Chapter Text
The military wing of the palace smelled like sweat and steel. Of men who sharpened their teeth and their blades in the same room. Where discipline came before sleep, and even the incense couldn’t mask the weight of it.
Seokjin walked through the lion’s den without pause.
His boots echoed across the stone. Guards along the wall straightened as he passed, but none stopped him. They knew better than to stand between a wolf and whatever foolish thing he was about to do.
The commander’s office sat at the far end of the hall. No guards flanked it. None needed.
He didn’t knock.
The door creaked open and Namjoon looked up from a war map, a charcoal stylus held in his ink-stained hand. His scent hit the air like heat, sun on fur, deep forest, the faint mineral press of blood.
Alpha.
The lion didn’t bare his teeth.
But he didn’t smile either.
“You’ve never crossed into this wing before,” Namjoon said, voice like gravel and riverstone. Not unkind. Just surprised.
Seokjin said nothing. Closed the door behind him.
Didn’t sit.
He stepped forward and placed a single parchment roll on the table. Sealed with the royal crest. Wax still fresh.
Namjoon didn’t reach for it. Not yet. He studied Seokjin instead. The way he always had. With the slow, deliberate stare of someone who didn’t speak unless he already knew the answer.
Then, he broke the seal.
Unrolled it with one broad hand.
The silence stretched. Seokjin stood still, not even his tail twitching behind him. His ears were low, relaxed. Neutral. His scent carefully muted with citrus and cold ash, palace etiquette.
Namjoon’s wasn’t.
His scent flared as his jaw clenched.
“So it’s true.” He looked up. “You’re filing for guardianship of that thing .”
Seokjin didn’t blink.
“Of Jungkook.”
The lion stood.
Slow. Controlled. Shoulders broad enough to block the light from the window behind him.
“You’re hiding a weapon under the royal roof,” Namjoon said, voice low now. Dangerous. “An unmarked alpha. A feral. In heat proximity. That’s treason.”
Seokjin didn’t flinch. He only met his eyes.
“And?”
Namjoon growled, barely audible. His tail lashed once behind him.
“What do you want from me?”
It was a challenge. Thrown like a blade.
Seokjin didn’t catch it.
He stepped forward instead. Just once. A soft sound of boots on stone. Close enough now to scent the sharpness under Namjoon’s collar. Sweat and restraint and something hotter, deeper. Desire, maybe. Resentment.
He laid his hand flat on the scroll.
“Privacy.” He said. “Discretion.”
His voice didn’t rise.
“Transfer him into my wing. No one is to see him. Not Haneul. Not the servants. Not even your men unless they’ve been sworn to silence.”
He paused.
Then added, “If you refuse, he dies.”
The words weren’t cruel. Just true.
“Not because Haneul will order it.” Seokjin said softly. “But because Jungkook is starting to respond. If he’s left locked up, he’ll tear the walls apart. And when he’s put down, Jimin will follow.”
That landed.
Namjoon’s tail stilled.
His scent turned sharp.
Jimin.
“You think I can make this disappear?” He asked. “You think I can cover this up? Guards talk. Wings echo. You move him now, someone notices.”
“I know.”
“Then why ask?”
Seokjin looked at him.
Held his gaze for the first time in a decade.
And answered quietly:
“Because I made a promise to our mother. To protect him. To make sure he was never used.”
He didn’t look away.
“And you?” Seokjin said. “You’re the only one who can help me do that.”
Namjoon’s nostrils flared.
He stepped around the desk. Slow. Controlled. He always moved like that. Like a soldier. Like someone trained to lock his instincts beneath the skin.
But the lion in him was pacing now.
“You’re asking me to betray the crown,” he said. “For a hybrid. One the court already calls a beast.”
Seokjin watched him move. His ears flicked once, slow, tired.
“No,” he said. “I’m asking you to protect my brother.”
Namjoon stopped in front of him.
Close now. Closer than they’d stood in years.
“Do you even know what they’ll do to me if this gets out?” he asked.
His voice wasn’t loud.
It didn’t have to be.
“I’ll be stripped of command. Banished from the palace. Maybe worse.”
Seokjin’s eyes didn’t waver.
“You won’t be caught.”
