Chapter Text
"I want a divorce."
The father looked up from the book in his hands and raised an eyebrow toward his son standing on the threshold of the study. He stood there, his chin properly lifted, despite his cheeks burning from the cold. The breath slightly ragged. The snowflakes had not yet melted on the collar. The omega was clearly in a hurry: the study was on the second floor. As usual, straight to business, without wasting time on knocking or greeting.
Don't lower your eyes
"Why? So you can consort with that boy of yours again?" the man chuckled, slamming the folio shut. "Don't drag the family into even greater disgrace. He's already married too."
"That has nothing to do with Taehyung, and even if it has, it's none of your business," the young man hissed, rolling his shoulder. "I no longer live under this roof," he added with a hint of satisfaction, throwing his father's own argument about unquestioning obedience back at him.
"But you'll come right back under it if you get a divorce," the father retorted. "And what's the point of your bravado? Enough, Jimin. This is no time for your whims. As it is, your husband has brought trouble upon…"
"You were the one who arranged my marriage with him! Don't try to shift the blame now!" Jimin exclaimed, throwing his hands up. His eyes burned brightly with indignation in the light of the fireplace flames. "I obediently fulfilled your will, and now, being a widower with a living husband, I have the right to act as I wish to. I'm not coming back to your house. I'm entitled to half of my husband's property. I can certainly afford a small estate. Isn't that wonderful? I won't burden you and dad, and I won't be an eyesore for Min family either." The folds of his coat swayed as the omega took a few steps toward his father and extended his hand. "Give me the wedding attire, and let's end this conversation."
"And what will you do with it? Yoongi must have already crossed the border of Nord. No one will grant you a divorce without your husband's presence," the man frowned, already guessing what his stubborn son's answer would be. “Wait until he freezes to death over there, and you won't need a divorce.”
You can consider me dead
"No. I’m not going to wait," Jimin cut in, steel in his tone. "He is in Nord, so what? I'll just go after him and get my divorce there."
The chair creaked loudly. The man stood and loomed threateningly over his son. The nerves stretched like strings, the heart sank. A realization set in: right now his father could easily slap him for the insolence or lock him in the parental home. No one would say a word. No one would stand up for. No one has a right to. Just the thought of it twisted his stomach into a terrible cramp. He had to muster all his courage not to squeeze his eyes shut in anticipation of the punishment. But the blow never came. The man snorted condescendingly and turned away.
"Well, go then. Maybe you'll learn some sense and come back humbled," the alpha gave his formal consent, inwardly reasoning that getting rid of this now-unpleasant family tie was no bad thing. It would also be a good lesson for his son: let him see how other people live. The little bird would get scared of the squalor, and come back to the safety of the nest. Then he could arrange another match. Why not, the boy was still young, handsome, and hadn't yet produced offspring.
"Minnie, you've lost your mind!"
Jimin twisted his lips, wincing as if from a migraine attack. A deep furrow formed between his brows. It appeared more and more often on the young face, which had never known half the troubles that tormented him now.
"At least spare me the lamentations of yours, Jungkook. I've heard it four times today already," Park complained, nervously rubbing his temple with his index finger. Upstairs, servants were gathering the luggage. Before the omegas lay two open chests, in which the wedding attires were neatly folded. Yoongi's parents had been far more accommodating than his own father. Probably out of guilt for their son. They didn't oppose his announced intention to divorce.
The funny thing is, as a child, Jimin had even considered this ancient tradition romantic: wedding attires customized specifically for the ceremony, from the finest fabrics, embroidered with unique matching patterns and jewels. The needlmen and needlewomen should sing ritual songs to bless the future union with happiness and luck. All of it for one single appearance, so important and desired. After the ceremony, both attires were carefully folded, and the couple's families exchanged painted chests with it inside. The tradition. The guarantee. By law, if a couple wished to break up, both mates had to wear their wedding attires again and appear before the officiant. Thus, without the consent of both families, a divorce was impossible.
Park remembered the click of the chest's lock after the wedding sounding exactly like the click of shackles.
The masters had clearly done a shoddy job on their attires. Maybe they hadn't sung for happiness at all. Or they hadn't sung properly enough for the blessing to work.
Jimin couldn't take his eyes off the dark stain on the collar — his own blood, which had soaked the fabric during the exchange of marks. Another seal of authenticity. He'd once heard a joking saying from elder omegas: "A lucky omega wears the attire once, an unlucky one — twice."
"An extremely lucky one — thrice," he had grimly begun adding in his thoughts after his first major fight with Yoongi. That night he had desperately cried all night, blaming his fate. Why, oh why did he have to devote his life to such an insensitive acerbic fool? Was Jimin asking for impossible things? Just a little attention, maybe a kind word. However all he got was the soulless ‘not now’ instead of attention, and shouts of indignation instead of praise.
