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Chapter Text

Akihito stands in front of the mirror as his hazel eyes take in the sight of himself in his wedding robes. It is a beautiful white lace gown, with impeccable embroidery. Two strands of pearls are nestled in the hollow of his throat, and he has matching pearl earrings in his ears. His long blond hair is artistically piled upon his head, showcasing his unmarked throat.

His father is hoping to cater to the alpha’s baser instincts. If his throat is bare, the alpha will long to place his mark on it. His father enters the room, his eyes dark as he takes in the sight of his only heir.

“Come, Duke Asami Ryuichi is waiting.”

Taking a deep breath, Akihito turns away from the mirror and grabs his bouquet of white roses, three maids pick up his veil and they toss it over the front of his face. He could barely see out through the lace, but his father could care less.

Takaba Hitoshi is not one for soft endearments or caring for others. He is better known for his ability to make everything into a contract. He hates losing out on a potential deal, and when his son came of age, he made sure to create an agreement that would benefit him until his dying breath.

That is why Takaba Akihito is standing here today. Whenever he was little, he had a dream that a knight would someday come and rescue him. That he would grow up and fall in love with an alpha that he got to know, someone who could look past the outspoken and headstrong tendencies, but instead his father had beaten those things out of him.

Akihito isn’t able to recognize himself anymore. Gone was the boy who ran around looking for adventures and creatures to fight. Now, he was a shell of what he once was. He holed himself up; he kept himself to the walls and shadows in fear of doing the wrong thing.

The dread of having a hand brought down on him, leaving scars and broken bones, had been enough to stop Akihito in his tracks. But Akihito keeps going, walking behind his father as his stomach twists itself into a knot as he approaches the altar.

In just a few minutes, he will no longer be Takaba Akihito; instead, he will be Asami Akihito, the duchess of Sion. His father stops outside the doors of the chapel; he doesn’t once face Akihito. Instead, he stares ahead, waiting for the omega to come to a stop three steps behind him, as tradition.

“You will not screw this up, Akihito. I will not have you disgracing this family any longer.” His father sneers, his words are harsh, yet they are familiar to the Akihito. Akihito looks at his feet. “Yes, Father.”

Taking a deep breath, he straightens his shoulders and waits for the traditional song to play. Moments later, his cue is ringing through the chapel and his father opens the doors for his grand entrance.

There, waiting at the end of the aisle is the illustrious Asami Ryuichi. The alpha’s body is tall and broad, his hair a dark brown under the lights shining off of the strands, highlighting the alpha’s impeccable features.

The man takes Akihito’s breath away. The gold and red fatigues accentuate Lord Asmai’s broad figure. The red jacket is decorated in shining metals, but one catches Akihito’s eyes.

It is a deep plum purple in the shape of a tree, its branches are spread wide, and the twisting roots fall right above the man’s heart. Akihito idly wondered what the tree was supposed to represent. Each Duke and King was gifted with a form of magic, oftentimes the magic was wielded into a ring, sword, or crown. Something tangible that the wearer would have on them at all times.

Was Duke Asami’s magic inside the pin? Akihito wished he could see the magic aura that emits from it, but the Takaba bloodline ran out of magic centuries ago. His father claimed that his mother used to have some, but all of his mother’s magic went with him after he was born.

That is partly the reason for his treatment in the Takaba household. If he hadn’t been born, his mother’s magic would have continued to grow with her. Maybe if she had gotten pregnant later in life, then she would still be with his father.

Akihito felt a hand wrap around his elbow, long fingernails digging through the lace and cutting into his skin. The harsh touch pulled him out of his thoughts. Akihito managed to cover up his wince, but not before his father shot him a withering glance.

Hazarding a glance around him, he was surprised to see how empty the church was. Only a few people had bothered showing up from his side of the family. But the side where Duke Asami’s family would sit is barren. Was there no one the Duke wished to have with him today?

A frown forms on his face, and then his father begins walking them forward. Each step brought him closer to Asami. He looked down at his feet, his throat catching as he tried to swallow around the lump in the back of his throat.

His hands clasped behind him, and his feet are spread shoulder-width apart, his chest put on display. A glance to the Duke’s left shows two men dressed in similar uniforms, though slightly different colors. Instead of the gold inseam running down the pant legs, the two men sport a velvety red Asami’s gold eyes narrow as he takes in the sight of Akihito for the first time.

The darkness that seeps into the man’s golden gaze has Akihito shifting in place. He can’t decide if the man is disappointed or not. But he can’t change how he is; the man will soon be stuck with Akihito once their vows are spoken.

Coming to a stop next to Asami, he expels a breath and turns his attention to his father. The man gives a fake convincing smile as he pats the back of Akihito’s hand. With a single gesture, his father stretches Akihito’s arm out, and they both wait for Asami to place his hand under Akihito’s gloved palm. It feels like hours, but it’s only a few moments before Asami gently takes Akihito’s hand and turns them towards the priest. Akihito listens with veiled interest; he looked around him. He needs to find a way out of the situation.

If only I had magic. He thinks as he takes in the white brick and marble columns that make up the chapel. If he did, maybe he could have been able to talk his father out of ordering Asami into this farce of a wedding.

Turning to face his soon-to-be husband, he bites his bottom lip. Bruising it due to him constantly chewing in anxious worry, tugging the skin between his teeth as he thought over and over about what it was he was doing. Now he needs to make the right decision; he would no longer be under his father’s thumb if he says yes. He would be able to leave and maybe have a chance to experience the world freely. Asami is his best option in getting away. If he were to say no, it would be his downfall. This man, this alpha, is his saving grace if he agrees to this marriage.

Looking up at the alpha, and when their eyes connect, he gives a small sigh to the priest.

“I do.”

***

After this, the ceremony is a blur, and all Akihito is sure about is that Asami did not look pleased to be here. He could only guess what his father had to do to corner the Duke into the marriage. All around him, he can see the guests mingling, their hushed voices seeming to get louder the longer he sits at the head table.

All eyes are on him, and Akihito can feel his hands begin to sweat. He drops his hands from the table, fisting the lace material of his bridal gown. He can’t chew at his nails as he wants. Not without having his father reprimand him in the shadows.

His attention is caught when he hears his father come up behind him. His presence alone is enough to have the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Lord Takaba looms over Akihito’s chair, his hands curling around the arms as he bends down to hiss into his son’s ear. To the few people around the room, it looks as if a father is congratulating his son on the marriage.

But Akihito knows better; the smile plastered on the man’s face makes his stomach turn. It is the smile his father would give him when Akihito had done something to shame him. It is a cold, twisted flash of teeth and snarling lips. But to the outsiders, it’s a deep-seated show of affection.

“You should be smiling, Akihito, at least pretend you are happy. You are drawing attention to yourself.”

Akihito sighs as he forces a smile on his lips as several nobles approach his table, their heads bowed in submission.

“Congratulations, your Grace.” Someone says, their attention on his father, ignoring Akihito completely. “Though I’m not sure if that’s the correct sentiment, Akihito is your only heir after all.”

Lord Takaba smiles; to anyone else, it holds a gentle sadness. To him, it was nothing more than relief. His father is finally going to be rid of him, and while his father gets the benefit, Akihito is stuck paying the price

“It’s not my wish,” He lies. “but it’s for the greater good. Though arranging such a rushed wedding does break my heart. I had wished for a far more elaborate scenery for the Duke and his bride.”

His father moves away, his cane tapping against the marble floor as he begins to rub elbows with other Lords and Ladies. Nearby a group of noble omegas stand off to the side, their giggles and barely hushed whispers slicing through the air, grating on Akihito’s nerves.

“I can’t believe he managed to snag Duke Asami. A young female omega in a pretty pink gown sneers to her peers. “Who knows what the Takabas had to do in order to snag such an alpha? Perhaps virgin sacrifices?” Snickers leave their mouths, their hands coming up to cover their malicious smiles as they look over at Akihito.

“Although I can’t say I’m particularly envious of their union. Another omega speaks up, this one a male in an expensive set of blue and silver robes. “After all, with their marriage, all of our husbands are relieved from duty in the Dragon Campaign. So it’s worked out for everyone.”

Akihito winces at the omegas’ words. His father had been summoned for the Dragon-slaying expedition. But somehow, he managed to pass his duty onto Duke Asami Ryuichi in exchange for his only heir. Whatever his father had promised, the Duke must have been good if Asami agreed to the wedding. No one wanted Takaba Akihito.

“This is absurd!”

Akihito jumps at the outraged yell. Turning his head, he sees Asami and his knight, Sir Kirishima Kei standing across the room. Asami’s golden eyes are narrow in frustration, his mouth in a tight line as he stares his knight down.

Asami’s head turned, their eyes connecting across the room, and Akihito shivered at the enraged fire dancing in the golden eyes.

“But my Lord, the royal decree states-”

Asami shakes his head. “I don’t care what it states, Kirishima. It will not happen, do you understand?”

Akihito never gets to hear the rest of the conversation as one of his maids arrives next to him, her head bowed as she whispers, “Your Highness, it is time to go to the bridal chamber.”

Dread begins to fill his stomach, and he closes his eyes, hoping to keep what little food he has eaten from resurfacing. He feels awful. After hearing his father constantly berate his whole life on his appearance and his impediment he can only imagine how Duke Asami will see him.

Maybe your husband won’t mind having a disgrace as his bride. Most men have nothing to do with their brides, they instead dally with mistresses. Would Duke Asami be the same way?

Akihito silently nods his head, his body mentally sagging as he realizes that once Asami catches wind of his speech impediment and the scars covering his body, he won’t wish to lay with him.

Then again, maybe Duke Asami already knows, and he is doing the gracious act of saving the damsel omega in distress. The thought makes the edges of his mouth quirk up into a semblance of a smile. Might his husband be the knight he has always been dreaming about?

Casting a covert look over to where the Duke and Knight Kirishima stand, he debates on telling the alpha now. Afterall, it’s likely Asami has no idea what he is getting himself into. His father always made sure to heal the bruises and broken bones when someone came to see Akihito.

His father had even begun to lock him in the cellars as punishment when Akihito failed to bring in the proper suitors. When he was three Akihito learned that not everyone spoke the way he did. At first, his father assumed it was because of the loss of his mother. But as the years went by, Lord Takaba realized that the child who had taken his precious mate from the living world was also a disgrace to the family name. Never had a Takaba been shamed with something as awful as a stutter.

This issue proved to his father that he was nothing more than a nuisance, a liability that didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as the rest of the Takaba household. If his son couldn’t stand straight and speak his mind the way men ought to, then he was no longer part of the household. Akihito had been relegated to the maid quarters. For years Akihito put up with the verbal and physical abuse, would he continue to endure it with Duke Asami as well? Maybe if he tried to explain his situation to his husband, the alpha would be willing to look past his problems.

A soft cough makes Akihito startle and he shakily stands to his feet, his eyes cast down to the floor as he follows the maid out of the room. His father is close behind them, his cane echoing in the corridor as they travel to the chamber.

“You useless thing.” His father hisses. “The people are gossiping because of that frown on your face. This is your only chance to prove your worth to me. If you mess this up, your punishment will not be taken lightly.”

His father’s eyes glint in the moonlight and Akihito represses a whimper as he moves forward, each step taking him further away from his nightmare. But, he wonders, is he getting away from this nightmare and welcoming a new beginning, or has his father tricked him into a lie? Is this marriage a worse nightmare than his father?

He has seen the look in the Duke’s eyes; he has seen the darkness creeping in the golden depths. He feels his chest constrict as they come to the door of the bridal chamber. He can hear the other maids moving about in the room, and as he enters, the day’s events weigh heavy on his shoulders.

The maids help him into the bath, scrubbing at his skin until it is a fresh pink and almost rubbed raw from the hard sponge. He is then drenched in jasmine oil as a way to entice his alpha husband. He is placed into a translucent white silk slip, his skin prickling at the abrupt temperature change. He is seated in front of the vanity, and he grimaces when he sees his reflection.

His eyes are dull, and his cheeks are pale, giving him a ghostly appearance. His blond hair, now damp and limp against his face and shoulders. His heart sinks as he realizes that any husband would be sorely disappointed at the sight of a bride like him. Resignation settles in him; he is unlovable, ugly, and disappointing after all. How could he possibly keep the Duke’s interest and affections when he couldn’t even keep his own father’s?

Pale, uncaring hands begin to comb through his long blond hair. “You must be as still as a corpse. That is the virtue of an Omega.” One of the maids says. He flinches as he thinks of the large alpha’s body hovering over him. “He-he is so bi-big. What d-do I do if he h-hi-hits me?”

The maid doesn’t glance up, but her eyes are sharp in the mirror, with no trace of kindness left in her simple features. “If that is your husband’s wish, then you can do nothing about it.”

His chest is tight, his eyes clouding as he struggles to breathe. Was no one willing to help him? “I-I’m scare-scared.” He stutters the truth out from his lips.

