Chapter Text
Ocean Eyes
There was once a man who had fine houses, both in town and country, a deal of silver and gold plate, embroidered furniture, and coaches gilded all over with gold. But this man was so unlucky as to have a blue beard, which made him so frightfully ugly that all the women and girls ran away from him.
One of his neighbors, a lady of quality, had two daughters who were perfect beauties. He desired of her one of them in marriage, leaving to her choice which of the two she would bestow on him. Neither of them would have him, and they sent him backwards and forwards from one to the other, not being able to bear the thoughts of marrying a man who had a blue beard. Adding to their disgust and aversion was the fact that he already had been married to several wives, and nobody knew what had become of them.
Charles Perrault, Histoires ou contes du temps passé, avec des moralités: Contes de ma mère l'Oye (Paris, 1697)
Source: Andrew Lang, The Blue Fairy Book, 5th edition (London and New York: Longmans, Green, and Company, 1891), pp. 290-95. First published 1889
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Scarlet thread, spun on the wheel,
Twisting on the twirling reel,
Like the dancers turn and spin,
While I now my tale begin!
Seokjin was seventeen when he first heard of the name Kim Namjoon. The man’s reputation preceded him. Namjoon was a strong alpha with a well-known intellect. He towered over the others with his height. His voice was rumored to be so deep that he had to soften it for the others to understand him and not be intimidated. Namjoon was also a man of beauty. He had delicate yet strong features. His dimples showed at each genuine smile. His almond eyes gleamed with wisdom. Behind that gaze hid a cunning intelligence. It anything, Namjoon was a sleeping lion, one that should never be poked.
Kim Namjoon, in all his might, had an unforgiving flaw. He did not bear the usual crimson pupils of an alpha. No, his gaze had a nefarious color. It was ocean blue. Blue was the color of deep grief or something much worse. Rumor had it that he killed his brothers for their fortunes and power. Another wicked tongue said that it was from losing numerous lovers, all in mysterious circumstances. Some even dared to speak about murders or worse, intolerable scenarios.
Seokjin heard so many rumors. The man became a legend while alive. It was quite the task to accomplish. Namjoon did it and with ease.
“Pretty flower,” the soft voice startled Seokjin from his reveries. He turned to find his grandmother walking towards him. Her small feet sank in the warm sand. The sun shined bright behind her. Summer graced them with light and warmth. Her voice was swiftly taken away by the maritime breeze. “What are you doing here?” she asked, curious. Her gaze swept around for an answer. She found nothing except for the blue ocean. It extended infinitely before them. At dusk, the sun drowned in it and colored the sky with a delicate shade of pink.
“I only came to watch the waves,” Seokjin admitted. “I find it rather soothing despite the sun,” he walked closer to his grandmother. He extended an arm to help her. Her cane was ineffective in the sandy ground. It kept sinking into it.
“We should go back before that wicked man finds you here,” The woman muttered. “You are to see him only with a chaperone. I do not trust him one bit especially around a pretty flower,” she chuckled. Her sweet laugh twirled in the salty air. It soothed Seokjin’s nervousness.
“You make him to be a monster,” Seokjin said as they walked back home. “I doubt that such man can exist,” he admitted, confused yet curious. The legend was rather attractive. It piqued his curiosity.
“He is worse than any mouth can admit,” The woman shook her head. She recognized in the omega’s voice a hint of mischief and ill-oriented curiosity. She couldn’t have it. “Now, promise me that you will do as I say,” she added eyeing Seokjin. The young man only nodded. He accompanied her. As they passed in the gardens, the sweet fragrance of the daturas planted there filled the air. Seokjin liked it. It was his flower after all.
Fate and higher forces decided that Seokjin would meet Namjoon at seventeen. The alpha was older by a few years. His gaze remained blue as he eyed the omega. His confidence unsettled Seokjin and his smile even more.
“I’ve never seen someone as pretty as you,” Namjoon brought Seokjin’s delicate hand to his lips. He planted on the ivory knuckles a kiss. His fangs itched to mark the unblemished skin.
“You flatter me,” Seokjin said simply. He took away his hand. It burned from the chaste gesture. Seokjin was accustomed to suitors. They came in all shapes and races as soon as he presented as an omega. He was from a good family, the last of the nobles that remained. His beauty grew well-known in the country. Therefore, Seokjin was indeed used to many knocking on his door asking for his hand. Namjoon was not the first nor would he be the last.
“It is merely the truth,” Namjoon smiled. His lips revealed a set of perfectly aligned teeth, a few sharper than necessary. The fangs, Seokjin assumed, were some sort of strength display. Alphas had a peculiar behavior. For them, only mattered power and strength. For Seokjin, only mattered the fading seasons and their grip on his garden.
“You came a long way,” Seokjin invited Namjoon to sit. His chaperone stood behind him at the door. Her gaze felt heavy on Seokjin’s shoulders, although it seemed to amuse Namjoon. “I am afraid that it was in vain. I am not ready for marriage. I won’t accept your proposal, not near, nor far, nor soon.”
Namjoon only chuckled. He leant in his chair. The world faded around Seokjin. The electric blue eyes had him under a dangerous spell. His grandmother’s words came to his mind. “Never before one rejected me in such pretty way,” Namjoon smiled. It was unexpected. Seokjin thought that the alpha would indulge into a red fury, like many of his peers before him. None took rejection as well as Namjoon. “Why do you refuse?” Namjoon asked instead.
“I am too young,” Seokjin retorted instantly. He was only seventeen. “And you too old, alpha. Isn’t too greedy to covet something you shouldn’t have?” he asked wanting to understand the alpha more. Perhaps, it was his first mistake.
“Something,” Namjoon repeated. The word rolled on his tongue. Seokjin swore he could taste it. “Yet you are not something but someone. Age is but a number and I am barely older than your brother,” he retorted in all simplicity. Later on, Seokjin saw in the conversation his second mistake. He shouldn’t have indulged his curiosity. “But, I respect your decision,” Namjoon stood, surprising Seokjin who followed his suite. “If you do not wish to wed me, so be it.”
“And that is all?” Seokjin asked, stunned. Namjoon seemed confused. He addressed him a questioning look. “Many before you lost their breath and wits trying to convince me, and many lost their senses. Yet you take rejection like one would discuss the weather.”
Namjoon chuckled softly. “I am not like them,” he stated and Seokjin believed him. “I won’t get angry because you do not want me. But, rest assured one day you will be mine. Near, far or soon, you will be mine. Perhaps, I dare to say that you will come to me with your own volition.”
“Is that a threat?” Seokjin asked facing Namjoon. He heard many threats before. Yet not one sounded like a sweet promise.
“Make of it whatever you wish, pretty flower,” Namjoon took Seokjin’s hand in his once more. He kissed the delicate yet crooked knuckles. His lips left an indelible mark on the soft skin, and only Seokjin was able to see it. Its warmth accompanied many lonely nights after their meeting.
And so Seokjin met Namjoon on a clement summer day near the ocean. Many years later, Seokjin could recall the blue of the moving waters, the warmth of the sand under his feet, the softness and scent of the breeze. He could also recall with violent vividness Namjoon’s smile and eyes.