Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yeonjun shifts from side to side when his left leg starts going numb. He exhales quietly, eyes cracking open just enough to peek at the woman in front of him. The shaman’s eyes are sealed shut, her wrinkled face serene as she chants in a language he doesn’t understand. The small bell in her hand trembles over a bowl of still water, its faint chime echoing around the room.

“Hey,” a voice hisses in his left ear.

Yeonjun nearly jumps out of his skin before turning to find Beomgyu pouting beside him. His dark hair falls over his eyes again, soft and messy. Yeonjun admires the rare moment he gets to see the omega’s back-length hair so messy from bowing for so long. Yeonjun bites his lip slightly, resisting the urge to brush the long strains away from Beomgyu’s eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers back, a grin tugging at his lips.
He doesn’t miss it when Beomgyu’s eyes shift towards his bitten lips slightly before the omega refocuses, returning to his pout. “Why are your eyes open?”

“Why are yours?” Yeonjun whispers back.

“SILENCE!”

Both of them jolt as the shaman’s voice cracks through the air. Beomgyu stiffens immediately, eyes squeezing shut. Yeonjun bites back a laugh and obeys, shoulders shaking slightly in quiet amusement.

Yeonjun has been visiting shamans ever since his presentation; it is known that Omegan Shamans are closest to the Moon Goddess and use their spiritual power to read into an omega’s future and life path, including when that path will be forever interwoven with another’s. Yeonjun can’t help but be bored out of his mind, doing the same ritual over and over again. He starts thinking of what he’s gonna eat for dinner, his training, the endless chores waiting after this. Just as he’s about to zone out completely, the shaman’s voice rises.

“Ah… I see it now.” The bell begins to shake faster.
Yeonjun opens one eye just a hair.

“Keep your eyes closed!”

He snaps it shut immediately.

“When the Blue Moon is high,” she starts, her voice suddenly layered, strange, “that is when it will begin. The heart that strays will bring both end and beginning.”
The bell trembles violently now, and the water ripples, darkening.

“The one born under silver skies will walk where they should not. The lost will call to the lost, and the veil will tear.”

The final chime rings sharp and cold, echoing through the room like a warning.

After a pause, Yeonjun peeks again to gaze at the shaman. He’s met with her cloudy eyes now open, fixed directly on him.

“May The Goddess have mercy on you both.”

~~

“…Born under gray skies will walk where they shall not!” Beomgyu exclaims mockingly as he balances one foot in front of the other along the raised ledge. His hair now neatly in a braided ponytail swings gleely as he steps wobbly on the edge of flower beds lining the street, drawing a few disapproving looks from nearby villagers as they pass their homes.

“Pretty sure she said silver skies, Gyu.” Yeonjun rolls his eyes and reaches for the water basin Beomgyu’s holding—and spilling—over the flowers.

“Tomato, potato,” Beomgyu huffs, grinning as he lifts the basin out of reach. “I can’t wait until we don’t have to see her every full moon.”

“You keep spilling the Shamanic water,” Yeonjun complains, lunging again. Beomgyu dodges easily, holding the basin higher with a teasing smirk. The sun catches on the wispy baby hairs Beomgyu has yet to grow out, framing a halo around the younger omega’s head and for a moment, Yeonjun just stares at Beomgyu against the amber sky.

“You know,” Beomgyu starts with a gentle smile, lowering his arm, “I like being taller than you like this.”
Before he could say anything else, Yeonjun’s fingers dig mercilessly into Beomgyu’s sensitive sides.

“Hey—!” Beomgyu’s laughter bursts out as he squirms, trying to catch Yeonjun’s wrists. Yeonjun jumps up beside him on the ledge, and in their struggle, both tumble backward into the flowers, the basin overturning in a splash of blessed water.

Yeonjun props himself up, grinning down at Beomgyu beneath him. Beomgyu’s laughter softens as he catches his breath, cheeks blushed, hair mixed with petals.
“You failed, by the way,” he says between pants. “The water’s completely—”

Yeonjun engulfs Beomgyu's remaining words with his lips, kissing him softly, pressing him further into the flower bed below them. Beomgyu melts immediately, meeting that softness with even more care, tugging Yeonjun down to him to get even closer. Yeonjun licks Beomgyu's bottom lip as a question and Beomgyu quickly complies as he parts his mouth shyly.

Yeonjun deepens the kiss quickly, dizzy from the mixture of the scent of the daisies from the ground mixing with Beomgyu's soft honeysuckle scent. Beomgyu whimpers softly as Yeonjun continues to explore his mouth, guiding the long-haired omega’s tongue in a practiced and passionate dance they’ve done countless times before. It is when the honey scent sinks heavier in the air and notes of sugar cane permeate that Yeonjun lifts up and releases a soft laugh.

“Someone’s excited~” Yeonjun sings.
Beomgyu pouts and grabs the back of Yeonjun’s nape, pulling him back down, causing him to yelp. Beomgyu noses Yeonjun’s scent gland, pushing out his honeysuckle scent to bring out Yeonjun’s own. Beomgyu smirks at the raised goosebumps on Yeonjun’s skin as he brings his mouth onto the scent gland, giving it a soft suckle. Yeonjun moans in surprise, almost losing his balance, as he starts to feel himself slicken. Beomgyu removes his lips from Yeonjun’s neck and brings them to his reddened ears.

“Now we’re even,” Beomgyu whispers before shifting back to meet his lover’s gaze once more.

“HEY!”

Both omegas jolt as a sudden jet of water hits them full force. They tumble out of the flower bed, drenched and sputtering. A furious villager stands over them with a bucket.

“Not in the flower beds, you little vultures!” she scolds. “No wonder it smells like a candy shop out here!”

Yeonjun, you should know better!”

Yeonjun rubs the back of his neck, flushing, while Beomgyu bows quickly.

“We’re sorry!” they echo, trying not to laugh. The woman huffs and starts another lecture on restraint, only to catch them exchanging grins. She huffs and begins lifting up another bucket of water.

“Yeonjun! I’m telling the Luna about this!”

Yeonjun groans at the mention of this as Beomgyu grabs his hand and takes off running.

“Don’t stop now, she’ll catch us! Besides—” Beomgyu grins over his shoulder. “There’s no harm in fooling around with your betrothed!”

Yeonjun’s chest aches with laughter as he runs, hand in hand, soaked and breathless.

~~

The opposite can be said now.

Rain pounds against Young Lune’s skin, cold and heavy, pressing down like a punishment. He stands motionless as they lower the empty casket, watching through the disoriented view from his mourning veil.

His eyes blur on the tombstone.

“Yeonjun” The Luna’s voice is soft, tremulous, as he steps to the Young Lune’s side. He doesn’t look away from the name carved in stone.

Choi Beomgyu

Age 18

Moon Goddess’s most treasured

Tears stream down Yeonjun’s face, eyes frantically burning the scene in front of him into his memory. His Dam shifts behind him and softly wraps his arms around him. Yeonjun takes a sharp intake, expecting to be met with the sticky scent of the humid rainwater, but instead he is met with a soothing scent of melon and honeydew.

“You don’t have to do that,” He whines as he tries to pull his arm from his Dam’s grasp. He pauses when met with forlorn, brooding eyes he’s come to recognize over the years and instantly forces himself to relax. He sighs slightly before turning his attention back to the burial. Below the darkening sky, a few villagers work diligently around the open earth, lowering the casket and beginning to cover it in practiced haste. Others sit in a tight cluster of seats arranged near the cliff’s edge closest to the grave, where Yeonjun and his Dam are positioned. All of the Luna’s head omegas bow their heads silently, draped in the same black and gray mourning cloth that hangs from Young Lune’s shoulders.
He doesn’t need to look behind him to know the rest of the community gathers further down the slope.

Hundreds stand on the lower parts of the hill, a soft ripple of bodies stretching out beneath the cliff so everyone has a clear view of Beomgyu’s final resting place.

From the corner of his eye, He watches as Beomgyu’s parents pass him and his Dam, making their way toward the highest point of the cliff where the wind cuts strongest. They’re dressed in loose black slacks and long flowing sleeves, fabric meant to move with the turbulent sky. They stop a few feet from the fresh grave, just close enough that the wind catches in the long hems of their sleeves.

“Thank you for coming,” Beomgyu’s Dam begins, her voice raw but steady as she scans the crowd.

“Beomgyu would’ve been so happy that such a large gathering came to stand with him today, and—” Her words get caught in her throat as she begins to sob quietly. Beomgyu’s Apa next to her pulls her into his chest, holding her tightly and whispering something in her ear, calming his partner gently.

“We are so grateful that you all loved him,” he continues for her, his eyes landing directly on Yeonjun, pinning him in place where he stood. “We feel how much you all cherished him.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, everything crashing into him like steady waves. A hand squeezes his shoulder, gentle but firm. He opens his eyes. His Dam watches him expectantly, and Yeonjun tenses, knowing immediately what’s being asked of him.