A sigh left the maid’s mouth, and Akihito looks away, his eyes welling up with tears. “The Duke will be furious if you ruin this marriage.”

Akihito knows his father might kill him, but the Duke is forced into this marriage just as much as Akihito, so maybe Akihito can dream that he will be kind. The door behind them creaks open, and both of the maids freeze, the one combing his hair stills her hand as she turns to see who has entered.

His Grace stands in the doorway, it appears the Duke had changed as well. His fatigues are replaced with a black shirt hugging his form, a pair of leather trousers hung low on his hips. His body is broad and thick with the muscles of a warrior. His head nearly hits the top of the seven-foot door. A single look from the alpha Duke has the maids bustling from the room. Akihito is still sitting in the vanity; he isn’t sure his legs would support him even if he were able to stand up.

Glancing through the mirror’s reflection, he is met with the intense gaze of his new husband. The Duke’s usual slicked back is hanging loose over his forehead, giving him a relaxed, boyish look. Akihito feels his heart stutter as he sees the man take a step into the room before closing the door behind him. His steps are firm and Akihito clenches his trembling hands in his lap as he waits for his husband to come closer. Their eyes never once break contact as His Highness comes to a stop behind him.

“I know you find this situation disagreeable,” The Duke says, his voice deep. But we have to honor our obligations. However, I’m not one for forcing others into things they do not want. Especially an Omega. If you want me to leave, you need to speak up now.”

Akihito gasps, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open in shock. No one had ever taken his feelings into account before. Why would the Duke do this? Was Akihito indeed not what he wanted? Could Akihito even tell the Alpha to walk away? He has a feeling his husband wouldn’t tell his father about turning him away, but could Akihito risk it?

The thought alone makes his baser instincts whimper in displeasure. His omega screams for him not to turn the alpha away. He is now Duke Asami’s omega; he needs to complete his marital duties. Once he does, maybe, hopefully, the Duke will want to keep him.

“N-no,” He shakes his head, his body standing up as he turns to face the Duke.

Asami’s eyes move over his face, looking for any sign of hesitance on his part. Akihito finds himself not as scared as he was though, his hands are no longer shaking, and he can breathe a little easier. The alpha nods his head, his eyes flashing with a hint of something Akihito isn’t able to discern. The Duke begins to pull his shirt over his head, shaking his hair out as he drops the article of clothing to the floor. Akihito’s mouth snaps shut, and he looks away as his cheeks burn, and he tries not to stare at the alpha’s defined chest openly. His Highness seems unconcerned with his nakedness as a subtle smirk graces his mouth.

“Come, little one. We must fulfill our marital obligations.”

Chapter Text

The Wedding night

“Why are you undressing?” Akihito asks, his body freezing while his heart races under his skin

The Duke stills at the question, his eyes narrowing, before asking, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No-no,” Akihito says quickly, shaking his head. He feels his cheeks warm at his embarrassment

Asami nods his head and steps forward to bring his hands up to the ties of Akihito’s slip. He pulls them free with a gentle and slow tug and watches as the white material gracefully falls to the floor. Akihito’s hands come up to cover himself, and his body flushes in the candlelight. He can feel his legs shake as Asami looks him over. The heat of the alpha’s gaze burns Akihito to his core.

Warm hands smooth over his arms and across his shoulders before he is brought against his husband’s chest; the difference in their body temperatures causes Akihito’s skin to prickle with goosebumps.

“I need you to bear with it. I won’t hurt you, but I need you to know that once I start, I won’t be able to stop.” The Duke says in a low voice that curls around Akihito’s quick beating heart. A shaky exhale leaves his lips at the alpha’s words before he nods in understanding. Gently, Akihito is lifted off the floor; his legs automatically wrap around the Duke’s waist as his arms are clasped around the thick neck. Warm lips softly press against his neck, leaving warm kisses before sharp teeth and a wet tongue begin to suck dark bruises onto the soft skin below Akihito’s ear.

He is gently deposited onto the bed, and he feels himself sink the mattress as the Duke hovers above him. Instinctively his arms rise to cover the bare skin as he lays bare and vulnerable beneath His Grace. The alpha’s body looms larger in the shadows, his golden gaze intense as he gently moves Akihito’s arms away from his chest.

“Do not hide from me, little one.” It’s a whispered command, and Akihito can’t help but bare his neck in submission. Soft and delicate trail of whispers begins to cross his skin as the Duke watches him with a fire in his eyes. Akihito’s eyes flutter closed at the sensation, his mind trying to catch up with the other man’s actions. Was that Duke Asami’s fingertips or the tip of a tongue brushing against the soft skin behind his ear?

He tenses when he feels his husband’s callous hands wrap around his waist before he flips him over onto his stomach. There is a long pause where no movement is heard. The Duke freezes behind him, and Akihito doesn’t have to imagine the sight that greets his husband. Bold burns and faded whip marks litter the pale skin of his back. Some of the wounds are old and scarred over in silver lines. While others are pink and puffy, with scabs beginning to form over the ones that aren’t infected. The sight is grotesque, and Akihito feels shame enveloping him. His hands close into fists beside his hips, and he tries to quell the wave of emotion that threatens to overcome him.

Tears gather in Akihito’s eyes; he can’t handle seeing the disappointment that etches over Duke’s face when he realizes that Akihito isn’t as beautiful as other omegas.

“Oh, poor omega. Who did this to you?” The question is innocent, but the thick layer of disapproval is bitter in the air. A bitter, acrid taste burns his tongue as he feels Duke’s magic lash out. None of the magic is aimed at him, his naked body is left unharmed, and he is surprised.

Akihito wishes so badly to tell the alpha the truth, but he isn’t sure he can trust him. The Duke must be able to read his thoughts. He takes a deep breath as he feels the man move over to the side. The Duke’s broad body sinks into the mattress at Akihito’s hip.

“Will you look at me?”

Icy cold fear slides down his spine. Trick! His mind screams over and over. Do not look at him. If you make eye contact, you can add another twenty lashes to your back!

“Akihito.” His mind stutters to a stop at the soft, pleading tone. No one has ever spoken his name that sweetly before. “Look at me, dear boy.”

He doesn’t have to look directly at Duke’s eyes, he tells himself. He can turn his head and stare at a point on the pillow or his chest. That should be enough to show him that he can listen and obey orders. Slowly his head turns, his hazel eyes moving to a small path of freckles that dot the Duke’s shoulder. He fixes his gaze intently as he waits for the man to say something.

“Will you let me heal them?”

Akihito’s breath stutters to a stop, and he can feel his body freeze. The small amount of warmth that Asami’s body gave off disappeared. Why would he heal them? Was this another trick? If he said yes, would Asami end up inflicting more scars? Would his magic rip open the old lines and make the scars deeper?

No! This is his husband, the same man who told him that he wouldn’t force himself on Akihito. He is a good man; his men trust him, why couldn’t he? He didn’t have anything left to lose.

But what if Akihito is wrong. You do have something to lose, that small piece of your heart that still hopes and longs for the romantic love story like the ones from the fairytales. You can’t expect him to be your knight, not right away, but if you keep trying to see him as a villain, will you ever truly learn the truth of the man beside you?

With a scared exhale, he barely nods his head, his hands come up and cross under his chin. The bed shifts as His Highness kneels on the back of Akihito’s legs, his knees resting on either side of Akihito’s hips.

He flinches when a gentle caress ghosts over the ruined skin, the Duke’s calloused hands catching on the tender skin. “Take deep, even breaths for me. It won’t hurt, but the magic will be cold before it heats up.”

Heat up? “W-wi-will it b-burn me when it gets war-warm?”

A gentle hush leaves the Duke’s lips, “No, the warmth is to get the blood flow back into the hurt tissue. It will feel like a bad sunburn for just a few moments. Can you handle it?”

Just a bad sunburn, Akihito. He can handle that; he has had far worse. He nods his head and waits for His Grace to begin.

Sure enough, Akihito gasps as cold air blasts over his skin. He can feel ice form on his back, the skin tightening under the Duke’s touch as the man recites a soft spell.

“Breathe, little omega.” Akihito chokes out a breath, his body fighting the urge to buck the Duke off of him and flee. “Good boy, just a few more minutes.”

All at once, the ice recedes, and blistering heat strokes up and down his spine in waves. “A-Alpha!”

“It’s alright, you’re alright. You’re all done.”

Akihito shakes as the Duke moves to the side of the bed again. Turning his head to follow, Akihito blinks when he sees gold eyes peering at him over the mattress.

“All he-healed?”

A brief smirk crosses his alpha’s face before the man nods. Akihito swallows and slowly sits up, his brain registering no pain as he flexes his shoulders. A hand appears in front of his face, and he hesitantly places his hand in the larger male’s palm.

“Come, I will show you.”

He is gently guided up and off the bed, and he feels his cheeks heat up as he realizes that he is standing in front of a mirror completely naked. His Grace hovers behind him, his golden eyes devouring Akihito’s form.

“As much as I like this view, that’s not the view I want you to see.” His Highness teases before he turns Akihito around.

Stunned into silence, Akihito stares at the pale flawless stretch of skin. No scar or burn is left behind. It’s like he has been reborn; all of his sins are forgiven because of this man. This alpha - no, his alpha. Emotions flew through him, relief, joy, surprise, every positive emotion he could feel. Akihito felt like he was experiencing all at once.

Tears poured down his cheeks in streams; no matter how much he swiped at them, more quickly took their place.

“Th-thank yo-you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, little omega,” His Grace says, his gaze heavy as he watches Akihito through the mirror.

“No- no one e-ever off-offered be-before.”

“I’m glad I could do this for you. I want you to trust me. Whoever did this to you, I will make sure they are punished.” Their eyes met in the mirror, and Akihito swallowed thickly.

“No,” The Duke’s mouth opened, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but Akihito beat him. “Do-don’t hurt any-anyone. Pl-please.”

Asami steps forward, his arms wrapping around the slender waist. “I can see you are too kind for your good.”

“No-not fa-fair.”

A rough shake of the head as Akihito frowns at the older male. “What they did to you wasn’t fair. They deserved to be punished.”

Akihito narrows his eyes as he mindlessly takes in his bottom lip between his teeth as he mulls over those words. He feels His Highness stiffen, and he looks up, their noses brushing together.

“Don’t do that to your lip; that’s my job.” His Grace husks out, his hand rising and slowly dragging Akihito’s bottom lip from his teeth. The pink skin glistens in the candlelight.

A quiet growl rumbles through the Duke’s chest, and Akihito barely has time to suck in a breath before rough lips are seizing him. Callous and warm hands pull and caress his body as the alpha quickly walks them back towards the bed.

Akihito hits the mattress with a soft thud, and the alpha stands at the end, the gold of his eyes almost gone as his pupils dilate. Oh god, this is happening. How did he do this? What did his maid tell him to do?

‘Stay as still as a corpse.’ The words echo in his mind. Right, he can do that. Most alphas didn’t bother trying to get their omegas off. An omega was only there to take the alpha’s knot and seed; they could not gain pleasure from the experience.

“You’re thinking hard. Would you mind sharing?” The Duke’s deep voice cuts through his thoughts, and Akihito blinks up at the alpha. His eyes widen when he sees His Highness is now fully naked. Akihito feels another wave of heat grace his cheeks. When did the alpha undress?! Oh god, Akihito screams internally, he is huge. The alpha’s cock is uncut and thick as it stands up and against the Duke’s toned stomach. His cock is almost as long as Akihito’s forearm. He can see the heavy ball sack hanging below, and pearly white fluid is beginning to collect at the Duke’s tip, making Akihito’s mouth salivate as well as something warm burn in his gut.

His hand twitches, his fingers longing to reach out and feel the alpha’s cock. Was he as hard as he looked? He wants to trace the veins with either his tongue or his fingertips. Maybe both?

“You-you’re so b-big.” He squeaks, not able to take his eyes away from the alpha’s impressive cock.

An arrogant smirk plays across His Highness’ mouth, and the alpha spreads his legs into a wide stance; his back arches slightly as he reaches down and gives slow lazy jerks of his fist.

“Come here.” His Gracecroons, one of his hands raises, and he crooks a finger at Akihito in a come hither motion. Akihito shakes his head, his mouth dry as he watches the alpha pleasure himself.

“Omega,” The Duke calls, and Akihito’s inner omega whimpers at the command, his instincts fighting to get as close to his new husband as possible. “I won’t ask again. Come. Here.”

Slowly, oh so slowly, Akihito crawls his way down to the end of the bed, his eyes never leaving the alphas. Once he is seated in front of the alpha, The Duke leans down, his arms box Akihito in, caging him against the bed.

“Touch me.” Asami breathes, their mouths brushing together, giving the other soft butterfly kisses.

Akihito’s mouth parts in a shaky exhale, his cheeks heating up as he blindly reaches out and closes his hands around Asami’s cock. The flesh is heated and stretched tight. Akihito almost winces at how hard the man is. He can feel the pulse of Asami’s heartbeat through the bulging veins. He swipes his tongue out to wet his lips as he lightly drags his palm over the large cock. A hiss leaves Asami’s mouth, his eyes closing for only a moment before he snaps them back open.

