers brushing for an instant against the purple-marked collarbone.

“Do you want some more tea?” he asked in a voice husky from sleep and worry.

Yoongi shook his head weakly, but caught his wrist before he could turn away.

“Stay.”

Yoongi felt he needed to. He was clinging to a falsehood of a lie, to something that was surely a product of pity. But Yoongi couldn't help himself, not when, after so many years, he felt wrapped in a natural wildness of passion and sweetness between an Omega and an Alpha.

Chamomile and bitter herbs hang in the air. The voice of the old healer pronouncing a verdict ("Eight months... one year...", Jimin silently breaking apart by the fire pit. Hoseok was biting his lips until they bled so as not to cry out.

And Jungkook... Jungkook stared at him with those rounded wolf eyes, claiming "That's not enough time!" as if he could defy fate with sheer stubbornness.

Nights before, when their home was engulfed in a murky darkness, the Alpha's hands had touched him differently. Not with pity. Or maybe it was, but Yoongi failed to register it. 

But he did recognise hunger.

"Let me love you," he had whispered soothingly against his mouth, and Yoongi, who had felt invisible for years, had seen himself reflected in those brown eyes: with a sense of desire, yearning, and aliveness.

Jungkook's lips traced each scarred rib, almost as if he could heal them with his mouth. His low growls vibrating in his chest as Yoongi arched; the moment when they stopped being two bodies and became one between sweaty skins.

"I've got you," Jungkook had sworn to him later, teeth sinking into his shoulder. "You're forever mine, hyung."

It was a sweet lie and the only medicine worth taking.

“What are you thinking about?” Jungkook said, snapping him out of his thoughts as he caressed his face; his fingers followed the wet trail Yoongi had failed to detect. The Omega blinked. The cottage was once again the focus of attention as his mind wandered between the distracting dreams and the current reality: the dim fireplace, the distant sound of Jimin washing pots in the kitchen (too loud to muffle his own thoughts), the scent of weed that no longer succeeded in masking the scent of sickness.

“You were right,” Yoongi grinned, smiling with a distorted grin that always made Jungkook wince, “eight months is not enough time.”

A choked whine slipped out of the young Alpha before burying his face in Yoongi's neck. They did not need to discuss it. They both knew that night meant plenty to them: 

A farewell.

A defiance.

An oath.

In the kitchen, there was a loud crash of falling objects. The sound of breaking pottery startled both of them.

“I must—” Jungkook gestured towards the doorway.

“Go check on those fools, they're probably making a mess without Seokjin around.” Yoongi joked, letting go of the younger Alpha half-heartedly.

And when Junkook pulled away, his fingers gripped the blanket for seconds longer, where he still held the warmth of those hands that had loved him with such good grace.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄

Chapter Text

Chapter 8, He planted the seed, I watered it, but God has been making it grow.

The heavy footsteps of the pack clattered loudly on the wooden floor. They came in muddy, with their boots stained and looking as if they hadn't slept for days. Namjoon cut to the chase.

“There is a way to save you,” he said without rambling while Seokjin slammed the door rather forcefully.

Yoongi, lying on his fur-skin mattress, looked at them with those dark eyes that no longer held fear anymore, merely exhaustion.

“And?” —he coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand— “What am I supposed to do? Drink more bitter medicine? Dancing to Mother Earth?”

 “It's a ritual. A northern pack did it.”

Yoongi, perched against the cushions, raised an eyebrow. “Do you really believe in it?” His voice sounded scratchy as if every word was an effort.

“Hyung, this one works for sure!” Jimin insisted, but he would not look him in the eye.

Jungkook, who had been standing quietly in a corner, crossed both his arms. “So what's to be done?”

Seokjin cleared his throat. “Offerings and a chant. To give some gifts and food. Nothing beyond our reach.”

Taehyung bit his lip until it bled, but said nothing. 

But two days went by in which Taehyung felt plain and simply despairing. He couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't see how anyone would tell Yoongi the truth; it was a betrayal; he was being deceived! 

Yoongi awoke to Taehyung sitting at the bottom of his bed, staring at him with those eyes that always revealed lies.

“What's wrong now,” Yoongi grunted, trying to sit up.

Taehyung swallowed. “The ritual... It's not just giving some offerings.”

“I figured as much,” Yoongi slurred. “You smell odd, and it's not just you, everyone... ever since they came back, I feel like there's definitely something not right.”

“In return... in return we must give up our fruitfulness,” Taehyung blurted out suddenly, as if he couldn't take it anymore. “That is the deal to settle. Forever.”

Yoongi did not cry out. He would not sob. He just squeezed the sheets until his knuckles turned white.

“Get out of here. Now.”

“Hyung–”

“GET OUT NOW!”

The night exploded with the sound of a vase shattering against the wall.

Jungkook woke up abruptly, hardly having time to dodge the leather book that flew towards his head. Yoongi, red-eyed, pouring out tears he thought he no longer had, and with his hands quivering, tore the furs from his own bed and tossed them to the ground. Yoongi vented his wrath on everything his weak hands could reach. Medicinal herbs, carefully selected, lay scattered like polluted sacrificial gifts. His shoulders shook with every movement, not from weakness, but from that hushed rage accompanying its devastation.

