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hexonthepeach · 4 months

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a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | chapter 25: tribunal

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate’s clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [24: escort]

wc: 6.7k

warnings: in-world bigotry, graphic depictions of violence inc. cardiac arrest

recommended listening: ten's solo album is a masterpiece but we've got nightwalker and on ten on repeat for this one

When you’d failed to meet the expectations of your name and station your elder’s favorite punishment had been to send you to the Imperial Tombs to kneel.

For hours or even days–you never knew how long–the statues of the Amitahba Buddha and his companion bodhisattvas were your only company beside the dead as those surveilling you determined whether or not you’d shown the appropriate level of filial piety.

Those long gone points of meditation were more welcome than the terrifying visage of a xiezhi rising up behind your judges now, cloud-like flame swirling from its lion-like snout and single horn.

If myth were to be believed, at any indication of guilt the chimera would simply impale or devour a criminal. You can register a similar threat in the machinery beneath the holographic projection, the cold light of sensors and turrets in its frame. Tapestry-like screens hang on either side, reflecting you and the equally frightening sight of your vital readouts.

Now you kneel in the center of the arena, a slowly rotating sam-taegeuk beneath you casting the scene in ominous primary colors. Before you the table is set up for the legal arm of the tribunal, the three judges flanked by a small army of advisors and projected screens.

Your neck is bent, not just from the heavy jewelry adorning your head but the weight of thousands of Syndicate eyes resting on you, countless more if your suspicions that this was being streamed were correct. Outside the Dome, you aren’t spared visibility.

Thankfully, neither are they.

“Lee ____, third of her name. Lotus Princess, Daughter of Heaven and the East Sea. Only child of Lee Eunji, second of the Samshin, beloved in memory. The one born by the will of All Saints and the stars aligned to be Princess Consort of the last Imperial Dynasty of New Goryeo.”

“You come before us bearing a number of complaints brought against your kin, your mates, and the pack who took you into their protection.”

Protection. You flinch at the word. Your judge clears his throat, eyeing you over his glasses.

“We will hear your case before that of the accused, and decide on the terms for reconciliation,” the central figure finishes.

Elder Jeong Yunho is only a distant relation to the hound in Halatus, you know, your parent’s generation and the most notable prosecutor in Old Seoul. He's joined by one of the Park elders, a sly looking man you know as Leeteuk, along with that strange Vulpine spokesperson with a flashy suit–the Kim.

“Rise, Lee ____, and swear your vows.”

“Esteemed members of the Imperial houses and Syndicate, thank you for honoring my formal request for a tribunal.” You curtsy deeply in the spite of the burn in your knees, tail sweeping the illuminated floor. “I welcome your objective review of my case.”

You can feel the approval of your uncle at having remembered your etiquette, though you can’t see him in the booth beyond the table with the blazing lights. You approach the table to lay your hand on the Imperial seal, the touch activating an internal glow.

“Under the eyes of heaven and by its laws, I swear to tell the truth,” you recite.

“Please proceed with your testimony,” Leeteuk allows, nodding at you. Your cardiac output scrolls on his screen, an appropriate orange for the fear driving your vision white. You swallow, hands folding before you as you look down again.

“As you know, I entered into a contract with Nyctos as their property, at the initiation of my first heat cycle.”

You glance to your right, finding Taeyong by his profile burnt black by the red pa on the floor, Doyoung illuminated more clearly by the glow of his A/R glasses.

“I thought he was my fated one,” you say, turning back. “We seemed to have made a bond-match immediately.”

“Seemed to?” The Kim finally speaks.

“Please refrain from speculative language,” Elder Jeong adds. “Did you or did you not bond-match with the Crown Prince? Answer truthfully.”

The pull of the order is more powerful than you expected; you nod in affirmation.

“Yes. We did. But I believed a trial period was necessary to determine if our pairing would be favorable,” you stammer.

“A trial which we understand has resulted in a successful mating, hence cementing your bond,” Elder Park replies. “Is that not correct?”

You shake your head, ears appropriately submissive. “We bond-matched. We . . . mated. But I requested contraceptive treatment prior to our formal marriage ceremony.”

“Contraceptive treatment when your contract is based upon providing heirs?” The fox Kim speaks again, asking questions on behalf of the audience it seems. “How curious.”

You don’t dare to look up past the curve of his lips and fangs, seeing the comments scroll down his screen, mirrored but legible.

