memoir of a nuisance

The world is cruel and unrelenting. 

This is something Beomgyu came to understand at a very young age. And something that was only proven correct as time goes on. Scholars and academics say that a good theory is one that can be repeated over and over again, and yield the same results, and Beomgyu believes because of this, the theory of the true nature of the world is the best of them all.

For time and time again, no matter what the situation may be, no matter how unfair or unworthy the outcome may be, the world has always proved itself to be cruel and unrelenting in the end. And he is unlucky enough to house a body that is a vivid reminder of this incredibly harsh theory.

When you are young, sometimes you develop a foolish hope that you can strive to be more than what life has already dictated for you to be. Especially when put in a predicament that allows you to feel a sense of aspiration, a sense of control. And this hope is foolish for a reason.

When he was fifteen, Beomgyu’s mother fell sick and afterwards her presence in his life practically dissipated. 

Without her around, he relied mostly on himself. At the time, he believed he could navigate this new way of living as he saw fit, I mean, he had spent the majority of his life already distant from his mother. But looking back, Beomgyu can only scorn at how stupidly young and naive he was.

When he was sixteen, Beomgyu discovered the concept of defense.

The ability to stand up for yourself, to bite back against the unrelenting nature of the world around you, and more so, the breeding ground for that foolish hope to grow. He remembers the look on Yeonjun’s face the first time he ever argued back. 

The alpha had been eighteen at the time, towering over him even then. He spoke at him with the same dismissive smirk that often pulled at his lips and his demeanor was arrogant.

This particular exchange had been sparked by something minimal, something Beomgyu couldn't even recall fully. Perhaps it had been an offhand comment about his clumsiness or the way he misstepped in carrying out an order.

But he remembers the heat of that day had already been oppressive and the words had been like a sharp jab in the ribs. Normally, Beomgyu would have taken it but that day, his sixteen year old self allowed the irritation to break the surface.

"If it displeases you so much, perhaps you should try doing it yourself, Your Majesty."

He had said loud enough for the prince to hear it. And he remembers how Yeonjun had turned, mouth slightly agape. Then his smirk returned, disbelief in his face but it wasn't anger that followed.

"You dare to speak back?" He had asked, almost amused.

And to this day Beomgyu remembers how his pulse hammered in his throat but he didn't step back. For the first time in his life, he met the alpha head-on,

"Perhaps if you were kinder, I wouldn't need to." 

Then the prince had stepped closer and then pushed the omega into a pillar,

"Kinder?" he echoed, mockingly. "And here I thought you liked me just the way I am."

Beomgyu remembers the way his back hurt as it hit the pillar and how his heart had pounded too as this overwhelming urge to shrink away battling the burgeoning flame of defiance in his chest.

His mother’s teachings rang in his ears, to be submissive, to confine himself. But that day he also realized his mother wasn’t physically around anymore. So how would she know? 

"I don’t." He replied and the alpha's expression faltered for a fraction of a second, the smirk slipping into something closer to surprise.

Yeonjun had said nothing for a long moment and in that silence, the omega felt a thrill of something unfamiliar— triumph .

From then on defending himself became less a fluke and more a practice. Little by little, he began to push back. The comments didn't always land, sometimes they were quiet rebuttals. Other times, they were bold enough to elicit an outright reaction from Yeonjun who would then often flicker between irritation and intrigue. 

And every time he stood his ground, his heart threatened to burst from the sheer terror of it. But each time, it became a little easier. And this is when that foolish hope began to simmer, to grow almost painstakingly beautifu. Beomgyu began to believe he had the littlest bit of control over his life and the ability to change the way the world treated him.

For every taunt and push the alpha threw his way, Beomgyu found himself biting back. And each time he saw that flicker of surprise in the prince's eyes, it felt as though he had shifted something immovable.

It wasn’t just Yeonjun, though he was the loudest and most persistent force in Beomgyu’s life. It was the world at large, the hierarchy that sought to keep him beneath its heel. That defiance, however small, was his rebellion. At sixteen, he bloomed a quiet but resounding declaration that he would no longer bow so easily. 

But when he was seventeen, Beomgyu realized why academics say a good theory is one that proves itself true over and over again.

It had been a week before his birthday. The spring festival was in full bloom and the palace was alive with celebration. Cherry blossoms overhead and sweet rice cakes to eat, chatter of people and nobles mingling in the breeze.

Beomgyu had always admired the festival from afar, his role usually relegated him to the shadows where he was safe, away from those who could harm him. This time, though, the shadows didn’t protect him.

The sons of some of these nobles had found him while he was delivering scrolls to the east courtyard. He had kept his head low as they circled him,

“Look at him,” one of them sneered, a young man with a face as cruel as his voice, “Always lurking, like a stray dog waiting for scraps.”

Another chimed in, “Stray dogs have loyalty. This one? He’s just a pathetic omega.”

Beomgyu remembers how his nails were biting into his palms. This place was too public to say anything or to fight back so he told himself to endure it, to walk away, but before he could, another voice joined in—a voice he knew all too well. The prince, who walked in and joined the commotion.

“Don’t be too harsh on him,” Yeonjun mocked, “He can’t help what he is.”

The prince was nineteen now, his features sharper and truly boding the face of an alpha. He strode into the courtyard with the confidence of someone who had never known fear. His friends fell silent as he approached, giving him the floor.

And he knew then that this was not going to end well.

“Beomgyu,” The prince drawled, his lips curling into a smirk, “You’re never this quiet, have you suddenly lost the ability to speak or is your tongue as useless as the rest of you?”

The words angered him and he felt that defiance brewing within but he kept silent.

Yeonjun then stepped closer, “The poor little omega suddenly has lost his boldness, huh? Well I respect that. At least you now know there is no place in this world that isn’t beneath my boot.”

The laughter that followed was a knife twisting in his chest. Defiance allowed him to believe, even if it was for only a year, that perhaps he could force his way out of the chains he was in, that he could one day be free.

It was a belief he had, not some idea or dream, but a genuine belief. And hearing the alpha mock him, reminding him of his place, well something inside him snapped for the first time ever. Before he could think, before he could stop himself, his hand shot out.

The sound of the slap echoed through the courtyard, silencing everyone.

Yeonjun’s head turned with the force of it, his cheek stinging red as he slowly brought a hand to his face. The nobles around them froze, pure shock and disbelief in seeing the omega servant blatantly slap the jewel of joseon, the alpha prince.

When Beomgyu closes his eyes, he can remember how his chest heaved, how his hand trembled from the impact. He expected rage from the prince but instead, the alpha smiled genuinely.

“Well,” The prince touched his cheek and then looked at the omega, “Didn’t think you had that in you.”

But before Beomgyu could even respond, even think rationally of what he had done, his face was suddenly shoved straight into the dirt beneath them, every breath in his body being knocked out.

A soldier had stepped forward who witnessed the whole interaction and had restrained him on the ground.

“An offense against the prince cannot go unpunished, you imprudent bastard.” the soldier growled in his ears as he then signaled for other soldiers to come in.

He remembers how he struggled to move against them, whining and growling in distress instinctually, but the soldiers began releasing their pheromones, ones that smelled of bitter coal and metal, and went limp under their touch. 

As he became more unconscious, he remembers opening his eyes and seeing the figure of the prince, who was being held back by his friends, their hands firm on his arms. For a moment, their eyes met and Beomgyu thought he saw something—panic, maybe, or regret.

But then Yeonjun looked away and suddenly the courtyard was empty of their presence.

He was dragged to the jail cell and housed there for a few hours. Queen Eunyoung visited him with only a sad look on her face, it had been obvious she was crying and her scent, one of nutmeg and spruce that had comforted before, only reeked of fear and disbelief.

And for the first time that day, Beomgyu cried. And cried and cried. And he could whisper “Forgive me, please, my queen, forgive me. ” over and over again. And in her lasting kindness, she promised to do what she could to lessen his punishment.

The journey to the throne room felt endless and when he was brought before the king, the room fell silent. 

He remembers how his knees ached as he knelt before the throne, his joints felt stiff after spending hours in that call. His head bowed low but not low enough to hide the shake in his shoulders. The king’s throne loomed before him and behind it, the tapestry of the joseon dynasty stretched high.

He dared to lift his eyes only slightly, landing first on the king.

King Hyunseok’s bore an expression that Beomgyu could not decipher. There was no anger in his face, no scorn. Instead, his face held something far more devastating— pity. A solemn, quiet sorrow that settled in the lines around his mouth and the downturn of his sharp eyes.

Beomgyu felt his stomach twist. He couldn’t decide which was worse: the king’s disappointment or his utter sadness.

To the right of the king sat Queen Eunyoung, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She had promised him that she would try to intervene, to soften the blow. But now, seated at the king’s side, she looked almost powerless as if her helplessness was a quiet echo of his own.

And then there was Yeonjun.

The crown prince stood a few steps beside the royal dais and his expression was unreadable. His eyes locked on Beomgyu for a brief moment but long enough to make his heart lurch painfully in his chest. There was no mocking smirk, no glimmer of amusement in the alpha’s face now.

King Hyunseok began speaking, “Beomgyu, the law is clear. To raise a hand against the crown prince is a grave offense. But…you are young and merely an omega. I do not believe cruelty will serve as justice.”

Then he paused and it was as if the entire room held their breath in expectation.

“Fifty lashes,” the king then pronounced, “Carried out in private. Let this be a lesson, not an act of vengeance.”

Beomgyu felt the words striking him harder than the slap he’d delivered. Fifty lashings. The number echoed in his mind, hollow and deafening as his body tensed at the thought.

Queen Eunyoung turned her head slightly as if to protest. But the king’s hand reached out to hers and stilled her. She lowered her head and Beomgyu watched as her hands tightened in her lap until her knuckles turned white.

Yeonjun, though, remained motionless and the omega could feel his eyes fixed on him. And to this day, the weight of that gaze burned but he also refused to meet it.

The punishment was carried out later that evening in a dimly lit chamber deep within the palace. The room was cold and sterile, the air heavy with the scent of damp stone. Beomgyu was stripped to the waist, his wrists bound in front of him as he knelt on the hard floor.

The lashes began, each strike tearing through his skin brutally. He tried his best not to cry out and he didn’t, not once although the pain was blinding, each blow felt like a searing reminder of his place.

Blood dripped down his back, warm and sticky, pooling at his knees, and his lips bruised purple from biting down on them. His vision blurred, the edges darkening as the world seemed to collapse into nothing but pain and the sound of the whip slicing through the air.

When it was over, he slumped forward, his forehead resting against the cool stone floor. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The world was muffled. And at this moment, seventeen and defeated, Beomgyu came full circle.

He suddenly felt as if he was four and becoming conscious with the theory that had now proven itself to be quite a good one:

The world will always be cruel and unrelenting.

And it will not let up for anyone, especially not for Beomgyu. 

In the days that followed, the palace felt colder. Other servants avoided him even more, skittering away as if looking at him too long would bring misfortune as well. Nobles no longer acknowledged him, their indifference stinging more than their previous jeers.

And Yeonjun—he changed too.

The crown prince no longer sought him out with the same sharp-edged teasing. He never laid a hand on Beomgyu again, not even in the playful, rough way he once had when he sought to provoke a reaction. That more than anything felt like a line that had been drawn and would not be crossed again. 

For weeks, they actively avoided speaking to one another. Beomgyu kept his head low and his duties precise.

Yeonjun, too, seemed to retreat into himself. He would walk past the omega in the corridors with a brief glance, where once there had been taunts, there was now restraint. At meals, his laughter rang out with his friends, but there was a distance to it, a lack of the sharpness that had often been directed at Beomgyu.