“I-I don-don’t know wh-what to d-do.”

A deep growl vibrates Asami’s body, and Akihito pulls back, his eyes wide as he tries to decide if he upset the alpha. A large hand stops Akihito’s retreat, and the omega blinks up in confusion.

“I will teach you.” A light tap on Akihito’s leg has the boy moving out of the way so Asami can climb onto the bed. Akihito watches his husband move some of the pillows around into a pile that he reclines on.

One of the alpha’s legs is bent, his foot resting against the mattress, as the other lay on the bed, creating a big enough gap for Akihito to sleep comfortably. Taking the initiative, Akihito crawls back up the bed, his little body coming to a rest between the alpha’s thighs. His hazel eyes are fixed on the hard cock; it rests against Asami’s stomach, the tip angles a bit to the left, and Akihito reaches a hand out. Asami gently grabs his wrist before guiding his hand down. His fingers pull his foreskin back, exposing the glistening tip to the cold air.

Akihito’s fingertips lightly swipe at the oozing slit, and his finger comes away with a small pearl of pre-cum on it. Before he can stop himself, he raises his hand and tastes the alpha’s essence. A choked moan slips past his lips, and he closes his eyes as a burst of flavors hits his tongue. Asami is spicy and bitter, but a hint of citrus and smoke makes him addicting. Akihito has never had something this good before.

“You are making it incredibly difficult to hold myself back, little one.” The statement is gruff, and he can make out the hoarseness of Asami’s voice. A delighted grin lights up his features as he opens his eyes and beams at the alpha.

“You t-taste goo-good. C-can I ha-have mor-more?”

Asami stares at him, and his eyebrows are raised so high they almost disappear into his hairline. Suddenly, Akihito’s arm is grabbed, and Asami pulls him into his lap. He can feel Asami’s cock resting between his ass cheeks, the tip bumping against his tailbone in timed thrusts.

“You are a welcome surprise, little omega.”

Asami grabs a fistful of Akihito’s blond locks, his fingers gently twisting the strands around his palm before he pulls lightly, angeling Akihito’s head so that their mouths meet in a sloppy kiss. A wet substance slowly trickles out of Akihito’s ass and down his thighs, the slick pooling into Asami’s lap. The alpha growls, his teeth coming out to nip at the blond’s bottom lip before licking over it in a soothing gesture.

Akihito whimpers, his chest falling slack against Asami’s. He can feel when his omega instincts take over. His hips circle over Asami’s stomach, rubbing his chubby little cock over the man’s eight pack. The man’s abdominals give the omega enough friction for the boy to see white dots behind his closed eyes.

Seconds before he cums, his hips are stopped, and he keens. His mouth breaks from Asami’s in a desperate attempt to voice his displeasure. “W-what?

“You won’t cum unless it’s by my hand or my cock. Do I make myself clear?”

A soft whine and a pout escape Akihito. His hands come down on Asami’s, Akihito’s fingernails digging into the man’s flesh as he tries to get his husband to loosen his hold on his hips. A rough slap against his thigh and ass has his body jerking in surprise. “Do I make myself clear, omega?”

Submit. He needs to submit, then he can get his pleasure. “Y-yes, Al-alpha.”

A warm purr starts in the back of Asami’s throat, and Akihito finds himself falling slack against his husband. “Good boy.” Making sure Asami has a good hold on him, he flips the two of them over, and Akihito’s head hits the pile of pillows softly. He feels the man spread his thighs, his legs coming up to wrap around Asami’s waist.

Akihito opens his eyes, his omega huffing at the bigger male, wanting the pleasure back. But the alpha isn’t paying him any mind; his gold eyes are fastened on Akihito’s furled entrance. He can feel the slick seeping out, staining his thighs and balls as well as the sheets. Asami leans down and takes a deep breath in, his eyes rolling to the back of his head at the scent of his omega’s slick. Flashing a devilish smirk, Asami dies into Akihito’s ass. His mouth and tongue kissing and slurping over the boy’s entrance.

“Taste so good, omega. Gonna make you see fucking stars, little one.”

Akihito sobs, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as warm fingers reach up and dive into his open mouth. He barely makes out the growled “suck” before a tongue thrusts into his asshole.

Teeth scrape against his skin, and he can hear the mindless utters of pleasure his alpha whispers into his skin as he rims him. Akihito’s lips close around the four digits thrust into his mouth, his saliva pooling down the alpha’s fingers and wrist. The warm spit creates a puddle on his collarbone, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is the tongue diving in and out of his ass.

The four fingers disappear from his mouth, and he cries at the loss, his head dipping down in search of them again. “Hush, baby. I’m gonna fill your little mouth up again in a moment.”

The whispered promise has him falling silent, his chest heaving as not one but two fingers circle his entrance. His legs slip from Asami’s waist, and he immediately arches up, his hands spreading his ass, so Asami has easier access.

“So fucking pretty. Look how delicious you are, little omega. Spreading yourself so pretty for me. Gonna split you in two the next round.”

A scream leaves his lips as two fingers breach him, the trimmed fingernails scraping over velvety soft walls. Akihito can feel the callouses over every dip and crevice in his body. Slowly the two fingers pull out to the fingertip before they are thrust back in in a long deep stroke. His pale body writhes against the sheets, his sightless eyes trained on nothing as he basks in the pleasurable burn.

“Al-alpha!”

A loud grunt leaves Asami’s lips as he sits up, his fingers still pounding his ass. He bends down, their mouths millimeters apart as they breathe each other’s breath. “Two more, omega. Two more than you can take me.”

Akihito shakes his head, tears clouding his eyes. “W-want you no-now.”

“Not yet.”

Akihito’s omega growled at the blatant refusal. He grabs a handful of Asami’s hair and jerks the man closer to his face; their nose smashes together as he glares up at the older male. “N-now!”

Asami growls, his eyes slitting as his alpha attempts to take control. Asami’s control is ironclad, though Akihito’s hand falls away easily as he shakes his head. “No. I will not hurt you. You will be patient, or we will stop.”

The threat of stopping makes Akihito crane his neck back, showing the unmarked skin in an act of submission. Feather light kisses and nips are placed against the smooth column. At the feeling of a third finger entering him, Asami bites down harshly, his teeth leaving deep indents in the skin of Akihito’s neck.

A scream tears from Akihito’s throat, his hands flying up to claw at the alpha’s shoulders. Asami pulls back, his tongue laving over the indents with care. The imprint of his husband’s bite on his neck causes his omega to struggle to the forefront. It longs to break through and claim Akihito’s position as Asami’s.

“Wa-want yo-your mar-mark.”

“You’ll get it, I promise. You have to be a little more patient.” Asami soothes as he pulls away, his back straightening so he can peer down at his omega.

Akihito is flushed, his skin is covered in a thin layer of sweat, slick and saliva, but Asami’s hands drag down the boy’s chest, his fingernails scraping over the pink nipples. A soft moan spills from Akihito’s swollen lips, causing a smirk to cover Asami’s mouth.

“Such a pretty omega. Can’t wait to claim you; I’m gonna carve my cock so far in you, you’ll feel me for days. My mark is going to show up on your pale skin beautifully. Everyone will know your mine.” The last word is a snarl, and Akihito’s head thrusts back into the pillows as Asami’s cock lines up at his stretched entrance and begins to push in.

Every vein and pulsing heartbeat is felt, and Akihito clamps down on the large cock. He can feel how slick he is as Asami pushes in with ease. Fingers dig into pale flesh, bruising and marking inner thighs and hips.

Akihito has never felt anything like this. How can so much pleasure be rung out of him when the alpha hasn’t even properly moved yet? Will it always be like this? He hopes it does; he never wants them to part. He feels so full, stretched to his limits, but the warmth and safety that surrounds him as Asami bends down is enough for Akihito. Asami stops moving, and Akihito whines pitifully. His eyes well with tears as he scrapes his nails down the male’s shoulders and biceps. “M-move pl-ea-please.”

Asami grunts and his hips pull back, the very tip of his cock staying in Akihito before he gently glides back in one long deep thrust. Akihito’s thighs shake, and his mouth drops open in a silent cry of delight.

Over and over, Asami plunges into him, his breaths punching out of him in deep rich grunts. Akihito’s ear burns at the sound of the alpha’s pleasure, but eventually, the heat subsides. He is overwhelmed with emotion; so much joy and a sense of belonging fill him.

He is meant to be here. He is meant to be with alpha, and he is grateful that his father arranged the wedding. Asami will take him away; he will treat him right. Akihito trusts him. He trusts the alpha with every fiber of his being. His climax is approaching, the sounds of their hips smacking together and the wet slide of Asami’s cock leaving his ass echoes around them. It’s a filthy symphony but one that Akihito will never give up.

He wraps his legs around the alpha’s waist tighter, his ankles dig into Asami’s lower back and ass, egging him. Mindless babble leaves his lips in a constant stream. Akihito isn’t even aware of what it is he’s saying or even asking. But by the alpha’s incessant growls and praises, it doesn’t matter. A particularly deep thrust has his mouth dropping open, spit sliding down his chin. Then he feels it. A large warm hand wraps around his cock, the callouses snagging on the tip, eliciting a shiver to roll down his spine. Asami’s mouth moves back down to his cheeks, his lips kissing the tears from his skin.

“I can feel you getting tighter, omega. Are you gonna cum for me?”

Akihito wishes he could answer, but the pleasure makes it hard to form a response. Suddenly, Asami’s tip hits a part of him that makes his body arch, and a wail escapes him. Asami grunts when he feels Akihito clamp down on him, and he pulls his cock from the suffocating confines only to slam back into the same spot. Over and over and over, Asami rails the omega’s prostate as he licks into the boy’s mouth with a hungry, sloppy kiss. Akihito’s body twitches, and with one last desperate wailing sob, he comes. White sticky streams of cum shoot out of Akihito’s cock, covering his lower stomach in a wet mess.

Asami growls, his alpha slipping through. Akihito watches with tired and sated eyes as Asami’s canines elongate, his mouth dripping with a pleasure serum. He closes his eyes, his omega baring his unmarked throat for the alpha. Just as the alpha’s jaws lock around the pale stretch of skin, Akihito’s hands come up and lightly caress Asami’s jaw and cheek. Three little words fall from his lips right as Asami’s climax overtakes him.

“I-I tru-trust yo-you.”

Deep shudders race down Asami’s spine, and Akihito presses small kisses against Asami’s collarbone as he feels the alpha fill him up with his hot seed. His kisses halt when he feels the sharp drag of teeth on his pulse point, and his body tenses, gearing itself for the impending bite. Asami’s canines rip into the pale, tender flesh, and he snarls at the copper and floral taste of his omega. His eyes flicker between gold and red as he fights his alpha instincts to bite down harder. But the feel of his magic as it surrounds them makes his alpha croons in delight.

Asami knows the instant their cores connect, a weight pulls on his chest, and heat encompasses them as the mating bond solidifies into place. Akihito falls silent, and his arms flop to the bed as he feels the claiming bite go into effect. Warm blood trails down his neck, staining his skin and the sheets. Asami’s knot inflates, locking them together, marking the omega with his seed and scent.

Slowly, Asami’s teeth retract, and he licks over the broken skin, making sure to clean the wound so it will be a clean scar when it heals. The alpha purrs, his chest rumbling as he wraps Akihito up into his arms and against his chest. It will take close to an hour for Asami’s knot to deflate, so he makes sure the two are comfortable. Akihito is in a daze, and he mindlessly reaches up and traces patterns into his husband’s chest.

He is vaguely aware of someone talking to him, and he tilts his head back and to the side. His eyes come to rest on Asami’s gold eyes; a confused noise leaves his lips as he realizes that Asami is asking him a question.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” Asami asks, his voice soft in the aftermath of their claiming. The crinkled brow and pursed lips make Akihito reach up and brush his fingers down Asami’s cheek.

A whisper of affection and concern circulates through his chest, warming his belly. He isn’t sure if it is his feelings or Asami’s, but he doesn’t care. Their bond is strong and still new, and he looks forward to the different experiences his alpha will bring him.

A subtle raise of one of Asami’s eyebrows draws his attention away from his thoughts. What had the alpha asked him? An exasperated sigh leaves Asami’s lips before he voices his question for the third time.

Akihito blinks up at the man. Was he alright? He does a mental check, his limbs are a little sore, and his ass twinges, but that’s to be expected. Taking a cursory glance, he notices a few red marks that blotch his skin. Some darker areas are around his hips and wrists, but they don’t hurt. Instead, they show the strength of his alpha and how desirous the man found him—moving his head to the side, his neck screams in pain. His hand brushes over the bite, and he is momentarily surprised by how deep the teeth imprints are. He almost believes that Asami has managed to imprint the muscle beneath the skin as well.