“Why, why, why do you scheme everything without telling me? Do you ever care?” —he yelled as he choked with grief and drowned in rage and spasms from the pain.

Namjoon and Seokjin burst into the room, followed by a dishevelled and unkempt Jimin.

“Yoongi, you'll get hurt, calm down–” Namjoon tried, but a mug flew at his feet, crashing into a thousand pieces.

Jungkook gave it no thought: he rushed at him, grabbing his arms before he fell. Yoongi reeked of panic, of raw anger, and of betrayal.

“Let go of me! You liars, all of you! You think I wouldn't learn about it?” —He tried to break free, but his body faltered. Jungkook refused to let him go.

“What are you talking about?” asked Jungkook. The young Alpha looked downright bemused. Something about the way Jimin hid behind Hoseok hinted that they knew something that he didn't. Namjoon appeared on the spot, and behind him, Seokjin and Jimin exchanged a look that indicated their guilt.

“Did you intend to keep this secret until the end?” His voice, though cracked with malaise, cut through the air like sharp glass.

Yoongi took a deep breath through gritted teeth.

“The ritual. The bloody ritual that will leave us childless. And YOU WOULDN'T EVEN TELL ME!” —His voice dropped, but he kept sputtering it out.— “Who do you think you are? What gave you the right to decide about MY life? About MY OWN BODY?!”

Hoseok took a step forward.

“Yoongi, we just wanted—”

“SHUT UP!” —Yoongi shouted, this time with more tears flowing down his face— “All of you, always deciding for me! Like I'm a nuisance! Like I don't have a voice!”

Hoseok, as if he had been summoned again, emerged from the dark with eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“We only wanted to save you.”

Yoongi let out a bitter laugh laced as sharp as a knife's edge.

“At what cost— the posterity of our pack? The future you all crave so badly? Because you can't deny it, I KNOW you want pups!” —His gaze was fixed on Jimin, who recoiled as if he had been struck— “You have no right.”

The subsequent hush was so thick that it drowned out even the fire's roaring crackle. Jungkook, with controlled steps, knelt before the Omega, ignoring the shards of ceramic shards that cut into his knees.

“Tell me what you know.”

Yoongi breathed deeply, and when he spoke, his voice was the murmur of a breeze:

“The ritual requires everlasting infertility. They made a secret vow. That…” —he paused with a slow blink— “...that none felt that my consent mattered.”

Jimin fell to his knees as well, and he did it with a choked sob.

“Hyung. But... but we can't lose you. A baby doesn't matter now. Think it thoroughly, it's your safety—”

Yoongi let out a sour giggle, interrupting him. 

“It's already too late for your sacrifices.”

Yoongi stared at each of them. Then, with a chilling composure, he placed a hand on his stomach.

Jungkook let out a gasp.

Confusion gripped the room.

Namjoon was the first to break the hush, in a voice that tried to be firm but wavered all the way.

“How is that possible? None of us…”

Yoongi didn't let him finish. He answered with a calming voice that shocked more than any screaming, “No. None of you was able to do what the younger one did. It happened a fortnight ago, one of the nights Jungkook took care of me.”

All eyes turned to Jungkook, whose face went from shock to realization, and then to a heartbreak so profound you could almost feel it.

“I... I didn't know–”

“Of course you did not,” interrupted Yoongi, wearing a wistful grin. “Even I didn't know until three days ago, when the healer verified what my body was already telling me by the symptoms. An Omega just knows ahead, my mother taught me that from an early age. She was right.”

Jimin pressed a hand to his mouth, his eyes glazed over.

“The baby would be born in late winter…” he muttered back, the words burned a hole in his tongue.

Seokjin was the first to understand the implied message.

“The red moon ritual is in five days. If we do it…”

“I'll lose the baby in a heartbeat,” Yoongi finished, in a voice that left no room for doubt. “And that's not an option.”

Namjoon was the first to make his move, approaching Yoongi with hesitant steps.

“But... but you could save yourself. We could–”

“What, we could try for another baby afterwards?” interrupted Yoongi, laughing loudly. “Did you forget the part about the ritual making everyone barren? Or does the seed in my womb no longer matter because it hasn't sprouted yet?”

Jungkook, who had remained quiet, hugged Yoongi as he had never hugged him before. He didn't say anything, didn't even try to hide his gut-wrenching sobs.

“No one will touch the baby.” Yoongi finally said. His voice was soft, but it carried a warning that they all picked up on.

Hoseok looked at Jimin, whose expression was split between grief and acceptance.

“So... what do we do?”

Yoongi breathed sharply, resting a hand on his belly.

“Nothing. They won't do the ritual. All that's left is to accept whatever fate befalls me.”

The days were growing shorter, and Yoongi's belly, already rounded under the thick layers of wool, was impossible to overlook. Jungkook watched him wordlessly, his hands-where once dexterous in hunting and wrestling-now quivered as he helped Yoongi to his feet, as he adjusted the blankets over his shoulders, as he awkwardly brushed that stretched skin where a small but stubborn life kicked hard.

“Stop looking at me as if my every breathing were a farewell,” Yoongi said one afternoon while the autumn wind was blowing through the cracks in the cottage.

Jungkook did not reply. His eyes, dark as endless pits, remained fixed on the belly that rose and fell with every gasp of the Omega's ragged breath.