“I’m not speaking,” He mutters, jaw clenched. “I told you that last night.”

“Yeonjun,” his Dam says pointedly. “It is your duty. He was your betrothed—”

“HOW CAN I SPEAK WHEN HE’S NOT DEAD?” Young Lune erupts, ripping away from his Dam.

“We’re burying an empty casket!” He finishes with a ragged breath.

A long moment of silence follows, the words rippling through the air, echoing even louder than the downpour. No one moves or dares to utter a word, letting the truth and the emotional pulse behind it sink deeper into everyone’s skin. His Dam closes his eyes and sighs disapprovingly, Yeonjun knowing he’ll hear the rest of it later.

“My people,” The Luna speaks up, “excuse my son as he’s upset, for I will speak for him.”

Yeonjun feels the emotions of the crowd shift from anger and confusion toward something more mellow as he senses his Dam pushing out the calming scent of melon and honeydew. The scent amplifies as Yeonjun’s father —The Apa— returns from assisting with the burial to help soothe the crowd, reducing everyone’s turbulent emotions. The older Omega walks past him and gives him a soft, sad smile, making him feel even more in disarray.

The Apa meets his Dam and they walk as a unit toward the front of the crowd. Beomgyu’s parents bow at them before returning to their seats, not sparing a single glance at him.

“Beomgyu was truly loved,” The Luna starts. Yeonjun watches the crowd silently, gauging the reactions as his Dam continues. “I truly would’ve been honored to receive him as my son-in-law, and Yeonjun to receive him as his mate.”

It is as if the skies recognize the speaker, as the ever-persistent downpour eases into a light drizzle, allowing the words and the overwhelmingly calming scent from the head Omega unit to permeate even more through the air.

“He was a great Omega who had so much potential and promise. Very respectful, kind, but also clever and brave.” The Luna pauses, scanning the audience with new fire and determination. “Bravery and determination are celebrated… however, stubbornness is not.”

Yeonjun shuts his eyes silently, as if they could protect him from the words his Dam is about to say.

“As we grieve losing one of our own, let this be a reminder for where Beomgyu ventured,” The Luna finishes. “Beyond the Barrier means death to us Omegas.”

A heavy stillness settles over the cliff. Everyone bows their heads in a moment of silence, except Yeonjun . He keeps his eyes open, staring at the empty casket as the drizzle dots the wood.

Chapter Text

Yeonjun grasps onto a tree tightly, scanning the sparse forest area for any threats or wild animals. The ground beneath them is filled with layered leaves and dead grass, cascading colors of orange, yellow, and soft brown blending into the soil below. Each step he takes crunches loudly, filling the quiet of the forest with its echoes. The chill air nips at the tips of his ears, and he pulls his head covering lower, tugging the scarf tighter around his neck. The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves fills his nose, mingling with a faint sweetness from the distant honeysuckle.

The majority of the trees have lost their color, appearing dull and limp as the chill autumn wind strips them of the remaining leaves. With the forest being so bare, there’s nothing to hide his and Beomgyu’s presence here. The forest feels exposed, each branch and barren trunk seeming to watch them as they move. Beomgyu walks past Yeonjun boldly for a few steps, edging closer to the clearing in front of them, the long braid of his hair brushing against his scarf with every movement.

“Gyu-ah,” Yeonjun tenses. The younger omega halts immediately, looking back at him with that familiar crazed glint, the one Yeonjun only ever sees in moments like this. It’s a dangerous, magnetic gleam, half mischief and half obsession, the kind that makes Yeonjun’s chest both tighten and loosen at the same time.

“We’re almost there, Jun,” Beomgyu says with a grin, tucking his long braided hair into his scarf and fastening his gray woven head covering over his ears. Yeonjun knows very well that once Beomgyu is interested in something, it’s very difficult to shake him of it. It’s better for all parties involved for the curiosity to run its course. Though it still bothers Yeonjun how comfortable the younger omega moves like he belongs here, as if the forest has always waited for him, and not for cautionary figures like Yeonjun.

“You know we’re forbidden here,” Yeonjun scoffs, pushing off the tree carefully to avoid slipping on the damp leaves. “We’re gonna get in so much trouble.” He attempts to keep his voice light, but he’s unable to hide the tenseness and the fear behind his words.

“I’m gonna get in so much trouble,” Beomgyu mutters, rolling his eyes as he steps toward Yeonjun. He adjusts the taller omega’s matching head covering, tugging it down to hide Yeonjun’s cold-bitten pink ears. His fingers linger, warm against Yeonjun’s skin, and the sensation sends a small shiver down Yeonjun’s spine.

“How is someone like you,The Moon Heir , so cowardly?” Beomgyu teases, pinching Yeonjun’s cheek slightly, the gesture both irritating and disarming.

“You call it cowardice,” Yeonjun says, relaxing despite the teasing. “I call it cautiousness. Fit for a nation.” His eyes flicker past Beomgyu to the misted forest beyond the clearing, aware of the legends that surround it and whispers of death as the smell of sulfur starts to creep into his senses. He sniffles in disgust.

“If the Luna finds us,” Beomgyu says softly, eyes steady on Yeonjun. “he’ll blame me anyway, how can he find fault in his perfect pup?”

“That’s not true…” Yeonjun scoffs, only to be silenced by a soft kiss on his cold nose. The contact is fleeting, yet it imprints itself on his mind, warm and tangible in the frigid morning. He takes a moment to process Beomgyu’s words as they both stare at each other. Sometimes it seems that Beomgyu only has to look at him to know exactly what he’s feeling; however, just when Yeonjun gazes back, Beomgyu hides himself.

A loud shuffle of leaves makes both omegas freeze. Yeonjun immediately steps in front of Beomgyu, facing the perceived threat with vigilance. Before the Young Lune can react, a small squirrel bursts from the bushes, clutching what remains of an acorn. Yeonjun’s shoulders slacken as his rapid heartbeat slows, and Beomgyu releases a shaky sigh of relief, the sound mingling with the crisp rustling of autumn leaves.

“Maybe we should just go back.” Beomgyu grabs Yeonjun’s arm, the scent of dampened honeysuckle wrapping around him. Yeonjun looks down at the worried omega’s puzzled expression, which somehow steadies his own thoughts. His heart softens at the concern the omega has for him, so he softens his own heart right back.

“The barrier is right there,” Yeonjun nods toward it. “We’d get in trouble for how close we’ve gotten anyway. Might as well stay a bit.”
Beomgyu smiles, linking arms with him immediately, pulling him toward the barrier. The Young Lune lets out a soft laugh, not minding the whiplash as he allows himself to be guided by the now-cheery omega.

“You just reminded me why I’m mating you,” Beomgyu cheers as they edge closer to the barrier, his voice carrying over the still air.

“Oh, is it not for power and prestige?” Yeonjun jokes, watching Beomgyu get absorbed in the sight before them. Yeonjun also turns his attention to the mist beyond the barrier seems almost alive, swirling and curling like it has a consciousness of its own.

They reach a cliff where the barrier is clearest. Beyond it lies an endless sea of forest, wrapped in thick mist. No birds fly overhead; the sky remains overcast, a shadowed ceiling above the radiant side of the world they know. Legends whisper of what lies beyond: a poisonous wasteland, abandoned creatures of the Moon Goddess, even the afterlife itself. Yeonjun has heard countless versions, all ending the same: beyond their home is death.

“It’s kind of beautiful,” Beomgyu whispers after a moment, and Yeonjun nearly chokes on his spit at the contrast. He scans the scene in front of him one more time to see any semblance of beauty in it, but the sight only grows dimmer and uglier.

“For someone so cheery, you’ve always loved morbid things,” Yeonjun shakes his head with a laugh, warmth mingling with the cold in his chest.
“Yeah,” Beomgyu says, pulling Yeonjun down to sit with him. “That’s why I’m the only one who can put up with you.”

Yeonjun elbows him, and the omega snickers in response. As usual, they talk about everything and nothing: the barrier, their home, their future. Beomgyu lays his head in the crook of Yeonjun’s neck, and they sit silently as the wind whispers through the trees behind them. The breeze travels past them to the view in front of them. Instead of seeing a crescendo produced by the wind ruffling through the trees in front of them, the mist forest remains steady, stagnant as if not even the breath of life from their land could’ve revived it.

“You know I don’t care about that, right?” Beomgyu says softly after a while.

“Hm?” Yeonjun hums.

“You know, Power and prestige.” Yeonjun nods at this.” I mean—My family’s famous already.”

The young Lune rolls his eyes. “I don’t care about who you are.”

“I know,” Yeonjun replies gently, tightening his hold of Beomgyu’s hand. “I’m happy it’s you, too.”
Beomgyu sighs, closing his eyes.