He gives a delighted giggle, his omega crooning in delight at finally having a mate. “I’m o-okay.” He slurs.

His eyes struggle to stay open as exhaustion finally settles in his bones. Asami’s chest shakes, and he grumbles weakly as his husband’s mirth jostles him.

“Sleep, little one. I will wake you in a little while.”

Akihito didn’t wait to hear if Asami said anything else, his mind immediately slipping away.

He is awoken what felt like seconds later by a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Al-alpha?” He groans.

His hand swipes out in a weak attempt at swatting the older male away so he can sleep more. Warm palms wrap around his wrists and pin them gently to the bed. Slightly chapped lips caress his chest and collarbone as Asami speaks, “Hmm. I didn’t think you were going to wake up. I was worried I was going to have to take of this all by myself.”

Take care of what? His mind silently muses as he shifts on the bed. He smiles softly when he realizes that Asami is still wrapped around him, his tan arms caging him against his large body.

A few playful nips to the back of his neck and shoulder startles him, and he blanches when he feels Asami’s cock harden inside him. Panic, blinding panic races through him. He isn’t sure his ass can take anymore tonight. One of his hands blindly reaches up as his fingers close around Asami’s wrist. When had his husband’s fingers begun an assault on his nipples?

“Wa-wait, we are goin-going more than o-on-once?” He squeaks out as a rough twist of Asami’s fingers makes Akihito’s chest buck up.

A huff of a laugh blows across his skin as his husband licks at his mark. Pleasure sparkes through his skin, and his eyes roll back into his head. A high-pitched moan spills from his lips, and his legs twitch, seeking to wrap around his alpha. Asami reaches a hand down and wraps his fingers around his knee and inner thigh. Akihito’s leg up is pulled up and back, spreading his body open for easier access.

“Of course. I won’t have our wedding night be a night you don’t want to remember.”

Chapter Text

“Your Grace?”

Asami jerks awake, his senses on high alert as he registers a presence in his nest. A growl builds in his chest, and his hands immediately push under his pillow, searching for the knife hidden there.

Protect mate. Kill intruder. Protect. Protect. Protect.

His alpha snarls in his head, and Asami barely manages to hold himself back as he scans the room. Standing in one of the corners is a tall male silhouette; Asami’s eyes can’t make out the face due to the shadows, but it doesn’t matter. He would l rip the unknown male to pieces, tearing him limb from limb with his teeth. The fact that he had gotten past the guards at the end of the corridor has his nails lengthening into claws. His omega lays beside him, the small body warm against his hip and chest, and a tuft of blond hair rests in the crook of his neck.

“Your Grace, it’s Kirishima; please keep your temper.”

All the rage escapes him when he inhales, and pine and bonfire spread through the room; it’s the comforting scent of his right-hand beta.

“What is it, Kirishima?” He whispers in the dark, careful to not wake Akihito.

The speckled man hesitates a fraction of a second; Asami knows he isn’t watching the young omega, neither of them can see in the dark, but he can’t help the low growl that rumbles from the pits of his stomach. The sound has his general emitting a subtle scent of apprehension and guilt through the air, and Asami knows he will not like what his second in command will say. He watches the silhouette of his right-hand man stand a little taller as he makes his report. “My Lord… you’re being summoned to the front lines. I’ve held them back for as long as possible, but a messenger is awaiting your response.”

Irritation races through Asami’s veins at the mention of the messenger. He wishes he could ignore the summons. The king understands how vital it is to stay with his newly bonded omega. Asami knows, however, that war waits for no one. The fight won’t wait for the new bond to cement. If he doesn’t leave now, the country is in danger of the Dragon King and his horde.

You can’t risk it. What’s the point of having a bonded mate if you can’t save the country so your omega can enjoy it?

He glances at his sleeping omega. He sighs before maneuvering out from under Akihito’s grasp. The boy shuffles in his sleep, his pale body migrating over to the warm spot that Asami left behind. His face burrows into the pillow and sheets, seeking the alpha’s scent in his sleepy state. The sight is enough to make Asami halt in his tracks, his body waging with his mind. Surely the front lines can last a few days longer? They have made it this far without me.

“My Lord.”

Those two words are the deciding factor, and he begrudgingly pulls his trousers and tunic on. “Tell the messenger that if the front lines aren’t as bad as they claim, I will scar him and his leader personally.”

A whisper of fabric sounds through the room as Kirishima bows before departing. Once he is sure that Kirishima is gone, Asami stalks his way to the desk by the window. He rummages through the drawers, his hands feeling around for a quill and ink. He finds the parchment with minimal issue, and soon he is seated in the moonlight.

His hand scratches across the paper with an elegant script, and the moonlight reflects off the black ink as it soaks into the note.

Dearest Omega,

I’m sorry that you’re waking up without me. There has been a resurgence at the front lines, and I am needed. I wish our marriage started on a better foot, but I can’t let my men go into the darkness alone. I hope you understand, dearest Omega. Every one of my men is someone’s parent or child, and I cannot rest peacefully knowing they may not come back. So I must leave you, but know that I am doing so with a heavy heart and a half-finished mating bond.

I hope to return to you soon so that we may grow our bond from frayed threads into a solid and unbreakable rope that ties us together. Until then, please watch over our home and people. My men will be your strongest allies, do not fear them. They will guide you while I am away. I look forward to our reunion, Akihito. Keep our men in your prayers, and I will return home before you truly miss me.

-D.A.R.

Signing his initials, Asami leans back in his seat, his body heavy with the notion of leaving for a war that is as unpredictable in its victory as its start. He stays seated for several more minutes before pulling himself to his feet and making his way around the bed. In a last parting gesture, one of his hands brushes against Akihito’s cheek and pulls back. He places the note on Akihito’s pillow and hopes the young omega sees it before he begins to panic.

Asami turns on his heels and walks out the door; his mind begs him to turn back around and get one last glance at his mate, but he closes his iron will around his wish. He can’t let himself get distracted, not when he needs to be in top performance for the upcoming battle. Kirishima waits for him the moment he exits the chamber. Asami notices his armor and sword, and he wordlessly straps everything on in a fast and efficient manner. No use in wasting time.

The whisper of feet and fabric pulling against the stone floor draws his attention. A glance over his shoulder makes his teeth grind as he sees Akihito’s father at the corridor entrance. The man’s countenance is of fake concern, his eyes are narrow, and his lips barely suppress a smirk. A sick feeling twists Asami’s stomach, and he glares; his protective instincts fire in rapid bursts. He stalks forward, his steps nearly silent on the stone as he faces his omega’s tormenter. His alpha instincts struggle to the surface, but he refrains from tearing the man limb from limb.

“Going so soon, Duke Asami?” The question would be a quiet prodding, a gentle show of concern in normal circumstances. When it comes from the man who left scars and burns on his lover, it does little to stem the rage that floods Asami’s body. “Is my son not to your liking? Imagine the backlash your territory would receive knowing that a Grand Duke such as yourself left his partially bonded omega in favor of running. What would your people think of you then?”

Kirishima steps forward, his spectacle glinting in the torchlight; the shadows give him a menacing air. A single hand raises in the air, and Kirishima halts at the wordless command. Asami’s aura is murderous, and his hands come up and clench in the Lord’s nightshirt. The fabric wrinkles under the stress of the Duke’s anger.

“If you or your people so much as go near my omega, I will not hesitate to cut you down. I promise not to make it swift. Your threats to me and mine do little to alleviate your sins, Lord Takaba.”

“Sins? Why Duke Asami, whatever do you speak of? I have done nothing to threaten you. My son has no marks on his skin, not after you healed them. Who would believe you when there is no evidence to back your claims?” The taunt is clear in the air, settling over the three men in a thick layer. A sharp, toothy smile splits Asami’s face, and he can feel Lord Takaba quiver in his grasp. The sharp acrid scent of soured milk and sweat is pungent, and his smile grows at the scent. “You forget your place, Takaba. You also forget what types of magic I possess.”

A period of silence echoes around them, almost deafening in its tension. Then manic laughter bounces around them, and Asami arches his eyebrows as he assesses the man in his grasp. “You cannot stop the inevitable, Asami. You think you have it all now, but that boy will only be your downfall. It would do us both a favor if you got rid of him.”

Clouds of silver-grey dust rain down on them as Asami snarls in the Lord’s face. “Do. Not. Touch. My. Omega.” Each word is punctuated by Lord Takaba’s body, impacting the wall. The sharp coughs and splutters are music to his ears, and he lets the lowly Lord drop to the floor. The magic in his body surges to the surface, and he easily constricts the man’s airflow, jerking his head up so that Takaba can see the truth and promise in his gaze.

“I will not hesitate to kill you. You, Takaba Jun, are nothing but a hindrance in Nobility. My men will be watching your every move. If you talk to him, I will have your tongue cut out and pinned to my estate’s walls.”

The fear that resides in Jun’s eyes is nothing compared to what Akihito has been through. Asami will spend the rest of his life ensuring that his omega mate is kept as far away from his father as he can get. He must protect, and if that means killing the low life struggling for breath, then so be it. Releasing the Lord, he watches with a deep sense of pride as Takaba Jun scuttles back on his hands, his head bowed to the side in submission. “You are truly as barbaric as they say.” Takaba rasps out. It is a cowardly blow and one that Asami has heard too many times to care about.

“I’m glad that you’re just now noticing. Leave.”

The man grunts but quickly follows the command, his body disappearing around the corner in seconds. Asami waits and listens as Lord Takaba’s footsteps fade before turning to Kirishima. “I want guards on the corridor entrance and only the maids from our procession to attend the omega. If anyone from the Takaba delegation gets through, it will be your head.”

“Yes, your Grace.”

Asami scowls as he closes his eyes in a vain attempt at lowering his anger. He hears Kirishima shuffle beside him and his eye twitches. He spits out through a clenched jaw, “We ride at dawn. Make sure every man is ready so to depart by then.” His words ring in the corridor as he turns and makes his way towards the stables to check on his steed.

The castle is quiet as he maneuvers through the dark corridors; the walls swallow him whole even at this hour. His footsteps are silent on the stone, and he keeps an ear out for anyone lurking in the shadows. Minutes later, the castle entrance comes into view; two men are stationed on either side of the large wooden doors. They straighten, their armor clanking as they come to attention at Asami’s approach.

“Grand Duke.”

Asami inclines his head as he waits for the doors to open. His nostrils flare as he takes in the scent of fresh dew and tilled earth. The sky is dark but backlighted from the silver and blue specks of the stars. In the distance, he can hear some of his soldiers trekking across the grounds, their laughter radiating on the wind. He begins his ascent down the winding gravel road, his footsteps crunching as he nears the stables. The trek out in the cool morning is enough to get his blood back to normal, his alpha settling down in the corner of his mind.

He can make out the stable; the structure is barely a silhouette outlined in the darkness. He can hear the soft knickers of the horses and the occasional shuffle of hooves on the thin wood flooring. The smell of manure and hay hangs in the air, but a distinct sweetness also hovers just below. Asami takes a guess that its sugar cubes stored within the stalls for the horses.

As he strides through the doors, his eyes sweep along the stalls until he settles on the sight of his stallion already peering back at him. The horse's eyes glint as Asami reaches out with his magic, checking him over as he nears. “Hey boy, you ready for a last-minute journey?” He walks into the stall, his hands brushing through the thick mane as he surveys his companion before saddling him. The methodical process of shoeing and cleaning his steed is something that has always soothed Asami before the battle.

Before long, Asami can hear some of his soldiers beginning to do the same process around him. Kirishima is outside, his voice commanding as he begins the preparations. His men will be back on the road in just a few minutes, preparing for another battle none of them signed up for. All in the hopes that they will return victorious and with enough compensation to make up for missing limbs and missing comrades.

Footsteps sound behind him, and he barely turns his head as he waits for Kirishima to inform him of their departure. “Ready when you are, your Grace.” A single nod is enough to have his right-hand man take his leave, Kirishima mounting his steed precisely. Asami follows suit and begins the trek out of the stable and to the front of his procession.

Turning to face his comrades for the foreseeable future, his eyes catch on the castle in the distance. Dawn is just breaking over the horizon, and his gaze gravitates to the bedroom window where his mate rests without him. He can feel a deep unsettling emotion churning in his gut; it isn’t fear, more trepidation. Asami knows something isn’t right, but he can’t decipher what. The alpha in him whines and scratches at his mind, trying to get Asami to go back, forget about the war, and instead focus on creating a family with the little blond.

‘Duty comes first.’ He thinks as he digs his heels into his horse’s sides, spurning the beast into action. Mate comes first, always. Asami winces at the alpha’s sharp retort. ‘He is safe, and he will be in our estate by sundown tomorrow. There is nothing to worry about. He is safe.’

As Asami and his soldiers march out, the alpha’s instincts warring with his human counterpart, the silent chant of please be safe dances in his mind like a long-lost echo.

