Chapter Text
The Hall of Concord shimmered with gold and false peace.
Dozens of nations sat gathered in a crescent moon around the negotiation table—alphas cloaked in steel and pride, omegas veiled in silk and secrets. The scent of tension laced the air, masked with spices and perfume, but no one dared speak it aloud.
And at the center of it all, the one every gaze clung to—Prince Yeonjun of the Sol Dominion.
An alpha born of legend.
He stood tall in white and crimson, gold-threaded insignias wrapping his broad shoulders like the sun itself bowed to him. His voice, when he spoke, rippled across the room like fire under glass—measured, unwavering, beautiful.
Every diplomat turned to listen.
Every rival flinched without meaning to.
And at the farthest end of the table, seated in silence with eyes that did not blink, Prince Soobin watched.
He had heard of Yeonjun before. Everyone had.
But no description—no tale or treaty or spy’s whisper—had captured this.
The charisma. The defiance. The untouchable certainty of a man who had never bowed to anyone in his life.
Soobin tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable.
He had no use for ordinary alphas. Most were predictable—loud, crude, easy to manipulate with flattery or scent. But Yeonjun? No. Yeonjun was dangerous. Beautiful. Unclaimed. Unaware of how intoxicating that made him.
And Soobin decided—then and there—that he would not leave the summit without the prince.
Not as an ally.
Not as a friend.
Not even as a lover.
But as his.
Possessed. Broken in the gentlest way.
Soobin’s lips curved, just slightly.
“You don’t see me yet, Yeonjun,” he thought, as the alpha continued to command the room. “But you will.”
Soobin’s fingers brushed the rim of his goblet as a hundred voices argued treaties.
Plans were already forming.
Spells long forbidden. Collars not worn in centuries. Potions brewed to pull down pride and peel open the instincts beneath.
“You’ll hate me,” Soobin mused, “and then you’ll beg me not to let go.”
And as Prince Yeonjun turned his gaze away—unaware of the predator seated across from him—Soobin whispered to no one:
“I will make you mine.”