The scars on Beomgyu’s back remained hidden beneath his clothes, but they burned whenever anything happened with Yeonjun, a phantom reminder of the punishment that had changed everything. 

But eventually, the prince returned to his occasional quips and mocks. And the alpha seemed to watch him more closely, his eyes lingering in ways that left his skin prickling with awareness. It was as if he was testing something.

But the distance remained and Beomgyu didn’t dare bring up the past and Yeonjun seemed content to pretend it didn’t exist. But Beomgyu knew that now, sitting across from the prince, naked and bare with everything alike, there was no way they could escape the past any longer.

———

Beomgyu sat across from Yeonjun, the warmth of the hot spring enclosing around them. His eyes lingered on the bruises that marred Yeonjun’s torso, deep purple splotches blooming against his ribs, thin scrapes lining the taut muscles of his arms. Injuries from the royal hunt.

The thought crossed Beomgyu’s mind fleetingly, We have not even spoken about how that went. But before he could dwell on it, the prince's voice sliced through the stillness.

“Why...” His voice was low, his brow furrowing as he watched Beomgyu with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine, “Why did you not tell me?”

Beomgyu stiffened, a part of him itched to offer a simple apology and move past it, to retreat into a polite submissiveness. But there was another part of him, a smaller, more rebellious part, that was unwilling to yield.

They had made it this far already and he refused to leave without any answers. 

“What was I supposed to tell you?” He replied while looking to the water and then back up to meet the other’s eyes, “That I struck an alpha and got into a fight?”

“Yes,” He said without hesitation, “I wish to know everything about you.”

Beomgyu's shoulders sagged as a heavy sigh escaped him. “My prince, you would have found out anyway. It would not have mattered if I told you or not.”

“Hearing it from you though,” he replied quietly, “would have been better. I could have done something about it.”

There was something in the way the prince said it that made Beomgyu's throat tighten. He swallowed hard as silence hung between them for a long moment before Yeonjun spoke again.

“Why…why did the fight even happen?” The alpha then asked.

“For the same reason any fight does.” Beomgyu explained,

“No one treats me well, my prince. And I am used to it. Dowon was purposefully teasing me but then he said something about you, my prince, and I...” 

His voice faltered, and he trailed off, unable to bring himself to finish. He could sense how the scent of cedar and cinnamon flared in the fog of the spring, muddling in the night, but there was an undeniable sense of irritation in it. 

Yeonjun spoke with exasperation, “You should tell me immediately if anyone treats you in such a way.”

But the omega could only let out a humorless laugh at the words, truly at his wits end,

“There is nothing you can do about it, my prince.” 

His voice held no bitterness, only a resigned acceptance. He saw how the alpha’s expression shifted, his jaw clenching, knuckles whitened where they rested against the smooth edge of the stone slabs. 

“Do not laugh, I am the Crown Prince,” he stated, “I could have protected you.”

And Beomgyu felt something sharp and unguarded flash in his eyes before he could stop it. Honey and orange blossom rotten through the air and the bitter laugh that escaped him felt foreign in the hushed stillness of the night.

“Protected me?” he repeated almost silently yet each syllable landed as clear as day. 

He shook his head, unbelieving, then looked at the alpha’s face as though he barely recognized him,

“You used to treat me the same way, my prince. Have you already forgotten?”

Silence fell between them and Yeonjun stared at him, his expression unreadable, but Beomgyu could feel the shift in the room, the way the heat of the water no longer seemed to be the source of the stifling weight pressing against his chest.

Realization dawned too late and Beomgyu knew that those words definitely crossed a line, more so than they have already crossed.

His lips parted, “Forgive me, I—”

But Yeonjun raised a hand that silenced him at once. “Do not apologize. You have… every right to say such things.”

Beomgyu swallowed, his heart pounding painfully against his ribs. He could feel the tension coiling within him. He hadn’t meant to be so brazen but honestly he was just tired of going unanswered.

He was sick of looking at a man he once hated so deeply and feel things he cannot name, of looking at a man that used to cause him so much pain and wonder why that same man now vows to protect him. He does not understand the prince and he now bares naked in front of him.

The omega could then feel Yeonjun’s eyes on him— searching, lingering in the way they always did when silence stretched too long between them.

He knew what was about to come, and knew it since Yeonjun noticed the scars etched across his back. Still, when the prince finally spoke, the words hit him harder than he expected.

“Those scars,” He pointed out and his voice felt heavy with each word, “Are they from that time?”

Beomgyu swallowed hard, feeling the familiar burn along his back at the mere mention. The weight of old wounds, both visible and not, pressed against him like an iron brand.

He nodded as he found himself unable to speak. Then Yeonjun’s eyes fell shut for a brief moment and when they opened again, they held a sincere guilt that Beomgyu had never seen before.

“I am…I am sorry, Beomgyu. I can never atone for what I have done to you,” He breathed out,

“Nor can I blame you for not trusting me, I am selfish for asking for it. But know that if I could undo everything that has happened, I would with no hesitation.”

Beomgyu’s heart pounded in his chest but he forced himself to reply, “I want to know why, my prince.” He admitted,

“Tell me why. Even if the answer is harsh, even if it is something you do not wish to voice, I want to know why you acted the way you did.” 

He paused before adding, “And why… why have you changed?”

Yeonjun hesitated as the words and Beomgyu then saw it—the same damned restraint in his eyes, the shame that lurked beneath his carefully composed features. It was infuriating.

Beomgyu felt his patience thin out, he stood abruptly, water cascading down his body. The frustration bubbling to the surface, he exhaled sharply,

“My prince, you cannot be upset with me for hiding what happened when you have not told me anything.” His gaze hardened, “You ask for trust and yet you give none in return.”

He turned, ready to leave and escape from this hell of a hot spring but before he could take another step, a strong hand encircled his wrist.

“Wait.”

Beomgyu froze.

“Just wait.”

Yeonjun murmured, his grip firm but not forceful, his fingers warm against the omega’s damp skin. The touch burned even hotter than the water they were in. 

In one swift motion, he pulled the omega back into the water, the sudden movement sending ripples across the surface. The shock of it left him momentarily breathless and before he could protest, Yeonjun guided him to sit beside him this time.

They were impossibly close to one another now, he could practically feel the alpha’s breath escaping his nose, hear the fast thud of his heart, their scents swirling and combining into one.  

And the alpha looked impossibly enticing. There was something about his presence that calmed him, it was a new development. He had noticed it when the prince returned from the hunt, the mere sight of him and the sound of his voice eased all his anxieties and brought him relief. His scent, that he used to hate, is now one he craves to smell.

And smelling it combined with his own satisfied him in a way that he wants to bring himself to hate but cannot. And looking at the prince now, in his dark eyes that hold emotions heavy, he knew what he was about to hear would answer all of his confusion.

“I remember when I first met you,” He began, his voice much quieter now, “I did not even know you were a bastard... nor an omega. I only knew you as the son of my mother’s handmaiden.” 

He continued, “Had I not been a prince, with preening eyes on me at all times, I would have never cared for such things.” There was an intense sorrow in his tone.

“But I am a prince, and a product of those around me.”

Beomgyu held his breath, feeling the implication reverberate between them, as undeniable as it was cruel. He knew far too well what those words meant, something he had observed too.

A prince molded by those around him. And in a way, he relates to the statement as well, for he is a product of his own mother’s demeanor as well.

Yeonjun then sighed as if the weight of their past was crushing him, “My father once told me to stay away from you, that I could not be near you. And yet...” 

A bitter laugh escaped him, “I would watch him and my mother treat you so kindly and I could never understand it.”

He shook his head, “Out of naivety and stupidity, I began treating you the way that I did because I could, because I knew no one would stop me.”

The words cut through the omega like a blade.

He had always known it, deep down. He knew how Yeonjun had been enabled and shielded by his birthright, but hearing Yeonjun admit it so plainly, so honestly, was something else entirely. His vision blurred, and he blinked rapidly, willing the sting in his eyes to fade.  

“I am haunted by it, by everything.” he admitted, his voice strained, “I am haunted by the past, by the day they punished you, by the times you cry in front of me. Hell, every moment I’ve had with you…”  

He paused from the emotion he could barely contain,

“I am simply haunted by you, Beomgyu. And my regret is something I cannot erase and I know my words… they are no excuse.”

Then Yeonjun looked up, the look in his face achingly hearfelty,

“But if the truth brings you any comfort...I will tell it to you, always.”

Beomgyu let out a shuddering breath,  he didn’t know what to do with this confession, this raw pain that seemed to flow from Yeonjun as though he could not hold it back any longer. His mind spun with questions, with a desperate need to understand more. There was so much more to this—so much more that he needed to know.

He began, “When you were drunk…” and saw how the prince tense at the mention of the night he could not recall, 

“I asked you why you didn’t defend me in front of Lord Jaeyun. And you told me…” Beomgyu hesitated but he pressed on, 

“You told me that if you reveal your weakness to those in power, they will target it even more. What did you mean by that?”

“Exactly what you think it means.” Yeonjun clarified, leaning back onto the stone slabs.

Then he continued, “That day, I overheard the ministers speak of you. Of the House of Choi. They were looking for ways to provoke me.”

He exhaled shakily,“And so Lord Jaeyun did what he did to you to see if I would react. And I could not let them know you were my—”

“Weakness.” Without thinking, Beomgyu finished the thought.

The word hung in the air, the finality of it lingering in the air. Yeonjun’s eyes fell to the water as if the realization had struck him harder than he had anticipated. There was a long, painful silence between them before he finally met Beomgyu’s eyes again. 

His voice was impossibly soft when he spoke again, “Yes, I…I refused to let any of them know you were my weakness.”

The word ‘weakness’ echoed in his mind and he realized just how deeply Yeonjun had been carrying that thought.

He had always been seen as insignificant, unimportant, but to hear Yeonjun speak of him in such a way, as if he were something of worth and value, something that seriously affects the prince, it confuses him even more.

“Why?” The omega asked,  “Why protect me like this? Why am I a weakness to you?”

Yeonjun’s expression faltered, growing more intense, more conflicted. He seemed to struggle with the right words to explain himself and for a long moment Beomgyu’s heart raced, uncertain whether the prince would ever answer the questions that seemed to plague him.

“I have always found myself angry at you, Beomgyu,” He finally confessed and the omega felt his throat tighten, he was not sure if he was ready for this answer.

“I hated how you cowered away,” Yeonjun continued,

“I hated that you never saw the importance of the crest you bear nor embraced what you are. Regardless of your rank and status, you have a place in this world and yet you let others walk all over you.”

He felt his mind racing, Why didn’t you ever say this to me before? The question burned in the back of his mind, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that maybe it wasn’t just about saying it. Maybe it had always been about something deeper, something more complex.

“And I have this need to show you,” Yeonjun continued his voice barely above a whisper,

“How important you are. Perhaps that is why I treated you the way I did, to see what you would do. You have more worth to you, Beomgyu, I’ve always known it. But you—”

His voice cracked slightly, his hand trembling as he reached out to touch the omega’s cheek, “You don’t see it .”

Beomgyu felt his heart lurch at the tenderness in the words.

It was so different from anything he had ever expected. The emotional wall that had stood between them for so long seemed to crumble, leaving only the truth exposed. He felt as though he were standing on the edge of something vast, something he didn’t quite understand yet but could feel threatening to engulf him.

“I know I have failed you,” Yeonjun continued thick with guilt, “I know I have not always been there when you needed me. But I am trying . I am trying to be better.”