As if Park had burned all the papers, rather than carefully clearing the desk and organizing his husband's correspondence. He even hadn't opened anything. He only looked at the envelopes to understand if it was personal or official deal.
Misunderstanding always hung between them. Not a big surprise, though. They hadn't even properly spoken before the arrangement. Why, out of all the free noble omegas, had Min's choice fallen on him? Especially since even those least interested in social gossip knew that the son of the Park family had, from a young age, a soft spot for Kim Taehyung. The fact that Jungkook had long been promised to Taehyung once he came of age was something Jimin hadn't known then, but never mind that. It didn't matter. Wouldn't it have been easier to seek a mate among other omegas, who was passionate about this unapproachable, cold alpha? There were plenty of them; Jimin could name a couple of them off the top of his head. They usually languished in corners, dreaming of attracting Min's attention with their aloofness and meekness.
Jimin didn't like alphas like that. He had never languished in corners. On the contrary, he was the first to go looking for conversation and a dance partner. Jimin never approached the brooding, boring, arrogant alphas, not even for playing around. For what purpose? He couldn't dance with them properly, couldn't joke with them, couldn't get a gentle smile out of them.
Then, completely out of blue, Min sent the matchmakers. And set a high dower right away. Jimin’s father, overjoyed, didn't even haggle. His dad immediately burst into happy tears: young, weathy proposer with an impeccable reputation. Everyone around spoke of Min only positively. Of course, no one even asked Jimin about the matter.
Tears and pleas had no effect on his parents. In return, only dogmas about obedience and reproaches of capriciousness. Later that evening, Jimin’s dad slipped through the door, held his son to his heart, comforted him, and gently coaxed not to resist. He promised that Jimin would grow to love and bear. Jimin believed his dad. Because if not him, who else in this world could he trust? But as soon as he crossed the threshold of the new home, all he get from the husband was such things as: don't go there, don't do this, be back by sunset, be quiet.
"But how can you…" Jungkook's voice pulled Park from his thoughts, laced with sorrow. "He is…"
Your foolish husband
"Don’t," Park shushed him, and the guest obediently fell silent. Because he had no right to lecture Jimin about it, really. Taehyung had never left the marital bed at night, never held dangerous conversations, never let criminals find refuge in their home. Jungkook didn't languish from the unspoken between them, didn't fear every stray sound. No gendarmes had come to wake Taehyung in the dead of night to drag him out onto the cold snow before sunrise, splitting his lip on the hardened crust of ice. He hadn't been kept in solitary confinement for three days of interrogation. Jungkook never had to watch their house being turned inside out and upside down, searching every corner for Heaven knows what, never had to repeat over and over that he knew nothing. He hadn't swallowed tears upon learning his husband had been sentenced to the axe, nor sobbed with relief when the execution was changed to exile. Taehyung was at home, waiting for Jungkook now, maybe playing a game of Go with his dad or adjusting the telescope, since the night was promised to be starry.
"It's settled now. I'm going. I didn't call you here to listen to reproaches. I did it to say goodbye and to ask you to take care of Holly." Jimin nodded toward the silk pillow by the fireplace, where a snow-white puppy snored peacefully. "He loves you more than any of my other friends. Will you take him in?"
"Of course, Minnie. You know I adore Holly no less than he adores me," Jungkook smiled sadly, touching his friend's hand. "But can't you at least wait until spring? Traveling in the cold, so far away, and alone — it's insane."
Jimin gritted his teeth. As if he didn't know that. The road was indeed dangerous. If the spirits took pity on him and the carriage wasn't buried in a blizzard, the highway robbers certainly obeyed neither heavenly nor earthly laws.
Be strong
"It's too late," Jimin ignored the question, thereby answering it. Then his tone softened when he saw the sea of worry in the eyes across from him. "Please, don't cry. Everything will be fine. I'm paying my escorts generously. I'll make it. Take Holly and go. I have to rise before sunrise tomorrow for the journey."
The friend’s hand again grasped Jimin's, and this time the young man squeezed it back.
"Can I come to see you off?"
"No, please. Let's say goodbye now."
The omegas closed in a farewell embrace. The younger one let out a sob on the Jimin's shoulder but quickly composed himself, drawing a sharp breath through his nose to muster his courage.
"Then I'll tell you now. Remember, how I love you, my friend, even Tae and his dad don't know this yet." Jungkook pulled back resolutely. "I'm pregnant. So you absolutely must come back unharmed, hold our firstborn in your arms, and give him a childhood name."
At first Park was taken aback, but then he suddenly laughed genuinely, pulling his friend into another embrace.