Chapter Text

When he wakes the following day, the sunlight shines brightly through the window. Akihito winces as he shuffles beneath the sheets, trying to get more rest and away from the blinding light. He frowns when he realizes something isn’t right. His body aches more than usual, and the bed is far too big to be the one he has in the cellar of his home. What? Opening his eyes, he comes face to face with an empty bed. He gasps as pain travels up his lower back and hips.

Oh, that’s right. He is married now; where is his husband? Shouldn’t the alpha still be in bed? He’s sure the man hadn’t gotten near enough sleep last night. It seems that his husband’s sex drive is more than an usual alpha’s.

The chamber door opens, and several maids file in, their faces grim as they take in the empty side of the bed. Akihito realizes that these maids aren’t the ones his father picked for him. They are different; their demeanors are respectful and almost reverent.

One of the maids looks up, her gray eyes meeting Akihito’s, and he watches as she quickly ducks her head. “My apologies, Your Grace. I didn’t mean offense.” Offense? Did this poor girl believe she would offend him just by looking at him?

“I-it’s qui-quite alright… I-I… um.” Akihito flounders for words as he tries to grasp the situation. It isn’t until the maid's exchange looks that he realizes just what type of impression he is making. Once again, his stutter has become a hindrance and a laughing stock. He can only imagine how much respect he has lost in the eyes of Asami’s servants. Would Asami send him to the cellars too? Is he going to live as a servant except for the occasional ball where he is forced to mingle and act like he truly belongs by Asami’s side?

The maid quickly glances up, and her eyes are soft and kind. No malice hides within their depths. Akihito isn’t sure why the maid is peering at him like this, but he will take the kindness and hope she won’t take it back. The bustle of the maids moving around the room is enough for Akihito to notice that none of them mentioned his missing husband. Did they already know that the alpha had left? Were they saving him the embarrassment?

“Your Grace?” A soft voice murmurs from his left and Akihito turns his head.

One of the maids stands beside him, a piece of paper clutched in her outstretched hand. He can make out swirling letters stretched across the paper in swooping lines. Nausea floods his stomach, the sensation climbing his throat and lingering on his tongue in tingling waves.

Grasping the note with shaky hands, he swallows thickly, hoping to get rid of the tight ball. His eyes sweep over the page, and it takes him a few times to fully grasp the contents. Asami, his husband, left him for the frontlines. It seemed that the alpha wanted nothing more than to stay with him. Does he understand correctly? A soft clearing from someone’s throat brings Akihito back to the present. Looking to his side, he sees a massive wood tub in the center of the room. Steam rises from the water in wispy tendrils.

Akihito is momentarily stunned that he gets two baths in a row with hot water. When was the last time he was treated with such kindness? Shuffling across the bed, he notices the twinges in his body. Chancing down, he is surprised to see fingerprint bruises decorating his hips and inner thighs. Heat floods his cheeks, and he hastily wraps the blanket tighter around himself. The maid that handed him the letter discreetly shuffles over; her head bowed in reverence. “If you would like, I can ask for the others to step out of the room until you are in the water.”

The consideration warms Akihito, and he hastily shakes his head. “They ca-can stay.”

With a bright smile, the maid swiftly uncovers him, her eyes on the floor as she helps maneuver him across the floor. Akihito settles into the tub in two minutes, bubbles floating on the water's surface. Roses and vanilla waft through the room as the maids oil his skin.

A maid muddles some ashes, vine stalks, and egg whites at the desk. A thick paste forming in the mortar, Akihito watches in rapture as the maid lifts the pestle and adds air to the mixture to make it less dense. It always amazed him when magic was performed for daily tasks. The fact that the maids could channel the power was a strange feat. Akihito always assumed that higher-ranking people were gifted. Was this another lie that his father spun?

The maids chatter amongst themselves as they right the room. The sheets change in seconds, and he only has a few moments to feel embarrassed at the mess. The women barely bat an eye before bowing and exiting the room. He jumps in surprise when hands start scrubbing through his hair in vigorous movements.

“Will we-we be heading b-back to my father’s est-estate?” He asks as one of the women tilts his head back to pour a pitcher of water through his hair. Silence descends around the room, and he bites his lip, fearing overstepping. Was he not supposed to talk to them? He is going to need a manual for all these unspoken rules.

“Lord Asami said to have you brought back to his estate. Your father left early this morning.”

Akihito sits in silence, his mind whirling as he digests the information. His father left without him. The feeling of freedom spreads through his chest in warm bursts of excitement. He is finally able to dress and eat on his own. He isn’t expected to sleep in a cellar or do all the maid’s chores. Maybe he can even ride in a carriage instead of walking beside it. These thoughts disintegrate when he realizes his husband is out on the front lines. Every one of these ideas wasn’t discussed. Even though Akihito had the Asami name, is he allowed to have the same privileges? What should he do if his husband doesn’t return from the front lines?

“Are you alright, Your Grace?” Akihito numbly nods his head, and the maid gives him a soft smile before motioning for him to rise from the water. The air is cold, and he barely suppresses the urge to shiver before a warm towel is wrapped around him. “Once you're all dried, we will bring up some food. I think Lillian has a tonic fixed for you. It should help with the pain. I know most alphas tend to forget their strength.”

Akihito’s face heats up, and he ducks his head as the maids rub him down. He is dressed quickly and then heads over to the desk. Parchment is strewn about, and his heart twinges at the thought of Asami scribbling his note for him. Maybe he should write one back. He knows it won’t make it to him, but the idea of writing his feelings down for the man to read is almost therapeutic.

All of the maids leave the room in pairs, and he is eventually left alone. He hesitates for only a few moments before he picks up the quill. It’s heavier than he expects, and he idly wonders if he can even form his letters correctly. He cocks his head to the side, the black feather brushing against his bottom lip before he shakily begins writing.

He grimaces as the first few letters appear on the page. Shame and embarrassment bounce around as he studies the messy scrawl of his penmanship. His words are nothing compared to Asami's elaborate and neat swooping. This fact alone makes him realize that the match is ridiculous. What kind of husband can’t even write properly? How is he to do the normal duties of an Omega if he can’t even grasp how to handle a quill and paper?

His jaw tightens, and his eyes sting at the thought. The marriage is doomed from the start, and he knows that his father is waiting in the wings to see how badly Akihito can burn it to the ground. Realization dawns on him. This whole thing is a test. Akihito isn’t meant to pass; he is meant to burn with all of them. With Akihito out of the way and his husband, no one is left to keep Takaba Jun from inheriting everything.

Akihito can’t let that happen. He won’t allow his husband to burn away to nothing. Not if he can help it. Staring at the messy scrawl across the parchment, a new determination fills him. Little by little, words are written, his thoughts not concise but still straight enough for his husband to decipher. A sharp rap on the door makes him drop his quill before he remembers that he is allowed to read and write now. His father can’t come in and demand him to get back to scrubbing chamber pots and the tile floors. The friendly maid from earlier pokes her head around the door, her brown eyes sparkling with delight.

“Your Grace! Lilliana made something extra special for you!”

Akihito smiles at the girl's excitement as he waves her into the room. Her footsteps are soft, and her movements are precise as she gently sets the silver tray of tea and food down next to his elbow. Glancing over, he is surprised to see a couple of sugary pastries on a plate. Drool pools in his mouth; when was the last time he had something like this?

“This one has a sweet cream and cheese flavor. The next one is pumpkin and clove.” The smells waft through the room, reminding Akihito of the fall when he was little. “Lilliana is excited to make sweet desserts again. Duke Asami isn’t a fan of them, so she’s been making savory dishes for him instead.” Akihito blinks at the information, his mind unable to process the fact that his husband doesn’t like sweets. “Ha-has he alw-always been l-like that?”

His maid cocks her head; her eyebrows furrowed as she thinks over her response. “I believe so. I have only been with the Asami household for a year, so everything is still relatively new.” Akihito nods as he reaches out for the sweet cream and cheese pastry. The crust is flaky and buttery, the filling oozing out of the center as he takes a bite. He moans in delight at the taste, his eyes rolling back into his skull. “The Duke is a good man, though. I don’t think I have ever seen an estate’s staff love their providers as much as we do.”

Akihito struggles not to choke on his breakfast at her words. When was the last time that his father wasn’t feared? He needs to learn her name, especially if she is assigned to him. Something tells him he won’t be able to come and go without some form of escort. “Wha-whats your nam-name?”

A short silence filters through the air, and the maid blinks in surprise before an embarrassed laugh slips past her lips. “I’m Elanor, your Grace.” It's a pretty name and one that fits the petite girl next to him. He gives her a bright smile before reaching for the tea. Bringing the cup to his nose, he inhales as the smell of vanilla and lavender wafts to his senses. Breakfast is held in silence, Elanor having left to help pack up the carriage.

An hour passes, and Akihito finds himself settled in a stately carriage. One much better than any of his fathers. The thought makes him smile. Even after all of the taunts and ridicule were thrown his way, Akihito has managed to come out on top. His father can no longer harm him. He is under Asami’s protection now, and Asami is under his.

Akihito settles back into the cushioned seat with one last glance at the estate. His hands clutch a single envelope. His husband's name is scrawled across the front. Even if the man has left him for an unknown time, Akihito will ensure that he gets every bit of information about his estate while he is away. He will live up to the Asami name. He will prove to himself and everyone that ever saw him as weak that he is capable of bringing down mountains.

Chapter Text

A charred shoe rests atop a mound of ash and debris. Smoke lingers through the decimated village, and Asami internally cringes at the ruins that once made up a boisterous town. The horse’s hooves clop against the cobblestones, his ears straining for any sign of life.

He knows it's futile; the village is nothing more than charred pillars and smoking straw. The wind howls, the call haunting. He can almost imagine it's the lost souls crying out for help in their ghostly form. The wind is now their voice, and the scent of fire and burned flesh settles like a weighted blanket over the battalion as they traverse the streets.

Some of the more seasoned soldiers barely flinch at the carnage. The newer ones doing everything in their favor to keep their lunches inside their stomachs. In the distance, Asami can make out a concrete fountain looming through the grey and bleak outlines of the lost town.

If only they had been a day earlier. Maybe the town would still be standing. Now, it’s nothing but a half-buried cemetery. Instead of hand-carved crosses, the walls and stones of buildings are the townspeople’s grave markers. Asami halts in the middle of the road; his horse snorts in retaliation before its gaze falls on the small body before them.

His eyes close as pain radiates through his chest. A child’s body - charred and curled in on itself fills his mind. Without his consent, his steed walks forward, his nose gently sniffing at the child’s head before gently nudging it. “Easy.” He settles his reigns before he dismounts; his boots kick up ash around him.

The soldiers huddle around him, protecting his exposed back as he walks toward their flag bearer. The man ducks his head into a bow, and Asami waves him off. Out here, there isn’t social class. They are comrades who trust one another to keep the other alive. “The flag, please.” The man hesitates, but in the face of his leader, he scrambles to offer the flag.

Taking the fabric, Asami walks back over to the child, laying the flag out on the ground; he gently scoops the child’s body up. He carefully shrouds the small body with the red and black colors of Sion’s crest. A brief tap on his shoulder makes him look up. One of his seasoned soldiers stands beside him. In his hands is a small burlap bunny.

“It’s my daughters, but I think this little one needs it more than I do.”

Asami gives the soldier a grateful nod before tucking the bunny inbetween the folds of the fabric. His men stand around; their heads bowed in reverence as Asami lifts the child’s body and walks towards his horse.

“We will give them a proper burial before we head out. Take a quick loop around the town and see if you can find any more. Their souls deserve to be put to rest.”

Hours later, Asami sits around the campfire; he keeps an eye out. The campsite is crowded, and the moans of injured soldiers echo around them. Ash falls from the sky in sheets; the once-blue sky is nothing more than grey and copper clouds. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and Asami’s magic boils under his skin. His veins darken as he channels his magic into his palms and sword. The methodic motion of the whetstone against his blade is enough to keep his magic under control. The ground glistens as if rain has fallen, though the liquid that shines isn't clear but red. His boots are caked with the bloody, muddled mess, but he hardly spares a glance.

Instead, his eyes are focused on the skies; his sense is heightened as he awaits the next wave of dragon shifters. His men are outnumbered, but he isn’t about to give up. Not when he has a mate waiting for him at home. The most recent letter resides in his breastplate, the words close to his heart. Even now, his men are in various formations miles from Asami. He has been forced off the frontlines and told to rest. Kirishima claims that he is no use to them half-dead.

Seven weeks they had been out here fighting, and each week a comrad was lost to the enemy. Now, each soldier stands upon a hallowed pedestal. The mention of bringing honor to their family helps them justify the violence and bloodshed. Every one of them and their enemy is here to defend and protect their species' survival. They aren’t that different, yet the result couldn’t be more tragic.

