Jungkook has adjusted the sleeves of his wedding robes six times in the last ten minutes. He's paced the length of the hall a similar amount of times. His witnesses, pack council members Namjoon and Seokjin are quietly laughing at his nervousness.
"Leave him alone," Yoongi grumbles when he returns with the ceremony candles, "It's not every day you get mated." He shoots them a hard look, "Let alone mated to a stranger—you two can't relate."
Seokjin curls his arm protectively around his omega's side, who dimples up at Yoongi.
"It's a little funny, though. He's worried because the attendants won't let him see his husband." Namjoon sells him out just like that.
Yoongi turns to Jungkook who wants to shrink into the floor, "I'm sure no matter what he looks like he'll be a good mate, Jungkook. He comes from a very reputable temple—the pack is sure to approve of him"
"What if he doesn't like me?" Jungkook says in a small voice. He couldn't care less if his omega is pretty—do they really think he's so shallow?
Yoongi smiles sympathetically at his worries and tucks his bangs behind his ear, "Look at you, who wouldn't like you?"
The officiant peeks his head into their vestibule and nods at the party. Namjoon and Seokjin get to their feet and look at him expectantly.
"It's time, Jungkook."
"Right." He takes a deep breath and adjusts his sleeve one last time, "Let's do it. The hard part."
"Oh believe me," Seokjin says, shaking his head, "This is not the hard part."
The hard part he's referring to, of course, comes after the wedding. The wedding night.
The wedding ceremony is simple enough; Jungkook stands before the pack elders and council and he and his mate recite the vows of their pack.
His mate comes to him veiled and in shapeless wedding robes—meant to emphasize the fact that as the chief's son he mates for the soul, for the future of the pack. It can't be about shallow preferences or selfish desires.
Jungkook has learned to put those aside ever since his father named him the heir.
The only thing he knows about his mate is his voice, which is definitely beautiful and surprising. It's low, with a melodic edge that makes music of the vows. It makes Jungkook lean in to listen, drawn in to the gravity in spite of himself.
"I, Park Jimin of the Temple of the Winter Rose, Do pledge myself to Jeon Jungkook of the Western Jeon Pack in the morning as the evening, in the peace and the pain, for all of my days."
The only part of his mate he gets to see is his throat—bared at the end of the ceremony as the two of them leave their mating bites on each other. He's treated to a column of smooth, pale skin that it's far too easy to spiral into less than innocent fantasies when he dutifully sinks his teeth into the juncture of his neck and shoulder. His omega's scent is floral, and lovely, spiking when he draws back from leaving his mark.