“–Claimed by five Alphas. At least one of them should have stuck–”

“Can you illuminate the Syndicate as to why you did not proceed with a definite mating to assure your bond?” Park’s voice breaks the spell of reading through the written condemnations.

“I suspected I would be abandoned as unsuitable,” you say.

That surprises all of them, the three sitting forward. You can hear the murmur of the crowd, now, muffled by the containment field.

“On what grounds would you be found unsuitable?” Elder Jeong asks.

You turn slightly, the head of the haetae above you mirroring the gesture. Taeyong glares at you from the shadows, shaking his head slightly.

“When the Crown Prince refused to mate me and allowed his pack to claim me first,” you say.

“Objection.” Doyoung raises his hand as he steps forward into your purview. “Did you not agree, willingly, to a pack claim?”

“This is not your cross-examination, cousin.” Elder Kim warns, stylus tapping on the table. “But we will allow this clarification.”

You refuse to acknowledge Doyoung, turning away as you let real anger sweep through you.

He approaches the table, pausing to give you a wide berth before bowing stiffly. “My apologies for interrupting. But I feel I must specify there is no legal requirement in the Princess Consort’s contract for exclusivity nor is there a precedent for which order claims may be taken.”

“Did you agree to this pack claim?” Elder Kim’s voice is mildly aghast, if a little amused.

“Answer truthfully.” Jeong repeats.

You pause, mouth opening to close again as you simply nod. You feel an instant sense of relief once the command is fulfilled.

“Your written testimony implies but does not state directly that these claims were forced upon you.” Park says, highlighting the text displayed. “Is it not your duty within a pack contract to submit to the will of your superiors?”

You feel yourself bristle, eyes still lowered. “Is it not the responsibility of a pack leader to protect its weakest members from abuse?”

“The Princess Consort will refrain from directing questions at the tribunal,” Jeong rebuts you, sighing heavily. “Let the tribunal recognize that only a contract owner may submit a charge of abuse towards the persons covered by it.”

The meaning is clear–you are just property, after all.

“It seems this is merely a matter of internal insubordination, then,” Kim laughs. “How delightful.”

“Does the Crown Prince’s counsel wish to submit such a complaint?”

Doyoung stands more stiffly.

“Formally, no,” he explains. “We are here to address internal insubordination, as you said. The tribunal is necessary due to the Crown Prince’s status, not because we recognize the Princess Consort’s complaint.”

“Hypothetically speaking, if the Princess Consort’s claims were legally recognizable,” Elder Kim asks, “how would you respond to this accusation of so-called abuse?”

Your eyes swim with tears as you brace yourself for whatever silver-tongued answer Doyoung will give them, fists clenching.

“The Princess Consort refused to accept her mate's orders to stay confined and made certain solicitations,” he says, clearly uncomfortable with being forced to describe the details. “She tried to turn lesser ranks against the Crown Prince. Eventually she submitted when she found that pack loyalty would not grant her desire to overthrow natural authority.”

“What–?” you begin, forgetting yourself.

“Silence.”

You crouch, mouth clamped shut. So much for maintaining your composure, you think, face burning.

“I think it’s clear enough this contract is in dispute because this omega does not know their place.” Elder Kim says, arms crossing. “Dozens of generations of breeding have fallen thus far.”

“Is it the wish of the Crown Prince and Nyctos to forfeit their contract with the Kims on the basis of this insubordination?” Elder Park asks.

“While we have been disappointed in the Princess Consort’s behavior it hardly warrants contract termination,” Doyoung says. “We believe with adequate training these flaws in character and behavior can be addressed by reasserting pack authority.”

You shake your head, still silenced.

“Do you wish to say something, little Princess?”

You’re surprised enough to look up at the other Vulpine, finding his eyes narrowed in a smug but cold smile.

“The Princess Consort may respond this once,” Jeong says tiredly, waving his hand. “Make your final statement before we dismiss this matter.”

You drop to your knees, desperate.

“Please masters,” you plead, voice shaking. “I cannot bear to spend another moment in these brute's company. His pack abused me and forced claims upon me. I have suffered indignity at almost all of their hands, with few exceptions.”

You expect them to ignore your request but you are mortified when the Elder Jeong brushes off your earnest request with one word and a waved hand.