“Jungkook,” Yoongi insisted, softer this time. He took his hand-so big, so strong, so useless now-and pressed it against the left side of his abdomen.

A firm smack met under the skin. 

Jungkook stopped breathing.

“Did you feel it?” laughed Yoongi, tired but nevertheless sincere. “Stubborn like you. It kicks every time it hears you close.”

The Alpha closed his eyes, letting the sensation wash through him: the warmth, the commotion, the tangible evidence that time was running out against them.

“I can't—” Jungkook's voice cracked like a dried branch. “I can't choose between you two.”

Yoongi offered him no false reassurance. There was no "everything will be fine" worth lying about. Instead, he leaned his forehead against Jungkook's, their breaths intermingling together.

“Then don't choose,” he whispered. “Stay here. Now. With us.”

Outside, the few leaves of a sacred, ancient maple tree were slowly falling. Winter waited just around the corner, but that afternoon-shivering and fragile as glass, was theirs on their own. Yoongi, drained but collected, gazes out the window at the rising moon.

“I want you to do only one thing,” he whispers, without looking back. “When the time comes... make sure the baby lives fully and happily. No matter what happens to me.”
And Jungkook, heartbroken but with determination remaining, nodded in agreement.

The freezing winter weather turned the floor into a crust of frost that crunched under their knees. Yoongi, wrapped in the thick blanket Jimin had woven for him (clumsily, with undyed wool and poorly disguised knots), watched as this Omega spread a small set of apple-green clothes on the bed.

“Hoseok got it from the southern merchants,” Jimin explained, arranging the tiny lambskin shoes next to a tunic embroidered with protective runes. “It's for small babies, but I also brought a big one.... well. Might as well have some extra ones too, right?”

His voice was too cheerful and too casual. Everyone knew why. Beside him, Taehyung was kneeling and pulled out a rattle carved from deer bone.

“I made this one. Well, I tried. At least it doesn't break when you shake it,” he joked, rattling it softly. The noise was reminiscent of distant springtime chirping birds.

Yoongi picked up the rattle with hands that had gotten way too thin. His fingers, once nimble for mixing potions, now trembled when holding small objects.

“It's perfect just the way it is,” he murmured. He didn't specify whether he was talking about the rattle or the baby clothes, or the way Taehyung and Jimin pretended not to see the blanket's fabric sagging over his bony shoulders. Days with those two always brought him relief and comfort. He thought, even if his child never got to know him, there would be at least two people who would know how to give his child the love that was needed. But there were days when Yoongi couldn't stand the gloomy atmosphere that some of the members exuded. On one such day, the evening frost crept into the wooden walls of the house as Yoongi clumsily pulled the blankets over his legs; Namjoon walked in unnoticed, as he always did now, carrying a cup of tea that steamed in his rough, calloused hands.

“You shouldn't be awake,” he complained, but not harshly. It was merely a statement of fact, one more on the list of things Yoongi could no longer do.

“If I fall asleep one more second, I'm going to be rotting away,” Yoongi replied, accepting the mug with a frazzled half smile.

Namjoon sat beside him now, both shoulders drooping under an inconceivable heaviness. His eyes, once full of certainty, now wandered aimlessly around the room.

“Jimin and Taehyung want to go to the river. They say the ice is thick enough to fish. Tomorrow they'll bring something for dinner.”

“Bullshit,” Yoongi grinned, bringing the cup to his lips. "They're probably looking for that herb Hoseok swore would help with the cramps. They've been obsessed for days.”

Namjoon couldn't resist sighing.

“They just want to help.”

“I know,” Yoongi said, and for a moment, his voice sounded like before, steady and strong. “But there's no herb that will fix this, Namjoon. And that's okay.”

The ensuing stillness felt somehow cosy, as two warriors who no longer need words to understand each other.

 
In the kitchen, Hoseok was chopping roots with too much force, sending chunks flying all over the table. Seokjin watched, arms folded, offering no help.

“If you keep this up, there's going to be nothing left for the broth,” he remarked in a voice that tried to be lighthearted.

Hoseok put the knife down with a loud thud.

“What does it matter? Do you think a broth is going to change something?” he demanded, but there was no real anger in his words, only an inexhaustible longing.

Seokjin made no immediate retort. Instead, he took the knife and began to cut off the remaining roots with precise movements.

“No,” he admitted, at last. “But it's the only thing we can do for now.”

Hoseok glanced toward the half-open door, through which the sound of Yoongi's hoarse voice was filtering in, talking to Namjoon.

“We should be doing more.”

“I know,” Seokjin muttered, without looking up. “But we're here and that's enough for the time being. There's no use getting angry or crying all over anymore.”
The next day, as the sun began to set, Yoongi settled into his bed, watching Hoseok and Seokjin quietly discussing the best way to prepare the fish that Jimin and Taehyung had finally brought.

“We could smoke it,” Hoseok said reflectively.

“That would take hours. We'd better cook it quickly,” Seokjin countered, his patience nearly at its end.

Yoongi smiled, letting the murmur of their voices lull him to sleep. It was a familiar gamble they all understood: if they acted as if everything was all right, maybe, for a moment, it would be that way. Jungkook, who had been standing there, came over and settled down beside him, resting a hand on his ankle.