“Actually, Jun… there’s something I need to tell you—”

“Yeonjun!” The omegas jump at the sudden shout, turning their heads sharply to see the Luna advancing toward them, seething with rage.
Yeonjun always wondered what Beomgyu was going to say that day.

“Yeonjun!” His Dam slides the door to Yeonjun’s room open, startling the omega out of his thoughts.

The Young Lune quickly closes his notebook and casts it aside on his furs.

From the way the Dam is dressed in one of their most formal robes, his attire is pure white with the edges lined in moon-patterned lace and a head veil to match. Yeonjun—who is still in his sleeping attire—knows he’s running late for something.

And his Dam is about to remind him about what.

“We are late for the celebration of Death,” his Luna sighs matter-of-factly, crossing his arms before he rests his body against the door frame.

“We must complete the funeral.” He finishes pointingly.

“I attended yesterday…” Yeonjun grits, balling the furs in his hands. “Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Don’t you want him to rest with the Moon Goddess, Yeonjun?!” The Dam snaps, advancing into the room.” Come now! There’s still–”

“We don’t know if he’s met her yet!” Yeonjun narrows his eyes, crossing his arms. He starts to feel his throat tighten, overwhelmed with so many emotions since the funeral, crawling to make way to the surface.

“There’s no evidence.” He hisses, swinging his legs off the bed. “Yesterday was a mistake.”

“I know you’re grieving,” the Dam says slowly, with heat still simmering in his voice. He advances towards the bed, stepping onto the raised platform before sitting across his turbulent pup.

“We still have a duty to—”

“HOW IS IT SO EASY FOR EVERYONE TO ACCEPT HE’S GONE?!”

Yeonjun boils over.

A light blue pulse slips out of him—sharp and biting—and the wave brings empathetic tears to the Dam’s eyes. The remaining particles linger heavily as a winter blanket, dampening the mood of both omegas greatly. Energy buzzes within Yeonjun puts his trembling hands together to contain himself.

“That’s not fair,” the Dam says softly, letting the tears run down his face freely, welcoming Yeonjun’s emotions. “He was like a son to me.”

“I actually loved him,” Yeonjun mutters bitterly.“You only loved the bloodline he came from.”

Silence fills the air, adding to the heavy and cold feeling in the room.

Neither omega speaks.

Yeonjun closes his eyes, head in his hands, fingers shaky from the outburst. He’s never seen his Dam shed a tear even in the most emotional arguments, so the fact that he is the one to bring tears to the older omega’s eyes causes guilt to creep onto his skin. The feeling sinks deeper as the scent of spoiled melon fills the room.

“I didn’t mean that,” Yeonjun says softly, lifting his head to see his Dam weeping.

“You did,” the Dam answers even softer. “That’s okay. I deserve it.”

Yeonjun sighs and scoots closer, pulling his Dam into a hug.

After a few moments, the Dam finally embraces him.

Yeonjun nudges his head into the crook of his Dam’s neck, seeking the comforting melon scent he grew up on.

He’s gently scented in return, the sweetness flooding his senses until his head feels light. His Dam pulls away and looks at the pup, stroking the Young Lune’s messy light brown hair out of his eyes to see them better.

“Look at you,” the Dam coos.

“Don’t baby me,” Yeonjun frowns. “I’m almost 20 summers old.”

“How could I forget when you constantly remind me?” the Dam smiles.

“I’m really sorry, Yeonjun. I miss him too.” The seriousness from earlier returns, both omegas fully processing the moment they’re in.

“I can’t accept it.” Yeonjun shuts his eyes.“We never mated, but I feel him—he’s still alive.”

“He ventured the barrier, Yeonjun.” The Dam’s voice drops into finality, placing both hands onto his pup’s shoulders.

“When souls go beyond … they are gone forever.”

Yeonjun wipes the last of his tears.

“I really don’t think I can do it today,” He says shakily.

The Dam nods, giving his son a soft squeeze on the shoulder.

“I shouldn’t have pushed.”

A knock.

Both omegas turn to see Yeonjun’s Apa standing in the doorway in similar white robes as his Dam’s; however, instead of a veil, he has on some sort of turban.

“Judging from the pulse earlier and the mellow scent now, I assume things resolved themselves,” Apa says with a smile. He approaches the omegas before placing a soft kiss on his mate’s cheek.

Yeonjun witnesses his Dam melt at this, which makes him cringe instantly.

“Get out of my den, your love is not welcome here.”

Apa laughs, but before either can leave, the Dam hesitates.

“One more thing…” The Dam grabs Yeonjun’s hand softly. “Well..has your ceremonial heat come yet?”

“Huh?” Yeonjun’s brows knit.

“Your eyes are blue, pup,” Apa finishes for his mate.

Yeonjun takes a quick breath.

“They’ve been blue the moment I’ve walked in, love,” The Dam adds solemnly.

With how chaotic the past week has been, he’s ignored the feverish symptoms wafting over him and what it means. The familiar anguish he felt earlier starts to creep in as prickles of panic start to settle.

“I’m not having this induced heat.” He shakily says. “It isn’t right.”

“Yeonjun, you know that’s not—”

“Do you want to take the tea?” Apa cuts softly.

“Honey—” the Dam goes to complain, but seeing his mate entirely focused on Yeonjun makes him lose all determination. The Dam slacks his shoulders at this, returning his gaze to his son as well.

Yeonjun curls inward, panic and anguish, which had only started to drizzle, start to heavily pour down on him.

Beomgyu isn’t here.

Their shared heat won’t happen.

Their mating won’t happen.

He feels something inside him break.

He nods slowly; the only thing keeping him from breaking apart is the combined hug from his parents. The scent of melon and honeydew fights to keep him afloat.
This will be one of many heats without Beomgyu.

Yeonjun remains unable to stomach the truth that,

Every heat from now on will be without him.

Forever.

Reality returns in pieces — light first, then sound, then the tight ache in his chest.

Life lately feels too large, too vast and unknown to stomach all at once, so Yeonjun decides to take it day by day. He follows a routine he created for himself. Most days look the same. He wakes up either by one of his omegas-in-waiting, or the nagging sun slipping through his window, or by his Dam when the older omega has time. He has breakfast, attends council meetings with his parents, observes community operations, goes to his lessons, socializes with important prospects, returns to his den, and then does it all again.

It all feels meaningless.

Yeonjun lets out a soft laugh at the thought as he pulls on his slacks. He pours a few drops of fragrance oil onto his hand and smooths it over his scent glands.
The comforting scent of Honeysuckle.

He reaches for his worn knitted sweater, the one battered at the edges and not at all fit for greeting his people, but his hand goes to it anyway. He smiles a little as he traces the fabric covered in childish, poorly stitched grizzly bears. His heart aches briefly at the memories the fabric brings as a symphony of comfort and suffering dances within his chest. With puffed cheeks, he leans closer to the mirror over the vanity and observes himself. His eyes are slightly swollen, his lips dull, his hair limp. He wonders how anyone could have loved him.

How did someone love him?

His vision dims as a voice he has not heard in a long time slices through him.

How can you be so weak?

Yeonjun sighs deeply and brings the fragrance bottle to his nose. He closes his eyes, trying to ground himself. Trying to push the voice back. When he looks at the mirror again, his dark brown eyes seem to carry a bluish tint.

You are a coward. You cannot even face me.

Yeonjun slams the bottle onto the vanity. He takes a shaky breath before reaching within, drawing himself closer to that contempt and anguish he feels echoing in himself. Something inside him snaps, and he lets himself fall into the feeling. He focuses on the voice, reaching for it, following it further and further inside himself. His body loses balance, and he grabs blindly for the bed. The soft furs catch him just as he collapses.

When he opens his eyes again, he is in a forest clearing. It looks almost like the forests he knows, except it is always night here. The moon hangs full above him, lighting dark green grass and evergreen trees that never seem to change. Yeonjun sits up and listens, but only the sound of wind brushing through leaves answers him. A bitter smile appears on his lips as frustration starts to spark within him.

“You had so much to say earlier,” he calls, pushing himself off the ground. “Where are you?”

A distant howl rises behind him. Yeonjun turns quickly. Bright blue eyes glare at him from the shadows, sharp and alive.

“I could not reach you for weeks, and now you show yourself,” Yeonjun says with a low grumble. A shiver runs through him.

“You lost our mate.”

The growl freezes him.

“You silenced me afterward.”

“I am not going through any heats without him,” Yeonjun snaps, voice breaking on the words. “Goddess knows what you were gonna do if I had let you have control.”

“So you decided to abandon your mate instead.”

“HE IS DEAD!” Yeonjun screams, tears spilling. “I saw it–” He points at the blue-eyed figure accusingly, “You saw it—We saw it! at the funeral!”

“Did we?”

“Stop it.”