“Noted. Will Second Prince Lee Minhyung please approach the tribunal.”

You turn to look at Mark stride towards the table, hiding his bewilderment under a soldier’s reserve. It was only fair that he'd be confused.

“Second Prince. Your cousin has requested a transfer of the contract to you, as her closest male relative and preferred mate, with the expectation that you will emancipate her upon transfer,” Elder Jeong says. “Should the trials proceed favorably for you, do you accept this responsibility?”

“You’re the only one,” you explain, quietly, relieved when you aren’t stopped from addressing him. “You can end this.”

A thousand words are spoken in the look shared between you, but most of all you can see something like sympathy there–a welcome sight after this useless political theatre. You see realization dawn on him, eyes wide. He looks up at Doyoung, some subtlety in the exchange spurring him to the obvious answer.

“I accept,” Mark says, looking back down at you.

You close your eyes in relief, exhaling shakily. When you open your eyes again his hand is extended towards you, helping you rise once more from the painful position.

“And will the Crown Prince fight to retain your claim upon your mate?”

The question is directed at Taeyong, who’s already quietly joined Doyoung, tail swishing lazily.

“I have a major investment in her as property, including futures,” he says, turning to look at you with disgust darkening his usually soft features. “While she’s been more than unfavorable in her lack of compliance, no, I will not hand her over without an appropriate response.”

“Then since this is a matter of personal honor, the tribunal recognizes this dispute to fall under traditional methods of arbitration,” Elder Jeong says, slamming the seal down on the table three times.

“The heirs may choose their principals and seconds. As the challenged, the Crown Prince will state his preferences, first.”

Taeyong bows to the tribunal.

“I elect my enforcer, Suh Youngho, until the time in which I may settle my grievance against him for claiming my mate without my permission.”

You’re shocked by this addition and clearly so is Johnny–you don’t dare look up at him but you don’t miss the hesitation on his part to accept his position beside his leader and Doyoung.

“Kim Doyoung will act as second and negotiate the terms on our behalf.”

Elder Jeong nods. “Second Prince. The Princess Consort has elected you as her new owner should your claim be recognized. Who do you request represent you?”

Mark looks at you, eyes twitching with uncertainty as your gaze flicks towards the only reasonable candidate. You don't dare speak, knowing full well that it would undermine Taeyong's plan to present your cousin as a capable leader. Thankfully Jaehyun moves to Mark's side unprompted.

“I elect Jeong Yuno as principal,” he says, relaxing.

“I, Nakamoto Yuta will perform the role of second,” Yuta says, more formal in his speech than you've ever heard.

“That leaves three pack members unaccounted for, with Moon Taeil excused on the basis of his oath of service. Do the heirs wish to elect the two lower ranks to participate on their behalf?”

Mark shakes his head, but you interrupt him, placing a hand on his jacketed arm. “Please, allow me to address a personal grievance.”

Mark’s disappointment is palpable but he nods, following your lead.

“On behalf of the Second Prince,” you say, eyes moving past Jungwoo to your target hanging on the edge of the arena. “I elect Lee Donghyuck to fight on behalf of our honor.”

Haechan glowers at you, but says nothing, joining Mark. Jungwoo winks at you as he passes towards Taeyong's contingent, full lips curled in delight.

“Seconds approach the table for the negotiation and arrangement of terms. The Princess Consort will be retained outside the arena for her safety.”

You bow deeply to the table before turning to Mark’s pack members to present them with the same respect. Before you leave you approach your cousin, placing your hand on his chest, where the five-petaled Clan crest pinned to the navy fabric has already been altered to the same bright blue of the flag beneath your feet.

“Thank you,” you say, embracing him with the same conviction you had hours ago, under extremely different circumstances. At first he stiffens, surrendering when he realizes he’s still on stage.

“You'll do well, for me,” you tell him, hands reaching around him to hold his chest tightly. He relaxes after a few seconds.

“What's even happening right now?” he whispers into the hair between your ears. “Why did you make me–”

“Please, trust me,” you say into his jacket, adding an extra tightness to your hold. “This is for them more than us.”

You stand on your toes to press a kiss to his startled face through the drape of your veil, hands on his shoulders briefly. You don't mistake the way in which he leans forward when you break free, marching away without so much as a glance in the Red direction.

