Chapter Text
Hanseong, 1407
He was four.
Old enough, they said. Old enough to understand that his parents had to leave to another kingdom. Old enough to know it was for peace, that his appa had to be strong and his amma had to be brave But Jiyoon didn’t feel old enough. He felt small. Small and cold in a palace too big without them. He sat on the windowsill of his nursery, cheek pressed against the cool stone. His eyes stared at the horizon long after the royal carriages disappeared.
“Your Highness,” one of the palace attendants whispered, bowing low. “Would you like warm milk?”
He didn’t answer. His thumb pressed to the little dragon carving on the edge of the sill - his appa’s crest. But it was amma’s warmth he missed. The way he hummed lullabies and called him little prince with that soft, sleepy voice. It was the first time he’d been apart from amma. He was used to appa’s absence, as hard as it was. Appa always left smelling like leather, steel, and war. But he always came back, holding Jiyoon like he weighed nothing.
But amma never left. Never. And now that he had, Jiyoon felt like something was missing in his chest. Like a blanket had been taken away during the coldest night.
That first night… The dream came like a storm.
Dark halls. Cold wind. Someone calling out his name and never reaching him.
He woke up screaming. “Amma!” he cried, his small body trembling, sweat-drenched. “Amma! Don’t leave—!”
Hyosung, the only one he trusted to hold him, rushed into the room and pulled him into his arms. “Shhh, little prince,” he whispered over and over. “Your amma will return. He promised, remember?”
But Jiyoon clung harder, sobbing into the familiar fabric of Hyosung’s robe. “I want him now… I want amma…”
“I know,” Hyosung said gently, rocking him. “He misses you too. I promise.”
The nightmares didn’t stop. They came again the next night. And the next. Even with guards at his door. Even with Hyosung beside him. Only one thing calmed him - pressing his face into one of amma’s robes, secretly kept under his pillow. It still held the fading scent of lilies and parchment, the smell of safety.
He whispered into it like a secret: “Come home soon, Amma… Please…”
People always looked at him strangely.
Not unkindly - just strangely. Like they didn’t know where to place him. Like he wasn’t quite what they expected. Sometimes, they bowed too quickly. Sometimes, they whispered when they thought he couldn’t hear.
“Is that the alpha-sigma prince?”
“He doesn’t even look dangerous...”
“They say he’s different. Born rare.”
Hyosung once knelt beside him, brushing his hair gently behind his ear and said, “It’s because you are different, little prince. But a good different.”
Jiyoon had blinked up at him with wide eyes. “I just feel like a pup.”
Hyosung chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You are. But even pups can carry stars in their blood.”
Still… different didn’t feel like a crown.
It felt like weight.
Especially in the dark.
Because the real strange things were inside him—at night, when everything got quiet. The dreams always came the same way. Cold. Heavy. Real. He saw amma first - crumpled on the stone ground, the soft silk of his robes soaked red, his eyes closed, lips parted, still. Too still. And appa was there too, but his face was blank - his eyes were the worst part. They were hollow, furious, and empty. And Jiyoon would scream. Scream and reach out and no one heard him. Sometimes, he’d wake up sobbing. Sometimes, not even screaming - just cold and shaking, breath caught in his lungs like he was drowning in a sea no one could see. And now that he was alone - his parents away at royal gatherings and peace banquets - it was harder. No amma to hum to him. No warm lap to crawl into. Only Hyosung. Faithful and kind, always waiting. And Tete.
Tonight was another bad night. He cried quietly into his pillow at first, trying not to wake anyone. But the dream wouldn’t leave him. Amma lying there. So quiet. So gone.
Then the door creaked open, and he heard a soft whisper, “Jiyoon-ah?” Tete. Barefoot, hair tousled from his own sleep, carrying a blanket and a warm expression. “Hyosung said you had another dream…”
Jiyoon didn’t speak. He only held his arms out wordlessly.
Tae-joon crossed the room and slipped under the blankets, pulling Jiyoon into his side. “It’s okay,” he murmured into the dark, brushing tears from Jiyoon’s cheeks. “It was just a dream.”