“Do you need something?” he asked, as he did a hundred times a day.

Yoongi shook his head, reaching out a hand to entangle his fingers with Jungkook's.

“I'm well,” he had not lied, and by that night, with the warmth of the bonfire tinting the walls in gold, with the melody of his pack surrounding him, he could almost have believed happiness was real.  And thus, amidst teacups and bickering over fish, amidst sad smiles and clutching hands in the dark, the pack came to learn a common insight: sometimes, the value is not in fixing what is broken, but in sitting together amongst the broken pieces.

The pain started as a mere tickle under his ribs, just one more whiplash among the many that Yoongi had learned to dismiss. He paused momentarily, resting a hand on the wall as he inhaled fully. “It's just the disease,” he thought, running his fingers over his tight belly. “Nothing unusual.”

He continued walking towards the small room at the back of the hut, where Jungkook had left a clean latrine for him in case he needed it. Snow beat against the wooden walls as if winter itself wanted to get in.

And then—

A splash of warm liquid ran down his legs, soaking his long stockings that he wore under his tunic. Yoongi looked down in bewilderment. The puddle at his feet was crystal clear, and odourless. It was not urine.

“No... it can't be,” he mumbled.

But the next pain bent him in half, so sharp that he groaned. His hands clutched at the doorframe, knuckles white.

“Jungkook!” —he shouted, without considering it, his voice not recognisable to him as his own. It was heavy footsteps that came in response. Namjoon popped into the hallway, eyes wild at the sight of his Omtga here, shivering and soaking wet.

“Yoongi?”

“I think... It's the baby,” he managed to say before another spasm made him arch.

Namjoon no longer hesitated; he stepped closer to him with one arm around his waist while the other supported his weight.

“Come now. Hold on to me.”

The walk back to the bedroom felt like an endless distance. Yoongi could barely move his legs, each contraction was a knife sawing at his spine. When he was eventually laid down across the furs, Namjoon was already shouting commands:

“Seokjin! We must get the healer. And bring the midwife too, just in case, the young woman who knows about tough deliveries!”

Seokjin, pale as the snow outside, was already fastening his cloak.

“There's a storm that won't let us walk—”

"WE MUST GO ANYWAY!" roared Namjoon in a manner that admitted of no debate.

Seokjin agreed, and they both rushed towards the door, disappearing in the snowy blizzard. Taehyung decided to go with them; that seemed a better idea than doing absolutely nothing. He felt useless.

Meanwhile, Yoongi squirmed, hands clutching the blankets on his bed. Panic was beginning to creep up his throat.

“It's too soon... it can't be now…”

Jimin grabbed his face with both hands, forcing him to look at him.

“Listen to me. Jungkook went hunting, but he'll be back soon. Until then, you're not alone. Hoseok and I are here for you.”

Outside, the wind howled like a wounded wolf.

The bone-chilling wind whipped through the door as Jungkook stepped inside, bringing with it the scent of fresh hunting blood and melting snow on his clothes. But it was another smell that chilled his blood: Yoongi's sour fear, permeating the air like a scream.

Fur and flesh fell to the ground with a dull smack.

“Yoongi!”

He raced, each beat of his heart repeating no-no-no in a frantic rhythm.

The sight inside the room stopped him dead:

Yoongi, crouching on the bed like a wounded animal, hands gripping the blankets tightly around him. Sweat beaded his forehead, and his moans-somewhat quiet, somewhat loud-now escaped between gnashed lips.

“J-Jungkook—”

The Alpha stood beside him instantly, and his big hands swept over the Omega's face.

“Where are the rest? And the healer?” —He asked, though he already tasted the answer. The whistling wind outside said it all. Jimin jerked and waved at the sound of the wind outside. Then, another spasm from Yoongi made him snap his eyes out to see him; the other Omega's spasms seemed to wrench inside.

“Alphas went to... look for her. But the baby—” —a stronger contraction cut off his voice— “—doesn't want to wait."

Jungkook stared down at the tightening belly under the blankets. Too soon. The due date was a month from now. Alpha's instincts screamed at him that something was wrong, that no birth should hurt like this, that the scent of stress in the room was too strong. But when Yoongi grabbed his arm with a strength he shouldn't have, his claws sinking into his skin, Jungkook came to an understanding in his gut:

There was no time to be afraid.

“Listen to me,” he instructed, lowering his forehead to touch Yoongi's, “Breathe with me. Like this.”

Both inhaled and exhaled, slowly and steadily. Yoongi followed his lead with watery but sharp eyes.

“Namjoon will return with help. Until then…” —Jimin gulped— he had no idea how to proceed. 

And so, amidst the lengthening shadows of the storm and the howling of the wind, the fiercest wolf of the pack knelt by the bed, ready to hunt the one enemy he could not kill: time.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ 

Chapter Text

Last chapter, first version: Winter in the Bleeding Womb.

The cottage rattled with the sounds of screams, panting, and the creaking of wood fighting the storm. Yoongi, leaning against Hoseok's chest, no longer had the strength to support his own body. His hands, bony and pale, clutched at his bent legs as the pain tore him apart.

“Push, Yoongi, PUSH,” Jimin shouted, kneeling between his legs, his hands trembling but steady.