Outside the arena you are directed to the private box behind the judges table already occupied by your uncle and your guards, helped to your seat by the Elder Kim. The fox has shrugged off the formality of the tribunal to return to his natural role as Master of Ceremonies, and you allow him to take your hand even as your skin prickles at the light touch.

Your box is illuminated softly by neon lights, prisms and starbursts of light dancing around you where they catch in the crystals meticulously sewn into your gold dress and Key's suit. The table is strewn with various drinks and rich bite-sized foods, your stomach wrenching at the sight and smell.

“There. Now you look like a proper prize,” Key says, almost a little mocking for the calculated way he adjusts your veil once you’re both seated, his tail curling against your own as he sits beside you. “Excellent work proving yourself the opposite.”

“Are you suggesting I don’t wish to be prized?” you ask, demurely hiding your lips in case anyone can read them through the covering. “Perhaps you can advise on how to be more submissive?”

“Me?” he says, pretending to be wounded. “Though you might make an effort to show some concern for your favorites. The drama here will have no small part in determining the outcome. Perhaps you already know who will win?”

You toss your head. “Not a single one of them has proven worthy to earn my favor.”

“Careful pet,” Tenth Prince interrupts, moving closer on the long booth’s plush seating. “Your negligence towards your mates is not, under any circumstances, a point of pride.”

“Yes, uncle,” you say with a bow of your head.

You sit back as you listen to the conversations around you. Some of the voices are distinctly familiar, court attendees and Syndicate relations alike, all discussing odds of the mis-matched group inside the arena. Screens on the tables display the individual roster as well as points averages.

They may as well be written in a foreign language for all you understand.

“Can you make any sense of the betting?” you lean over to ask Yangyang, watching his ears turn naturally towards yours near the box entrance. He’s more than excited to crouch down next to you to explain, Renjun joining him with an attitude of annoyance.

“See here? Anything involving Suh is getting swept into a parlay. They assume he'll win every match.”

Renjun huffs across from him. “If he has to fight the Crown Prince, there’s no way.”

“You seem so sure,” you say.

“Clearly you've never seen your cousin in battle,” Tenth Prince says. “My dear, have you no sense of decorum? Omegas should be seen, not heard.”

“Apologies,” you say with a dip of your head. “I'm merely nervous.”

You receive another look of warning before he returns to speaking to the blond man that's slipped into the booth beside him–one of a handful of guards dressed impeccably with the Lee Imperial plum blossom on their lapel.

There's no indication that your uncle is agitated but you can sense something is off, fighting to keep your ears from swiveling back and forth as you listen for snippets of that particular conversation, pretending to watch the judges retreat from the floor to their own seats past the barrier.

“That's my cue,” Key says, flicking your ear with his claw upon standing. “Enjoy the bloodshed, my dear.”

There's a muffled wave of applause as the lights adjust once more, the Master spot-lit as he descends to receive the tablet of rankings and details.

“Fascinating,” you hear him say before he looks up to address the crowd, voice amplified for the entire room.

“Welcome honored members of the Imperial Houses and esteemed guests and patrons of our Syndicate. Tonight we present a once in a lifetime event, a demonstration of Alpha justice not seen since the Exodus trials of ‘02. Tonight a pack divides over a mutual claim, their prize the contract ownership of Heavenly Lotus Princess Lee ____, Daughter of the Eastern Sea."

He gestures to the far side of the arena, one of the lower boxes crowded with familiar Syndicate heads.

“On the one side, our accused and challenged–Crown Prince Lee Taeyong, son of the last would-be Imperator, first of his name. He petitioned the Kim clan for ownership of his cousin in the name of preserving their clan line, and yet within a few weeks has been sued for breach of contract by the Princess herself in a submission of formal complaint to the Syndicate’s board, witnessed by our ranks.”

“How do you plead, your highness?”

“By Heaven's design, my honor will be preserved,” Taeyong announces, tail curling as he salutes and then bows, in your direction. “I will win my claim.”

You're surprised to hear applause, a few cheers erupting from the wings across the room.

“Our most popular choice of course, as pack leader and the Lee clan’s worthy Elder. But we have a challenger and champion of our Princess's virtue to fight in her stead tonight, son of our beloved Reverend Mother and the People's Princess, Third of the Samshin, Lee Eunchae and her consort the Fourth Tiger Prince–name not to be spoken.”