Jiyoon’s voice was hoarse. “But it felt real.”
“I know,” the other pup said. “Sometimes… dreams are memories waiting to wake up. That’s what my amma says… But that doesn’t mean they’ll come true again.”
“Again?”
Tae hesitated for just a second - then kissed the top of Jiyoon’s head. “Sleep now, little prince. I’m here. You’re safe.”
And for the first time in days, Jiyoon let himself believe it. Just a little.
+++
Seoul, 2025
Jungkook woke up with a scream caught halfway in his throat.
His chest rose and fell in erratic bursts, the room too dark, too still, too quiet. His skin was clammy with sweat, his heart pounding like war drums in his ears. Another dream. No - another memory.
He dragged a hand through his damp hair and sat up slowly, careful not to wake the person curled up beside him.
Taehyung.
The omega lay on his side, blankets wrapped loosely around his body, hair a soft tumble over the pillow, mouth parted in quiet sleep. He looked peaceful. Safe.
Jungkook’s throat tightened. Because he had seen this before too - this moment, this peace - before it all fell apart. His fingers curled around the edge of the mattress. Tonight, the dream had been sharper than usual. He was small again, a pup with wide eyes and chubby fingers, tugging on the hem of his amma’s robes. But his amma – Jihoon - hadn’t responded. He had just stood there, swaying slightly, eyes clouded like he wasn’t there.
Then blood.
He didn’t know if it was from a fall or something worse, but there had been blood. And his little self had screamed and screamed until he couldn’t breathe. That feeling... that thick, heavy fear...
Jungkook remembered it too well. Even back then - before he understood what he was - he could feel things. That something dark was coming. That someone would be taken from him. It wasn’t until much later that he learned the truth… That it was his nature. The gift and the curse of being half alpha, half sigma. His dreams weren’t just dreams. They were echoes. Prophecies wrapped in memory. And now, even in this life… Even with Taehyung beside him… He missed his amma. The ache was different now. Not just grief - longing. That strange yearning to hear Jihoon’s voice, to feel his embrace, to look into his eyes and be called little love again.
A soft sigh escaped from beside him. Taehyung shifted slightly in his sleep, one hand reaching out to find Jungkook even in slumber. His fingers brushed against Jungkook’s arm. And the hybrid closed his eyes, letting that warmth ground him. He wasn’t a scared pup anymore.
He had found his mate.
But still, a part of his heart - perhaps the most vulnerable part - would always belong to his amma.
And tonight, that part of him ached.
Quietly, Jungkook whispered into the night. “I miss you, amma…”
Sunlight bled slowly through the pale curtains, soft and golden. It painted warm streaks across the wooden floor, catching on the stray ends of the blanket tangled around their legs. Jungkook lay on his side, head propped up by one arm, the other draped loosely around Taehyung’s waist. The omega had stirred just minutes ago, sleepy eyes blinking up at him with soft curiosity. Now, his fingers were tracing lazy shapes on Jungkook’s bare chest.
“Tae…” Jungkook’s voice was quiet, but not uncertain. “I dreamt again.”
That made Taehyung pause. He didn’t need to ask what kind of dream. He already knew. Jungkook looked at him. The morning light softened Taehyung’s features, but couldn’t hide the flicker of concern in his eyes.
“I was a pup,” Jungkook began, voice low and steady. “I was… seven... I remember crawling up to my amma… but he wouldn’t move. He was covered in blood, just like the last time I saw him in my dreams. And I… I think I knew even then.”
Taehyung’s hand gently wrapped around his. “You knew something bad was coming,” the omega finished for him, eyes searching his face.
Jungkook nodded. “Yeah. I’ve always felt things like that. I didn’t understand why for a long time, but I do now. It’s the sigma in me… the instincts, the way time echoes differently in our blood. I don’t just dream - I remember.”
“And it’s always Jihoon you see?” Taehyung asked softly.
Jungkook smiled sadly. “Always. Sometimes I see Yohan too. And sometimes… I feel like I am Jiyoon again.”