He paused, his eyes never leaving Beomgyu’s, his thumb caressing the full of his cheek,

“And I don’t ask for forgiveness, I just want a chance as I’ve told you. A chance to prove that I can care for you. It is the least you deserve.”

Beomgyu stared at him, his heart hammering in his chest, and for the first time in a long time, he did not know what to say. Instead, he let the words engrain themselves into his body as he processed everything that was said.

Each word was exactly everything he wanted to hear from the prince. He had once told him all he wanted was someone to care for him and here the prince was, saying he wanted the chance to prove he could. And these past few weeks, he has proven it.

And for a moment, the omega realized how incredulous this situation was. The Crown Prince, one of the most powerful men in all of Joseon, truthfully owed him nothing, not even a glance, and yet here he was, unveiling his heart with a sincerity that Beomgyu had never imagined possible.

Had Yeonjun wanted to, he could have crushed him beneath his heel long ago. A mere whisper of displeasure could have sent the omega to his grave, his existence erased without a trace.

And yet, against all reason, against all expectation, Yeonjun had chosen to speak and to expose himself in a way that no prince ever should to a mere bastard servant.

Beomgyu lowered his eyes to the water, his fingers trembling slightly as they disturbed the still surface and blurred his reflection. At last, he spoke and the words sounded like the first whisper of a summer breeze after a long winter, 

“I cannot blame you, my prince, for the way you have acted.” He raised his eyes, his heart faltering when they met Yeonjun’s, “I know far too well what it is like… to be a product of those around you.”

A shadow passed over his face, his mind retreating to memories of the cold gaze of his mother as she looked down at him. How her love doled out in measured silences and sharp reprimands. She had been the architect of his insecurities, carving them into him with the precision of a blade.

“My mother is not a loving person, as I have told you before,” Beomgyu began bitterly.

“She shaped me in way I do not think I will ever escape,” He let out a shaky breath not used to being so exposed, “I have lived my life believing that I am lesser and I have never allowed myself the freedom… to not be weak.” 

When he dared to glance at Yeonjun, he was startled to find the prince’s expression softened, his brow furrowed not with judgment, but with something that looked achingly like sorrowful anger.

“I do not blame her entirely as I cannot blame you, everyone is a product of a world that leaves little room for gentleness.” He felt his own eyes glistening as he met the alpha’s eyes once more, 

“But at least you are now honest with me and…I understand why you acted the way you did.”

Yeonjun inhaled deeply at this as if he could not believe the words he heard, “You are far too kind to me, Beomgyu.” He muttered.

“As are you, my prince. No one but you has ever told me that I am important,” he confessed, “Even hearing it from your lips, I struggle to believe it.” 

And he heard how the prince’s breath faltered, the sincerity in his eyes piercing through the quiet,  “Why is that?” he finally spoke, “Why do you not think so?”

Beomgyu opened his mouth, then closed it again, the words caught in his throat. 

He had spent a lifetime burying his thoughts, suppressing his desires, until even the idea of speaking them aloud felt impossible. But then he looked at Yeonjun again, at the openness in his gaze, the patience etched into every line of his face. The crown prince had laid bare his soul without hesitation. How could Beomgyu offer him anything less?

A warmth he had never known filled his chest, spreading through his limbs, unfamiliar and yet so, so welcome. Trust . He had never felt it with Yeonjun before, not truly. But now it seeped into his bones, intertwining itself as if it had always belonged.

“You…you once asked me what it is I dream of. I could not answer you then and you called me weak for it.”

He saw the recognition in the alpha’s eyes, his expression morphing into one of guilt and sadness, those emotions etching themselves into every line of his face.

“You were right, I am weak. I struggle to even voice my thoughts.” Beomgyu continued looking down at the spring water, “But you, my prince...” 

Beomgyu felt himself go quieter, “Though you have been the cause of such pain in my life, you have somehow also become the reason why I wish to be strong. Why I wish to voice my thoughts.”

His lips quivered into a faint smile before looking up, “Why I continue to dream.”

He noticed how the prince’s chest was rising and falling with the words, “And what is it you dream of, Beomgyu?” he then asked just as quietly.

The omega’s eyes fell down to the ruby necklace that hung around the alpha’s neck.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Beomgyu reached out, his fingers brushing the surface of the water before lifting into the cool air. At the touch, he could feel the alpha still as the warmth of his body pressed on. His hand trembled as he touched the pendant, the smooth, cold surface pressing against his fingertips.

Beomgyu lifted his gaze and his eyes met Yeonjun’s and for a moment the world around them faded into nothing.

“Of love, my prince,” he whispered, “ I dream of love.”

And at the words, he saw the prince go impossibly rigid, eyes widened just a bit, and his breath catching. Yeonjun’s face seemed to run through emotions too numerous to name,

“Love?” The prince whispered and then he looked down at the ruby necklace the omega held in his hand,

“You had told the vendor, though, that love is not for you?”

Beomgyu hummed, “Yes, it is not for me. Not for someone like me at least. That is why I dream of it, my prince.”

“Why…only dream of it?”  Yeonjun then asked, not taking his eyes off of the omega once, “Why not…find love for yourself?”

The long haired male then clutched the ruby necklace in his hands, feeling the edges and cuts of the gemstone against his pruned skin before looking up into the alpha’s eyes, “You know why.”

The meaning behind the words did not have to be explicitly said. His birth status and his rank dictate that someone like Beomgyu cannot afford to fall in love. There would be no use for him to fall in love, it would only bring more harm to him than good.

“I cannot marry nor have kids, unless I want to subjugate them to a life of illegitimacy. If I were more logical and realistic, I would honestly hate the idea of love, it is nothing but a risk.”

Beomgyu paused for a second, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes, “But I am neither.”

He laughed humorlessly, “I am quite sensitive and I want to dream of love. Although I do not really know what love is, I have observed it my entire life and I know of the beauty it entails. Love seems freeing and that is why I dream of it because I know I will never…have it.”

And the prince could not take his eyes off of him as he finished speaking, not once.

Not when Beomgyu was so intimately baring his own truth to him. And hearing the words come out of his mouth, Yeonjun looked almost overwhelmed by it, of hearing a sort of life so far from his own reality, of the hardship the omega has to face every day and the thoughts that run through his head.

The alpha swallowed hard, looking down at the water as if he was contemplating saying something, and then back up to the male,

“Until I free you, that is.” He proclaimed out loud, and Beomgyu felt himself freeze.

He had forgotten about that, about that promise the prince had made to him, that once he is king, he will be set free and compensated. When he is free, there is a chance he could go far from everything he knows, meet people who know nothing of him, fall in love, create a family. But for some reason, the thought of being far from Yeonjun felt…unsettling.

“I suppose so.” Beomgyu replied, feeling his throat tighten as he imagined it more and more.

And what is unsettling him even more is the idea that he is already unsettled by it. Why is he feeling this way? Should he not be more joyous about the idea? In a way, by understanding Yeonjun and getting his answers, somehow he feels as if now he does not understand himself more and more.

Suddenly, his skin prickled with awareness of the stillness, of Yeonjun’s gaze, of how close they were, mere inches separating them beneath the water’s surface. The prince's eyes traced the curve of his shoulders and neck, lingering too long.

And then he watched how the alpha reached behind his own neck and unclasped the ruby necklace and held it up.

Then he felt it—Yeonjun’s fingers brushing against the nape of his neck. The touch was startling against his flushed skin, sending a shiver racing down his spine. Beomgyu stiffened as the alpha secured it in place. The ruby pendant settled against his collarbone, his fingers rising instinctively to touch it. 

“I’ll give this back to you then, keep it seriously now.” He said, “I…hope you find love, Beomgyu. You seem to long for it more than anything.” 

The words struck him in a way he hadn’t expected, “Thank you, my prince…” 

He hesitated, “For this, for everything you said earlier. You do not owe me anything and yet you still have told me everything I asked for.” The words came out barely above a whisper yet they hung heavy in the air,

“But now I know I can trust you.”

The alpha’s lips parted slightly, “It eases my heart to hear that,” he murmured, his voice still as if afraid to disturb the fragile moment between them,

“And I am grateful as well.” Suddenly he felt his hand resting briefly on Beomgyu’s wrist just above the water, “For your trust.”

He felt aware of at the touch, at the warmth of the skin against his own. He found himself staring at the fine lines of the alpha’s face, the way his brows creased ever so slightly, the way the tension seemed to linger even in the gentle curve of his mouth. 

Then his eyes drifted downward, catching sight of the bruises and faint cuts. The hunt, I forgot about it completely. He thought, and then changed the topic,

“Those injuries, they’re from the hunt I assume?”

The prince looked down and nodded, “Not really injuries but yes, it is what happens when you camp and fight beasts for four days.”

“And how was the hunt this year, my prince?” 

Yeonjun rolled his shoulder, “Harder than last year, but definitely more rewarding.”

The omega raised an eyebrow, lips curving slightly. “Because of the bragging rights?” he teased, “You did slay the bear, after all.”

Then Yeonjun’s eyes locked onto his, voice quieter now, “No,” he said simply, “That is not why it is rewarding.”

Beomgyu froze, the implication ringing loud in his ears. His mind raced, remembering that night long ago when Yeonjun had made the promise to hunt one for him. His throat felt tight.

Suddenly, he was too aware. Of the heat curling around them, of their bare skin brushing beneath the water. A naked omega and a naked alpha, alone in the stillness of the night. The knowledge sent a fresh wave of heat flooding his face and he forced himself to tear his gaze away, clearing his throat.

You are his servant, he reminded himself harshly. Do not overstep.

“You must be tired, my prince,” Beomgyu said eager to shift the conversation, “You only returned this afternoon.”

The black haired male sighed, dragging a hand through his wet hair, “I am, it was no easy task hauling all of that back.” 

Beomgyu pushed himself to his feet, the water falling down his body as the night air bit at his damp skin. He extended a hand,

“Let us go, my prince. I shall help you prepare for bed.”

Yeonjun hesitated only a moment before taking his hand, their fingers briefly entwining as they stepped out of the water and into the fog of the night. It was almost impossible to see, the singular lantern their only guide of light as the moonlight was covered by the late night clouds.

The cool breeze wrapped around them causing the omega to shiver. Looking down, it was then that realization struck that his clothes that he carelessly took off were now soaked on the floor.

Beomgyu groaned under his breath and bent down to tug at the wet fabric uselessly, “They’re all wet—”

But then he felt a pair of rough hands grab his bare hips almost out of surprise. He snapped up, face flushing complete red and turned to see Yeonjun with a playful look on his face. The omega felt his heart pounding in his chest like a drum against a war-torn battlefield, not used to anyone touching him, especially not his naked skin.

The prince’s hands lingered for just a moment too long, the heat of his palms burning and then the faintest teasing voice called out,

“You cannot just let go of my hand in this darkness,” Yeonjun murmured, his fingers finally pulling away but not without a squeeze, “I cannot see where I’m going.”

Beomgyu felt his mouth suddenly dry and he took a stumbling step back, “I—I was just—” he stammered.

The heat in the air felt suffocating with the scent of cedarwood, honey, and lingering traces of the hot spring’s mineral water. If the fog of the spring wasn’t so thick, he could make out the emotions in them but he could not due to it. 

Yeonjun then tilted his head, studying him in that infuriating intense way, “Beomgyu,” he sighed, “Your clothes are soaked.” 

Then he stepped away, looked around for a moment, and pulled out a familiar black silk robe. He held it out to him with a knowing smile, his eyes dropping just slightly before rising back up, “Wear this.” he said simply.

But before he could take the robe from his hands, he felt it again, the warmth of those rough, calloused hands, this time gripping his waist as Yeonjun handed him the robe. The moment stretched too long, each heartbeat deafening in his ears. 