“Second Prince Lee Minhyung–your mothers shared a womb–is that what motivates you to defend your closest relation, or do you seek to take what is rightfully your Elder's and claim your Alpha's mate for yourself?”

The provocation is felt within the room, murmurs accompanying a close-in on Mark's face on the screens.

“I'm here to defend the Princess. That's it,” he says, not bothering to bow. “She asked to be freed and I'll do my best to honor her request.”

There's less of a positive response to this announcement, disapproval like a dark cloud settling over the arena. Beside you Renjun makes a sound of affirmation, hiding his grin immediately beneath grim seriousness.

“Befitting the son of a so-called liberator and champion of omega rights. Well then, shall we proceed to the order of duels?”

The Master of Ceremonies continues to break down the code duello, all of which were bitterly familiar to you from the Academy. In the absence of anything resembling a body of justice to address the constant infighting amongst the Alpha progeny of the clancorps the honorable method for resolving conflicts was through combat.

“Any insult to an omega under an Alpha’s care or protection to be considered as, by one degree, a greater offense than if given to the Alpha personally, and to be regulated accordingly.”

“Offenses originating or accruing from the support of omegas' reputations, to be considered as less unjustifiable than any others of the same class, and as admitting of slighter apologies by the aggressor: this to be determined by the circumstances of the case, but always favorable to the omega.”

You watch the screen manifest the series of trials, heart sinking at the sight of the names and portraits listed against one another in opposing blue and red, the choice of weaponry and terms bookended by positive and negative numbers you can only imagine are related to the odds.

Seo Youngho, with a negative score of at least a 100 beyond the other ranks, is pitted against the pack in multiple confrontations. But the one that twists your stomach the most to see is his latestage match against Mark's principal.

Jeong Yuno barely affords a ranking.

“Parlays will close within the next five minutes but action bets will be accepted throughout the event. Please continue to submit those wagers and participate in the voting for our environmental controls and hazards as so generously provided by our board and sponsors. May the punishment match the crime!”

“Environmental hazards?” You hear Yangyang ask, drawing your attention.

“Don’t they have those at the Zoo?” Renjun sighs, giving you a sidelong glance. “He and Zhong live in District Four when they’re off-duty.”

The home of unofficial, underground Alpha matches for Beta entertainment, you know from media rather than experience.

“It's all fake. For show,” Yangyang assures you. “Not like here. Real death matches are outlawed.”

“It’s not always death matches, here,” Renjun adds. “Just . . . most of the time.”

“If the Syndicate sentences you to death, this is the most honorable way to die,” you say quietly.

A fate you wouldn't wish on anyone.

“Is that why you claimed a fatal offense?” Tenth Prince's voice is bitter, but you can hear his veiled smile beneath his fan. “An honorable death?”

“I did,” you nod, feeling Renjun and Yangyang’s actual shock at the news. “Against my first claim and true bonded. The man who scarred me and took my innocence.”

“Who?” Renjun asks, quietly.

You don't answer.

“Child, you certainly never took any of my advice not to play with fire lest you be burned.” Your uncle sighs. “What a waste of a perfectly fine specimen.”

You're not sure which of the two Alphas slated for a death match he means, but you suspect the words are more for the Felid blinking against the lights to try and find your face in the crowd, his own expression unreadable.

Your heart clenches in your chest as you turn away, unable to meet Johnny's eyes even at this distance.

“Prepare yourself to give him a proper send-off when the time comes. We wouldn't want anyone to doubt your conviction in accusing bonded mates of such grave offenses.” Tenth says, placing a clawed hand over your own.

You hear the warning spoken plainly: you had to present as innocent or earn the enmity of the other Syndicate Alphas. Omegas executing their claims was unheard of, a precedent much more dangerous than one of your kind seeking emancipation.

No, their sympathies would never lie with you. But tonight had never really been about what you wanted.

“I do suppose eliminating Suh will resolve the rumors of whether or not Nyctos is led by a foreign-born mongrel rather than your own blood.” Tenth's head of security hasn't spoken until now, voice calm and quiet, but he sounds as bored as your uncle at the spectacle. You fight to keep from reacting, narrowing your eyes at his handsome face.

He smiles at you widely, almost shyly.

“That will be quite enough, Sicheng.” The Prince admonishes him. “Do not imply that our clan can not maintain dominance over its own servants.”

Renjun bristles visibly, eyes darting between the three of you, as if seeing you in a new light.