Yeonjun crouches down as a sharp ringing pierces his ears, his own voice echoing in his ears.

“HOW CAN I SPEAK WHEN HE’S NOT DEAD?”

“We’re burying an empty casket!”

“I said stop it, Omega!” Yeonjun wails as his head begins to pound.

“Or is that simply the truth you find easier?”

“Young Lune”

Yeonjun looks up at the sky, feeling something tug him back sharply. He quickly gets down completely on the ground, pressing his hands, dragging dirt over his palms. Fear starts to trickle in when he no longer feels the blades of grass scraping his hands.

“You must return.”

“No,” Yeonjun shakes his head quickly, making a fist with his hands. “We are not done, don’t leave it like this.”

“I will not aid you until you find him.”

Yeonjun’s eyes roll back. The world goes black.

He wakes drenched in sweat, heart pounding. His bedroom comes back into focus. One of his omegas-in-waiting stands over him, trembling on the edge of panic.
“Young Lune, are you alright?” she asks, scrambling for a wet rag and patting his forehead with clumsy hands. “I came to wake you, and you were convulsing on the bed. Should I call a healer?”

“Yuna?” He pants when he starts to register her presence in the room. He takes note of her panicked expression and wills himself to calm down, placing his hand over hers. “Yuna, I am alright. I just…”

You will not return here until you find him

“…just had a small fight with my omega.”

“Oh,” Yuna exhales in relief, then freezes at the meaning of those words. “Wait. Fight? Why are you in conflict with—?”

Yeonjun hushes her with a gentle smile and releases a soft wave of his scent. She relaxes immediately, though a small grumble stays on her face.

“Fine. I will not push,” she mutters, dropping the rag back into the pan. “Please powder yourself, though. The Luna is waiting for you in the gardens for breakfast.”

Yeonjun sighs quietly once she leaves. He closes his eyes, trying to reach inward again, searching for the presence that always lived within him. Instead of feeling that constant warmth within him, he’s met with something hollow and cold.

“You are so stubborn,” he murmurs. “How am I supposed to function like this?”

After a few silent moments, he returns to his vanity, powders himself, and steps out of his room.

The garden is quieter than usual when Yeonjun steps outside. It’s early— that blue-tinted morning hour before the sun fully wakes up the world— and the cool hue on the flowers makes it look like they are about to wake up too. The roses and peonies are the remaining bright colors, as most of the garden has a duller atmosphere due to the autumn chill.

The gardeners tending to the flowers greet the Young Lune as he walks down the stoned path. Yeonjun bows at them bashfully, still slightly embarrassed by it all. The walkway leads him to the gazebo in the center, where His Dam quietly sips his tea.

The Dam has a shawl wrapped loosely around his shoulders, hands cupped around a steaming cup. So deep in thought, the older omega fails to notice his kin’s presence until Yeonjun takes a seat in front of the omega. The scraping of the chair visibly startles the Dam out of his thoughts.

“There you are,” The older Omega says, clearing his throat slightly. “I was starting to think you’d skip breakfast.”

Yeonjun manages a nod. His legs feel like they’re filled with sand as he settles down. He observes the spread of food—an assortment of bread, eggs, thinly sliced steak—all his favorites.

“You look pale,” the Dam adds, studying his face. “Did you sleep at all?”

“Like the dead,” Yeonjun shrugs. “However, I didn’t rest like I was.”

The Dam bites his lip, and Yeonjun just observes the older omega, imagining that the Dam is formulating further follow-up or evasive questions to pry him with.
“Eat something,” his Dam says instead, pushing the plate of steak to him. “Your body is working twice as hard these days as grief continues to take”

Yeonjun hesitates at this, waiting for any other questions and or demands. When he observes the Dam simply begin buttering his toast, Yeonjun returns his focus to his plate. He brings his nose down to sniff the plate. It smells of garlic and warm herbs. Familiar and comforting. He grabs his chopsticks and takes a bite of the tender steak, melting immediately.

The Dam watches him carefully, gradually relaxing as Yeonjun starts going after the eggs. “You gave Yuna quite the scare this morning.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Yeonjun mutters, pushing the eggs on his plate side to side. “I just… got overwhelmed.”

“Understandably.”

This shocks Yeonjun for a moment. His eyes meet his Dam’s, expecting a judgmental look, but he is only met with warmth and understanding.
The Dam folds his hands in his lap. “Grief sits where it wants. It doesn’t follow rules.”

Yeonjun almost laughs at that. “You sound just like Apa.”

“He’s rubbing off on me.” The Dam smiles. “We’re mates, after all.”

“It only took 20 summers,” Yeonjun chuckles before pausing, looking at the Dam hesitantly. When he sees nothing but warmth in the older omega's eyes, he starts to wonder if his parent has been replaced somehow.

“Yeonjun, you know I am only hard on you because I know how–”

There is another pause—not as heavy, but one with weight to it. “Yeonjun actually… I won’t lecture you today. Not about duty. Not about expectations. I only want to know how you are.”The Dam finishes with an empathetic gleam in his eyes.

Yeonjun looks at the omega warily.

“I’m fine.”

“Try again.” The Dam nudges, taking a small sip of tea.

Yeonjun stares at the ground. The wind rustles the leaves overhead; if it were speaking, it would barely be a whisper.

“I…” He swallows tightly. “Something feels off.”

“Off how?”

“I don’t know.” His fingers curl in his sweater. “Like something’s missing. Like I forgot to do something important, but I can’t name what it is.”
The Dam tilts his head, concerned. “You don’t have to force clarity.”

“I’m not forcing anything,” Yeonjun snaps—then immediately regrets it. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I’m just… tired.”

The Dam places a hand on his, sending soothing energy into it. “You are allowed to be tired.”

Yeonjun releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, grasping that hand back just as tightly.
For a moment, he feels twelve summers old again, being comforted after scraping his knee on the training stones.

“I feel like I’m going crazy,” he whispers finally.

“You’re not.”

The Dam’s voice is firm in a way that surprises him. “You’re grieving. And grief changes how the world feels. That doesn’t make you broken.”

“And I’m sorry if anything I’ve said to you contributed to this feeling,” he finishes.

Yeonjun nods slowly, letting his Dam’s words soothe some of the wounds; however, the ache he feels inside continues to pulsate.

The omega inside him is silent, its presence only noticeable when it’s absent, leaving a gaping wound in its place.

The words unsaid remain unspoken. The Dam doesn’t mention duties. Yeonjun doesn’t mention losing his omega. A gentle rhythm starts between them as they finish their breakfast without a hitch.

And for now, that is enough.

Chapter Text

Days blur into one another, each one quieter than the last. Turns out that Time doesn’t heal all wounds; it simply moves around them, smoothing its edges, softening the sharpest corners.

The seasons pass, and before Yeonjun realizes, it’s been a year.

Not much changes for him; he still goes through the same routine, attends the same lessons, sees the same things.

Days fold into each other until he can’t tell where one begins and another ends.

Most mornings start the same.

One of the omegas-in-waiting knocks gently at the door.

“Young Lune, the sun is up.”

Yeonjun sits up slowly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Knowing it’s a lesson-heavy day, he calls for his inner omega, seeking the feeling of falling when he spoke with it last time, but like every other time this past year, he’s only met with silence. He sighs before resting his head gently on his headboard, a pit in his stomach coils at the realization that he’s out of time and that he has to face the inevitable during his overdue lesson today.

He continues his routine at a slow pace, not eager to face the whims of the day; he powders himself, brushes his hair, pulls on the sweater with the crooked bears without thinking. He still reaches for it even when nicer robes hang untouched in the corner.

Breakfast is quiet. His Dam watches him closely.

Apa tries to make him laugh sometimes.

Lately, he’s been trying to get along with it.

After bowing to the council members, concluding the meeting about preparation to survive the upcoming winter with new hunting initiatives in the deserted parts of the forests, he takes his leave and makes way to the Shamanic temples in the more barren parts of the community. On his way, he passes those same flower beds that used to offer him comfort, now haunt him as if they’re taunting him.

“Flowers blooming in the most harsh part of the land, it's quite beautiful—don’t you think, Jun?”

Yeonjun tears his eyes away from the plants.

He runs into people on the way, all with smiles on their faces, with different expressions of relief—

“I’m so glad to see you well again,”

as if wellness is something he’s earned.

Sometimes he lingers near the barrier on the way home.

No one mentions the funeral anymore.

Beomgyu’s name becomes a ghost, spoken less and less until it vanishes.

Yeonjun stops momentarily to observe the beauty of the temples for just a moment. There are five in total, all of which have tall stairs leading up to the top of them. Each with great black pavilions at the top, with paintings of gold constellations, and prophecies marked on them, known to guide the shamans to connect with their goddess more. He climbs the longest staircase until he reaches the attendant courtyard, where small statues and small flower beds are maintained. On the same plane, a shoe mat is placed below the raised platform where the actual pavilion sits.

