Accidentally Yours

> “You don’t have to love him,” his mother had said. “You only need to accept him.”

The words clung to Taehyung’s skin like dew, fragile and cold.

He stood beneath the tall archways of the Seolhwa Court, wrapped in ceremonial silver silks. His reflection in the lacquered mirror looked like someone else — a royal doll, not a boy. A beautifully packaged offering, not a person with a heart.

The ceremonial collar lay nestled on a velvet cushion nearby — unfastened, untouched. Soon, it would rest around his throat. But not by love. By duty.

Min Yoongi.
His future mate.
An alpha of esteemed lineage. A political choice.

A stranger.

“You look like you’re about to faint,” came Jimin’s voice, full of teasing warmth.

Taehyung turned. His best friend stood at the edge of the room in high-waisted black trousers and a smirk, arms crossed. “Or throw yourself out the window. I’m not sure which one.”

“Neither would be graceful enough for my mother’s taste,” Taehyung muttered, his lips barely moving.

Jimin snorted. “If I had a scent suppressor, I’d sneak you out of the city right now.”

A door creaked.

They both turned as a pair of voices approached — low, familiar, and somehow both commanding and comforting.

Namjoon, in full council uniform, stepped in. Behind him, his bonded mate — Kim Seokjin — moved like moonlight across still water. Jin was radiant as always, with delicate chains in his hair and the softness of omega grace honed into weaponry. His smile was faint but real.

“Taehyung,” Jin greeted warmly, arms open. “You look like a prince from a lullaby.”

“I feel like a lamb for slaughter,” Taehyung answered honestly.

“That's also poetic,” Jin said, kissing his cheek. “But don’t let them cage your spirit, darling. Even if they bind you, they can’t change your light.”

Taehyung’s throat tightened at the gentle words.

Behind Jin, his mother appeared.

Lady Min.
Graceful. Stern. A woman carved from ice and high expectations. Her scent was delicate cherry bark and distant winter — cold, clean, suffocating.

“You're late,” she said crisply to Jin and Namjoon. Then turned her gaze to Taehyung, assessing. “Stand straighter. Your shoulders slope. He must see confidence in you.”

“He’s not here yet,” Taehyung replied, voice quiet.

“And when he is, you will smile. Speak only when spoken to. Do not embarrass me.”

Jimin stepped forward, bristling. “He’s not a servant.”

Lady Min didn’t even look at him. “He is a chosen omega. His duty is not comfort. It is legacy.”

Taehyung lowered his eyes.

Only Jin noticed how his hands trembled.

Namjoon changed the subject gently, giving a short nod toward the window. “The gardens are clear. We’ve doubled the palace guard. But—” he paused, eyes narrowing, “—someone was spotted outside the outer courtyard. Unidentified. No scent.”

Taehyung stiffened.

“I saw him,” he said before he could stop himself. “A moment ago. In the trees.”

Everyone turned to him.

“What did he look like?” Namjoon asked carefully.

“Dark hair. Pale skin. He was gone before I could—before I could feel anything.”

Jimin looked uneasy.

Jin’s eyes shimmered faintly. “Some say the scentless are omens.”

Lady Min scoffed. “Some say emotions are useful. Doesn’t make it true.”

The door opened again — formally, this time.

A servant stepped in. “Lord Min Yoongi has arrived.”

Taehyung exhaled.

So it begins.

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