You can sense the new discomfort of your guards, themselves under the command of said mongrel, now fully aware he's been gravely accused. But this isn't the time or place to explain, not with the beginning of the trials.

“We will now commence the first duel,” Master Key announces, spot-lit from below, along with two others. “May the strongest beast survive.”

“I'm trusting that you three actually have a plan besides my execution,” Johnny says with typical gallows humor, hanging over the wall separating the weapons racks and waiting area to try and make out the stats on-screen.

It’s hard to read if only because there’s a montage just as eye-catchingly bombastic as the Lottery ads played street side, for the first time in history introducing their pack. Whatever media production crew they had operating this event was well-read on Nyctos history, accomplishments and training, as well as family backgrounds by several generations.

Of course they’d still gotten his background wrong–just like Yuta’s–his origin somehow now the Western Free States instead of a Midwest Combined Operational Group enclave south of the Occupied Great Lakes. He’s not surprised considering NUSA didn’t register as much more than a lawless wasteland after the Fifth Corporate war.

“We’re playing it by ear just as much as you suspect,” Doyoung says. “I tried to match rank and ability as closely as possible.”

“By fighting Yuta?” Jungwoo asks, smirking as he leans against the wall. “Good luck.”

“I'll ignore the implication that I might lose,” Doyoung snaps back.

“You must think I would have if you put me against Haechan.” Jungwoo huffs.

“Yes,” Johnny says, turning to meet him levelly, as equally matched as they are in height. “You are going to minimize harm in your fight and accept your punishment. The next time you hesitate to deal directly with a threat against a lower rank you won't be facing them. You'll be fighting me.”

Jungwoo swallows, mouth twisted in a wry smile as he turns away to join Taeyong on the side of the field, where a small crowd of Syndicate-approved media spokespeople are interviewing the pack leader.

“Was this her idea?” he asks, looking up again through the haze of the containment field at that bright spot, your profile visible behind delicately embroidered organza as you nod at something Tenth Prince says.

Doyoung squints, looking around with the implication that nothing is private here. Even so Johnny senses a shift in his aura, less anxious and more approving, as if the Lepid is experiencing a sudden surge of pride.

“Her testimony is entirely her own. She understood what the stakes were more clearly than even I had anticipated.”

“What is her goal, exactly?”

“She truly just wants her freedom,” Doyoung answers with a soft exhale. “By any means necessary.”

Any means. It nags at him deeply, after everything, that your aim would be so simple: mated and bonded Alphas forced to eliminate one another over an accusation of pack disunity. There was a certain poetry in it, in the sense that you'd accounted for every wrong, not-withstanding your own.

I want us to live.

He has a choice. Believe what you'd said in private, in the dark, in the moments when the stakes were truly never higher. Or believe you now, with your doublespeak and carefully-constructed artifice.

No, he thinks. He's lived with Taeyong too long to ever believe royal lies. This had to be the natural conclusion of whatever Imperial scheme had started before you even fell back into their hands. A long, circumnavigating path back to zero.

He watches Yuta lean into Haechan's ear, instructions given to him. Here in the open stage he looks younger than ever, shoulders hunched with hidden tension, sharp eyes scanning the crowds past the lights.

“The first of many of tonight's little squabbles, between our lowest-ranked. According to the Princess Consort there is a private grievance to be settled here, would our combatants wish to make a statement?”

Key's nod is to Jungwoo, deferring to him as first-ranked and the challenged faction. The young Alpha stands tall, clearly in his element, his preferred weapon of a nightstick now tapping against his shoulder in a familiar beat.

“I submit my performance as testament to the honor of my clan and pack, and hope our Princess Consort accepts my apology in advance for my victory,” the younger Kim states. “Would my lady bestow me with a token of her affection? For luck?”

The theatrics are generously received, an attempt made to focus on you in the stands finds you shaking your head, ears back.

“Clearly you have yet to earn your Princess's regard. Oh well, not unexpected for a mutt,” Key laments, earning the laughter of the crowd. “Does her Highness bestow a favor upon her preferred champion?”

Johnny can't help but tense, seeing you turn your focus on the other Alpha. Haechan's posture is abnormally stiff as you produce something from your sleeve. You flash the illustration on the fan's paper before snapping it closed in an elegant fashion, tossing it through the containment field.