Time ticked, the clouds grow darker, and more fire rises to the heavens. The flames lick the horizon, outlining dark silhouettes, and the occasional glint of the dragon’s scales catches the eyes of every soldier. Even five miles away and hidden beneath the forest canopy, Asami can feel the sting and burn of the dragon’s fire. His right side echoes phantom pain, the scars flaring up into vivid red and purple burns. Dragon fire never heals; it festers, flaring to life when the master of the flame is near. It's a constant reminder, one Asami wishes he had the foresight to avoid.

One thing that Asami’s men had learned over the last few weeks on the battlefield; dragons have a duty and a code. To them, men are nothing but a never-ending scroll of greed and deception. They hope that by taking away the material treasures, men will begin to view others as the true treasure. The one gift that life endlessly supplies. Now that gift is nothing more than endless amounts of pain and suffering.

Chapter Text

Akihito stands in the middle of the balcony. His chest heaves with his effort to gain breath. His skin is flushed, sweat beading at his temples as he takes in the sunset. In his hands is a crumpled letter, the handwriting barely legible where the light touches it. The black ink transfers to the pale, clammy skin of Akihito’s palms, and he barely has the wherewithal to avoid scrubbing the ink onto his face as he runs his hands over his cheeks in frustration.

For seven weeks, he has been able to avoid his father’s clutches. He thought he was free, but his father wasn’t finished with him. He is set to arrive in three days. Akihito longs to rip the letter to shreds and bar the man entry into Asami’s lands. He doesn’t, only for fear of what Asami’s people would think of him.

He is already a stranger and a disabled fool. He can’t have them thinking he is heartless for exiling his only family. Instead, he needs to show them that he can play political games. Akihito just has to convince himself of it first.

Three soft raps ring through the air, and he turns in time to see Elanor curtsy from the balcony’s entrance. In the hand that rests against her chest is a small vial. His stomach roils at the thought of drinking the putrid-smelling potion.

Elanor’s mouth curls into a fond smile as she walks closer. “Lilliana made some cookies. I managed to snag you a few for after the potion.”

Bless her. Elanor is his only saving grace. When Asami returns, he will ask to have her wages upped. She has put up with more bouts of sickness and fatigue than she signed up for.

Three weeks after arriving at the Asami estate, Akihito had been hit by terrible stomach ailments. He could not keep anything down, and the smell of lavender and pork made him run for the nearest bush or chamberpot. Several maids had a betting pool on whether it was homesickness, but Elanor firmly believed that Akihito was with child.

The mere mention of it was enough to have the omega sending for a doctor. Sure enough, Akihito is carrying the next Asami heir. The castle was in an uproar at the news, and Akihito could not go three steps without being congratulated. He assumes that is why his father is traveling to Sion. It is in the older Takaba’s nature to try and control things that don’t fit into his plans.

Akihito’s hands shake as he takes the proffered potion vial. Even with the stopper, he can make out the strong smell of dried ginger, moss, and ginseng. If the potion doesn’t work, Akihito is convinced the medicine women are trying to poison him. He smoothly uncorks the bottle and downs the green sludge with minimal gagging. Elanor quickly exchanges the vial for a handful of small cookies, and Akihito shoves two in his mouth. Proprietary be damned.

“Your Grace? Have you written to Duke Asami yet?”

Panic crawls through Akihito’s chest, and he wishes his alpha was here to help him through the clawing fear. “I ca-can’t wri-write that I-I’m preg-pregnant-t!”

Dear god, what if it makes Asami distracted? He needs his alpha to come home, not get himself hurt or killed on the battlefield. He can feel his breath coming in short quick bursts, and Elanor’s face pales.

“Your Grace! Please calm down!” Akihito wishes he could roll his eyes at the girl's attempt at calming him. Instead, he buckles to his knees, his hands coming up to cover his ears as an insistent ringing begins.

It could have been seconds or hours, but Akihito could only focus on the blinding panic, and then something warm and curious worms it's way through his mind. It’s like a soft caress, a whisper of a kiss against the shell of his ear. It moves down his cheek and stops at his mating mark.

The scabbed wound pulses gently, and a sense of safety and understanding wash over him. Breathe. It’s a simple word, but the command that comes through is enough to have his omega greedily taking lungfuls of air where previously there hadn’t been enough. Relief floods his body, yet it isn’t his own emotions. His head drops to rest against his knees, and his hands slowly release his ears as he finally returns to his senses.

Guards and several maids are standing around him, their eyes wide and focused on his huddled form. Embarrassment and shame prickle over his skin, and he can barely fight the warm tears from escaping. Again that tentative caress is back, and he relishes in the comfort. His body slowly unwinds, and his omega whimpers in delight at the ghostly touch.

“-Sama? Akihito-sama, please tell us you’re alright?”

Akihito snaps back into the present, his body jolting at the warm hand on his arm. It’s on the wrong side of warm and comforting, and his body yearns for his alpha to be here next to him. With their unborn child residing in him, Akihito wants to be held. He yearns to nest and wrap himself up in the clothes of his alpha.

Yet, he is in a castle devoid of his alpha’s scent and presence. It’s a knock to his emotions. He shakily moves away from Elanor’s questioning hands, his head nodding a false confirmation. He isn’t alright, but he foolishly hopes no one else can pick up on it.

“Come. Let’s get him into bed. The poor thing is in dire need of rest after that episode.”

The head maid, Akura, gently helps him to his feet and guides him toward his bed. His morning gown is switched out for a lighter tunic, but the material is too coarse for his skin. The scent is wrong, and he shakes his head as Akura attempts to dress him.

The woman’s eyes soften, and she swiftly folds the gown back up. Walking towards the left side of the bed chamber, Akihito watches as she pulls open one of the three wardrobes in the room. “I apologize, Your Grace. Rarely, the alpha and sire aren’t present during the carrying stages, but I should have remembered that your senses would need your alpha.”

Akihito tilts his head in confusion as she walks towards him. In her hands is a dark blue tunic. Even from a short distance, Akihito knows that the material will be too large for his small frame. His mouth opens to let her know, but then the scent of Asami fills the room, and his mouth falls shut.

“Here. This should help you to rest for the remainder of today. I will have some seamstresses take a few of Lord Asami’s shirts and alter them for you.”

He is overwhelmed by the generosity of the maids. “Th-thank you.”

Akura smiles at him, the wrinkles around her eyes creasing with happiness. “It has been many years since we have had a little one running around here. Lord Asami is a good man, and he will be more than thrilled to know that you are carrying his pup.” Her words are soft as she helps Akihito’s arms through the tunic’s sleeves. “Perhaps writing a letter would be a good start.”

“It co-could dis-ss-tract hi-him.” Akihito murmurs, his head ducking to rest against his chest as he begins relentlessly picking at his nails.

Cold, wrinkled hands gently cover his, and Akihito glances up at the older woman. It’s silent for a few moments before she tips her head toward the bed. Akihito takes a deep breath before sliding under the covers. Akura tucks him in, and just before she leaves, she grabs his hands in her again. A look of understanding passes between them, and she gently squeezes him before stepping back. Her parting words echo in the room around them.

“It will empower him, Akihito-sama.”

Chapter Text

The wait for Takaba Jun to arrive has the castle bustling with nervous energy. The maids have cleaned and decorated every square inch of the estate with the best throws and pillows the head maid could find. The cooks have created a menu that his father would have difficulty criticizing.

Akihito has kept himself locked in his rooms, never coming out to eat or walk the expansive gardens. He knows Akura is worried, the woman’s sharp gaze ever present as he denies the food trays repeatedly. He’s terrified that the moment he steps outside, his world will be taken from him.

Night has fallen, and Akihito has less than twelve hours before his father steps onto the Asami estate. His plans have to go on without a hitch. He can’t let Asami and his men down. Watching over their people is the one task that his alpha asked of him. He will be damned if he ruins it.

Chatter floats in the air and rises to the open balcony doors. Akihito’s back is to the moonlight, his form lit by the soft glow of a pale white stone that resides at his husband’s desk. It’s an odd form of magic he has had to get used to within these walls.

No longer is he surrounded by torches, meager means of magic, and common peasant contraptions. He is greeted by hearths lit with a simple hand wave. Small red balls of fire float through the air to catch on the dried wood. Light is no longer dingy yellow spots but bright pale light that could rival starlight.

Soft scratching against paper fills the room, and the smell of herbal ink tickles his nose. On his left sits a small stack of sealed envelopes. Simple little stories about his time at the estate. He knows that there are too many, but he can’t help the ease with which writing to his alpha calms him.

He hasn’t received a letter in the ten weeks apart, but he understands that the battlefield isn’t a place where one can sit and wax poetic. It’s a place of suffering and fear. His only hope is that Asami is receiving them and gaining a semblance of normalcy and love. He wants the alpha to know the person he is married to is someone he can trust.

Akihito swiftly finishes his signature at the bottom of the letter. Nerves cause his words to be shaky and almost illegible, but he finally gets the truth written on paper for his alpha to read. He inhales deeply and then lets it all out in a heated rush.

The letter is quickly folded and placed into an envelope; reaching over, he grabs a chunk of purple wax and puts it on the lip of the envelope. He stares at it for a moment before retrieving Asami’s family seal. The little wooden hilt is engraved with vines, trialing down to where the metals are engraved with an intricate tree, the roots twisted into a crown of thorns and flowers. A loan dragon rests on the topmost branch, its tail dangling down to wrap around a thorn-covered flower.

Akihito brushes his thumb over the design as he walks towards the fire. It takes a mere second for the seal to heat up enough, and Akihito quickly makes his way back to the desk. The purple wax cube is pressed flat, and Akihito closes his eyes as he debates whether to send the letter.

His alpha knows that his father has hurt him, but Akihito isn’t sure the man is ready to learn everything. But he also knows that his husband needs to have all the information to keep his men safe. With a furtive nod, he gathers the letters up, and for the first time in two weeks, he leaves his room.

Akura and Elanor step behind him; their combined presence helps ease him as he navigates the estates winding corridors. Eventually, they appear at the barracks; loud voices echo behind the door. Frowning, Akihito steps forward; his hand stretched, only to stumble backward when the doors shake.

Akura and Elanor gasp loudly, and Akihito has seconds to process the force required to shake the wood before the doors are jerked open. “Your Grace!” A young man stands before him, his chest heaving as he looks around the corridor anxiously. The boy licks his lips as he shuffles foot to foot. “Are you looking for somebody?”

Akihito raises his eyebrows in surprise as he peers over the boy’s shoulder and takes in the barracks. Singe marks scar the white brick, and he can see several men helping each other up. Some of their clothes smoking around smolder holes in the linen.

“Wh-what hav-have you bee-been d-doing?”

The boy winces as one of his hands rubs at the back of his neck in embarrassment. “We were practicing red magic, Your Grace.”

“Are you all stupid?” Elanor hisses. Her face is pale as she steps up to Akihito’s side. “You could have taken the whole east side of the estate down with you! Not to mention contracting a demon to your soul, Hiro!”

“It’s not that dangerous, Elanor. Come on; you think Duke Asami would risk his life day after day if it were?”

“Duke Asami is the only one in the nation allowed to use that form of magic! You can’t decide to wield it!” Elanor’s voice is shrill, echoing around the walls and ceiling. Hiro grimaces as he throws glances at Akihito’s stunned form.

“Elanor is right, Hiro. You and your comrades could have seriously harmed everyone on this estate.”

Hiro slumps, his eyes wide and panicked as he looks between all three faces and then down to Akihito’s flat stomach. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. The whole brigade will take whatever punishment you deem fit.”

Akihito swallows as he runs over every possible punishment doled out to him over the years. No meals, seclusion, whippings, being hunted for sport. All of them were too harsh in his mind, but at the same time, if the brigade was using forbidden magic, they needed a severe consequence.

“There w-will be a letter wri-written to the Duke expl-explaining what you all have d-dne today. Each of your s-signatures will b-be-e on the bottom of that l-letter.” Hiro expelled a shaky breath, his eyes trained on the floor. “You wi-will await his or-orders as to wha-what you will h-h-have to do. As for my p-p-unishmen-t-t each of you will he-help me with the gard-gardens and attending to my f-father.”

Wide eyes lift in shock, and Akihito smiles softly at Hiro. “Thank you, Your Grace. Is there anything else we can do for you?”

“I-I nee-need this let-letter sent ple-please.” Hiro gently grabs the letter, and with a quick bow, he hurries into the room, a shout of “Thomas” floating through the air.

Akihito gives the barracks one last look before turning on his heel and moving back towards his chambers. He doesn’t get far before rushed footsteps sound from the opposite end of the corridor.

“Your Grace!” Akihito turns in surprise, his heart racing as he looks around for the source. Gregory stands by the corridor entrance, his uniform skewed and his face a rosy red. Even from this distance, he can make out the short pants for breath. “Your father, Lord Takaba, has arrived.”

Somewhere on the Battlefield

“Sir!” Loud footsteps trample through the mud and puddles of the pouring rain. The flap to his tent roughly lifts as Kirishima and Suoh enter. Their armor shines in the light, and thin trails of blood and water trickle down their faces and necks as they come to a stop. They drop to their knees; their hands fisted over their hearts as they await his acknowledgment.