The same pavilion where he once visited frequently with his deceased lover. It is believed that the miracles that take place in the temple are only possible by taking the life from the soil nearby; however, the openings of the building are left bare during the day, in hopes that the blessing produced in the space flows easily to the rest of the village–such as the neighboring flower beds. In the night, shaders are released to protect the temple from the nightly chill.

Yeonjun moves closer to the pavilion, but before he reaches the platform, he sees a shaman attendant coming around the corner, sweeping the stone ground diligently. The attendant notices him and greets him with a bright smile. Yeonjun softens at this.

“Young Lune!” he cheers, “It’s been quite a while since you attended lessons here. Did the council meeting go well?”

“Well enough, I suppose, we’re hoping for an easier winter.” Yeonjun smiles politely, breezing over the first part of the attendant’s sentence. “Is Shaman Park available?”

“Yes, she’s meditating as we speak.” He smiles. “You may enter when you are ready.”

Yeonjun gives the younger omega a small nod before heading over to the shoe mat to remove his shoes. As he removes them, he faintly hears the attendant murmur that he’s handsome, bringing a flush to his cheeks and a fuzzy feeling to his heart. He props himself onto the platform where he can see the pavilion clearly, placing his bare feet onto the glossy black wooden floors. Four pillars of the same material stabilize the structure, as well as the ceiling, which is decorated in constellations and stories about how Omegas came to be, the war between Omegas and Alphas, with the Moon goddess at its center.

“Young one?”

Yeonjun snaps his head back to the figure in front of him. He fixes his hair absentmindedly, but when his eyes meet her gray ones, he lowers his hand swiftly before mirroring the same kneeling position the shaman is in, rocking side to side slightly to get accustomed to the prickly furs below. He clears his throat.

“Shaman Park.”

“It has been some seasons since I’ve seen you,” she says matter-of-factly.

Yeonjun gears up to come up with an excuse about seeking other spiritual leaders for various needs; however, all thoughts leave his mind at her next words.

“It’s only you today?”

This causes Yeonjun’s eyebrows to furrow, his head twisting in confusion, trying to piece together the meaning of the shaman’s words. Knowing she at times speaks in poems, this sentence feels just as strange.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Yeonjun says in a steady voice. “The only one who used to come here with me—”

“I’m not talking about him,” she says immediately as she casually picks up a basin filled with water. “The blue moon has taken him already.”

The wind blows at that moment, tousling through Yeonjun’s hair and cooling the beads of sweat starting to accumulate on the omega’s forehead. He tightens his fist in his lap as he stares at the water, watching the shaman slowly drop fragrance oil into it. He knows exactly what she means.

“I’ve got it sorted out.”

She hums at this, placing the fragrance bottle down before hovering her hands over the water, palms open. Yeonjun looks up at her face hesitantly before placing his hands on top of hers. She lowers her hands while grasping onto his before they fully submerge in the water. He gasps at the sudden cold temperature, quickly scanning the water for shards of ice.

“Close your eyes now.”

He does as she commands immediately, eager to get the lesson over with. He keeps himself completely still, focusing entirely on the water in the basin, drowning out the sounds of the elements, distant instruments from a nearby temple, as well as the whistling from the young attendant below.

“Feel the coldness of the water prickle at your fingertips, that feeling of isolation. Now use that to bend the elements to your will. Stop the breeze from entering this space entirely.”

Yeonjun tries hard; he really does. He hones in on the feeling of coldness. That biting feel, wanting the world to feel that feeling, but like many other times, now when he tries to tap into that feeling, he feels a block. He reaches out for his omega, for something, anything—

But it is to no avail.

“You can’t do it, can you?”

Yeonjun’s cheeks burn in shame; something simple he would’ve been able to do when he was a young pup is impossible for him to do. His hands start to shake, not from the ice water but from the fear he feels inside.

“I just don’t know what to do,” Yeonjun cracks. “I’m not supposed to be like this, I have a duty to do, and you’re the only shaman who can help—”

“Listen, Young One,” Shaman Park starts, lifting both their hands out of the water. “I have no answers for you that you haven’t found yourself.”

Yeonjun trembles, making eye contact with the shaman in a panic.

“And I have no interest in calming your hysterics either,” Shaman Park sighs, “as they are doing their duty.”

“But—”

“Once you find those answers, you may come back to me.”

The words settle heavily between them, thick as the cold water dripping from Yeonjun’s fingers. He stares at the basin, watching the surface ripple from his trembling hands. His throat tightens.

“I… don’t understand,” he lies in a whisper. He understands too well. That’s the problem, which is why he needs a workaround.

Shaman Park wipes her palms on the edge of her robe before placing the basin to the side. “You seek guidance for something that cannot be guided. You are not ready yet.”

The breeze slips into the pavilion again, rustling the edges of the prayer scrolls. Yeonjun clenches his jaw. He tries to stop it in one last desperate attempt, but the air continues moving freely, almost as if it’s mocking him.

Shaman Park observes this, eyes steady. “Young one, your gift is not gone. It is only… temporarily drifted.”

Yeonjun’s breath stutters.

Drifted.

His omega, who has always been his anchor, has willingly cut him loose.

He lowers his head, shoulders curling in. “How am I supposed to function like this?” he says, voice cracking despite his efforts to keep it steady. “Everyone expects something of me. I am supposed to represent the strength of our people. I am supposed to lead. I am supposed to—”

Shaman Park gently raises a hand, stopping him. “You are supposed to be whole.”

He pauses.

Her tone doesn’t change, but something in her expression softens. “The council may forget that. Your people may forget that. But your spirit will not.” She places her softly on the center of his chest, right above his heart. “This place remembers.”

His eyes sting. He blinks hard, looking away before clearing his throat.

“I don’t know where to start,” he admits, barely audible.

“That is why you must leave the temple today,” she replies. “Not with answers, but with the courage to begin searching for them.”

Yeonjun swallows, nodding faintly even though dread coils tight in his stomach. He stands wobbly, placing his feet back onto the cool wooden floors, letting the temperature ground him. 

Shaman Park stands with him, bowing her head in simple acknowledgment. “Go home, Young Lune, and listen carefully to the quiet inside you.”

He hesitates. “What if there’s nothing left to hear?”

“There is always something left,” she says. “Even silence carries truth.”

Yeonjun looks down at his hands, still wet, still cold. For a moment, the sting of the water lingers, sharp and reminding. He wipes them on his sweater before bowing back to her.

“Even if you didn’t mean to, thank you for being there for me today,” Yeonjun eyes to the floor, eyes with earnestness.

He doesn’t look back or wait for a response, which most likely would be another ambiguous one. The breeze brushes past him again as if it’s guiding him down from the pavilion, playing a helpful hand instead of its mischievous gusto from earlier.

The young attendant from earlier glances up when Yeonjun approaches, eyes widening slightly at the sight of him. He stands straighter, a smile forming easily. “Young Lune, was the lesson helpful?”

Yeonjun tries to return the smile, but it’s faint. “It was… something,” he manages. “Shaman Park is as helpful as usual.”

The attendant nods enthusiastically, completely glossing over the meaning behind Yeonjun’s words. “Well, you look very composed as always,” he says, cheeks warming as he adds, “It suits you.”

Yeonjun holds a laugh in as heat rushes to his ears, wondering if the attendant was speaking out of admiration or flirtation. “Thank you,” he murmurs, stepping back into his shoes.

The courtyard feels larger than before. The temples stand tall and ancient, watching him, waiting. 

Yeonjun exhales slowly.

His powers are slipping. 

His omega is silent.

His future feels like a question with no answer.

The walk back to his home feels longer than usual as each interaction with a passing villager weighs down on him. Some come to him with concerns, hopes, and dreams, false sincerity, curiosity, admiration, all of which weigh on him the same, heavy.

He reaches the base of the mountain stronghold at the heart of the community. The Outer Ward spreads before him: a bustling courtyard where villagers gather, perform ceremonial rites, and commune. Many bow or call greetings, echoing the same greetings and reverence he’s been hearing all day. Yeonjun thanks the Goddess quietly as he manages to reach the carved stone archway in peace, marking the entrance to the Inner Ward. The posted guards bow as he passes beneath, and the space beyond opens to the training terraces where omegas practice under the eyes of their mentors.

Yeonjun climbs the staircase quickly, anxious not to interrupt the instruction below. The weight on his shoulders lifts slightly as he climbs through the paling that has protected his home for generations. Tall beams of dark wood, carved with intricate lunar motifs, rise above him. Pale banners flutter from the upper balconies, catching the afternoon light, and faint chimes echo through the open-air corridors. 