Then the alpha’s thumbs brushed against his skin before they withdrew,

“You’re shivering,” Yeonjun muttered almost as if it were an excuse, clearing his throat and pressing the silk into Beomgyu’s body.

The omega felt his fingers curl tightly around the fabric, then he stepped back and turned away, his face burning as he and pulled the robe over his shoulders.

Then he realized, “But what will you wear, my prince?”

He looked back at Yeonjun who stood before him in all his naked glory utterly unfazed by his own state of undress. His toned frame, sharp jawline, the lean muscles of his forearms and legs, and looking down, it was evident the man must be a proud alpha, and he felt his face burn hotter than the spring itself. 

But the alpha said nothing and instead started walking out the way they came from, completely bare in the night.

Beomgyu quickly darted after him, “My prince?!” he spluttered in disbelief, “What if someones sees—”

But Yeonjun merely laughed without a care as he disappeared in the darkness, “Come along now, Beomgyu. It’s late.”

And the omega could only stare, mouth agape, and while trailing behind him he could only think that the prince was truly the most perplexing individual he had ever met.

———

The air inside Yeonjun’s chamber was warm with the faint traces of cinnamon and cedar.

By the time he caught up, the prince already had a robe of his own wrapped around him, and his sleeping robes hanging on the screen. And suddenly the realization of what exactly they just did together hit him.

Outside the palace grounds were silent save for the distant chirping of crickets, but inside, the tension was cloying like honey, sticking to Beomgyu’s skin more than the damp silk robe clinging to his frame.

Yeonjun stood near the dressing screen, his toned shoulders rising and falling with slow, steady breaths as he dragged a towel through his damp hair. Stray droplets trailed down the sculpted lines of his collarbones, disappearing beneath the folds of his sleeping robe which hung loosely around his frame. 

His expression was almost too composed and the omega didn’t miss the way his eyes caught him, tracing down the omega’s form with a flicker of something he couldn’t quite place.

Yeonjun swallowed thickly, his lips parting slightly as if to say something but instead, he abruptly turned away, snatching a fresh towel and a folded pair of his own silk sleeping garments from a nearby chest. 

He tossed them to Beomgyu with a sharp motion, “Wear this for now,” he said, not quite looking at him, “You can change behind the screen.”

Beomgyu barely caught the bundle against his chest, startled. He blinked, his fingers tightening around the fabric, the scent of Yeonjun clung strongly to the garments,

“My prince, I should help you instead though—” 

His words faltered when he noticed the way Yeonjun’s gaze flicked down once more, his jaw tightening with a visible flush creeping up his neck. And then it hit him, how indecent he must look.

The black silk robe had dampened against his wet body and only conformed itself the more he moved. It pressed against his skin and hardened nipples, exposing his chest, highlighting every curve and dip of his body. His face burned with sudden mortification and he instinctively held the garments tighter against his chest. 

“I-I see.” he stammered, his ears hot as he hurried behind the screen.

The moment he was out of Yeonjun’s sight, he exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to his chest as if to still the wild thrum of his heart. As he slipped into Yeonjun’s clothes, he couldn’t ignore the way they draped over him, slightly too large, enveloping him in a way that felt... intimate.

He could smell him in the fabric, how his scent mixed with his own in a way that made his stomach twist with something he didn't want to name.

When he stepped out from behind the screen, adjusting the sash around his waist, Yeonjun was already seated on his bed.His dark hair was still slightly damp and he leaned back against the carved wooden headboard. He looked softer like this, exhaustion tugging at the sharp edges of his face as he watched Beomgyu walked towards him.

The long haired male cleared his throat, “You should have let me help you, my prince.”

Yeonjun didn’t answer right away. Instead, his gaze lingered, contemplative and trailing over the omega in a way that felt almost invasive.

“My prince… is there something on my face?” he asked hesitantly, fingers brushing against his cheek self-consciously.

Then the alpha blinked, as if breaking out of a trance and quickly averted his gaze,

“No. No, nothing is wrong,” he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just dozing off.”

Beomgyu hummed softly, watching him with a slight frown, “Then, I shall let you rest. Goodnight, my prince, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He turned to leave, stepping carefully across the wooden floor, but before he could reach the door, Yeonjun’s voice, almost inaudible, called out to him.

“Can you stay?”

Beomgyu froze mid-step. His pulse jumped, throat tightening as those words echoed in his ears, pulling him back to that night. The drunken night when Yeonjun had clung to him, murmuring those same words, voice slurred and eyes heavy-lidded. But now Yeonjun was sober. And he was asking the same thing of him again.

He turned around and saw the prince looking at him the same way he did as they sat next to each other in the spring, swallowing he replied,

“I can stay until you fall asleep.” 

Yeonjun’s lips curved slightly with a tired, almost grateful smile tugging at the corners, “Thank you.”

He shifted, settling deeper into the bed, the silk sheets rustling softly around him.

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment before moving closer, perching carefully on the edge of the bed right next to the pillows. He kept his posture stiff, unsure of what to do with his hands but Yeonjun reached out without hesitation, his fingers grazing his long, damp hair.

“I was serious then,” The alpha then murmured, “Don’t cut your hair.”

Beomgyu couldn’t help but curl into a small, breathless laugh, “My prince… Did you know that night when you were drunk, you told me the same thing?”

He saw how the prince’s eyes widened slightly, a flush creeping up his neck. He sat up straighter, running a hand through his hair in clear embarrassment, “I did?” 

The long haired male’s smile widened, “Mmhm. You also told me to stay, just like you did just now.”

Silence settled between them again, heavier this time. Yeonjun looked down at his hands, “And did you then?” he finally asked almost vulnerably.

Beomgyu blinked, startled by the question and then he whispered, “Of course I did.”

Yeonjun looked at him for a long time, emotions passing across his face before he finally exhaled, lying back against the pillows,

“I know for sure now that you’re far too good to me, Beomgyu.”

And Beomgyu didn’t know how to respond to that, so he stayed silent. This close, all he could sense was his own pheromones intertwining with the prince’s and it was soothing.

Seeing how Yeonjun’s breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling in steady movements, he liked to think the prince found the mix soothing as well. He fell asleep soon after. He must have been really exhausted, he thought to himself.

Watching him, he noticed how the alpha’s features softened in sleep, the harsh lines of responsibility and intensity melting away, leaving behind something gentle, something beautiful. His eyes traced the slope of Yeonjun’s nose, the gentle parting of his lips, the perfect lines of his face.

Why does he look like that? Why did he have to look so soft? So achingly human beneath the weight of his princely title? Beomgyu clenched his hands into fists in his lap, feeling the silk of the borrowed sleepwear wrinkle beneath his grip.

This was the same Yeonjun who used to glare at him with those cold eyes, the same Yeonjun who never missed an opportunity to remind him of his place, and yet he couldn’t reconcile that memory with the sight in front of him now.

The alpha lying there in his sleep, so quiet and calm, his brows relaxed in a way Beomgyu had rarely seen. He looked so... touchable. And he hated that the thought even crossed his mind.

His fingers twitched. His throat felt tight. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t right.

Beomgyu tore his gaze away, staring hard at the floor but it was no use. His mind was spinning with everything that had led to this moment—Yeonjun’s soft touches, the way he had reached out to brush his long, damp hair, the way his voice had dipped when he asked him to stay.

And then there was that drunken night, the warmth of the male’s fingers curled around his wrist, the way he whispered Beomgyu’s name and called him beautiful like it meant something.

Suddenly that almost disturbing, ugly warmth spread throughout him. His hand trembled in his lap as an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him, to reciprocate back the same gestures, to feel the alpha’s skin on his own. And the realization began to settle in—

Oh.

Oh.

His heart stuttered painfully in his chest.

No. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to notice the way Yeonjun smelled or the way his voice softened when he was tired, or the way he looked at him as if he was something precious. It was just the heat from the springs, the exhaustion, the damn mingling of their scents—it had to be.

Beomgyu exhaled shakily, running a hand through his damp hair in frustration. He needed to stop thinking. Needed to stop feeling. Needed to stop staring at Yeonjun like—

Like he was something more than just his prince.

His chest tightened, and he could feel the panic creeping in, wrapping around his ribs and squeezing until his breath came shallow.He shouldn’t think this way. He was an omega, a servant and Yeonjun was a prince, an alpha born of the royal bloodline, untouchable in every way that mattered.

And yet here he was, sitting in the prince’s chambers and wearing his clothes, staying at his side like some trusted companion. And the worst part? The worst part was that he wanted to stay.

He didn’t stay because the prince had asked him to, no, because he knew it would satisfy some sick part of him within, his omega that longed for something, anything. He shook his head, tearing his eyes away to hopefully stop the thoughts within, This isn’t right. I do not…I cannot…

He took one last glance at Yeonjun, at the gentle way his hand rested against the pillow, at the soft rise and fall of his chest and it hit him like a tidal wave. 

“No.” The word came out in a frantic whisper, barely audible, as if saying it any louder would make it real. 

He shot up from his seat so fast that the floor creaked slightly beneath him and Yeonjun stirred, shifting slightly but not waking. Beomgyu swallowed hard, I do not like him. I cannot like him.

Without thinking, he turned on his heel and hurried toward the door and the cool night air hit him like a slap when he stepped outside and he braced himself against the wall.

He felt dizzy, his head swimming with thoughts he couldn’t control, with feelings he didn’t want to name. “It is not possible.” he muttered to himself.

He rubbed a hand over his face, “It will never be possible. I do not feel anything.” He said again, firmer this time, as if saying it enough times would make it true.

But deep down, in the pit of his stomach, he knew differently.

And it terrified him.

———

The journey back to Hanyang was much harder than the journey there as November neared an end, just a mere three days from December.

But when they arrived, the entire capital was filled with the celebratory noise, shouts of joy, the sounds of drums beating in rhythm, and music playing aloud in honor of the returning princes.

Within the palace, the mood was no less festive. The courtiers were all abuzz with the news of the princes’ victory in the grand hunt and the halls echoed with laughter and merriment.

Yet admist it all there was one person who could not focus on the revelry—Beomgyu.

He had returned to the palace, his senses heightened by the presence of Yeonjun at his side. The familiarity of hallways, the wooden floors, all of it should have felt comforting. Yet something had shifted within him ever since that night, and his pulse quickened just thinking about it.

Since the prince had defended him so publicly at the feast of the hunt, he also felt more known.

Beomgyu was no stranger to the court and its words, and he had long since grown accustomed to the curious glances of the servants, the whispers of the nobles, but now it felt as though every inch of him was exposed. It wouldn’t be long until the king and queen hear of what the prince did himself and why he did it.

But beyond that, he felt like every bit of his senses were in overdrive. His brain clouded as if he was forgetting something important. He could smell Yeonjun’s scent more distinctly than he ever had before, and every time the alpha was near, it was as though the world narrowed to just him and Beomgyu's skin burned with his presence.

Even worse, the thoughts he had of the night of the hot spring, as he watched the prince sleep, haunted him every night. 

It was all so... embarrassing . And overwhelming. Every time Yeonjun spoke, his heart would race uncontrollably, his mind spiraling. The prince had not seemed to notice, or if he had, he didn’t ask. And for some reason that made the omega feel small, timid, as though his every reaction was being observed, analyzed.

Ever since they had been back, he also was not as polished as he used to be, more aloof than before.

Yeonjun, ever composed, had done nothing but watch with mild amusement as Beomgyu stumbled and stuttered. They hadn’t spoken much since their return to the palace but he teased when he could. 