Asami’s eyes track their every move, categorizing anything significant to their persons. They had been tasked with infiltrating the Dragon’s horde; since neither was missing a limb, it had to have gone well.

“Report.”

Within seconds his soldiers straighten, small scrolls and visionary stones appearing in the open air. Asami goes for the small purple stone, the scroll beginning to unravel on the strategy table as the magic activates. Instantly, a layout of the Castle hovers in the air. On the table resides every movement of the Dragon soldiers. Each trail flickers to the soldier's heartbeat, betraying their position.

“He’s left the castle almost defenseless. Are you sure you have documented every soldier and person of interest?” They can’t afford to have any mistakes, not when so many lives are at stake.

“It’s everyone. We had a scan done the minute Suoh entered the main chambers. Sir, he isn’t there; by the looks of it, he hasn’t been there since your attack.”

Asami’s left eye twitches as he peers over the scroll, looking for any sign of the Dragon King. The visionary stone flickers, and Asami glances to his left, a small face peering back at him. Twin red eyes glare out at him, the female’s lips twisted in a sneer—the Dragon’s mate.

“She’s in the castle?”

There’s a soft shuffle as Kirishima moves to stand across from him. One of his hands points out the Queen’s movement on the scroll. She’s alone and defenseless in the castle. The only soldiers available are the handful around the perimeter.

“They have to be communicating. Any leads?”

Suoh steps up beside Kirishima, his head shaking. “We haven’t found any. No letters, communication runes, or stones. The only other way would be the Fire Lines.”

Asami sighs loudly as he crosses his arms. His head tilts down as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Since those are untraceable, we have no idea if it’s a trap or a legitimate play.”

The three are silent as they ponder over the available avenues. “It would be stupid if it isn’t a trap. What would he gain by leaving her alone? She is the heart of the people. Without her, every soldier fighting would lay their arms down in defeat.

Asami nods his agreement before closing the visionary stone and scroll. “We need someone to get drafted into their ranks. A human, that way, they won’t be suspicious. I can’t grasp how their King disappears for weeks, leaving them to rally themselves. What is the result?”

“We could use Whittaker for infiltration, Sir,” Kirishima offers. Asami cocks his head as he mentally goes over every soldier in his care. “He’s had success in the past. He can be precise and yet invisible. A good and deadly combination.”

“Find him and inform him of his promotion. Once he agrees, make sure that a healthy sum is sent to his family.” Kirishima bows and exits the tent, his footsteps fading into the night. Suoh stands guard, his eyes locked on the table, taking in the mess of bandages and pipes that litter the surface.

“Are the herbs helping, Ryuichi?”

Asami grunts as he sits down on his cot. His skin is tight, and he can feel the burns and blisters festering under his skin. His hands itch to peel his skin away, but he knows it’s impossible. “This dosage was too weak, the last one too strong. I feel like that character from the fairytale.”

Suoh stays quiet for a few moments before his voice rings out again. “Catharsis isn’t helping?”

“He doesn’t want to. Says the pain will make me stronger, hence make him stronger.”

Suoh snorts and shakes his head as he starts to leave. “Your demon is a bastard.”

Asami can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “We figured that out when he named himself Catharsis. He has a sick sense of humor and longs to have his meat suit to himself.”

With one last glance, Suoh leaves, and Asami is left to think in peace. Hopefully, the war won’t take much longer. All he wants is to go home and relish in the soothing presence of his mate. Akihito is the only thing that can quiet the demon and soothe the wounds.

Leaning forward, he reaches under his cot for a small burlap sack. His hands deftly undo the strings, and he mindlessly fishes for a letter.

I’ll be home soon.

Chapter Text

"Asami-sama!"

Ryuichi's head snaps up as a young messenger rushes into his tent. In his hands sit two yellow, wrinkled envelopes. Even in the dim lighting of the mana stone, he notices the familiar purple wax on one of them. Asami's stomach swoops as he steps forward, his hand grabs letters.

"You're dismissed," he utters to the messenger. The boy darts out of the tent to return to his daily chores. He longs to tear open Akihito's letter, but he must wait. He has been waiting on Ean's letter for two weeks. He can finally see if the man has successfully infiltrated the Dragon's castle.

My Lord,

The river has flooded, and I am sad that many of our townsfolk have fled further into the forests to seek shelter. The other day, a fast-moving carriage pulled into the depths of the water. I thought it odd someone would try to traverse those roads, but with proper incentive, I imagine anything is possible. Especially if the incentive is the correct weight in gold or opals. I only hope the poor carriagegoers weren't tied to any nobility. It would be a travesty if the Misakas or Takabas were to lose more to this war than others.

I wish you all the best. May you have a blessed and uneventful solstice, and may we meet again before the moon turns.

The letter is coded, but some of the finer details are enough for Asami to distinguish that Takaba isn't going to stay out of his way. A soft laugh escapes him as he eases himself into a chair. There will have to be an intervention before long. Suppose two lower-class nobility are causing this many headaches in the beginning. In that case, Asami has yet to see what else they can bring.

The Opal is the most concerning aspect. The Dragon's Queen is known as the City's Opal, and her calling card is rumored to be little Opals sewn into pocketbooks or gloves. It's her way of showing alliances without publicly airing them.

"Kirishima, Suoh, get in here. Now."

Little time passes before both men enter the tent, their heads bowed in reverence. "You summoned us?"

Asami hums, his hands flicking the letter over so the men could read it. It's quiet as all three process Ean's words.

"Asami-sama, it's not good that Takaba has Misaka working for him. I don't know what trade secrets are being shared with the enemy, but it must be enough if Ean reports it."

Asami finds himself nodding, his second-in-command right behind him in his thinking. "I agree. They are evidently flooding outer roads and villages in hopes of getting our soldiers to flee into their territory." His eyes turn towards the map; his delegations are scattered across the terrain.

The Takaba and Misaka lands are evenly divided in the middle of the kingdom. To the east is his estate, surrounded by mountains. To the west is the Dragon's territory. Mountains and oceans were strategically placed to make it almost impossible to invade. The only road in would be the road that splits the two Lord's land.

"They hope to gain profit and prestige. They don't think we will win this war, so they are ensuring their survival by striking a deal with the enemy."

"They don't understand that the Dragon's goal is to invade and wipe our people out. We are a plague, and they won't hesitate to use every means necessary to exterminate us." Asami's words hang heavy in the air as they try to come up with solutions to the matter.

"Sire, there are only four more weeks before the solstice."

Asami is already nodding along, his mind racing to think of every strategy to turn the tide. "We have four weeks to make sure Ean can get the Queen's guard down so we can infiltrate. We can keep her hostage until the King shows his face."

"Make sure we have enough men on standby and the prison cells warded for her magic. She won't come without a fight, and I will not have her escaping because our people can't cast a proper determent."

"Of course Asami-sama. I will travel to the next village, there is a small shop that specializes in detainment magic. I can find something to hold her while we wait for the King."

Asami nods before lifting his eyes to his third in command. "You can go in the morning; take some less injured with you. They can help bring back food and medical supplies."

Kirishima nods in assent, his eyes hazy as he navigates the troops and supplies needed in his head. Asami snorts softly before raising a hand toward the desk piled with scrolls. "Go and make your list, Kei."

Kirishima mutters to himself, his fingers twitching as he does the counts for bandages and water skins. "Asami-sama, should I look for another medi-witch?"

He thinks about it for a few moments before nodding his assent. "I'm sure that Nebora needs a break. Try to find someone with a high endurance. It won't do to have a kid passing out after two healings. Look for ones on the outskirts of the village. The misfits tend to have better herbal understandings."

Kirishima swiftly notes the command before bowing and exiting the tent. The sound of horses and clanging metal greets Asami before the tent flap closes, blocking the barrage of noise. As the armor drapes across the stand, he remembers the second letter the page had given him.

Akihito.

The mere thought of his Omega has his legs moving before he can fully process the thought. His hands eagerly tear the wax seal, and he can finally take a moment and rejoice in the familiar, messy handwriting. His nose twitches when the scent of perfume wafts from the page. His lips curl into a smile at the familiar scent of his mate. Though it calms his person, his alpha instincts rise to the forefront of his being, and the need to find and protect is rolling over him in waves.

Logically, he understands that there is no threat to his mate and people. Still, it never fails to make his stomach churn whenever a letter appears. Most of the time, Akihito wants to update him on the proceedings of the land and the townspeople. He dreads receiving a letter stating that the town has been taken over and that Akihito is among the lost.

Little antsy there, weren't you?

He scowls as Catharsis's voice rings through his mind. The demon has stayed under the surface since the Dragon's fire. It is an annoyance more than anything, but he doesn't need the teasing. He wants to be able to read the letter without an audience.

"You can leave now. You don't need to be here; there aren't any dragons to hoard power from."

He can feel the amusement before his tent is taken over by a harsh wind and a bright red light. Catharsis appears before him; his darkened body, similar to the color of coal, shimmers under the light, and the gold runes decorate him in odd geometric patterns. Asami has spent years studying them, hoping to harness the demon better than he has. It's been a waste of time, and Catharsis isn't afraid to taunt about it.

"Oh, but Ryuichi, I love our little bonding sessions." He grins as he paces the tent before stopping before the battle plans. His eyes trace over them, his lips sneering as he sees how much territory is left to gain. Catharsis sighs before turning and leaning against a support pillar next to the table. "Please, entertain me. I'm sure your 'little one,' was it? Has some interesting developments for us."

Asami's left eye twitches as he listens to the demon prattle on. His hands clench and unclench as he denies the urge to strangle the damn creature. "You will return to your dimension and wait for me to summon you, Catharsis. I won't ask again."

Catharsis laughs, his head tipping back in amusement before he leans forward, mirth clear on his face. His eyes are bright white, with no pupil within site. "Something tells me a little heir is coming into play, Ryuichi. You better pray you're able to protect both mother and baby."

Rage, a red passion-filled haze, overtakes his body as he surges forward. He has a hand at the demon's throat and a blessed blade resting on Catharsis' heart. "I would be cautious with your next words. You and I know I can easily banish you back to your hole. If you so much as think about going near my mate and child, I will not hesitate in severing our contract. Do I make myself clear?"

A pout crosses Catharsis' features before he sighs, admitting defeat. He pushes the knife away from his chest before meeting Asami's eyes. "I won't go near your precious family. But know this… if they want to make a contract, I will gladly serve them."

Catharsis disappears just as Asami growls and plunges the knife where the demon's heart would have been. Instead, the blade is nestled into the pillar Catharsis had leaned against.

"Fucking demons. Fucking magic." He spits out. His body vibrates with anger; he must divert his attention before going on a war path to calm his nerves. His eye fell on the forgotten letter, the pages crumpled where he must have balled it up in anger.

His shoulders slump as he reaches out for it. He tries to smooth out the wrinkles, wanting the pages to be as pristine as possible. It's the only way he can preserve it in these conditions.Peace settles over him as he reads the first line.

Dearest Alpha,

I have settled well at the estate. Everyone was very kind and welcoming of me, which was a relief. I wondered how people would take to having a new person walk the corridors and check on provisions.Everyone is doing well. Head Maid Akura says hello. She and Elanor have been prompting me to write to you this time. I worry I take up too much of your time and attention, so I have been writing less. I'm sorry if they have been a distraction.

I find it easier to write my feelings and thoughts than to speak them. People don't have as hard a time understanding me this way. Enough about that, though!

Father has requested to come and visit; I have granted his wish. He should be arriving at the estate by the time you get this. I will do my best to meet his accommodations and requests. I don't want you to worry about things. I will be the perfect wife and mistress of the house.

Head Maid Akura was just teaching me about the books and how to tally everything up, so hopefully, when you return, everything will be in tip-top shape. She has also requested that some of your attire be re-fitted to fit me. She says it will help calm me and the baby.

Asami feels his chest constrict as he rereads the last line. Baby. Akihito is pregnant with their child, and he isn't there to protect them. Alarm fills him. If Lord Takaba catches wind of the child, Akihito and the baby are going to be killed.

"Suoh!"

Seconds later, the man entered the tent, his sword drawn as he peered around, looking for an intruder. "Sire?"

Asami feels tension rise within him, and he begins pacing, needing to burn the excess energy off. "I need you to return two of our best men to the estate. Takaba Jun is probably already there, and our Akihito is with child."

Suoh blinks in surprise before his face pales. "They are both in danger -"

"I am aware of my family's plight, Suoh. I am trusting you to fix it."

Suoh immediately nods, and his whole demeanor switches to commander within seconds. "The men will be sent out immediately. I will also have a spy sent out to watch over Takaba's actions. Akihito nor the Asami Heir will be harmed. I swear it."

Chapter Text

It's been three weeks since Akihito's father stepped foot into the Asami estate. Every day has been a war zone between the two. The maids and cooks flee the room when they hear Lord Takaba's voice resounding down the corridors. Akihito finds himself doing the same. He hates being in the same room and loathes the man's ability to make him feel like a child daily. Today is no better.