Namjoon growled.
A low, ugly thing. One hand shot out—fist slamming into the desk beside Seokjin with a sharp crack. The parchment jumped. Seokjin didn’t.
“You think everything bends for you,” Namjoon spat. “You waltz in after ten years of silence, you drop this on me, and I’m supposed to roll over? Just because you’re Seokjin?”
“No,” Seokjin said.
Finally.
Softly.
“Because I’ll let you have me.”
The words dropped like stone.
The air went still.
Namjoon blinked. Once. Slowly. As if the scent of it reached him before the meaning did.
“What?”
Seokjin lifted his chin.
Kept his voice level.
“You want something in return. I know what it is.”
Namjoon stared at him.
His ears were high, alert. Tail twitching slow and angry.
“You’re not serious.”
“I am.”
The lion’s eyes flicked over him. Down the slope of his neck. The shape of his mouth. His throat.
“I’m not some desperate soldier in your shadow anymore.” Namjoon said. “I don’t need your scraps.”
“I’m not offering scraps.”
Seokjin’s voice was quiet now.
Too quiet.
“I’m offering myself.”
His tail curled behind him. Tightly. Ankles locked in place. The only sign he was afraid.
Namjoon stepped forward. Close enough to scent the truth of it- fear, control, grief. All braided tight under Seokjin’s skin.
“You’d let me mate you?” Namjoon said. “Just for this.”
Seokjin met his eyes.
“No.” He whispered.
“I’d let you mate me… Because I trust you.”
Namjoon didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Not at first.
Then, his hand lifted. Just barely. Brushed against Seokjin’s jaw like he was afraid it would vanish.
“You don’t trust anyone.” He said.
“I trust you with him.” Seokjin’s voice cracked. Just once. Just slightly.
“That’s enough.”
A pause.
Namjoon’s scent coiled around them, thick and furious and sweet.
“You’d rather bind yourself to someone you don’t love.” He said, low, “than let your brother suffer.”
Seokjin closed his eyes. “Yes.”
The silence stretched.
Namjoon’s tail was still now. His claws no longer flexed. But something else had gone sharp in him.
“You don’t love me?” He said again. It wasn’t a question this time.
Seokjin didn’t answer. Didn’t deny it.
Namjoon exhaled through his nose, jaw clenching.
“You think this makes me weak.” He said. “That I’ve been circling you like some starving dog. That I’ll take whatever crumbs you drop.”
“I don’t.” Seokjin said, too quickly. Then, softer. “I don’t.”
Namjoon stepped in again, slow and sure, until there was nothing between them but the thrum of blood and instinct.
Seokjin didn’t move. He let himself be studied. He let himself be scented.
“I’ve waited a long time.” Namjoon said, low. “For something that was never mine. And now you hand it over like a transaction.”
He paused.
Then:
“Prove it.”
Seokjin blinked. His ears shifted back. “What?”
“You said you’d give yourself to me.” Namjoon murmured. “Then do it. ”
It wasn’t cruel. Or mocking. It was disbelieving.
Like he needed to see it, feel it, scent it for himself. Like it was too dangerous to believe otherwise.
Seokjin’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. His heart pounded once, hard enough for both of them to scent the spike in his fear.
But he didn’t back away. He stepped forward instead.
Just enough for his chest to press against Namjoon’s.
And slowly, so slowly, he reached for the ties of his robe. Untied them with shaking fingers. Let the fabric slip from his shoulders, soft as a hush.
Pale skin. A slight scar on his hip. A dusting of fur down the trail of his belly. The steady thrum of omega scent, held tightly in check, but now beginning to rise. Unspooling.
Jasmine. Ice wine. Cold fire.
Namjoon’s eyes flashed amber.
His mouth parted. Just slightly. But he didn’t touch.
Seokjin leaned in. Pressed his cheek to Namjoon’s chest. Right over his heart. It was pounding, fast and deep like a war drum.
“I’m not doing this because you want it.” Seokjin whispered. “I’m doing this because I trust you not to take it and break me.”
He looked up. Met his eyes. “And because I think part of you still wants to protect me. Not just possess me.”
Namjoon closed his eyes. Exhaled through his nose again.