One evening, as November came to an end, they found themselves in his study room. He was carrying scrolls for the prince and was going to set them in a vase, but as he neared the prince, he caught a whiff of him and the scent made him stumble and drop a few scrolls.

The prince turned, watching the male scramble for the scrolls, “I must ask, Beomgyu, is something the matter? You have been more clumsy than usual.”

He remarked casually as he sat on the carved wooden chair near his desk. His voice was calm, but his eyes, those eyes, never left omega.

Beomgyu stiffened and the room seemed to close in on him.

He stood up and shifted his weight nervously from foot to foot, avoiding the gaze. His skin felt hot, almost impossibly hot, and he could feel the intensity of the alpha’s pheromones grow by every second, and suddenly he could not think. 

“I—” His voice faltered. He dropped the scrolls without a thought and then panicked, “I have something to attend to.”

The words spilled out before he could stop them and without waiting for a response, he turned swiftly, his steps hurried, almost panicked. He could hear the prince shouting for him but he ignored it. His breath came quickly as he made his way down the corridor. His mind was whirling, the confusion thickening with each passing second.

What had happened to him? What was wrong? Why couldn’t he control the reactions that surged through him whenever Yeonjun was near?

His thoughts scattered as he turned a corner, nearly colliding with a familiar figure standing by one of the pillars.

Lady Jangmi. 

He stopped in his tracks, for not having seen the old lady in a while. The last time they spoke, it was a dark conversation and they hadn’t spotted each other once since then. She was an enigma, and for some reason, her presence either always comforted or unsettled Beomgyu.

And as always, there was this sense he had about her that made him feel like she could see straight through him.

"Glad to see you’re still alive." she remarked coolly.

Her lips curled into a knowing frown and Beomgyu couldn't help but feel a pang of discomfort at her gaze.

"It is nice to see you, too, Lady Jangmi." he replied stiffly, attempting to maintain some semblance of composure.

But the words felt foreign, almost absurd, as they left his mouth. His thoughts were racing, his heart pounding. His mind flashed back to their last conversation—the warning she had given him, that his death was to come. But also of her admission, how she told him she worried for him, that she also cared for him. 

Her gaze softened as she watched him, like she could actually read her thoughts. But then as she eyed him closely, he saw her eyebrows furrow and there was something unreadable in them.

She took a step closer, her movement almost imperceptible.

"Beomgyu," she said far more seriously, "When was your last heat?"

And at the mention of it, the omega froze. My heat.. He blinked rapidly. How had he forgotten? How could he have been so blind to it?

"I... it was the first week of August," he muttered almost to himself.

Lady Jangmi studied him for a long moment then she sighed in exasperation, her expression turning grave.

"And how often do they come?" she asked, her voice more blunt and urgent now.

"Every three months," He answered, "Always the first week after three months pass."

Lady Jangmi's lips pressed into a thin line as she regarded him with something akin to disbelief,

”You idiot," she muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowing sharply, "Do you not realize what week is about to start in a mere few hours?"

Beomgyu blinked, his mind slow to catch up with her words, "December...?" he questioned, the realization dawning on him like a thunderclap. 

His heart stuttered in his chest as his eyes widened. "Oh my gods... December. The first week after three momths since August is..." He trailed off into stunned silence.

Lady Jangmi stared at him, her gaze no longer soft. It was sharp, cutting through him with a level of knowing that made his stomach churn. 

"Have you told the Crown Prince about it?" she asked, her tone now heavy with warning.

The words lodged in his throat and Beomgyu’s face flushed with embarrassment. He could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, his entire body trembling with dread,

"Of course not," he whispered, almost ashamed of his own ignorance. "Why would I tell him that?"

"Do not tell me you are that daft," Lady Jangmi snapped, stepping closer.

Her hand reached out to grip his shoulder with an almost painful firmness,

"You realize what happens when an omega begins to go into heat around an alpha, do you not? And you cannot just abandon your duties without explanation, not this time around."

Beomgyu felt his knees weaken as the full weight of her words crashed into him. How had he not realized? How could he have been so blind, so naive?

He thought back to the days after the hunt, the way his body had been so sensitive, so aware of Yeonjun’s every move. The way his heart raced and his thoughts scattered whenever Yeonjun was near. It all made sense now.

His body was already reacting— his heat was coming.

"I should have been executed instead." Beomgyu whispered under his breath, shame filling his body.

How was he supposed to suddenly tell Yeonjun this? He hadn’t even thought about it. With Queen Eunyoung, she had his heat schedule memorized as she was there when it first hit him, so he never had to discuss it blatantly with her since she just knew.

But this is a side of him that Yeonjun knows nothing of, of his pure, primal instincts. 

"How could you forget?" Lady Jangmi then asked.

Beomgyu thought to himself, his mind racing. How could he have forgotten? But then again, the past months had been filled with so much chaos, so much tension, so many distractions. It was only natural that it slipped his mind.

But he felt even stupider because there were so many signs that it was coming, the increased sensitivity and it all.

"You must tell the prince now," Lady Jangmi continued, "December is but a day away. You will have no time to waste before preheat hits. Unless you want him to find out the hard way."

The implication hit him in the chest, “ No —no that will not happen. I will…I will go tell him now.”

And his stomach churned with dread, the thought of even mentioning his heat to Yeonjun made his heart pound painfully. But Lady Jangmi just grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him towards the quarters of the prince, and told him to hurry it up.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to take a shaky breath. There was no turning back now.

He went down the corridors, heart pounding and thoughts chaotic and disordered. It felt as though he were running a race he couldn’t possibly win.

He had to find Yeonjun. He had to tell him. The weight of his realization pressed heavily upon him, suffocating his every breath. December was coming soon and with it, his heat .

It was impossible to avoid this conversation and his body was already reacting and the oppressive weight of the impending heat felt like a vice squeezing his chest.

He darted into Yeonjun’s study room, but the space was empty besides for the discarded scrolls and papers scattered across the desk. Frustration gnawed at him. He had to find him. He couldn't wait any longer.

His steps carried him toward Yeonjun's chambers, but when he arrived, it was the same—empty. His heart sank into his stomach, Where was he?

Turning on his heel, Beomgyu made his way back down the hall. As he rounded the corner, he nearly collided with one of the messenger boys, Junkyu, who was hastily walking in the opposite direction.

"Beomgyu," Junkyu began, "Forgive me, I did not see you there."

"Junkyu, have you come for the Crown Prince? If so, where is he?"

The messenger boy blinked almost offensively, "That is private business of the Crown Prince—" 

Beomgyu’s patience snapped. His pulse was pounding in his ears, his senses overwhelmed by the close proximity to the boy and he could feel the heat beginning to creep over him, igniting his skin like fire and his frustration surged.

“Do you see the crest I wear? Do not test me right now, Junkyu.” He snapped, “Now tell me, where is he?”

Junkyu's eyes widened in alarm at the sharpness in Beomgyu’s tone and he gulped, “The Crown Prince is at the Palace of the Princes. He is dining with his brothers tonight.”

The words registered in Beomgyu’s mind, but he barely had time to process them before he turned and dashed down the hallway, his feet nearly slipping against the floor in his haste.

It was not too far, thankfully, and the cool night air did good for the heat against his skin, cooling him down for the fifteen minutes it took him to get there.

The Palace of the Princes was smaller, quieter,  Beomgyu had visited only a few times before but not enough to familiarize himself completely with it. There were four princes, the only children of the Queen, Yeonjun, Soobin, Jaehyun, and Woonhak.

But only three of them lived in this palace, and as he walked throughout the place, the sheer force of their alphaness overwhelmed his every being. Beomgyu was all too aware of it and tonight that sensation felt suffocating.

The scents in the palace overwhelmed him. Every turn, every doorway, seemed to come with a stronger and more potent scent of earthy, spice tones—a reminder of the alpha presence that pervaded the entire building.

A part of him wished the crown prince was instead at the Palace of the Princesses, where his three half-siblings lived, Yoonah, Minju, and Wonhee. It would have been easier to handle the pheromones imbued into their living grounds then here since they were all younger and all omega. 

There seven royal siblings were close, despite some being half-siblings, united under the care of Queen Eunyoung, who had raised them all with kindness, treating even the king's children from concubines as her own.

The rarity of their family, so few in number compared to others of the noble houses, had created an environment where the royal siblings seemed inseparable, bound not only by blood but by a shared understanding of their roles.

But for Beomgyu, the familiarity of the palace in particular was no comfort. He felt disoriented, his mind reeling from the physical sensations pulsing beneath his skin.

He could feel it now—the sharp, unrelenting pull of his heat, the rising intensity that threatened to overtake him at any moment. His movements grew more frantic as the minutes passed and the weight of his desperation pressed down on him like an unbearable burden.

Every instinct screamed at him to find Yeonjun before it was too late, but as his feet carried him deeper into the palace, he couldn’t shake the overwhelming dizziness that had begun to cloud his thoughts. His body felt uncomfortably hot and a sharp pang of anxiety clenched his gut.

He had only a handful of hours left, and the thought of facing Yeonjun in such a state, of revealing his vulnerability to him, sent waves of embarrassment through his chest.

Then, as if the world had grown quieter in the face of his growing distress, he caught a familiar scent of sandalwood, vanilla—a scent he barely knew but familiarity was what he needed right now.

Prince Royal Soobin.

He turned sharply and entered the room, his eyes wide with surprise and breath quickening as he saw Soobin standing in what he assumes is the prince’s room. The alpha looked up, startled to see Beomgyu, his usual calm expression faltering slightly as he blinked in recognition.

"Beomgyu?” He called out surprised, "What are you doing here so late at night? Our dinner is over."

Beomgyu could barely form words, his thoughts spinning as he tried to focus on Soobin,

"I... I need to find the Crown Prince," He stammered, "I forgot to tell him that..."

Soobin tilted his head, "Tell him what?"

Beomgyu's face flushed with mortification, but he swallowed thickly, forcing the words out, despite how vulnerable they made him feel,

"My…. heat is to come soon... I will need the week to myself." he said each word with shame.

Soobin blinked, momentarily taken aback by the suddenness of it all,

“And you decided to come now, here of all places, to tell him?” 

But then the surprise quickly faded and was replaced by a quiet understanding as Soobin took in the sight of the flushed omega, sweat already beading on the sides of his forehead, 

"How soon will it start?" he asked, his voice now laced with concern.

Beomgyu’s stomach twisted with discomfort as the sharp pain of his impending heat struck him like a blade,

"Fuck, soon, preheat will start in a few hours." He felt the panic rising in his chest as the reality of the situation set in.

And then, without warning, the sharp stab of his heat hit him—his body trembling as it surged through him, overwhelming every sense, flooding him with a searing intensity he couldn’t ignore. And suddenly he felt stupid for coming to an all-alpha palace with his heat nearing soon.

Soobin’s eyes widened as he saw the immediate change in Beomgyu, the shift in his posture, the way he doubled over slightly.

And then the prince smelled it, a scent too sweet, of honey and orange tinging through the air and straight to his nose. He covered his nose with his sleeve and took a step back,

“I think your preheat is starting now, actually." 

Beomgyu felt himself whine unconsciously, if his preheat was staring now, then his actual heat would be hitting as soon as December began. He couldn’t. Not here, not like this, not with Soobin or any of the princes nearby.

His thoughts scattered and in a desperate, fevered moment, he looked up at Soobin with pleading eyes. An insane thought crossed his mind, but he knew if the prince royal was as kind as people say and had a shred of dignity in him, he would abide by it.

"Knock me out, Your Majesty," he rasped, his voice shaky.