Jungkook, standing next to Yoongi, hardly breathed. His fingernails were digging into the skin of his thigh and drawing blood unnoticed.

But then a tearing scream cut through the air. And suddenly, a distinct new sound emerged: the high-pitched cry of a newborn baby.

Jimin, with tears streaming down his face, picked up the tiny infant who was screaming in clenched little fists.

“It's... It's a girl,” he whispered, quickly wiping her with the ready-made linen fabric.

Yoongi, with shaking arms, stretched out his hands to her.

“Let me... let me see her.”

Hoseok steadied him as Jimin passed the tiny, woolen-wrapped bundle over to him.

The girl was tiny, too small, with a wrinkled nose and crinkled closed eyes. But she was alive. She was breathing. Yoongi looked at her as if to memorise every trace, every wrinkle, every crease, every shadow on her face.

“My baby girl…” His voice broke into a thousand pieces. “My beautiful little girl…”

The tears poured down the baby's face, mingling with her own cries. Yoongi knew. They all already knew.

“I don't want to leave,” he softly whispered into his daughter's forehead. “I don't want to lose seeing you growing up.”

Jungkook, eventually, burst into pieces. He took Yoongi's hand and pressed it against his mouth, as if he could transfer his own life to it through his skin.

“Don't go,” he begged, but it was already a useless plea.

Yoongi spasmed, suddenly convulsing, forcefully arching his body in a violent twitch. Jimin screamed, quickly pulling the baby from his arms.

“No, no, NO!” —Jungkook grabbed him by his shoulders as if he could prevent his soul from slipping away— “Stay with me! Please, please STAY!”

But Yoongi was no longer breathing. His eyes, glazed over, stared at something-or someone-that only he could see. Hoseok, his lips shuddering, started to sing. An ancient lullaby, the same song that had been sung to all of them when they were cubs. Jimin, weeping in silence, nursed the baby to his chest, holding the baby's ears to keep her from hearing her father's dying heartbeat.

And Jungkook...

Jungkook just leaned over Yoongi's body, his tears smudging a face that would never smile again.

“I love you,” he murmured against his still-warm lips. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

It was as if the spoken chants echoed back to wherever Yoongi was heading now.

A few seconds later, the door to the place burst open, allowing a swirl of snow and icy air to rush in. Namjoon and Seokjin walked in first, followed closely by the healer and the young midwife, both of them with their capes drenched and their faces swollen from the cold.

“We brought help!” —Namjoon shouted, but his voice was muffled in the deadly misty stillness of the room.

Hoseok sat on the floor, his back against the wall, his arms dangling limp between his knees. Jimin, in the corner, was rocking a small bundle wrapped in fabric, tears falling noiselessly on it.

And Jungkook...

Jungkook was kneeling by the bed, his hands still clinging to Yoongi's.

The healer did not need to inquire. She knew death well enough. She moved towards Yoongi's body and placed two fingers on his neck, then on his wrist. There was no pulse. No breath. Just cold skin and open eyes, dull, lifeless.

“The disease has taken him away,” she said, “It was unavoidable.”

Namjoon stood motionless. Then, as if his legs had stopped working, he fell to his knees with a thud.

“No…” –his voice was barely a susurration.

And then, he snapped.

A gut-wrenching scream came from his throat, a sound that didn't sound human; it was a raw pain that couldn't be restrained. He cried as he had never cried before, with his hands hitting the ground, with his face distorted in an agony that had no name.

“NO! IT CAN'T BE!” –he roared, not caring that the midwife and healer were witnessing it, not caring that the Alphas were not supposed to show weakness. He was no longer a leader. He was just a broken man. Seokjin, on the other hand, did not cry. He stood in the middle of the room with his eyes unfocused, as if his mind refused to accept what he was experiencing. He looked at Jimin, who was still rocking the baby. He looked at Hoseok, who wouldn't look up from the floor. He looked at Jungkook, who was still clinging to Yoongi, and it seemed as if time had stopped for him. But then, he stared at Yoongi. He caught a glimpse of his open, soulless eyes. He gazed at his motionless chest. And he collapsed, not on his knees nor with a scream. He simply collapsed, as if someone had cut the ropes that held him.

“No,” he moaned, crawling towards the bed. “No, no, no, no… NO!”

His trembling hands stroked Yoongi's face, wishing he could return the warmth to him just by doing that.

“Wake up now,” he pleaded with a cracking voice. "Please wake up. Hear your baby, it's calling, Yoongi, the baby is calling for you!!"

But Yoongi did not answer.

And he never would again.

The burial took place under a gloomy sky, sunless and rainless. The ground was too cold, but they dug it anyhow, because Yoongi did not deserve to be kept waiting.

The healer checked the baby one last time before the burial took place. Her words landed straight as an axe:

“She won't live long. She is too weak.”

Jimin pressed the tiny body to his chest, wishing the warmth of his skin could change her fate.

“I'll take care of her as if she were my own,” he vowed, even though every one of them knew it was a hollow undertaking. Nothing would fill the hole Yoongi had left. Not even to his own daughter.  