And this time, when he moved, it wasn’t rough. It wasn’t greedy. It was reverent .
His hands came up slow. One at Seokjin’s waist. One against the back of his neck. Clawed fingers dragging through soft fur, brushing the base of one twitching ear.
Seokjin shuddered. Just slightly. Then stilled.
“You were always going to ruin me.” Namjoon whispered.
Seokjin smiled, barely there.
“You let me.”
***
Namjoon didn’t kiss him.
He didn’t move fast.
He touched Seokjin like he thought he might disappear. Like the moment was made of sugar and thread.
Fingers slid along the edge of his ribs, claws sheathed, palms calloused from years of sword grips and sparring mats. He was all heat. All lion. The scent of golden sun and crushed leaves and old stone.
Alpha.
Seokjin shivered as it wrapped around him. Let it in.
His own scent began to rise, unraveling in ribbons across the space between them. Burnt jasmine and candle smoke. Wild winter wind. It clung to Namjoon’s skin, soaked into his collar.
The bond wasn’t formed.
But the pull was there. Slow and deep and willing.
Namjoon growled. Quiet. Low in the chest. Seokjin’s ears flicked once. Tense. But he didn’t pull away.
“You smell like fear.” Namjoon murmured, his breath grazing the curve of Seokjin’s jaw. “Even now.”
Seokjin nodded once. “I know.”
“And you still let me touch you.”
“Yes.”
Namjoon exhaled. His claws twitched.
“I’m not going to be gentle. I’ve been waiting for this for a decade.” He warned.
“I’m not asking you to be.”
A pause.
Then-
“I’m asking you to be good to me.”
That did it.
Namjoon’s restraint snapped like a bowstring.
Not in violence. Not in hunger. In reverence.
His hands came up to Seokjin’s face, holding it like something precious. He bent just enough to brush their noses together, wolf and lion, alpha and omega. No heat, no rut, just need .
Seokjin leaned into it. Let him scent. Let him breathe in every part of him, ears, throat, hairline, the dip of his collarbone. The lion trembled as he mouthed the line of his shoulder, scent-marking slow. Tender. Possessive .
Seokjin let his robe slip lower. Namjoon caught it. Lifted it away in both hands, folding it like it mattered.
There was no bed in the office. Just the floor, the furs, and a thick velvet coat crumpled on the chair.
Namjoon laid it out. Seokjin knelt first. Namjoon followed.
Namjoon didn’t pounce.
He approached slowly, dropping to his knees behind Seokjin with a carefulness that belied the heat thrumming off his body. His claws retracted fully. His scent wasn’t calm, it was anything but. But it was focused. All of it trained on the omega in front of him.
The air thickened with it.
Alpha.
Seokjin stayed perfectly still. Ears twitching once, then flattening. His tail lifted on its own, instinct responding before thought could catch up. He bared the soft underside of it. Presented fully.
A wolf omega. Kneeling before a lion alpha.
It shouldn’t have made sense.
But it did.
Namjoon’s breath hitched. His hands hovered at the small of Seokjin’s back, claws brushing lightly, reverently, across skin that trembled beneath his touch. He leaned in and pressed his nose to the base of Seokjin’s spine. Breathed in deeply.
His whole body shook.
“You’re so warm,” he rasped. “So soft. I- Fuck, I can’t believe this is real.”
Seokjin’s voice was steady, quiet. “It is.”
That was all it took.
Namjoon’s restraint snapped again- But not in rage. In devotion.
He leaned over Seokjin fully, dragging his tongue up his back in one slow, shuddering pass, then mouthed over the base of his neck, scenting him, coating him, claiming him. Not yet biting. Not yet mating. But the edge of it hung sharp in the air.
Seokjin let it happen.
Let his body respond to the heat curling tighter between them. His scent was rising fast now, no longer muted by citrus and ash. It came in waves, wrapping around the lion like silk.
Jasmine. Fire. Wild wind. Omega.
Namjoon growled into his shoulder. A warning. A promise.
Then his hand slid between Seokjin’s thighs and cupped the heat there. Slick met his palm immediately, coating his fingers. The omega gasped, instinct clenching hard around nothing as his hips rocked involuntarily into the touch.