“What ?” Soobin asked in pure disbelief, taking more of a step back.

"Not physically, but with your pheromones.” He clarified, “Just long enough to delay the heat and for you to find the Crown Prince. He will…he will make sure I’m safe."

Soobin froze, "I don’t think Yeonjun hyung will appreciate me using my pheromones on—".

"Please," He interjected, "Find him for me... I can’t go through with this here, you know this."

Soobin’s expression shifted, conflicted, before he took a cautious step closer, “Are you sure about this? How about I go find him for you? You should not—"

But before he could finish his sentence, Beomgyu’s legs buckled beneath him, he could feel slick beginning to pool in his stomach and he collapsed to his knees. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling and he looked up at Soobin with desperate eyes.

"Okay, okay. Nevermind then.” The prince murmured, his expression softening as he reached out and grabbed shielded Beomgyu while gritting his teeth. 

With a deep, steadying breath, Soobin released his pheromones, the air around them thickening with their scent. Beomgyu’s senses were immediately overwhelmed, the rush of Soobin’s scent washing over him like a flood.

Sandalwood and vanilla, it was soft and any omega would find it relieving. But his body hated it, hated the feeling of another alpha’s pheromones, secretly craving one of cedar and cinnamon. 

But at the same time, his body was starved for any relief, collapsed against the warmth of Soobin’s presence. The world faded into a soft blur, the heat receding as his body fell into unconsciousness, safely tucked away from the burning desire that threatened to consume him.

Soobin stood over him for a moment, watching him with a quiet, contemplative expression, as if he were waiting for something—waiting for Beomgyu to wake, waiting for him to tell him what came next.

But for now, the world seemed to have pause and the prince could only do what the omega had asked him for, to find his older brother. 

———

Yeonjun’s footsteps echoed softly as he made his way down the hallways of his palace. 

The gathering with his brothers had been unexpectedly pleasant, Jaehyun and Woonhak had surprised him and Soobin with a personal dinner, a rare gesture that had brought a genuine sense of warmth to the evening. It had been a long time since Yeonjun had felt this at ease in their company.

Still, in the back of his mind, a thought lingered, persistent and nagging— Beomgyu . 

He found himself thinking of the omega more and more. It wasn’t like him to be so distracted by someone, to allow someone to linger in his mind in such a consuming way. As crown prince, he had spent a lifetime focusing on his duties, of his role in this world.

But Beomgyu had slowly become the one constant in Yeonjun’s thoughts, especially since they now spend each day together.

It wasn’t even a momentous event, something obvious or bold that had made his mind full of the omega. It was just the accumulation of small moments—the way Beomgyu looked at him when he spoke, the way face relaxed when their eyes met, the way the mere presence of him could shift the entire energy of a space.

And the way Yeonjun began to feel like a piece of himself was missing whenever the omega wasn’t near.

Since their return from the hunt, however, something had been… different. Yeonjun could feel it in his gut that something wasn’t right. But for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. Beomgyu had been distant, as though some invisible wall had come up between them. His interactions with Yeonjun had become more clumsy, timid. 

He will admit to anyone who knew of what happened after the hunt that what he and Beomgyu did was not… normal . No, it is far from normal for a servant and a prince to see eachother so bare, to stay with one another to sleep. But he had thought it would have brought them even closer if anything.

But the minute they got back, Beomgyu couldn’t even look him in the eye without tensing up.

The last time they had been alone, in the study, Beomgyu had practically fled the room the moment he stepped closer. The alpha had seen it, his nervousness, the way his cheeks had flushed pink before he practically bolted. It had been unexpected. Out of character, even.

Yeonjun laughed softly to himself, recalling the scene. It was cute. Endearing, really, how the omega had turned so red at the slightest attention. He’d never known someone like Beomgyu, someone who could both frustrate him and draw him in with such charm.

But Yeonjun, at that moment, also felt like the omega had been running from something more. It had been something deeper, something he couldn’t decipher and that only made him more curious. He only wishes to know everything about Beomgyu.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something more than just the usual tension between them. He could feel it in his bones, the way his heart rate would spike whenever Beomgyu looked away too quickly or when the omega remained silent for too long.

His instincts were pulling at him, warning him of something but the details eluded him. Was it something Beomgyu was hiding? Or perhaps something Yeonjun himself had done—or failed to do? The uncertainty gnawed at him, digging its claws into the back of his mind like an itch he couldn’t reach.

As he reached his chambers and entered the spacious room, Yeonjun expected the familiar sight of Beomgyu waiting there for him. He had gotten used to the quiet presence of the omega in his personal space, of the honey & orange scent that lingeree, but when he stepped into the room, the emptiness hit him immediately. 

Beomgyu wasn’t there.

A small pang of unease twisted in his chest. He stood for a moment, letting the silence of the room sink in, before he called out softly, “Beomgyu?”

There was no answer. Yeonjun frowned, a deeper sense of worry settling over him. His instincts told him to search further, to go beyond the confines of his chambers, but something in his gut kept him rooted to the spot. There was something off about all of this but he couldn’t place it.

Where could he be?

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

“Come in.” Yeonjun called out though he couldn’t shake the feeling of impatience that tugged at him. Perhaps it was Beomgyu finally returning.

The door creaked open, but it wasn’t Beomgyu who entered. It was Lady Jangmi, her face as serene but there was a faint tension in her posture as she stepped into the room.

“Ah it is just you,” He sighed with a ting of mild disappointment, "What brings you here, Lady Jangmi?”

She gave a small bow, “Crown Prince, I came to see how you are. But I must also ask about Beomgyu. How is he?”

"What do you mean?" he asked with concern, "Beomgyu? Why would you be asking me how he is?"

Lady Jangmi’s expression shifted, her demeanor almost dropping completely into pure unease,

“I had thought he had sought you out to inform you of his… condition. Did he not come to you, Crown Prince?”

Before Yeonjun could respond, the door to the chambers flew open again, this time with Soobin entering, his face flushed and his clothes slightly disheveled, as though he had been running through the palace in haste.

“There you are, you idiot.” Soobin grumbled, clearly out of breath as he strode into the room.

“Idiot?” He scoffed, “The hell are you doing here Soobin?”

He was beyond confused and now a bit irritated, it was late at night and he was quite tired and all he wanted was to see Beomgyu.

Soobin met his gaze with both annoyance and exasperation,

“Why did you leave the palace so fast?” He then walked over to his older brother, “If you would have stayed then I could have told you about—”

And Yeonjun was about to ask what his brother meant by that when he suddenly caught a scent too familiar blending with the familiar notes of Soobin’s own scent. It was unmistakable.

Beomgyu’s scent.

His pulse quickened as he inhaled sharply. The scent of honey & orange blossom and a hint of warmth struck him like a sharp arrow, lodging itself deep in his chest. The omega’s fragrance was hard to miss, the aroma that always lingered around him.

But now it was overpoweringly mixed with Soobin’s.

His entire body tensed, every muscle coiled tight as the scent of Beomgyu wrapped itself around him, fueling a sudden surge of fury. His thoughts scattered as an overwhelming rush of possessiveness flooded him. 

Soobin… Soobin had been with him. Had been near him, too close to him. Why? The realization cracked through him like a thunderclap, and the room seemed to tilt, the edges of his vision narrowing.

His stomach twisted in a way that felt almost primal—like his very core was being torn open by the thought of Beomgyu’s scent clinging to someone else, someone who wasn’t him.

Yeonjun felt his lips curling into a snarl, “Why the fuck do you smell like that?” 

At the sound of the snarl, Soobin froze and his expression morphed to confusion before narrowing into a frown. “What the hell hyung?” 

The confusion quickly turned to apprehension, his eyes darting from Yeonjun’s clenched jaw to Lady Jangmi, who stood quietly in the background and her lips pressed tightly together, watching the scene unfold.

“You smell like him.” Yeonjun growled again, stepping closer, his chest rising and falling with a furious rhythm.

His eyes locked onto Soobin with an intensity that could burn through steel, his tone laced with something dangerously possessive,

“Where is he, Soobin? And why the hell were you with him?”

The prince royal’s face flushed with irritation and discomfort,  “Hyung, calm the fuck down and listen to me.”

He hissed, pushing his older brother off him with a force that barely registered. But the elder alpha wasn’t listening. His hands reached out again, grabbing Soobin by the collar and slamming him against the wall. The raw power behind the movement and the fury behind it made the temperature in the room feel like it had risen by ten degrees.

“Answer me.” Yeonjun asked slowly in barely controlled rage.

Soobin’s eyes widened in surprise, there was something in his brother’s expression, something wild and dangerous, that seemed to startle him. 

“I didn’t do anything he didn’t ask me to do.” He tried to explain but the words sounded so wrong to everyone else in the room, and then he realized what he said,

“Wait—not like that, he is safe in my quarters, that’s it!”

Yeonjun’s mind was a storm, swirling with images of Beomgyu and Soobin in close quarters. He could almost see it, could picture the omega in Soobin’s presence, perhaps asking for something Yeonjun could never bring himself to offer. The thought of it made his blood boil.

“What…” He swallowed hard, “What did you do with him?” There was a quiet fear to his voice.

Lady Jangmi took a slow step forward, her usual composure faltering. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her voice firm but calm, 

“Crown Prince,” she began, “Please, do not lose yourself to your thoughts. You know your brother would never harm Beomgyu. You mustn’t—”

But Yeonjun wasn’t listening to anyone but his own thoughts. His senses were clouded with the scent that still clung to Soobin and how they mixed. It was maddening, intoxicating in a way that only heightened his anger. Beomgyu in his quarters? The wordds alone made his vision blur with red. 

Soobin’s voice cut through with a rare seriousness, “Yeonjun hyung, listen to me. He came to me. He was the one who asked for my help, alright?” 

He could see in the corner of his eyes how Lady Jangmi shook her head. Soobin is a kind alpha, everyone knows he would never take advantage of everyone. But for the life of him, he cannot phrase things accurately and he himself barely realizes this.

The prince royal then removed his brother’s grip off of him,

“He was already going into preheat when I found him. He asked me to knock him out with my pheromones, to delay it until he could talk to you.”

Yeonjun’s heart stopped for a beat. The words hit him like a blow to the chest, more hurtful than anything he heard before, 

“Preheat?” He repeated, “You mean to tell me… he’s in heat … and he asked you to help him?”

“Not like that, you idiot! I mean, yes, he was in heat but I didn't even touch him.”

The young prince explained himself, exasperated but the elder alpha only felt himself get even more upset at this.

Lady Jangmi stepped in between them, “Control yourself. You know the prince royal means no harm. Beomgyu is smart, he knows what he is doing.”

But all he could hear was the rush of blood in his ears, the pounding of his heart, and the overwhelming ache in his chest—the need to protect Beomgyu, to bring him back.

The way Soobin had phrased it made Yeonjun’s mind spin with the worst thoughts, his entire body thrumming with an anxiety, possessiveness, and anger that he has never felt before. 

Beomgyu had gone to find help and Yeonjun had not been there. The very idea of his omega being in heat and around another alpha rattled something deep inside.

“Take me to him,” He demanded, his voice tight with control. His eyes locked onto Soobin’s,

“Take me to him now. And I swear to you, if I find you even laid a finger on him, I will end you myself.”

And the prince royal scoffed, “No need for all that, jeez.” And then motioned him to follow him.

And on the walk there, he felt his pride and his protective instincts warring against the overwhelming desire to keep Beomgyu close, safe, and above all— his .

———

Beomgyu’s eyelids fluttered open, his senses immediately assaulted by the unfamiliar surroundings. 