After that claim, Jimin started taking brews every morning, voluntarily self-sterilising himself. “I don't deserve the life that was taken from him,” he confessed to Hoseok one night, drunk with grief; Namjoon no longer served as a leader. He would sit by the river for hours, touching the carved markings on his skin, each one a painful reminder he inflicted on himself so he would never forget. Seokjin kept cooking for seven people. When Hoseok pointed to the extra serving dish, Seokjin would reply, “It's just in case he comes back hungry.” Taehyung helped with the baby, but every time the child wrinkled her nose-too much like Yoongi-he would leave, choking back sobs in the recess of his robe. 

Jungkook never held his daughter again after the burial. Instead, every morning he walked to the grave under the mulberry tree, softly uttering: “Today I dreamt that we moved far away, you and I. I dreamt that we had a house near the mountains. That we had a hut somewhere near the mountains. That our daughter wasn't sick... and that we had more children.” But then, the baby's faint sobbing brought him back to reality.

Two months later, the girl died in a peaceful night, with no struggle, with no fuss. And no name. It was as if she understood that she didn't belong in this world without her missing papa.

She was buried next to Yoongi, under the same flowers that now grew deeper, darker, almost pitch black.

Jungkook did not cry this time. He just lay down on the fresh earth and whispered:

“I have failed you again. She did not know your voice... but now she will be able to. Lead her to you.”

And as the pack walked away from the graves, someone—perhaps the wind, perhaps something else—rattled the still bare branches of the trees, almost like a farewell.

To the people of the village, the story that an entire pack had died by their own decision was a reminder of how one should care for each member of a group; for many others, it was a legend that passed down from generation to generation.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ 

Chapter Text

Last chapter, second version: With my wintry hands, I will nurture your spring

The wind howled like an omen as Jungkook burst into the den. The smell of hunting blood on his clothes mingled with another scent that stifled his entire being: Yoongi's raw fright saturating the air as a burning spell.

The freshly caught prey fell to the ground.

“Yoongi!”

His body reacted before his mind. As he crossed the doorway, the sight hit him with unfathomable force: Yoongi, squirming in sweat-soaked blankets; his white knuckles gripped onto the pillow. Jimin tried to hold back the spasms, but each contraction tore a wrenching yelp from the Omega.

“J-Jungkook—”

The Alpha stepped towards him, and his calloused hands framed that skinned and worn face invitingly. 

“Where is the midwife?!”

Undefinednearly biting his lips, Jimin replied, “Namjoon and Seokjin went for her, but the storm…”

A new pain broke through the chatter. Yoongi curled up with his fingernails digging into Jungkook's arm until red lines were drawn.

“The baby's coming now,” Jimin panicked and gasped as his eyes dilated in alarm. “It's too soon!”

Jungkook felt the world stop; he felt useless, and there was nothing he could do. But the Alpha drive roared inside him in the same way he felt helpless: he had this burning urge to protect, to defend, and to overcome danger. But that would mean killing time... How does one fight the inescapable?

“Listen to me,” he commanded, facing Yoongi, speaking firmly to his Omega. “You breathe when I breathe. We'll get through this just fine. Do you understand?”

Yoongi nodded; he had his pupils dilated from the pain, and there was something else that made him uneasy: it was the fear of leaving this world without even having the chance to witness his baby have his first cry.

When Namjoon and Seokjin eventually burst into the room with the healer and the midwife, the place was in utter chaos.

“The uterine cavity is not ready! -warned the young midwife with expert hands palpating Yoongi.”

“If you force labour now, you both will die,” the elderly healer added, and her eyes fell on the pack's leader. 

Yoongi, between spasms, shook his head furiously:

“No... I can't do it anymore!!!”

The midwife assented with a bitter understanding in her expression.

“Omega, you must do your best. Now, listen to me.”

Hours later, when the moon seemed to be trying to slip away to rest, a loud yet subtle cry danced through the air. It was a cry as small as a winter flower, but as warm as the crackling fire of the chimney that blanketed their home. The baby had been born safe and healthy. Both the midwife and the healer hurriedly inspected the tiny infant. Yoongi only had the strength to collapse on his bed, exhausted but still conscious.

“He will live,” the midwife declared, passing the frail body to Jimin. “'It's a weak baby, but we have to be positive for now.”

Then the healer leaned over Yoongi, speaking under her breath almost as a sinful secret:

“You shouldn't have survived childbirth. Something is holding you here, but it is not mending itself for healing. Brace thyself.”

Seokjin heard it all. And he chose not to hear at all.

Seol-ah ran through the village with her cat-like eyes bearing Yoongi's image and Jungkook's indomitable gaze, defying anyone who questioned her origin:

“I have two Omega papas! Jimin looks after me, but Yoongi is my blood.”

The villagers whispered every time she passed by. No one believed the young pup, in their tainted minds, they believed that Yoongi was the vicious one who was inflicting wicked and foolish ideas on the poo,r innocent girl. The elders were always trying to convince Jimin or Namjoon that they should expel Yoongi, and every time they did so, unnecessary fights broke out.

Inside the cottage, Yoongi watched the world from a window, the pale purple scars still pulsating under his robe as they did the first time; they had not faded and would never do so. He also watched as Jungkook took his daughter away to train her; this Alpha had promised himself to be a tough but caring father, compassionate but resolute.