“You’re soaked.” Namjoon groaned, voice wrecked. “And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
Seokjin didn’t answer.
He just whined low in his throat, barely audible, tail twitching to the side.
The lion groaned again and lined himself up.
There was no more talking.
Namjoon gripped Seokjin’s hips and thrust in deep, burying his cock in one smooth, desperate motion. The stretch was brutal. His knot wasn’t even close to swollen yet and already Seokjin’s cunt clenched so hard it nearly pushed him out. The omega cried out, his arms buckling for a moment before he locked them straight again, panting into the coat beneath them.
Namjoon’s head dropped against his spine.
“Fuck- Fuck - You’re tight-” He pulled out halfway and slammed back in.
The sound of it echoed through the stone room. Wet. Loud. Lewd.
Seokjin sobbed once, the pain sharp, overwhelming, but his body was adjusting. Opening. Slick gushed out around Namjoon’s cock as he settled into a brutal rhythm, his pace fast and punishing.
The lion growled into his throat, rutting hard, panting like he was overheating.
“You smell like mine now.” He rasped. “Say it.”
Seokjin whimpered.
“Say it.”
“You- You’re mine,” Seokjin gasped. “I’m yours.”
Namjoon snarled and fucked him harder.
The scent of alpha and omega, lion and wolf, roared into the air like a forest fire. Hot and wild and completely uncontrollable. Every instinct in Namjoon screamed at him to mark , to sink his teeth in and never let go.
Seokjin was shaking under him now, his cunt fluttering around the thick length pistoning inside him, already so close-
“Do it.” He choked out. “ Now. ”
Namjoon didn’t hesitate. He bit.
His fangs sank deep into the gland at the curve of Seokjin’s neck, hard, possessive, unrelenting. The omega arched back with a cry that was half pain, half pleasure, his eyes wide and wet as the bond snapped into place like a whipcrack in the air.
Namjoon rutted forward one last time and knotted.
The thick base of his cock forced its way inside, locking them together. Seokjin screamed again,sharp and raw, as his cunt clenched violently, body convulsing around the knot as cum flooded him. Spurt after spurt, hot and endless, coating his insides, his womb, his soul.
They stayed like that for minutes.
Breathing each other in.
Scenting.
Bound.
Namjoon slumped forward, arms caging Seokjin in. His tongue licked at the blood running down Seokjin’s throat. His cock twitched deep inside, still locked.
And Seokjin-
Seokjin just lay there, trembling faintly, tail limp, his body spent.
But his eyes were calm.
He had done what he came to do.
And Namjoon?
Namjoon was his mate now.
Willing or not, blood or bond, the lion had made his choice.
He would move Jungkook, provide discretion.
And Seokjin had given him everything.
All to protect his baby brother.
***
They moved at midnight.
No fanfare. No lamps. No metal dragging behind them.
Only the hush of velvet robes whispering over stone and the soft click of Seokjin’s heeled steps as they crossed into the quiet, unguarded corridors of the inner palace. Jungkook padded silently beside him, barefoot, unshackled, nothing binding him but the echo of orders no one had dared question.
The guards stationed outside the West Wing had been replaced hours ago.
Namjoon’s doing.
They didn’t look at Jungkook when he passed. Didn’t flinch or falter. Just lowered their eyes and stepped aside, the scent of wolf royalty stronger than their training, stronger even than their curiosity. They had been warned. They had been told what to expect.
And what would happen if they spoke of what they saw.
Jungkook didn’t glance at them.
Didn’t twitch. Didn’t growl.
He followed.
Not because of submission. Not because of training. Because something quieter had settled in his bones. Something old and low and heavy. Not quite peace. But not fear either.
He had not been touched since the last time Jimin left.
And now, with every step closer to the prince's quarters, the scent trail thickened.
He could smell him.
Faintly. Distant. Like warmth tucked into linens. Like jasmine steeped into fur.
His ears twitched toward it.
Seokjin caught the motion but didn’t acknowledge it. He walked ahead, spine straight, robes trailing behind like smoke. The air around him pulsed with nobility. Every step was controlled. Every breath. Every flick of his tail.
Jungkook followed him into the wing like an animal stepping out of the wild.
