Chapter Text
The sun beat down on the limestone streets of Thebes, casting a golden hue over the bustling marketplace. Amidst the cries of merchants and the scent of roasting spices, Oikawa Tooru stood beneath a linen awning, meticulously polishing a pomegranate. Tooru was a simple man or so he liked to tell himself. He owned a small but prosperous fruit stall, famous not just for the sweetness of his dates but for the owner himself. As an Omega, his beauty was whispered about from the docks of the Nile to the gates of the palace.
"Tooru! Give me the best grapes you have," a passing weaver called out, lingering a moment too long to admire the way Tooru’s kohl-lined eyes crinkled when he smiled. "Only if you have the copper to match their quality," Tooru teased, his voice like silk. He knew he was beautiful, and he wasn't above using a playful wink to move his inventory.
The peaceful rhythm of the afternoon was shattered by the sound of heavy sandals sprinting against stone. "Prince Hajime! Please! The delegation from Kush is waiting!" a frantic voice cried out from several streets over. Oikawa looked up, curious. The Crown Prince, Iwaizumi Hajime, was legendary for his temper and his stubbornness. He was a powerful Alpha whose scent usually commanded an entire room.
Suddenly, a blur of white linen and bronzed muscle dove behind Tooru’s counter, nearly knocking over a basket of figs. Tooru froze, a plum halfway to his mouth. Hiding amongst the crates was a man with spiked dark hair, a jeweled pectoral shimmering against his chest, and an expression of pure, unadulterated annoyance. "Don't say a word," the Prince hissed, pressing a finger to his lips. "My Lord," Tooru whispered, his heart doing a strange little flip-flop. Up close, the Alpha’s presence was overwhelming. "You're... crushing my figs."
"I’ll buy the whole stall if you just keep your mouth shut," Iwaizumi grumbled, peeking over the edge of the wooden table. A moment later, a very stressed, very sweaty royal advisor, Hanamaki sprinted past the stall, looking in the opposite direction. "I swear, when I find him, I'm resigning!" Hanamaki wailed.
Once the footsteps faded, Iwaizumi let out a long, relieved exhale. He slumped back against a crate of melons, finally looking up at the merchant he had just inconvenienced. He stopped breathing for a second. Tooru was leaning over him, his long hair falling over one shoulder, his skin glowing in the amber light of the setting sun. The omega’s scent hit Iwaizumi. Sweet, calming, and intoxicating. "You're the fruit seller," Iwaizumi said, his voice dropping an octave. "The one the guards are always gossiping about."
"I hope they say I have the best pomegranates in the city," Tooru replied, recovering his wit. He leaned closer, a daring glint in his eyes. "Though, I didn't realize the Prince of Egypt had a taste for hiding in the dirt." Iwaizumi stood up, dusting off his royal kilt, but he didn't leave. He found he didn't want to. "The dirt is preferable to another hour of Hanamaki’s lecturing." He reached out, snatching a piece of fruit from the display. Instead of eating it, he held it out to Tooru. "What's your name, merchant?"
"Oikawa Tooru," he replied, taking the fruit, his fingers brushing against the Prince's calloused hand. A spark of heat raced up his arm. Iwaizumi smirked, a look that was far too handsome for Tooru’s peace of mind. "Well, Tooru. Since I've ruined your evening, and possibly your figs... I suppose I owe you a favor."
"A favor from the Pharaoh's son?" Tooru laughed softly. "I might just hold you to that."
"Do," Iwaizumi said, his gaze lingering on Tooru’s lips. "Because I have a feeling I’ll be 'running away' to this specific stall quite often." Iwaizumi’s eyes dropped from Tooru’s face to the fruit held in his hand. It was a perfect specimen. Deep, ruby red, and buffed to such a high shine by Tooru’s linen cloth that it caught the flickering torchlight of the nearby street lamps.
"Do you mind?" Iwaizumi asked, his voice low and raspy. He reached out, not for the baskets on the table, but for the specific pomegranate Tooru was still cradling. Tooru blinked, his usual mask of playful confidence faltering for a heartbeat. "This one, My Lord? It’s... I’ve just finished cleaning it."
"Exactly," Iwaizumi muttered. He didn't wait for a formal gift-offering. His large, scarred hand closed over Tooru’s smaller one, his thumb grazing the omega’s knuckles as he took the fruit. The contact sent a jolt through Tooru. As an omega, he was used to the heavy, often overbearing pheromones of Alphas in the market, but Iwaizumi’s scent was different. Maybe it’s the heaven scent only royalty have? Tooru never knew. Iwaizumi didn't pull away immediately. He stayed close, his powerful frame casting a shadow over Tooru, shielding him from the view of the passing crowds. He brought the pomegranate up, looking at it, then back at Tooru.
"They say the pomegranate is the fruit of temptation," Iwaizumi said, a rare, crooked smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Are you trying to tempt the royal house, merchant?" Tooru flushed, a beautiful, dusty rose color that crept up his neck. He quickly recovered, tilting his chin up. "I only sell the finest quality, Highness. If you find yourself tempted, that speaks more to your self-control than my business soul."
Iwaizumi let out a short, bark-like laugh. He liked the bite in the omega’s tone. Most people trembled or fawned; this beautiful creature was sharpening his claws. He reached into the leather pouch at his belt and pulled out a heavy gold ring, set with a small lapis lazuli beetle. He pressed it into Tooru's palm, closing the merchant's fingers over the cool metal. "Keep it," Iwaizumi commanded. "Consider it payment for the pomegranate... and for the silence."
"This is worth more than my entire stall," Tooru whispered, staring at the gold. "Then use it to buy a better lock for your door," Iwaizumi said, stepping back into the shadows as the sound of Hanamaki’s distant shouting grew louder again. "I’ll be back for the rest of the crate tomorrow. Don't sell them to anyone else." Before Tooru could protest or bow, the Prince vanished into the darkening alleyways, leaving the scent of sandalwood and the weight of royal gold in Tooru’s trembling hand.
“Weird royalty…”
End of Chapter 1