“Death knows no gender or subgenre,” he taught her as he adjusted his small bow. “Be always strong, no matter if you are male or female, Alpha, Omega, or Beta.”

And at night, when the mountain wind would blow, Jungkook would whisper to Yoongi, “Stay for the next season.”

Yoongi still did not fully grasp his role in the pack. He had survived, his child was keeping him grounded in the mortal world with a strength he had never felt before, and even though the rest of the pack was helping him and not ignoring him as before, he just felt that he had a special fondness towards Jungkook. He didn't know if it was because this Alpha was his daughter's biological father, or if it was because, after all the harm done to him, Jungkook was the only one who showed him genuine love and not actions driven by guilt and responsibility.

When Jungkook returned from hunting, his boots were covered in half-frozen mud, and his face was frosted over with tiny traces of snowflakes. The hut was silent, except for the crackling of the fire that roared steadily in the fireplace.

As he entered, a scene made him feel where he wanted to be all over again:

Yoongi slept lying by the fire, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm Jungkook knew all too well; with hectic, labored breaths, as if each one of it was a hard-won battle. On his chest, Seol-ah, now five springs old, slept cuddled close to him, with her small fingers clutching her father Omega's garment as if she feared he would vanish.

Jungkook knelt beside them, noiselessly, just watching them lovingly.

Yoongi's eyelashes, no longer twitching in deep sleep, remained still, as if even sleep cost him strength. His Omega's sunken cheeks, once soft and full, now still marked by the sickness that would not let go. Seol-ah's little hands, so small but already calloused from practicing with the bow he had taught her to use. And then, like every night since Yoongi miraculously survived childbirth, Jungkook always wondered, over and over again:

“How long will it be?”

Winter was over. Spring would come soon. But how many seasons did Yoongi have left? One more summer? One more autumn?

Seol-ah stirred in her sleep, muttering something incomprehensible to herself; "How much longer? Yoongi, even in his fitful slumber, instinctively stroked her hair, as if to soothe her daughter.

Jungkook closed his eyes.

He did not pray. He did not believe in deities. But if they existed, he would pray to them for this:

“Let him stay. Even if it's just one more day. If only until she wakes up and is old enough to be forever seared by the memory of a united and whole family.”

Outside, the wind was blowing the last of the melting snowflakes; it was poetic, almost as if winter itself was saying goodbye. And Jungkook, the youngest and strongest wolf in the pack, clenched his fists against his knees, feeling more helpless than ever.

That's how they lived: between gasping breaths and endless nights, where every day was a gift... and every morning was a silent threat.

Ten winters later, the villagers no longer whispered about the young hunter's origin. Seol-ah was tall and full-bodied like her Alpha father; she always returned from the woods with some huge animal on her shoulder, and her ebony bow —similar to the one Jungkook carved for her at the age of five— was draped across her back like a trophy. The weaver ladies sighed as they watched her pass by:

“She looks like an Alpha with that look... but those eyes belong to that cursed Omega,” they commented, before abruptly falling silent when she turned her head.

The girl had no idea what they were talking about; her most vivid memory of Yoongi was a bony hand stroking her hair at sunset, and a husky voice crooning something about magical stories and herbs. He always talked about plants and flowers of all kinds. Jimin had knitted her clothes, taught her to read, and dried her tears when she broke her arm at the age of ten. But always, always, with that one sentence: “I'll never be him, little snowstorm. But I love you as if you were mine.”

Jungkook, for his part, spoke of Yoongi as if he were a distant myth:

“He was the most stubborn Omega who ever existed,” he would say as he sharpened his knives with his eyes lost anywhere but on his daughter. He never shared many details; it was almost as if it was a taboo subject to talk about his biological Omega sire.

There was a secret that no one wanted to reveal, and she could sense it. She was told that her late Omega father died of an illness, but there was more in the eyes of every member of the pack, the few times it was mentioned. Namjoon was still a leader, but his speeches no longer held passion, and he seemed to want to cry every time she looked him straight in the eye; Seokjin cooked for nine people, though only eight lived; Taehyung cringed every time she laughed— “you sound the same as Yoongi—” he once muttered offhandedly. Hoseok just seemed to want to crumble every time he entered the room that was once Yoongi's. He looked around almost as if he could find him hiding in some corner, but always found the once little girl who was now almost a teenager.

One night, Seol-ah found a hidden box in the storeroom, there among preserved food and winter goods, she had found something that looked neither like food nor cloth or firewood; inside it was a diary with dried flowers between its pages, and a drawing of Yoongi smiling with a baby in her arms.

On the last page, a writing in shaky handwriting made her ponder her origins:

“Forgive me for not being strong enough to care for you. I will treasure you forever. Yoongi, will you ever forgive me? Will you ever forgive us? We will carry this with us, always, and we deserve it. We deserve to live in pain. Without your being here is torture enough, but to see her grow up to be the very image of what you once were... Yoongi, how do I carry on?”

The young Omega closed the box with steady hands; she did not shiver, she only remained deep in thought about it. The next day, she went out into the forest before dawn. She had no bow. Only one question that burned hotter than the sun: “Who were you, father?”

The wind carried his voice through the trees. No one answered.