And the door closed behind them.
The room was quiet.
Not soft. Not warm. Just… Still.
It smelled like paper and old wood and salt. Like clean bedding and pressed linen. There was no blood here. No sweat. No rust or fear or sour, burned-out electricity. No scent of rot.
No chains.
Jungkook’s nostrils flared once.
Then again.
His eyes drifted to the walls, smooth, polished stone. Bookshelves lined the right wall. A folded robe lay across the bed, untouched. Beside it, a bowl of water sat steaming faintly.
No restraints. No guards. No cage.
His ears twitched low.
His body didn’t relax, but it began to uncoil, slightly, like a spring no longer being crushed underfoot.
Seokjin crossed the room without looking at him.
Didn’t explain.
Didn’t narrate.
He walked to the desk, pulled a parchment scroll from the inner fold of his sleeve, and unrolled it with a deliberate flick. The movement was careful, precise. Like everything he did. Even the quiet hum of his breath sounded practiced. Elevated. Regal.
Jungkook stayed still.
His feet rooted to the stone. His hands loose at his sides. His tail barely flicking once behind him.
The wolf was listening.
“This is the scroll I presented to the high council,” Seokjin said at last, voice even. “The Hybrid Behavioral Trials Act. Signed and sealed. Ratified three weeks ago under the third chamber.”
The words meant little.
But the scent of the parchment didn’t.
Old ink. Burned wax. Legal weight.
Jungkook’s nose twitched.
“You’re listed as Subject 41. Previously unclassified. Former designation: Feral Alpha. No surname. No bloodline recognized.”
The alpha didn’t move.
Didn’t blink.
“But you are now under formal royal guardianship.” Seokjin continued. “You belong to me.”
A pause. Measured. Weighted.
“Not as property. Not as an object. As a ward.”
He let the word sit for a moment. Let it settle.
Then folded the scroll shut.
“Effective immediately, you are no longer housed under military jurisdiction. You are no longer monitored by the palace guard. No one enters this wing without my written order. You will be fed. Bathed. Given time outside in the lower gardens under supervision. And…”
His voice quieted.
“…You will see him again.”
Something moved.
Not loud. Not big. Just… Something.
The rise of Jungkook’s chest, maybe. The subtle way his fingers curled.
Seokjin noticed.
“He’s safe. For now. His name is not mentioned in the document. But if anyone else finds out about the bond-” He didn’t finish. Didn’t need to.
The wolf’s ears pressed flat.
Seokjin’s tone softened, not gentle. Measured. Like a prince speaking to a soldier. A commander speaking to a war dog.
“I don’t offer this for your sake.” He said plainly. “I offered myself to Namjoon. Mated him. I bargained my future. Not because of you. Because of him.”
Jungkook’s eyes finally lifted.
Met his.
Raw. Blood-red. Unshielded.
There was no question in them.
No confusion.
Only understanding as they lowered and focused on the raw, jagged mating bite on Seokjin’s neck.
Seokjin stepped forward. Not enough to touch. But close enough to smell. Mated omega. Lion.
“You’re here because I made a promise.” He said softly. “To our mother. Before she passed. That I would protect him. Keep him safe.” His tail swept once behind him, slow and steady.
“That means keeping you safe.”
Jungkook didn’t move. Didn’t nod. But his body shifted just a breath.
Enough.
Seokjin’s voice dropped lower.
“You will follow my rules now. You will not leave this wing. You will not be seen alone with him. You will not let your scent mark him outside these walls. If I allow him to visit, you will be docile. You will be clean. And you will be clothed.”
Another beat of silence.
“Do you understand?”
Jungkook didn’t speak.
But then, slowly, he sank to his knees.
Not like a pet. Not like a prisoner. Like a creature accepting a truce.
His head dipped.
Tail low. Ears soft. Shoulders bowed.
Seokjin watched him kneel. And gave a single nod.
Then turned and walked to the side table.
He placed the scroll beside the folded robe and the basin. Poured warm water from the pitcher into the bowl.
“I’ll return shortly.” He said, quiet again. “Eat. Wash.”
Then he moved to the door, hand on the handle.
He didn’t look back when he said:
“I’m bringing him.”
And then he left.