Taehyung reached up, brushing back a lock of hair from Jungkook’s forehead. “You told me before,” he said, “how your nature - your hybrid self - makes you the key to remembering. That it’s easier for you to awaken those memories. That’s why… when I started having dreams after meeting you, you didn’t even flinch.”
Jungkook chuckled quietly. “I knew, baby. You were glowing like a soul that had been waiting.”
A soft blush touched Taehyung’s cheeks, but his eyes remained steady. “And Chim? Yoongi?”
Jungkook’s face turned serious again. “They’re different.”
“How?”
“They don’t need me to remember,” he said, voice low. “Because they were always meant to find each other. They’re born soulmates - blood-bound. Even in death, even in different bodies, they carry that tether.”
Taehyung swallowed. “That’s… heavy.”
Jungkook nodded. “It is. And it’s painful too. Because their past life ended too soon. And now? It takes time. Their souls know. Their bodies know. But their minds are still trying to catch up.”
“And us?” Taehyung asked.
Jungkook smiled, leaning forward to kiss the corner of his mate’s mouth. “We found each other faster. And I think it’s because I triggered it - your memories, your dreams. But even if I didn’t… we’d find each other again, Tae. In every life.”
Taehyung’s lashes fluttered, and he tucked his head against Jungkook’s chest. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true,” Jungkook murmured, holding him tighter. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. And I don’t need time or memory to prove it. But I’ll walk through every lifetime to remind you if I have to.”
That day he had to visit the offices of Min Corp. for a very important deal. Yoongi was waiting for him. So, he kissed his omega goodbye and walked out of his apartment. Tae also had a work to do – after all, he was the most famous model in their country.
The doors to Min Corp’s private office building closed behind him with a soft hiss, but the second Jungkook stepped inside, he froze. The air was thick. He could feel it immediately - Yoongi’s scent was sharp, dominant, deeply laced with his sigma pheromones. Protective. Territorial. The kind of scent that warned any alpha nearby: mine.
And then, layered beneath it, something else - softer, sweeter.
Milk. Tangerine. Home.
Jimin.
Jungkook swallowed and adjusted the collar of his shirt. He hadn’t expected the omega to be here - not today, not like this. Not five months pregnant, carrying the very pup that once, in another life, could have been him.
He forced his legs to move, walking down the polished corridor, each step echoing louder than the last. The guards bowed and let him through. His fingers flexed against his palm as he reached the familiar door. It opened before he could knock.
Yoongi stood there, eyes already glowing faint amber. Sharp. Focused. “Ah,” the sigma said with a low smirk. “The little prince is here.”
The words sliced through Jungkook’s chest before he could prepare for it.
He flinched.
Little prince.
His amma used to call him that. So did his appa. Back when he had been Jiyoon. Back when he had been someone’s pup, not a man walking with lifetimes carved behind his eyes. Yoongi’s smirk faded almost instantly.
Jungkook looked up at him, something unreadable tightening in his throat. “You used to call me that,” he said quietly. “Both of you.”
Yoongi blinked, and for a moment, his dominance faltered - his shoulders slackened, lips parted like he’d realized too late that his teasing had cut too deep.
“I remember,” Yoongi said, softer now. “But… I didn’t mean it to hurt you.”
“I know,” Jungkook murmured, brushing past him gently. “It still did, though.”
Yoongi didn’t stop him.
The hybrid’s steps were slow as he walked into the office - and there, near the window, was Jimin.
Five months pregnant, glowing, one hand resting on his small bump as he smiled at something on his tablet. He looked up at the sound of footsteps, and Jungkook immediately composed his face.
“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin said warmly. “You’re here already?”
He nodded. “Yeah, hyung. I… got your message.”
Yoongi stayed behind him, scent calming now, but still watchful - protective.
“Everything okay?” Jimin asked, standing slowly. He reached for a glass of water, sipping.
“Yeah,” Jungkook said, forcing a smile. “Just… long night.”
And it had been. Because now that he was here - seeing both his reincarnated parents in one room - he didn’t feel powerful or prepared.