And thus, in a game she knew all too well, between the predator and the prey, the activity of the chase, which provided her with a rush of adrenaline, also brought unanswered queries; she still carried that small chest and a diary, it was the very last remaining Yoongi left for her. That, and an uncertainty she set out to fulfil with the mystery of the pack she had always regarded as family.

The drawings of Jungkook, a father all too Alpha because of his strictness, but all too soft because of his art, left in each stroke some shadows that were never properly blurred. Seol-ah also thought, almost derisively, that a not-so-blurred or dimly lit shadow would not stop her from walking down a road, no matter how difficult it seemed to be. She vowed to have a role in living her life, and one was to search the shadows for the memories of someone who was once called Yoongi.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎ ༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ 

Chapter Text

Last chapter, third version: And yet, we bloom.

The wind whistled outside of the shelter house, but inside, the air thrummed with gasps and desperate shouts and urgent orders. Yoongi, sweaty and exhausted, clung to Jungkook's hands while the midwife and the healer worked in sync.

!One last push!! shouted the midwife, her expert hands were guiding the baby's head.

With a heart-wrenching yell, Yoongi poured out the last of his strength. And then, a sound no one expected to hear in such a loud manner was heard: the hearty cry of a newborn baby. The newborn girl was small, but healthy, and her lungs announced her arrival into the world with a fury that made both the young midwife and the old healer laugh.

“She's a fighter... just like her father,” the midwife whispered, wiping the baby before placing it on Yoongi's chest.

Jungkook, tears running freely down his face, caressed his Omega's cheek.

“You made it,” he hissed back with excitement in his voice.

The healer stood beside Yoongi and the newborn, looking at them both with skeptical stares.

“I don't understand... the purple marks stopped,” she said, touching the Omega's neck. “The birth would have killed you, but... you're alive.”

Everyone held their breath. Jungkook, sobbing soundlessly, squeezed Yoongi's hand as if he feared it would be gone at last.

“What is the meaning of it?” asked Namjoon in his trademark leadership voice.

The healer looked at the moon outside, shining on everything in its path.

“It means we have a year. If it comes to the next red moon, we can try the curative procedure... but the price is still the same: none of you will ever have children again.”

Jimin, who was holding the newborn as he watched her closely, grinned wistfully.

“Born Beta, I never expected to bear children at all.”

And it was true. Jimin raised Beta and never longed for a pregnancy. But that didn't stop his fingers from trembling as he wrapped the child in cozy blankets of warm wool.

The pack poured themselves into caring for Yoongi and the little Seol-ah:

Yoongi, though weak, was improving day by day. The purple stripes did not disappear, but they no longer sucked the air out of him. Jimin became the baby's shadow, weaving warm garments and singing songs that Yoongi was not yet strong enough to chant. Namjoon and Seokjin went out every day in search of nutritious plants and food, determined to find something that would strengthen their Omega. Taehyung carved an amulet out of precious stone for Seol-ah: “So that you can see her wearing it even when she grows up,” he told him, with a smile that for the first time in years seemed unfeigned. Jungkook, for his part, did not leave Yoongi's side for a second, feeding him, bathing him, and even rustling him with stories of their potential bright days ahead.

When the next red moon rose, everyone gathered together.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Yoongi; the old healer was there with them, holding a beautifully carved knife in her hand. No one wavered. One by one, the Alphas of the pack cut their palms, letting their blood water the barren ground. Jimin was the last, smiling as his blood mingled with the rest.

“I have nothing to lose. I already have a daughter."

Everyone gathered around Yoongi, who held Seol-ah in his arms, now a sturdy one-year-old girl, her eyes resembling her Alpha father's. The runes glowed in the reddish light, and for the first time in months, Yoongi felt no pain. 

“It's working,” gasped Taehyung as he clung to Hoseok.

By dawn, the purple bruises had faded to a faint pale pink, looking like aged scars. Yoongi took a deep breath, feeling his body light and free. And this Omega, with a small grin, looked at his daughter and said, “Yes, little wolf. Daddy is here... and he will stay with you.”

Ten years later, Seol-ah —now a fearless girl who was a better hunter than the teenage Alphas— climbed the tree to hang flowers on its branches. She used to run around the village and was considered the best hunter despite being an Omega, while Yoongi, now strong and healthy, laughed as she watched the same spectacle over and over again. 

“Get down before Jimin has a heart attack!” shouted Jungkook.

Jimin was indeed turning pale, but Yoongi just laughed and leaned against his shoulder.

“Let her be. She's your daughter as much as she is mine,” he teased.

Jimin blushed, with no regrets and no grief. And when Seol-ah jumped out of the tree to embrace all three of her parents, the sun shone brighter, as if the universe was finally peaceful.

Jungkook hugged both Omegas behind him, whispering in their ears:

“Do you remember when we thought we wouldn't have this?”

“Luckily, we were wrong.”

Seol-ah grimaced, clearly a sign of growing rebelliousness during puberty, but something caught her eye—it was the rest of her fathers.

“Oh, they've arrived with the food!”

Elsewhere, four Alphas were reaching over and gazing at the heartwarming display. It was just another day as a family.  

And that way, among the giggles of a little girl and stolen kisses shared by seven people, the pack learned that sometimes —just once in a while— the universe gets tired of being cruel… and bestows a kindness miracle in return.

༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄ ♡︎༄