He advances across stone steps and pauses beneath another arched entryway, the threshold between public life and the inner sanctum reserved for omega training. Sunlight pours across the polished tiles, warming the cold spots on his skin. The air hums faintly with energy, pulses of emotion flowing outward, shaped and controlled by those who inhabit the space.

From the upper balconies, Yeonjun gazes down at the Inner Ward. Dozens of omegas move across the courtyard, some sparring with fists, some corrected by their mentors, others practicing their energy pulses. He lets their emotions wash over him: the anger, the passion, the flickers of fear. Soft breezes stir ripples of warmth along his skin, instinctive pulses brushing against him, leaving remnants of nostalgia behind.

In the far corner, groups of pairs of teenage omegas spar under the watchful eyes of their Shaman instructors. Each pair attempts to shift the movement of wind around their bodies as they spar. A few succeed. Most do not, but they all end up laughing regardless.

Yeonjun exhales, something in his chest pinching.

“Jun, come at me one more time,” Beomgyu says, with a palm facing him, eyes burning with a fiery passion that would make almost anyone refuse to turn him down.

“Maybe you will best me this time.”

He finds a shaded spot along the railings and leans on it lightly, the material cool under his palms. He welcomes the memories invitingly just to get a chance to see him again: Beomgyu sweeping his legs out from under him again and again, Beomgyu teasing him for flinching, Beomgyu grinning like a cheshire cat whenever he managed to land a hit on Yeonjun’s ribs.

They trained as if the world depended on it.

Why did we try so hard?

The question rings through Yeonjun’s mind, lingering like an echo.

There had not been a serious conflict between omegas in generations. The last great conflict in the community had ended long before his birth and was resolved through marriage, which had been the beginning of his own bloodline.

Yet Beomgyu fought like he was preparing for a war.

And Yeonjun chased him like he believed one might come.

He watches a small group of your omegas practice pulse control, their faces scrunched in concentration. One gets frustrated and stomps, sending a tiny gust of wind into another’s hair. They shriek and dissolve into laughter.

The sound tugs a reluctant smile from him.

“Brings back memories?”

Yeonjun startles and turns.

An omega with short blonde hair and catlike eyes, who looks around his age, stands a few paces behind him, hands tucked neatly inside his sleeves. From observing his astronomical-themed drapery, Yeonjun infers that this omega will be a future shaman. His posture is formal, but his smile contains a mischievous and playful tone. The breeze catches in his hair, lifting the ends slightly.

Yeonjun lets out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

“I wasn’t that terrible.”

“You might be right. I heard you were worse.” The omega snickers, stepping beside him with casual confidence. Yeonjun scrunches his face in confusion at the sudden casual tone, but before he can comment, the omega finishes, “Beomgyu told me once you cried when he knocked you flat.”

Yeonjun relaxes at the admission of the omega being one of Beomgyu’s many friends. He snaps out of it when he processes the sentence. “I did not cry.”

“Hm.” The omega hums, eyes drifting to the trainees below. “Maybe I misremember. His stories were very colorful.”

Yeonjun puts his palms flat on the railing and rests his chin on them, tired of the formal front he has had to put up all day.

“He had a way of playing up everything. Even if you witnessed the truth, his words would still make your head spin.” The mysterious omega laughs at his words.

The two of them go on like this. Yeonjun appreciates the break he has from it all. It is not often that he engages with omegas his age who are not afraid to speak to him.

“I think they would appreciate seeing you here more often,” The omega observes gently, still watching the courtyard. “Not just the Luna and Head Apa from time to time.”

Yeonjun shrugs, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I have been busy.”

He turns to Yeonjun, expression thoughtful but not invasive. “If you ever wanted company or need a sparring partner, I wouldn’t mind recreating your memories of your past failed trainings.”

Yeonjun snorts at that. “You would lose. I am not the same pup I used to be.”

“Probably,” the omega admits lightly, “but it would make the healers feel useful again.”

Yeonjun shakes his head, trying and failing to hide a smile. 

They stand together for a moment longer, quiet and unstrained, the world briefly uncluttered by prophecy or expectations. The omega finally excuses himself with a respectful bow. Yeonjun thinks to himself that if he meets the omega again, he will ask for his name.

As if on cue, the courtyard below hums with life, young omegas laughing and shouting as they train, their energy bright and chaotic, a stark contrast to the heaviness that returns in Yeonjun’s chest.

For a moment, he lets himself linger on the memory of Beomgyu—his teasing grin, the fire in his eyes, the effortless way he could turn every sparring session into a game. A pang of longing twists in Yeonjun’s stomach, sharp but familiar. Those young omegas remind him of just how desperate he was, how much he wanted to prove himself. To prove himself to Beomgyu.

I will have to prove myself tomorrow, Yeonjun thinks. Even in my omega’s absence, I have to be strong in front of the council.

With that thought lingering, he turns from the railing, letting the fading warmth of the afternoon sun guide him down the steps toward the inner chambers, unaware of just how much his world is about to shift.

Chapter Text

“Young Lune, I don’t mean any harm by this,” Yuna starts warily as she gazes at Yeonjun through the gold-lined mirror. “I think your shoulders have gotten too broad for the jeogori.”

“You think so?”

Yeonjun pats down the top of the black hanbok. The jeogori is also black, with embroidery of crescent moons evenly spaced across it. His gown has gold laces on the sleeves—a formal attire he only uses for meetings with council members and important ceremonies, such as the summer solstice. The robes are as old as the first omegas who settled in their lands a long time ago. He attempts to stretch his arms out in wonder, but when he feels a tightness in his back, he quickly lowers them.

“How am I still growing?” he mutters, dumbfounded, as Yuna gently sits him down on some stiff furs before lifting a brush.

“It is fit for the future Moon Heir to be large and mighty,” she says matter-of-factly as she brushes his unruly golden-brown hair back.

“Hey,” Yeonjun smiles amusingly. “I’m still dainty and cute.”

“The daintiest,” Yuna smiles back before fixing his hair, brushing it away to expose Yeonjun’s face—the pushed-back style representing openness in the presence of allies.

They fall into a comfortable silence, the only noise coming from the birds chirping outside as the morning finally finds its bearings. The sun slowly makes her presence known, trading places with the sleepy moon as the sounds of owls begin to lessen. The bustling of shamans and students can be heard if one listens intently in the distance, gathering in the outer courtyards to begin a new day.

Yeonjun doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes to listen until Yuna’s hand comes close to his face, catching stray stubborn hairs that refuse to be tamed—refuse to not expose him.

“Can I ask you something, Young Lune?”

Yeonjun makes a noise of agreement as he opens his eyes, staring at the mirror to see her looking right back at him with a new intensity.

“I know that I am still new here compared to your previous omega-in-waiting,” she starts, lowering her gaze briefly. “I won’t pretend I know everything you’ve been through or even understand it, but—” She pauses, searching for the words as her fingers find a hairpin tucked into her stitched pocket. “I want to let you know you are not alone. If you need my aid, I will come running.”

She finishes with quiet strength, lightly clipping the bedazzled hairpin into his hair and completing his look.

Yeonjun releases the breath he’d been holding, contemplating the gravity behind her words. Yuna is an orphan, recently appointed as his new omega-in-waiting after the one he grew up with fell ill last year and retired early. He remembers seeing her name briefly when he was tasked with reviewing the orphanage children for a new home assignment plan as a teenage omega. Even then, he had been inspired by her—by the way she moved through life after he peeked into her backstory.

Seeing the admiration in her eyes now makes him realize that maybe he’s also made an impact on her somehow.

“Well,” Yeonjun laughs softly, “I’ll say the same for me, then.”

Yuna lights up like an excited kitten, rambling on about topics she’s clearly always wanted to bring up with him but never had the nerve to ask. He listens silently, giving her encouraging nods here and there as he narrows his eyes on his hairpin, watching the omega symbol shimmer in the rising sunlight.

“And Yuna?” he breathes.

“Yes, Young Lune?” she pauses mid-sentence.

“Please call me Yeonjun.”

“Young Lune, I’m not sure.”

Yeonjun holds in a sigh as he listens to Yuna explain why she can’t drop her formalities with him as they cross the balconies toward the meeting rooms. Below them, many of the same omegas from yesterday train their techniques as gusts of wind and emotion float upward, brushing past the omegas on the balconies.

“It is fine,” Yeonjun huffs after a while. “Does it really matter if I allow it? Isn’t that how this all works?”

“Well—”

Before she can continue, a sharp gust of wind tinged with frustration zings through the air toward Yeonjun. His instincts make him lift his palm to block it, but just as quickly, dread rushes through him—reminding him of his current powerless state. Before he starts giving his omega a piece of his mind, Yuna jumps into action.

A wave of fiery anger ripples through the air as she redirects the omega pulse, guiding it behind her back before releasing it with her other palm toward the skyward in a large blue surge of energy. Yeonjun stands in soft admiration, but Yuna pays him no mind, her eyes glowing bright blue with fury.