It passes through without any register of the security, landing on the stage. Key retrieves the small offering when Haechan makes no effort to take it, flourishing it with a gesture upon standing up, long white-and-silver tail balancing the line of his body.

“Such a sweet token–do I detect a lover's quarrel between you by the sincerity of this gesture met so cruelly?” He gently waves the fan towards his target, letting the Valentine's day colors of the dianthus illustration be seen by all.

Rather than answer Haechan snatches it closed, awkwardly tucking it into his pocket.

“Let's get this over with,” he says, brandishing the yellow-marked electric baton he's chosen.

“Not too hasty, not too hasty,” Key says but the traditional drum beats cascade over the room, lights dimming as the softly illuminated forms of the two men move quietly and slowly around each other, sparks snapping from the active rods of their nightsticks.

It's clear within moments who will have the advantage as the two Alphas circle one another on the glowing field, the floor shifting as applause and cheers take over, almost masking the sound of rushing water that erupts from a moat falling around the central ring.

“We've of course added our own hazards here, but let's explain the rules. No fatalities are allowed with the exception of incidental and accidental. Stun levels have been set to disable only. Leaving the fight area past the moat will be considered an automatic forfeit. May the Heavens provide justice, and may the punishment match the crime.”

A tense quiet settles over the combat zone. It's more than a little surreal for him to witness the two like this–after countless trainings and similar play fights. The two Canids may be unequal in size but Haechan is faster, more aggressive when cornered.

Jungwoo makes no attempt to break his defense, lazily feinting when the other comes too close. Even dimly lit he can see the smile breaking on the Canid’s face, a fear response. The scent suppression here can’t hide the flare of Alpha pheromones, just as sharp as the burnt air smell of electricity.

“Get him in the water,” Doyoung mutters beside him.

Johnny growls instinctively, startling his partner.

“I mean disable the weapon,” he adds.

“I got that.” Johnny moves closer, sniffing at the moat's pure water. No surprise chemicals in that mix, at least.

“They’ll want blood,” he says.

Jungwoo lashes out, finally, quick arcs that miss Haechan's duck and weave away. Jungwoo has to step back quickly when Haechan counterattacks, almost tipping a foot past the breach and stumbling forward away from the edge.

Haechan pounces on the opening, thrusting out with the yellow nightstick.

The crackle of electricity is echoed in a collective gasp as Jungwoo takes a knee, immediately set on from behind with the thin metal rod against his long neck, Haechan dodging careless swipes backwards to pull tighter against his throat.

“Yield,” Haechan growls. Johnny realizes how close to jimseung the youngest already is. That sentiment is matched by the swipe of Jungwoo’s claws across the back of Haechan’s wrist, forearm torn to the sinew as Jungwoo takes advantage of the opening to smash his head backwards into the younger’s face.

Haechan yelps, dropping his weapon as blood gushes from his broken nose. His bloodied fingers slip on the handle of his stun baton as Jungwoo kicks it away lightly, the spin of the handle catching on the moat’s edge a few yards away.

“Oh, did you need that?” Jungwoo taunts, shaking himself loose on the rise up. “Don’t you have fur under that skin? C’mon, show me your teeth.”

“Bastard,” Haechan spits out a gob of congealing blood from beneath the steady flow, favoring his right arm.

“All's fair in love and war,” Jungwoo taunts. He switches his baton between hands as he circles the younger, taking his time. Haechan sweeps a kick to upend him but it’s easily avoided. He tries to seize the grounded end of Jungwoo’s baton next, earning a low-level stun that has the jackal seizing and twitching on the floor.

“Would you really do anything to protect her? Or are you losing so you can keep her all to yourself?” Jungwoo asks, watching patiently for his victim to recover.

“Shut up!” Haechan roars, rising up from the floor to roll the taller man down, defending against a stun with his claws embedded in Jungwoo’s shoulders and neck. The fight on the floor lasts only as long as it takes for Jungwoo to smash his forehead against the other’s face, again, Haechan letting out a gurgling snarl as he lets go–twisting away before the baton can smash down on his shoulder.

Sparks skitter across the floor, arcing across the flickering portion of the broken screen.

Jungwoo laughs even as blood oozes between fingers clamped to his neck, snapping the telescopic end of the baton open again with a spray of red. There’s a sinister quality to the way he’s taunting the younger, more like a cat with its prey.