The chamber much larger than the room he was accustomed to with a bed almost as regal as the prince’s. He looked down and he had been changed into linen pants and a very thin, white shirt. The air itself though, he froze in place as he recognized it immediately.

Cinnamon and cedarwood. 

It clung to every part of the room like a heavy, intoxicating embrace. Beomgyu felt his omega stirred, the primal part of him responding to the air around him, to the intensity of it.

His body shifted restlessly, a faint warmth beginning to bloom deep within him. It wasn’t full-blown heat, not yet. But he could feel the simmering tension as his body began to prepare for the inevitable.

His own pheromones spilled from him as a soft, orange and honey scent in response. His omega’s instinct urged him to preen, to bask in the heat but his mind that was still clouded from being knocked out from alpha pheromones, kept him conscious enough to know that the worst hadn’t yet come.

As if on cue, the door to the room creaked open. When he turned his head, his eyes immediately recognized the familiar figure standing in the doorway— Yeonjun .

The sight of him brought a sense of relief. Before he could even think, his voice slipped from him in an almost desperate whisper, "My prince." 

He paused, his thoughts racing as the words fell short. His self-awareness quickly flooded back and made his face burn with embarrassment.

Lowering his head he spoke, "I apologize, my prince, I must be a burden to you. I should have informed you of all this sooner, but… my heat completely slipped my mind."

Yeonjun’s eyes filled with tenderness. He stepped into the room with measured, both quiet restraint and concern etched into his body. 

"It is no burden, Beomgyu," he replied and his voice felt like a balm to the omega’s nerves, "You are not to blame for something beyond your control."

The scent of cinnamon and cedar was swirling around him and his omega instinctively preened, a soft whine escaping him. The heat was coming, creeping slowly, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before it overcame him completely.

Yeonjun’s eyes flashed with something unreadable but there was no mistaking the effect it had on him, "I am just…glad you are well now," He admitted.

"But you made me worried. When Soobin came to my chambers, he smelled just like you and I truly feared the worst."

His eyes darkened as he spoke as though the memory still unsettled him and a wave of shame washed over Beomgyu, his eyes dropping to the floor as he felt his heart twist. 

"I… I apologize for that too," He spoke regretfully,  "I never meant to drag the Prince Royal into this. I intended to find you, my prince, but it was too late by the time I realized—"

"There is no need to explain, you are not at fault."

The long haired male couldn’t help but feel ease flood through him at the prince’s words. Then he looked at his surroundings, "Where am I? I don’t recognize this place."

"You are in the heat quarters of the prince’s palace," Yeonjun explained,

"It was the most immediate place we could think of, given the circumstances. I also called for the royal attendants who specialize in… these matters. They are here to assist you."

At the mention of the royal attendants, Beomgyu’s eyes widened. He had never had such treatment, never accepted the services of attendants for something as intimate and personal as his heat. He had always refused, preferring to endure it alone, to manage it in silence. The idea of being cared for by anyone else, let alone royal attendants, was foreign to him.

"You didn’t have to do that," He whispered as he began to feel the first pang of the heat curl inside him, "I could have managed on my own."

His breathing faltered as the pain intensified, the heat blooming inside him, making his body ache. And Yeonjun’s gaze sharpened at the sound of the omega’s voice, his face betraying the amount of control he was exerting over himself.

He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, "I would never allow you to suffer alone." 

But just as quickly as the pain rose, Beomgyu felt it intensify, the throbbing ache becoming almost unbearable.

His eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping his lips and when he opened them again, he caught Yeonjun looking at him with an almost tortured expression and his hand restrained at his sides. 

It was then that Beomgyu realized how difficult it must be for Yeonjun to be in such close proximity, to witness his discomfort while holding himself back. No alpha would be able to remain so composed in the face of an omega on the brink of heat. Not any alpha who wasn’t truly concerned.

Beomgyu then felt a desperate, aching need rise within him, a need that wasn’t just for relief but for Yeonjun . His heart pounded in his chest, his mind swirling with thoughts he couldn’t control. He felt a sense of longing fill him, an overwhelming desire for the prince.

The heat in the room seemed to get stronger, his eyes locked onto Yeonjun as though he were the only anchor in the world. The need within him surged again and this time it was undeniable—a call to be close, to feel the alpha beside him. 

It was a desperate yearning that he previously denied but being in this state, he cannot find it in himself to deny it anymore.

“Please,” He whispered and then crawled forward towards the edge where he sat, “Don’t go.”

Yeonjun froze as the words reverberated in the small space between them. His breath hitched, and a flicker of something torn in his eyes as he tried to process what the male had just said. 

“You do not mean that, Beomgyu.” He murmured with disbelief as though the very idea was too painful to even entertain.

His eyes darted to the door, then back to the omega, restraint and unspoken desire waging behind his eyes.

But the long haired male felt the ache in his chest grow and shook his head vehemently, his eyes desperate, “I do.” he admitted. 

He crawled even closer, unconsciously bridging the space between them, “I do mean it my prince.”

“Beomgyu,” he began, trying to hold onto reason amidst it all, “It is only your heat speaking. If it were Soobin here, you would say the same thing, if it were him—”

“No—” His voice came out as a harsh breath, the words tumbled from his lips, “No, my prince, I would not, I…” He faltered,

“I am not his. I hated the scent of his pheromones on me. I hated it, I… I hated it so much. And all I wanted was yours.”

The confession was out before Beomgyu could fully comprehend it and the words left him feeling vulnerable in a way he had never been before. He saw the way the alpha's chest heaved up and down, as the omega was just inches from Yeonjun now, close enough that he could feel the prince’s breath on his skin. 

But as much as he longed to close the distance, a part of him recoiled, ashamed by his own feelings. His hands trembled slightly as he lowered his head, unable to hold it any longer. He could feel the tears start to build, breaking his composure.

His voice broke as he cried out, “I am sorry, my prince. I… I did not mean to burden you with this.”

Yeonjun’s expression then softened. He stepped closer and reached out his hand to gently tilt the omega’s chin upward and urged him to look at him,

“Don’t cry, please, you need not apologize.” 

His thumb gently brushed away a tear from Beomgyu’s cheek and though his eyes were filled with concern, they also held a quiet understanding of the overwhelming forces at play,

“I wish I could help you somehow.”

Beomgyu shook his head, “I did not mean to ask that of you. I could never… I would never expect you to do such and stay with me.”

His words tumbled out in a soft, disjointed stream as he tried to pull himself together, “I could never ask anyone, in fact. It is not right, not for me.”

The sound of the omega’s nervous rambling, his unfiltered thoughts, caused a soft laugh to escape him, but it was gentle and comforting.

“You speak as though it is a crime to need help,” He replied, “But do not worry about anything you say, I understand it all.”

Beomgyu blinked up at him, his heart racing, but something shifted in his chest—something pulled tight, a need far more desperate than the physical ache caused by the coming of his heat. He felt it with every fiber of his being now. 

It wasn’t just his body that needed Yeonjun; it was his heart, his soul. 

He wanted the alpha, needed him more than anything. The sheer, raw yearning that swirled in his chest almost drowned him. 

“I…” His breath caught in his throat, the weight of his feelings pressing down on him like a suffocating force. He wanted to say it, wanted to let the truth slip out, but it was too much. 

He felt a surge of heat run through his body, his stomach cramping and he felt his legs give out, chest falling onto the bedding. He let out a moan as he felt the alpha’s scent thicken around him almost heavy on his tongue, and he felt the slick pool down his legs, dampening his pants. 

Yeonjun watched and he could see his composure unraveling as Beomgyu’s scent thickened in the air—an intoxicating blend that made the room feel smaller, heavier.

The omega’s heat was becoming undeniable, his breaths shallow and uneven as a faint sheen of sweat glistened on his brow. Then he smelled it, the sweet scent of the omega’s slick filling his nostrils. His pupils dilated, knowing what it meant, that the male was ready and preparing itself for an alpha, for him.

“It hurts, my prince,” And his voice was a breathless whisper, fragile and trembling like a thread stretched too thin. 

His hands curled weakly into the bedding beneath him, his chest rising and falling in desperate gasps, “I cannot… I cannot bear it much longer.”

Yeonjun stood frozen at the threshold, pulse pounding in his ears as he beheld the omega before him so wholly undone by his own biology. And yet there was still something so unmistakably Beomgyu in the way he tried to hold himself together, in the way he looked at Yeonjun with those eyes, darkened and glossy with want.

A pang of guilt lanced through Yeonjun’s heart, sharp and unrelenting, but beneath it, something far more primal simmered—a dangerous, instinctive urge to take, to claim, to make Beomgyu his in every way an alpha could.

His hands twitched at his sides, fingers tensing as he fought the overwhelming instinct to step forward, to press Beomgyu into the soft mattress, to bury his face into the crook of his neck where his scent was sweetest, to knot & breed him, to ease him.

But he should not stay.

If he stayed, he knew, deep down in the marrow of his bones, he would lose himself.

And worse, he would take something away from Beomgyu that could never be undone. And although he only felt the need to be by him, he could hear the voice of his father in his ears, reminding him of his duty, of his obligation to his future. 

He could not stay.

His jaw clenched, his voice strained as he forced the words from his throat, cold and impersonal, a cruel contrast to the longing burning inside him,

“I cannot stay. The royal attendees will be here soon,” he stood up and turned on his heel,  “They will tend to you.”

And then he left.

The heavy wooden door shut behind him with a resounding finality, leaving Beomgyu alone in the suffocating silence. 

The absence of Yeonjun’s presence hit him like a blow, the lingering trace of his scent dissipating and leaving behind nothing but emptiness.

The heat clawed at him, relentless and merciless, a fire that licked beneath his skin until he could hardly think, hardly breathe. He pressed his forehead against the cool sheets as his body wracked with shivers but no amount of cold could soothe him.

And when it was reaching its worst, the royal attendees came in rushing, pampering him and trying to keep him sane.

For five days, it was the harshest, cruelest heat he had ever endured.

It wrung him dry, leaving him panting and writhing in the chamber. His body cried out for someone that would never come. Each passing hour dragged into eternity, the desperate ache only growing sharper, more unbearable, until all he could do was whimper into the pillows, muffling the pathetic sounds that escaped his lips, the name on his mind.

Yeonjun. The thought of him clung to him like a curse. The scent of cedar and cinnamon still lingered in the air, teasing him with what he could not have. He curled into himself, his mind conjuring the phantom feel of strong hands steadying him, of a soothing voice murmuring his name. 

But reality was cruel and Yeonjun was not here. 

And without him, it hurt more than anything Beomgyu had ever known.

———

The days stretched on in a haze, the royal attendees tending to him with gentle hands and soft reassurances, but it was different from what Beomgyu truly craved. Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was Yeonjun.

By the fifth day, the fever had finally ebbed, leaving Beomgyu hollow and exhausted.  He sat in the vast chamber, his body weak and trembling as the realization crept in and settled in his chest. 

He loves Yeonjun.

There was no use in denying it anymore, no point in pretending the way his heart ached at the mere thought of him was anything less than what it truly was. It was foolish, hopeless, impossible, everything love should not be. And yet it was still love.

He pressed a trembling hand to his chest, his heartbeat steady but heavy beneath his palm.   

It hurt.

It hurt in a way he had not expected, in a way that no fever could match. Because Yeonjun was the crown prince and he was nothing more than a bastard servant. They existed in two different worlds, bound by duty, by rank, by rules that could never be broken.

But despite it all, despite the inevitability of heartbreak that loomed over him, Beomgyu knew, deep in his very soul, that he would love the prince until his dying breath.