“Hey!” Yuna yells, pushing her poppy scent through the courtyard so her voice carries. “You pups almost harmed our future Lune. Training is dismissed!”

A series of groans and apologies echo below as the omegas begin filing out, dragging their feet.

“Yeah, keep it up!” Yuna snaps. “You’ll all be tried for treason!”

“Yuna,” Yeonjun says, placing a hand on her arm and pushing out his scent to calm her. “I am fine. Let us go now—I’ll be late for the meeting.”

He walks ahead without waiting for her response. After a moment, he hears her sigh before following, muttering something about him being too merciful.

Is he merciful?

Is that why people look at him in awe? Or something so fragile to protect, such as Yuna?

Is he cruel? Is that why omegas sometimes look at him nervously?

Is he pitiful—after four seasons, everyone still remembering his fragileness when he first lost his future mate?

Being perceived in so many ways creates a nauseating churn in the depths of his stomach.

He stops before the large, heavy double doors, stained dark brown and carved with eruptions of a language that no longer exists. He’s so caught up in his own thoughts he almost didn’t hear Yuna excuse herself to start her morning duties.

Despite his reservations, how he is perceived before the council must be perfection.

With that final thought, he pushes the doors open.

The vast meeting room reveals itself—windowless, designed to hide its secrets. Large drapery falls on all sides of the wall, all representing the areas in the omega community, with the North Star in the middle of the large omega symbol hovering where his parents are placed. His parents sit at the head of the table, whispering over the papers in front of them. To their left sit the two council omegas of the East, overseeing the barren lands where shaman temples and combat units lie beyond. Next, the South, where crops grow and the land is most fertile. Then the West, home to markets and sellers—before the table circles back to his parents, representing the North: schools, healers, public ceremonies, the heart of the Omega community, and further still, the thinning barrier.

The community is large, and many omegas likely go their lives without thinking of the council or his family at all. But they all share one belief—

They must protect what little land remains.

“Ah, Yeonjun,” his Apa says cheerily, causing his Dam to perk up as well.

Yeonjun smiles fondly, raising his hand to wave—before freezing as the eyes of the council pin him in place. He hurriedly lowers his hand and bows instead.

“I apologize for my tardiness.”

He raises his head and observes the tense expressions of the council members, taking it as permission to sit between his parents and the West representatives. He settles onto the silk furs, eyes drifting to the papers before his parents.

“We were just discussing the hunting initiative’s progress,” his Dam points out, giving Yeonjun a look.

I will definitely hear words later.

“The one we discussed yesterday?” Yeonjun asks absentmindedly, pulling the map closer. He glances around the room—every council member’s eyes trained on him.

“Yes, indeed,” his Dam continues. “We all have our opinions about the matter—”

“No need to dwell on it any longer, my Luna,” Jihyo of the East interjects. “Our omegas are getting quite antsy after a long reign of peace and are eager to push further east.”

“I pray we exchange further,” his Dam replies tightly. “What we aim for is not decimation. If we are careless, we may disrupt the ecosystem beyond recovery come spring.”

Debate follows swiftly.

And before Yeonjun can fully gather his thoughts, the words leave his mouth.

“If I may.”

The words cut through the room faster than Yeonjun expects. Every omega stills, eyes lifting toward him with varying degrees of surprise and intrigue. Even Jihyo falls silent.

This does not surprise Yeonjun entirely. He has spent years in this room listening, learning when to speak, when not to. Perhaps it is the lingering frustration in the air, or perhaps it is the growing pressure of the title he wears, but today, silence feels heavier than consequence.

“Go on, then,” his Dam says softly. There is a glimmer in his eyes, filled with curiosity and adoration.

Yeonjun glances briefly at his Apa, who offers him a small, grounding nod.

“It would be beneficial,” Yeonjun begins carefully, “for the East and South to collaborate, splitting the meat quota in half to ensure a peaceful spring in the new year.”

Jihyo scoffs. “Young Lune, this is the South’s weakest season for crops. We will not have enough to last the winter.”

“Have the shamans assist,” Yeonjun interjects, a bit firmer. “Pause ceremonial activities if necessary, but allow them to infuse the soil with energy to compensate.”

A sharp laugh escapes Jihyo as her gaze flicks pointedly toward Yeonjun’s Dam.

His Dam returns the look without emotion, his expression settling into the practiced stillness Yeonjun has seen countless times before—unmoving, unreadable.

Yeonjun folds his sweaty hands into his lap and continues.

“The remaining animals will be left to hibernate. Once the quota is met, all activities will return to normal, and crop prices will stabilize for the market sellers.”

Silence follows.

A few murmurs ripple through the room. Heads nod. Jihyo shifts in her seat, visibly displeased.

“Ceremonies at this time are critical,” she protests. “We cannot simply—”

“I believe we have heard all opinions,” his Dam interrupts, raising a hand. “All in favor of the Young Lune’s proposal.”

“I,” his Apa says immediately, lifting his hand.

One by one, the council members follow.

Yeonjun meets Jihyo’s gaze as her accompanying council member raises his hand as well. A small bundle of anxiety settles in his chest at the fire in her eyes, but it’s quickly soothed at the sight of seeing the omega raise her hand. A strange feeling of satisfaction prickles in his heart at this as the edge of his lips dares to curl upward.

“It is decided, then.”

“The Moon Goddess smiles fondly on me today,” his Dam says cheerfully as they walk down the corridor, draping an arm around Yeonjun’s shoulders.

Yeonjun laughs softly as his Apa ruffles his hair, loosening the pin Yuna had so carefully placed.

“I didn’t do anything to boast about.”

“Nonsense,” his Apa says proudly. “A year ago, you wouldn’t have uttered a word before the council.”

“You even managed to upset Jihyo,” his Apa adds with a grin.

“Honey,” his Dam sighs, glancing back at the retreating meeting room. “She has her reasons. Ceremonies are important.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve upset her,” his Apa replies lightly.

Yeonjun laughs as they bicker, but his steps slow as they near the exit of the meeting quarters.

“I will be off then” Yeonjun yawns, cracking his neck slightly as he looks down on the courtyard below.

”You have a meeting to attend to?” His Dam face twists in confusion.

“Ah yes” Yeonjun looks up, remembering the words of a mysterious omega from the previous day. “I’ve been told that I haven’t been present with our people as much and I plan to spend the day with the our young omegas today”

“Actually” His Dam places his hand gently on Yeonjun’s shoulder—giving him an even softer smile. “We’ve actually scheduled a meeting for you that we’d like you to attend to”

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow at his Apa at the notion but is met with a matching smile mirroring his Dam. Most of the meetings Yeonjun attends are usually about territory or omega concerns—or a courting attempt.

Which he shut down 2 seasons ago.

”May I know the contents of this meeting?”

”Oh come now we have kept them waiting long enough!” his Dam turns him around as they progress down the hallway over the bridge to another part of the temple leading to an enclosed meeting hall —a separate place to hold an audience for high ranking omega privately. Yeonjun gives the guards posted by the meeting doors a tight smile, they give him a polite nod in response as his Dam fixes his hair haphazardly, nagging his Apa about messing up Yuna’s hard work to get him together.

Yeonjun squints his eyes are the door as a sense of familiarity comes over him, before the feeling could register his Apa opens the wooden doors.

Realization crashes down on him in harsh waves as the room in front of him knocks over the well put together walls he’s been putting together for 4 seasons, it being well over 12 seasons since he’s entered this particular meeting room. 

Beomgyu lifts his head up and smiles at Yeonjun brightly, pride shining on him as the omega’s parents hold on to him fondly side by side.

”Hello Young Lune”

The memory dissipates completely as reality of a different omega sits in once was his place, The cat like omega from yesterday beams up at him, with two older omegas which Yeonjun assumes is the mysterious omega’s parents.

”Yeonjun” his Dam calls him to his side , pulling Yeonjun from his thoughts momentarily. “We’re pleased to introduce you to your new mate to be, Hwanwoong”

Yeonjun blinks. 

The balsam flower dye on his nails have completely grown out, signifying the end of his grieving period for Beomgyu. It was around that time when he started to begin to act like things were normal again.

In the beginning of summer, his Dam started whispering in his ear about socializing more with noble omegas his age, to expand his mind to different possibilities. Many omegas with desires of power and prestige all met him in rooms similar to this one with hopes that he’d fancy them back. Due to many of their statuses, he is unable to deny them council, however it doesn’t change the result.

An uncaring rejection from him.

His gut twists as he gazes down at Hwanwoong who is now bowing down at him from his seat. Yeonjun eyes dart around the room, taking in the whole scene in front of him as his parents move him to some silk furs in front of Hwanwoong family, before trapping him in the middle.