Na’s influence, Johnny thinks, holding back the order he wants to shout at his subordinate. Even if he had a right to under the circumstances, Jungwoo was taking the act too far.

“Always pretending to be a little puppy nipping at our heels. Did it feel good to get to rut her first?” Jungwoo's sing-song voice is the only sound in the room besides Haechan's wet coughs and frustrated grunts as he tries to pick himself up.

Jungwoo's claws embed in the younger man's scruff, pulling him up, fielding off the weak blows from his left hand and the attempts to kick his legs out from under him. It's clear from the boy's pallor he's lost more blood than expected.

“Fight back,” Doyoung whispers. Johnny breathes, finally, realizing the air has left his lungs minutes ago.

“Fight back, kid,” he murmurs.

“Did you tell her you loved her? Or did you take what you could get and run away with your tail tucked between your legs?”

“I’ll kill you,” Haechan whines pitifully, pummeling Jungwoo’s wiry arm as he’s dragged towards the edge.

“Do you think you have it in you?”

Jungwoo doesn’t go for the final blow immediately, waiting until Haechan has been released and made it to his knee to push forward with a direct attack to the chest, just a tap but reinforced by the full unload of the stun.

Haechan tips back, paralyzed, crashing into the waters as the crowd erupts violently with a mix of cheers and boos.

“Did you plan that?” Johnny asks, icy rage in his tone.

Doyoung shakes his head, swiping a hand over his face. “No.”

You haven’t even realized you were standing, horror and pain blotting out any thought in your head–to the point you don’t even realize you’re being addressed.

“What's the verdict?” Jungwoo looks up at you, drenched in gore, his clawed thumb held horizontally from his closed fist. The crowd erupts, chants alternating between the desire to drown or electrocute the loser while messages and emotes flash across the privacy screens of the upper booths.

You watch the Canid move at his leisure around the field, even taking the time to dip his bloodied arm in the water to cleanse it.

“Such a young life, and a fellow Lee,” Key says with faux concern. “Would you really see this child consigned to death?”

There's a weighted pause as you regard the scene, as you lift your head and wipe your tears away. You lift your own hand in answer, thumb held upright in a mirrored gesture to the one before, shaking in the spotlight.

“I would have mer–” your words are cut clean by a horrible sound, Haechan's yell more howl as he finally pitches forward from the water, a yellow rod between his teeth. Jungwoo can only brace himself so much with the impact to his gut, pitched into the void beside him.

He has a moment to surface, scrabbling for the edge–

“NO!” you shout.

“No mercy,” Haechan repeats the crowd's line, activating the device and pitching it into the water below his feet.

Screams erupt in the sudden darkness and the spider-webbed fingers of lightning reaching halfway around the dark pool, the central light extinguished with a horrible snap and a flicker.

By the ringing in your ears you’re sure the scream was from you, hands grasping at you as you take advantage of the darkness and chaos to run.

Anguished murmurs follow, medics rushing in to the arena as the overhead lights illuminate the stage, water bleeding away from the rising floor.

What little of the screen still working is darkened by the arterial blood pooling around the figure who’s collapsed in the middle of it. Haechan holds his dripping head in his hands, healing slowly.

You make it to the edge of the arena, held back by Imperial guards as you reach for the body being pulled from the receding water by uniformed medics, shirt torn open to place electrodes on his unmoving chest.

“No,” you weep. “Please. Why?”

The defibrillation is heard throughout the room, beeps and shocks repeating until Jungwoo arcs upwards with the kick, twitching back to life with a matching signal from the monitors strapped to him.

You're finally able to wrest out of your captor's hold, falling ungracefully at the Alpha's side as his mouth is cleared of blood-tinged phlegm, unconsciously reaching to clear the damp hair from his forehead.

“Why?!” you repeat, louder.

It was supposed to be me, you think.

“You did this,” Haechan says, bitterly. The damage to his face is severe, both eyes blackened, claw marks leaking rivulets of red.

“You didn't have to–you didn't have to kill him!” Your sobs are amplified over the same frequency, keening along with the breaths rasping out of Jungwoo as he slips back into unconsciousness.

“YOU MADE ME!” Haechan shouts at you, making the whole room go still.

The Canid weakly pulls your token from its place in his saturated clothing, tossing it back on the ground to smear in the blood-dyed water. His eyes find you, finally, hollowed of everything human.

“I challenge you, next,” he says.

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