"So that's your cunning plan? Want to make me a godparent and tie me forever to your family?" Jimin smiled slyly, leaving a kiss on the younger one's head, glad that his hands weren't trembling. "I'm so happy for you, Kookie. Take double care of yourself now."
Seeing Jungkook off, Park pressed little Holly to his chest one last time and received a goodbye lick on the chin. A memory surfaced of the morning when Yoongi had brought Holly home as a puppy, shortly after that memorable fight. How in the morning sunlight, Jimin had caught himself thinking for the first time that his husband could actually smile so beautifully. Not grin or curl his lips in a smirk, but genuinely rejoice at seeing how much the omega loved that little white ball of happiness.
What a pang of longing. Only a year had passed since their wedding, and already everything around held memories of his husband. How had Min managed to sneak everywhere, when the couple only had breakfast together once in a while?
Handing his beloved pet to his friend, Jimin bit the inside of his cheek til it hurt, to keep his composure and not burst into tears. Not now. Now he had to be stronger than his feelings. It was hard enough as it was, his soul still full of doubt.
It was terrifying to stand his ground when everyone around called him insane.
Watching Jungkook's silhouette disappear in the sunset was beyond any imaginable pain, but he forced himself to watch until his friend disappeared around the bend. His cheeks first burned with a tear, then the wet trail immediately began to sting from the cold. Wiping his face with his white cuff, the omega returned inside, checked on the progress of the packing, ate dinner even though he couldn't swallow a bite, and withdrew to his badroom.
He couldn’t fall asleep. On the nightstand, a hateful scrap of paper gleamed white. It was crumpled, edges worn. It cut into the young man's eyes in the darkness. He fancied that even with the curtains drawn, he could make out the sweeping, hurried ‘Minnie’ in the upper left corner. He had to turn over onto an uncomfortable side just to stop tormenting his soul. In the morning, leaving the room, Jimin had spent a whole five minutes hypnotizing the stupid note, now leaning toward it, now turning toward the door. When someone called him, the omega irritably grabbed the already tattered letter and stuffed it into his pocket.
Everything was ready for departure. After briefly saying goodbye to the servants and letting them go with generous wages, Park flew out onto the porch, planning to immediately take shelter in the warm carriage from the morning damp chill. But he couldn't move when he saw the woman waiting for him by the carriage.
Well, he had deliberately not made an event out of his departure and had said all his goodbyes the day before. Still, he might have expected a send-off from a couple of friends, or from his dad, but not from his husband's mother — the very same husband he was traveling to divorce. Their eyes met, and Jimin realized with an ironic smirk: she knew. Or guessed, at least.
"Why are you here?"
"I wanted to see you off."
"You should have come inside. Why stand out here freezing while you waited?" Jimin replied and called out to a servant, ordering that the lady be given hot tea immediately.
"It's okay, the fresh air is good for me. I brought you something. I want you to take it with you." She said, handing a bundle directly into his hands.
"For Yoongi?"
"For you."
This was a surprise. For him? Wouldn't it have been more logical to use the opportunity to send something for her own son? Or did the situation truly disgust them so much that the new prisoner of Nord wasn't even worthy of a kind word from his family, now that he had been even forbidden to correspond? This change was frightening. Everyone who had once praised Yoongi to the skies now shamed him for his sins and reviled him.
"Ah... But don't you want to send anything to your son?"
"This carriage is already packed to the brim with everything necessary, isn't it?" The woman chuckled, stretching into that very smirk that had often played on her son's lips. Condescension. Then her features softened, and she looked at him with touching tenderness. Her gloved hand touched the young man's cheek. "I heard the winters here are nothing compared to the cold of Nord. In these clothes the winds won't be so terrible. There's fur and cashmere inside."
"But... this is so expensive," Jimin's eyes widened, but his benefactress merely waved a dismissive hand.
"Be careful. And... hug him for me. It hurts me so much now that I couldn't even say a proper goodbye to him," she asked. Jimin nodded, pressing the soft bundle to his body. His heart was breaking, however, this feeling had visited Park so often lately that he managed to hold steady without extra tears.
"Look, Yoongi," the young man thought to himself, venting his anger through an imaginary dialogue with his husband. "Tell me, was it worth it? Your friends have turned their backs on you, your family doesn't mention your name. The people who loved you are suffering, and you yourself are torn away from everything you know and love. So was it worth it? Was it, huh?"
On that note, it was time to part. The sky was already brightening, promising an early dawn. The carriage lurched forward and its wheels creaked on the snowy track. Jimin stared out the window, trying to calm his loudly pounding heart. Oh, Heaven. He was doing it. He was really doing it.
He was going to Nord.