His head starts to spin as he tries to piece everything together, sure he’s had a few omegas attempt to court him over this past year, his Dam would solemnly allow it and Yeonjun would endure it for appearances but this feels different. The way his parents were buzzing as Hwanwoong parents began to speak. Hwanwoong eyes remain trained on him, smiling fondly as time goes on

Hwanwoong is cute, small faced, dainty with a strong aura that holds an air of mischievousness in them. Many qualities that adored about Beomgyu, qualities he enjoyed only on the late omega. It’s almost a mockery as now in closed quarters, he can smell this imposter omega’s scent clearly, honeycomb.

The entire thing makes him sick.

”—Distance won’t be an issue as I’ve decided to finish my shaman training here-“

”Excuse me” Yeonjun stands abruptly causing everyone to be startled in the room. His Dam lightly tugs the end of his hanbok roughly. Yeonjun knows the Dam is giving him the most fierce look now but his mind is uncaring.

He storms out with a word despite the calls without another word.

“I am honored you chose me, Jun” Beomgyu says softly, leaning on him after coming to his side of the table. Their parents have left them alone to bond a bit. 

”Who else would there be?” Yeonjun huffs, resting his own head on the omega.

Yeonjun's vision blurs as he crosses the bridge attempting to catch his breath, passing some worried omega-in-waitings as he attempts to reign his emotions in. He looks up at the sky, as his breath evens. He takes in another breath but gags when he intakes a wave of honey.

”Forgive me—“Hwanwoong raises his hands carefully, in a quiet surprise.

“I was trying to comfort you with my scent.”

 ”Well” Yeonjun narrows his eyes at the omega. ”It’s not welcomed.” 

Hwanwoong lets his hands fall back to his sides, not taking a step closer as he waits for Yeonjun to make the next move.

Yeonjun pauses at Hwanwoong briefly, taking him in before returning his eyes to the sky. “You even copied his scent too.”

”I was born this way” Hwanwoong responds, slightly startled.

“If so, why did you hide it yesterday?” Yeonjun quips back.

Hwanwoong hesitates for a moment before looking down slightly.

“I thought we bonded well yesterday” Hwanwoong managed gently. ”Your scent was calmer, you enjoyed my company”

“That was yesterday and you weren’t my mate-to-be, ” Yeonjun spits. “We’ve hardly met and you’ve earned yourself his title?”

Yeonjun rakes his brain , trying to come up with an explanation on what to do about this situation. “Did my Dam put you up to—”

”Goddess, Yeonjun—“

Hwanwoong’s composure starts to crack as the omega’s cheeks flush with emotion. ”I can't just have affection for you?” 

Yeonjun looks down on the omega in disbelief as the words begin to twist in his mind.

“Do you know how much nerve I had to gather to face you at all?!”

Yeonjun stills, stunned by the omega’s feelings before pulling himself back together, refraining to be caught in the emotions spilling out of Hwanwoong. 

“Now what?” Yeonjun says coldly “You’ve come to do charity now that I’ve lost my mate?”

”I’ve come to be your companion” 

Hwanwoong sighs as a breeze comes between them. The omega visibly relaxes himself, as if he’d been comforted by nature’s fleeting caress.

”I may have misjudged the timing” 

Yeonjun watches Hwanwoong look down on the courtyard below solemnly. “But when would’ve been the right time be?” The omega places a hand on the railing, tightening his grip.

”At the funeral?”

”At the summer solstice?”

”When the Luna was accepting courting on your behalf?”

“I—” Hwanwoong exhales, releasing the railing “I didn’t want to be another voice telling you what you should do, pushing you to move forward.”

Yeonjun shuts his eyes silently.

“I did not realize,” Hwanwoong continues, softly, “a few words of poorly placed honesty would bring me here” 

“To a place by your side that wasn’t meant for me”

“Yet you stand tall” Yeonjun scoffs humorlessly, ”A place your friend once stood”

“Yes” Hwanwoong looks away. “And it pains me that that’s how it appears.”

Yeonjun’s chest tightens as his mind spins further.

Hwanwoong finally turns to face him.

“I am not here to replace him. Nor to take his place. Nor to demand anything you cannot give.”

Yeonjun’s jaw clenches “Then why agree to this at all?”

“Because I care,” Hwanwoong answers, with no hesitation.

Silence stretches between them, filled only by the distant sounds of training below.

“I will tell them it is called off,” Hwanwoong says at last. “If you wish it. I will take the blame. I will say I misread our connection yesterday.”

Yeonjun observes the omega for a moment, searching for any signs of deceit or false play.

“You would do that?” he asks quietly. “Questions will probe you continuously, all the way to the East”

“Yes.” Hwanwoong smiles gently, “ A place beside you should be granted earnestly, it will be your decision."

Yeonjun tilts his head in thought. “Theatrics for an omega you’ve spoken to once?”

Hwanwoong mirrors Yeonjun tilt adding a soft smile,

“It pains me that that is the only meeting you remember” 

Yeonjuns reaches in his mind to recall his younger days

“We’ve been acquainted since we were pups”

Yeonjun contemplates this new fact and sighs. The situation at hand is too grand to untangle cleanly. He wonders which side of himself he should listen to—what is expected of a good heir. To be selfish and cling to his inner omega delusions? What would his Dam say?

Still, on thing rings clear in his mind, the thought of comradery tempts him. 

“I can’t give you what you want,” 

“I know.”

“I won’t promise affection. Or devotion. Or—” His voice falters. “I may never mate you.”

“Then don’t.”

“These are my conditions,” Yeonjun says slowly, “We will be companions. Friends. Out of respect—for my family, and for yours. Nothing more.”

Hwanwoong’s nods in understanding. “I will take what you can give.”

Yeonjun exhales, long and tired.

“…Then we go in together.”

Hwanwoong offers a small bow.

“Thank you for trusting me with even that.”

Yeonjun doesn’t respond. He only turns back toward the hall.

Yeonjun wonders to himself if he made the right decision or not with agreeing to this exchange as he walks through the center of the community side by side with Hwanwoong.

In the days that followed, despite the Northern part of the community being one of the largest regions, word travels quickly as rumors about Hwanwoong and him being mates-to-be spread like wildfire.

He remembers the relieved expression his Dam gave him when he expressed that he agreed for Hwanwoong to court him—and then later, the thinly veiled disappointment when he admitted that he only planned on being friends with him.

“Let the passage of time guide you,” his Dam had said with a determined smile. “Perhaps she will guide his heart to yours.”

Hwanwoong smiles confused as he looks up at the sigh Yeonjun releases. Before the shorter omega could ask a young voice pierces that air.

”Young Lune? Sir Hwanwoong?”

Both of the omegas look down to a young pup, holding two matching crowns that have bundles of lilies—resembling the ones from the Eastern region.

”Oh my!” Hwanwoong crouches down to the pup’s level with a gentle smile. “Are these for us?”

The pup nods shyly, “For Young Lune and the future head Dam!”

Hwanwoong freezes at the pup’s words before looking up at Yeonjun in hesitation, who pointedly avoids his gaze, immensely interested in a nearby tree.

Yeonjun looks away from the tree before observing some omegas listening in. Many bow at him slightly, giving him a misplaced knowing smile , causing his stomach to twist. He listens to Hwanwoong attempt to change the subject before being pulled by a sound of footsteps advancing towards them.

”Goddess!” The mid-age omega yells “Hanu, I told you to stay by me!” 

The omega stops in front of them, bowing multiple times muttering apologies before scolding Hanu about offering gifts unceremoniously, earning whines from the pup. They go for what seems like a while, causing more questioning and curious eyes on them. The scents around them start to turn tense.

”Young Lune, I apologize—”

“It’s alright” Yeonjun says quickly, ready to defuse the situation as he picks up the flower crowns from the pup’s hands.”These are such gorgeous gifts”

Yeonjun faces Hwanwoong to find the omega looking at him already. As if the omega read his mind, Hwanwoong lowered his head to Yeonjun crowning him—not missing the slight blush appearing on the smaller omega’s pale cheeks. He places the crown without another thought, before placing on his own.

Hanu cheers in glee as his Dam starts muttering quick apologies, with a now eased expression. The nearby omegas return to their activities, the tense feeling no longer in the air. Yeonjun imagines that many are probably going to their families to whisper about the scene they’d just witnessed.

He continues to walk with Hwanwoong towards the southern part of the community, scheduled to have a meeting with Jihyo on the enchanted harvesting.

That’s right, this is what is expected.

He’s doing the right thing. 

Keeping appearances.

In the corner of his eye, he sees a figure resembling an omega with flowing dark brown in a single braid. Their gold and white hanbok complimenting delicate figure, blowing softly in the wind. Yeonjun turns to the figure in haste as his heart beats rapidly in his chest ready to burst as the figure grins at him, bright blue eyes gleaming at him.

“Or is that simply the truth you find easier?”

Echoing his lost inner omegas words.