He just felt like a boy again.
Like the little prince he used to be.
+++
There was something about Jungkook today.
It wasn’t just his steady presence or the way he filled the room with quiet, respectful strength. It was his eyes. Deep and knowing, almost too ancient for someone so young. Jimin’s heart twisted in his chest as he watched the alpha-sigma hybrid from across the office.
Why do I feel like I know you?
He sat back down, trying to focus on his breathing. He had told Yoongi he felt fine coming here - but now, his hands were trembling. The moment he closed his eyes, a face - no, a pup’s face - flashed behind his lids. Brown eyes wide with joy, chubby hands reaching for him, calling, “Amma!”
Jiyoon.
Jimin gasped softly, clutching at the armrest. The images came like a tide - memories that weren’t his, yet were. A golden-haired pup with a smile like the sun. A child born from an arranged marriage written in blood and tragedy. A love between a feared king and an omega consort.
Yohan. Jihoon.
Yoongi. Him.
His breath stuttered. The floor tilted slightly under his feet as dizziness swept over him. Jimin’s hand flew to his belly, protective, instinctive.
“Hyung?” Jungkook’s voice rang close - too close. Then, a second later, Jimin felt strong arms around him.
He hadn’t even realized he was swaying until Jungkook caught him.
“Amma...” Jungkook’s voice cracked. “Are you alright?”
That word.
That one word shattered through Jimin like a clap of thunder.
His eyes snapped open.
Jungkook looked mortified. His hands were steady, holding Jimin up with a care so intimate it felt… familiar. But his face was pale, lips already parting in apology.
“I-I didn’t mean to say that,” Jungkook said quickly, panicked. “I just… it slipped, I… Hyung, I’m sorry… ”
Jimin stared at him, heart thudding hard against his ribs. “Why… did you call me that?” he whispered.
Jungkook’s eyes glistened, and he swallowed visibly. “Because,” he said hoarsely, “you used to be. You were my amma. In another life.”
Jimin didn’t move. He couldn’t. Everything in his body was still. Frozen.
But something deep inside - his inner omega, the part of him reborn and still relearning how to breathe - purred. Because somehow, impossibly… it felt true.
Jimin sat quietly, watching Jungkook across the room.
The hybrid was trying his best to stay composed - his posture straight, his voice steady as he reviewed the contract Yoongi had handed him - but Jimin could feel it. The undercurrent of grief. Of longing. A pain that wasn’t verbalized but bled through Jungkook’s every movement.
It wasn’t the ache of now. It was the ache of then.
Jimin’s fingers trembled against his lap. The nausea swirled again, tugging at his stomach. It wasn’t physical - at least, not entirely. It was emotional, overwhelming, like being submerged under the weight of someone else’s sorrow. He held a hand to his bump. The pup inside fluttered lightly, as if sensing his distress.
Jimin looked up and met Yoongi’s gaze.
The sigma’s eyes were already on him. Heavy with concern. Yoongi exhaled slowly, setting aside the tablet in his hands before walking around the desk. Jungkook had just finished signing the final page, setting the pen down with trembling fingers.
"Are you feeling better, little dove?" Yoongi asked, his voice warm and low.
Jimin opened his mouth to answer—but stopped. Because Jungkook flinched. Just barely. But Jimin saw it. Felt it. His breath caught when he saw the tears shimmering in Jungkook’s eyes, quickly blinked away. Yoongi’s eyes softened. Then the sigma turned toward the hybrid and gently placed a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. No dominance. No command. Just quiet reassurance.
"It's okay, pup," Yoongi murmured. "Just breathe, okay?"
Jungkook nodded once, jaw tight. His lips parted like he wanted to say something - but he didn’t. Instead, he clenched his fists at his sides and lowered his gaze.
Jimin stared at them - one hand on his belly, the other clenching softly at the edge of the chair. His omega stirred within him, humming quietly. Their family… once torn apart, was sitting right here in this room.
Maybe not the same way as before. But still… together.
And Jimin’s heart ached with the terrifying, beautiful truth of it.