After his heat ended, the first person that came to see Beomgyu was Lady Jangmi. He was a bit shocked to see her thinking someone else would have come, someone in particular. 

“My lady,” He rasped, his throat parched from days of fevered whispers and restless dreams.

He pushed himself up slowly, wincing as his body protested the movement. 

“Your heat lasted for quite some time, I imagine you are feeling weak still.” 

He nodded at her words, not finding the strength in him to speak. Then she stepped forward, pressing a warm cup of honeyed tea into his trembling hands.

“Thank you,” He took a careful sip, letting the tea soothe his throat before asking, “Why have you come to see me? ”

He saw in her face how she hesitated, opening her mouth then closing it. It was as if she was contemplating her words, then finally she spoke,

“You and the Crown Prince have gotten closer than I imagined, I heard of what happened at the hunt.” 

He felt tense at the words. Most of the people on the palace grounds knew of the way the prince defended him, and of what he did to Dowon, this was not surprising. What was surprising though was Lady Jangmi talking to him about it.

It is true, he and Yeonjun have gotten close. Closer than anyone had probably assumed, to the point where his own mind was vindicated and tortured with thoughts and emotions about the alpha that he never wished to feel. 

Beomgyu just nodded at her words, not knowing how to respond. She stared at him for a brief second and in her eyes it felt like there was this knowing look, as if she could feel his every emotion and know of the torture his mind thinks of,

“I just wanted to warn you that the Crown Prince has been… preoccupied.”

Beomgyu’s fingers stilled against the porcelain cup,  “Preoccupied?”

She inclined her head, “The King summoned him during your time of need. He has been kept quite occupied since.”

“Do you know why? Is something wrong?” He asked.

“It is said that His Majesty is ensuring the Crown Prince learns the intricacies of ruling during the harsh winter.”

Lady Jangmi knew a lot of how the royal family and their duties worked more than he did so if anyone knew why the King does something, she would know, 

“More ministers have also arrived at the palace than usual and the royal council has been convening more frequently these past days.” She explained.

Beomgyu swallowed at the thought of Yeonjun buried beneath layers of courtly duties, further and further away from him.

“I see.” he whispered, eyes falling to his lap.

She continued, “You must also know the palace is still recovering from the Prince Royal’s birthday celebration as well. The festivities were grander than ever this year. It will be a tense month.”

And the omega hummed absently.

He knew of the celebration well, he had never attended it, not once. His heat always fell upon the first week of December, confining him and the thought of Yeonjun preparing and enjoying himself there, surrounded by nobility and laughter, while he himself had writhed in lonely agony was a bitter one.

“I understand,” He bowed his head, “Thank you for telling me this, Lady Jangmi. I should be set to return to my duties later today.”

“No, you spend the day recovering your energy.” She waved her hand, “Tomorrow, though, you will be by my side since the Crown prince is not busy.”

He nodded and understood, bowing his head and thanking her once more. She then excused herself with a graceful bow and Beomgyu sat in the stillness, the silence of his own presence pressing against him like a shroud. 

The next few days passed in a blur. 

In his lifetime, he has come to understand that December was kind in the sense that it was quiet.

But this year, in that quiet, Beomgyu suffered.

He suffered in ways he had not anticipated, in ways he had never suffered before. His body had recovered from the cruel heat quickly, but his heart was another matter entirely. It ached in the strangest of ways, a heaviness settling within his chest that made it difficult to breathe, to think, to be .

The absence of Yeonjun was a hollow thing and the yearning gnawed at him, creeping into the corners of his thoughts when he least expected it.

He would sit in his chamber, staring out into the winter sky, watching as snow fell in slow, deliberate patterns, and all he could think of was Yeonjun. He thought of the way his voice had sounded that night—firm, restrained.

I cannot stay, he had said and he had left Beomgyu alone in his most brutal heat yet.

He knew that the prince could not stay, he did not even expect him to. He knew they were worlds apart from one another. No, Yeonjun could not stay by him. But by god how he wished he would have. He wished the alpha would have stayed with him, stroke his hair, brush his cheek.

Just as the times Yeonjun used to ask him to stay and he did, he wishes the prince would have done the same for him.

But Beomgyu knows that is but a selfish desire far too grand for a servant like him.

If he were to even voice these thoughts and feelings, he knows he would be banished for it. If the queen and king were to find out that he felt these things for their son, they would be beyond disappointed with him and disapproving. Anyone would be if they knew how he felt.

As the days passed, Beomgyu still had not seen him since his heat had broken, and each passing day only solidified the reality that perhaps Yeonjun was avoiding him.

The thought settled deep in his bones like frostbite. And even more, a part of wished that the prince would at least come to see him. Especially after how gentle he treated him as his heat came. But as the days passed, there was no sign of him.

Yeonjun had not come to see him even once. He knew that the prince had been occupied with matters of state but the thought of the world continuing on without him nearby left an ache deeper than any fever could. 

It was torturous, this newfound longing. Love— was this love? Was it meant to feel like this? A constant ache, an unrelenting pull that left him breathless?

He had thought love would be gentle, a slow and sweet bloom, but this was something else entirely. It was scorching through him without mercy. And as these thoughts filled up his every being, he could only think to himself,

Did Yeonjun even think of him at all?

Beomgyu knew he should not ask such foolish questions. He was not a child, he understood his place. And yet, every night when he lay awake staring at the ceiling, the doubt gnawed at him.

Lady Jangmi's words echoed in his mind. His Highness has been preoccupied.

Preoccupied. Such a simple word yet it weighed heavily on Beomgyu's heart. He could picture Yeonjun in the council chambers, dressed in his royal finery, seated beside the King—far from him, far from the bastard servant, far from him. 

Working by Lady Jangmi’s side, he kept himself preoccupied as well. He worked through his daily tasks, helping where he could, organizing, fetching, he did anything that was asked of him. Every movement was routine, but his thoughts were always elsewhere.

I should be grateful , he thought to himself. And he should be grateful that his heat had passed without incident. Grateful that Yeonjun had seen to his care, even if from afar. Grateful that life had returned to normal.

But the truth settled within him like a bitter root: He was not grateful. He was lonely.

And loneliness was a dangerous, familiar thing, one that he had not felt in a while but it came back to bite him whenever it found the chance. It made him reckless and in this state of his life, it also made his heart whisper things it should not—things like I miss him,I love him.

But what good was love when it was so clearly out of reach?

Yeonjun was the Crown Prince, the Jewel of Joseon. He was destined for things far greater than himself, and more so, he is to be married in just two seasons. And Beomgyu was but a mere bastard, an omega servant. There was no future in such feelings, only heartache and ruin.

And yet knowing this did not stop the longing. It did not stop the way his eyes searched the halls, the way his heart leapt at the faintest possibility of seeing him again.

It did not stop the quiet, desperate hope that perhaps, just perhaps, Yeonjun missed him too.

———

It was not until two weeks into December that Beomgyu finally saw the prince.

He walked into the chancery, intending to organize and clean the space, but the moment he stepped inside, the scent of cedar and cinnamon struck him. He looked up and there the alpha was.

Yeonjun sat at his desk, his eyes already fixed upon him. Something felt off, something felt different in his demeanor, and for some reason, it frightened him.

The omega swallowed and offered a polite bow, “My prince, I did not realize you were here.”

He could hear the prince sigh deeply and then watched him go back to his work,

“I have been occupied,” he replied curtly, his tone devoid of the warmth that once existed between them.

The response stung and Beomgyu forced a strained smile, stepping further into the room,

“Lady Jangmi mentioned as much,” he ventured, trying to keep things casual. “She said His Majesty has been keeping you preoccupied.”

Yeonjun hummed in acknowledgment but said nothing, instead turning his gaze to the papers scattered across his desk though Beomgyu noticed that all of them seemed to be already read through and complete.

The air felt thick and suffocating and the silence even worse until Beomgyu could no longer stand it.

“What have you been so busy with, my prince?” he asked, “Surely the council cannot be meeting so frequently.”

Yeonjun’s jaw tensed at his words and for a moment Beomgyu thought he might ignore him entirely. But then the prince finally spoke,

“My mating ceremony,” he said,  “And other political matters that do not concern you.”

Beomgyu’s breath caught painfully in his throat. The words hurt him more than he expected, each one carrying a weight he had not been prepared to bear. His hands clenched at his sides, trembling with the effort to keep himself composed.

The mating ceremony, he thought. That is probably why the ministers had been in town to visit, why the king had kept him so busy, to prepare him for his upcoming pick of the litter in june.

But the thought of it pained him.

The thought of different people—omegas and alphas alike, all of regal nobility, of worth—traveling here to see Yeonjun made him feel sick. He hated the idea of someone getting to see the prince in the way he did, seeing him bare, hearing his voice in the quiet of the night, falling in love with the warmth Beomgyu had once thought was meant for him alone.

His heart tightened and he pressed a trembling hand to it, as if to quell the ache that threatened to consume him whole.

“I see,” he murmured, though his voice wavered.

He searched Yeonjun’s face, hoping for some sign of hesitation that the words were not meant to wound him.

But there was nothing.

A sharp pang coiled in his chest, his lips trembling before he could stop them, “My prince, have I…upset you in some way? Am I of no concern to you anymore?”

Yeonjun’s head snapped up, his lips parted as if to respond but he swallowed thickly, restraining himself. Beomgyu saw it, the careful control, the way his shoulders stiffened, the effort to hold himself back.

Something was wrong, no, this could not be the same prince who had told him so tenderly that he cared for him.

“I thought you promised,” he whispered, “You promised to be truthful with me... to be better for me.”

The prince exhaled heavily as if he wanted to say something but he quickly shook his head and turned away,

“I do not have the time for this right now, Beomgyu. It would be wise of you to leave now.” He dismissed coldly.

His vision blurred, the words piercing through his defense. He felt an anger rise in him, but quickly overtaken by sheer sadness from the way the prince was treating him.

In the air, you could not take notice of the bitter scent of honey and orange blossom that stung, and then his breath came in shallow, shaky bursts, 

“You — you are cruel , my prince,” he spat out, tears finally spilling down his cheeks, “And you are breaking my heart.”

Regret and guilt flashed across Yeonjun’s face, the words obviously striked the alpha right where it hurt but he masked it,

“I am crown prince, Beomgyu. My father expects much of me. I do not have time to concern myself with unimportant things.”

Unimportantthings. The words echoed in Beomgyu’s mind, each repetition a sharper wound than the last. It was not long ago that the same man was just telling him how important he was, that he was of worth and value.

His heaved in fury, “So I am no longer important to you?” 

After a long, agonizing pause, he could see the defense in Yeonjun break down, the restraint letting go. He knew something was off, something was wrong. And the next few words confirmed it,

“You are important to me, Beomgyu, but…there is much I cannot.—”

His world tilted as the realization struck. The king must have said something to him, there was no other explanation. Or perhaps one of the ministers blabbed about something that was causing the prince to distance himself so coldly from those who care for him, 

“What... what did the King say to you?” he interrupted desperately, “When he summoned you?”

Yeonjun’s expression twisted in something close to anger but he shook his head, turning away from him.

“Beomgyu, please, I cannot deal with this right now.”

Beomgyu opened his mouth, he was going to force the answer out of the prince if it was the last thing he could ever do. He refused to allow the theory to prove itself once more, that the world would always be unrelentingly cruel to him. He refused to let everything the two have built up to go to waste and disappear. He absolutely refused it.

But before he could speak, the doors to the chancery burst open.

“ Crown Prince! ” Lady Jangmi’s voice rang out urgently and breathless. “You must come at once—the King, he is deathly ill!”

And the two froze at the mere mention of it,

What?