His stomach revolts as he kneels beside the bed, his breakfast coming up and spewing into the bedpan before him. Several maids are puttering around the room, their voices hushed as they go about their daily routines. None of them batted an eye at the suffering omega. Then again, why would they? His father had promptly dismissed the maids who took care of Akihito.

It was a slow change he hadn't noticed until it was too late. Now, the Asami estate is just like it was back home. Akihito has to watch his every move, though he knows he isn't alone in this. Akihito managed to convince his father to not get rid of Elanor.

The "favors" Akihito has been subjected to make him question why he even bothered fighting against the man. It's been one bruising grip after another since he had arrived. Snide remarks and "missed meals" were becoming a regular occurrence. Enough so that Elanor has resorted to stashing food in laundry baskets so she could pass some over to Akihito whenever they met in the corridors.

Akura had been banished to the gardens and sheds when she was found sneaking Akihito medicine and ointments for the bruising. He still feels terrible about that one. He always ensures the two of them have food before taking his share.

He knows they would instead give up their rationings to ensure the baby's safety, but Akihito won't hear it. He needs them at peak performance so they can help him later on. It's only a matter of time before his father causes more than black and blue blemishes. His body shudders as a violent wave of nausea rushes through him. His stomach desperately tries to relieve itself, though nothing else can be spit up. Instead, he dry heaves, spit trailing from his mouth as he continues hanging over the bedpan.

His mind races as he struggles to gather himself. He needs to keep eating and drinking to get the required nutrients for the baby, yet his body can barely hold anything but stale bread down. The tears are a surprise, but he finds it's the only respite he can afford. A small, warm hand runs through his hair in calming motions. Elanor sits behind him, her voice a balm to his internal panic and fear.

"It's going to be okay, Your Grace. This should only last a couple more weeks."

Akihito knows that the words are supposed to give him hope, but they don't. He craves his Alpha at this moment. It's Asami he wants, not Elanor. He wants the man's scent and presence to cloak him safely.

"Shh. It's alright, let it all out."

The maids in the room all scoff and snort as they step around and over him. Their shoes smashing his fingers into the stone floors. Elanor hisses and shoves one of them out of the way, her eyes narrowed slits as she demands respect for the Omega. She's only met with laughter and pinches as they pass by.

"Le-leave the-them. Don-don't matt-tt-eer." He pants out.

Elanor's teeth grind, but she turns her attention back to her master. Eventually, the two are left alone, and Elanor sighs in relief as she helps Akihito to his feet. "His Grace has sent a letter back."

His body pauses halfway to the bed, his eyes wide as he glances at her. Elanor gives a warm smile, her eyes twinkling as she pushes him onto the mattress.

"I figured you would want to read it as soon as possible." her words are muffled as she turns and rummages through a small bag left at the foot of the bed. She quietly squeals in triumph as she brandishes the letter high in the air. "Here you are, Your Grace! While you read that, I will take care of the pan and run you a bath."

Akihito hardly hears her, and his focus is entirely on the letter. He has been waiting months for a response from his husband, and now that it's here in front of him, he can't make his fingers move fast enough. The first line has his heart tripping and a wet laugh leaving his lips.

Dearest little one,

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write. Conditions on the front lines have been less than ideal. Many of our comrades from other nations are unaware of their roles in this fight. Everyone looks to me for guidance on where and when they should attack.

There is no autonomy out here, which is frustrating and fear-inducing. I know I shouldn't express fear, especially to my newly wedded Omega, but I lack an outlet. I want you to know and understand that everyone who doesn't come back is a way of the war.

I wish I could tell them what reality is and how to choose the correct side. The one of light and healing, but there isn't such a thing. Trying to avoid the chasms that open and knives that appear from hidden pockets and armor without prompting is a fearsome situation.

Everyone longs to be on the "right" side, and we have convinced ourselves of this. Many of us have justified our actions when it comes to the dark side of the war. They can't face their reflections in the lakes and mirrors around camp.<

It takes someone solid and steadfast to shoulder the dark side of the war.

Unfortunately, Akihito, it's up to you and me to see that our people are well cared for. We have to do things that make our skin crawl and insides churn, but we know the outcome we seek. I need you to hold on a little longer for me.

I know you worry about your father coming back; I do too, but I need you to understand the difference between betrayal and self-preservation. I want you to do everything in your power to make sure you and our child are safe when I'm not there. Whatever measures you deem necessary to ensure that, do it. I will never question your judgment. If you find yourself hesitating, I want you to remember this:

If you care for a friend or loved one and suddenly don't, if you leave them to suffer when you could have saved them - that's betrayal, Akihito. If they've worn you paper thin, slowly peeling back layer after layer of insecurities and torment to leave you flayed open for the wind to tear at your nerves; if they've held you in an embrace and plunged the knife in, twisting it as they whisper sweet nothings - that's self-preservation and survival. It's an action that many take advantage of. From the outside, however, few can tell the difference.

Can you tell the difference, little one?

Your father has not betrayed you because he has never had your best interests at heart. He is a cowardly man, and I count the days until I can deal with him personally. In the meantime, I need you to continue doing your best to stand your ground. You are an Asami now; you have a higher prestige than your father. Remind him of that. Do not fear his retribution; my people will keep you safe until I can do so again.

Akihito's breath rushes out of him when he rereads the letter. It's the first form of contact that Asami has sent him, and it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He realizes how awful his father has been, but to have someone else point it out still stings. His eyes burn as he fights the tears back.

"Your Grace?" Elanor's voice is soft, and he blindly turns towards her and buries his face in her neck. "Oh, your Grace, it's all going to be okay. You still have Akura and me with you. We will help you every step of the way."

"You… You are t-to goo-good t-to me." He stutters out, his voice muffled and nasally.

Akihito could feel Elanor shake her head. "You are too good to us, Akihito-sama. Asami-sama will be proud of you."

A weak laugh escapes his lips as he sits up, his hands quickly brushing the tears away. "Ca-can I have t-the qui-quill and parchm-m-ment?"

Elanor hums, her hands brushing soothing circles over his shoulders and back. "After we get you bathed. Then you can write His Grace back."

An agitated breath leaves him, but he complies nonetheless. Elanor has yet to lead him astray. His movements are slow as he navigates his weak body into the attached ensuite. In the middle of the room is a large wooden basin; coals and warming crystals sit beneath the basin, allowing the water to warm. A large eucalyptus plant hangs from the rafter, its vines trailing into the steaming water. The smell enables his body to slowly unwind, and he gives Elanor a grateful look. Her answering smile and subtle gesture to undress make him move forward. He exhales a sigh of relief as the water gently laps at his weary form.

Elanor is a silent presence at his back, and he slowly leans forward, letting her know she can come over and help wash.

"Have you seen my father yet today?"

A rough cloth runs over his spine before it's pulled away and wrung out. The sound of dripping water cascades around the room. Elanor's touch is almost hesitant, and Akihito waits patiently for her answer. "Last I saw him, he was canvassing the gardens and training grounds."

"Aku-ra w-was lef-tt al-lone?"

The cloth touched his back in a few more swipes before Elanor spoke again. "She was left alone; from what I know, Lord Takaba hasn't interacted with her other than the banishment."

Akihito's shoulder slumps at the news as relief filters through his body, warming him up. At least one person is being relieved from his father's torment.

"I-I'm gla-lad she is-s ss-afe."

The two sit silently until Elanor's voice filters through the air in a soft lilt as she sings softly. His head is tilted back as a pitcher of warm water washes through his hair, wetting the strands down. Her fingers snag in a few tangles as she attempts to clean as much grime and sweat away as possible.

The feel of her fingers, as she scraps across his scalp, causes his eyes to flutter in contentment. It's a feeling he sorely misses now that the estate has turned into a prison. Any moment of peace he can get, he grips to with all his strength. His hands turn white at the knuckles as he longs to ensure his happiness.

"Your Grace, one of the herbalists, made a new soap. Do you want to try it? I think it's a rose and apple blend."

Akihito eagerly nods his head and he reaches a hand out to accept the small wedge of soap. It's a soft white, mottled with purple and green flowers. The scent is heavenly, and he smiles as he scrubs it against his skin. At first, there is nothing more but the silky texture of the water and soap mixing together, then a deep-seated burning alights his senses. A startled cry tears from his lips, and he drops the soap into the basin. Elanor flinches back, her body falling from her stool in surprise.

"Your Grace?" Her hands are instantly in the water, her eyes tracing his features, and she cries out in shock when Akihito raises his arms for her to look at.

His pale skin is splotched with ren burns and blisters. A muffled curse falls from Elanor's lips before she quickly ushers Akihito out of the bath. Her hands brush over his body, searching for more wounds. All the while, she apologizes.

"I'm so sorry, Your Grace. Are you alright?"

Something wasn't right here. Instead of his usual range of emotions, all Akihito can feel is a simmering anger towards Elanor. Her question is a fair one. Yet, Akihito can barely hold his tongue from lashing out at her with barbed words. It wasn't Elanor's fault that his body had an allergic reaction. Yes, the wounds are unsightly, but nothing that a few calming oatmeal baths won't cure.

"Fi-fine." He manages to utter out before he bats her hands away. He doesn't want her anywhere near him. In his mind, he feels an uncomfortable slither and itch. His head jerks slightly as he tries to shake the feeling away. "It's-ss ju-ust an all-llerg-gic rea-acti-ion."

Elanor's face is pale, but her eyes burn in rage. "That is not a common symptom, Your Grace. Even if your skin was that sensitive, which it is not, you would, at worst, come out with a few rashes. Nothing burns and blisters unless it's meant to."

His body freezes when a voice enters his thoughts unbidden. Its words are dark and dripping with malice. "She has planned this, dear one. First, your body and then the little babe in your womb. It won't take much for you to go barren. A simple poison introduced through tea or... in this case... a small bar of soap."

Terror washes over him, his fingers feel cold, and his breaths come in choppy bursts. It was happening all over again. The endless fountain of insecurity spits out damning insults.

"What would your Alpha think to see you here shivering in fear as one of the maids," the title is almost spat from inside his mind, "takes advantage of you, and you're too weak and a coward to do protect yourself and your unborn child?"

Dark laughter filters through his head, and he hastily shakes his head. He needs to dislodge the voice. He knows Elanor would never harm him, yet the voice speaks some truth. If Asami were to see him now, Elanor would be dealt with swiftly and without mercy. The Alpha is a strong fortress with spiked barricades and a deep mote. Akihito is the warming fires and gentle caresses of the wind, wearing down the hard edges to form a place meant to nourish others, not keep them out.

"Oh, your naivety is precious. Do you genuinely think you're the best thing for him? You don't even have an ounce of magic in your body. How can you be good for an almighty war general and the most powerful magic user?"

The voice needs to stop its deception. Akihito is about to voice his thoughts out loud when Elanor's voice cuts through his senses.

"Your Grace!" Small hands push at his body, but rage and fear cause him to feel nothing but harsh swats and shoves. His vision dots with black spots, and his hearing wavers as if submerged under water.

"Look at her putting her hands on you as if she owns you! Weak. Pathetic Omega. Let me handle her. With my help, we can prove your worth to your Alpha... and your father."

"No." He moans as his legs give out in a matter of seconds, and he can't help but blink in surprise when the floor meets his skin in a cold burst of pain. It's enough of a shock that he manages to jolt back to his surroundings.

He can see Elanor sitting before him, her hands patting the air around him as she speaks. Akihito knows she is talking to him, most likely to reassure him, but no sound makes it to his mind. Everything is still muted, and he feels isolated.

"That's right. Remember this feeling, dear one. This isolation will forever be your prison unless you allow me to step in for just a few minutes. All it will take is a little bit of your blood and three simple words."

His actions aren't his own, and he watches from a mental distance as one of his hands begins clawing at his arm, neck, and then over his mating bite. Slowly, blood wells from the claw marks, and the voice in his mind croons in delight. "Perfect, dearest one. Now, just say these three words for me. Oderint Dum Metuant."

Akihito can hear his screams as they reverberate through his skull. Still, the voice is quickly muting them, so all that he is aware of is his heavily beating heart and aching fingers. His mouth opens, and he weeps as the words tumble from his lips. His tongue is heavy, but the words are crisp and clear. No stutters or disparaging groans typically accompanying his speech echo in the room.

He finds himself not breathing, his ears straining to hear or feel a difference around him, but he comes up empty. He startles when a large, heavy blanket wraps around him. The weight is typically a good thing and allows him to feel secure. Now, it's a hindrance, one that makes his skin itch. He quickly shoves the offending material off his body and turns fierce eyes onto his maid.

Logically, Elanor would never do anything to hurt Akihito. Still, everything that has happened to him today has made his emotions nothing more than an awaiting snare. The noose loosely sits on the ground, and the moment someone trips into it, it entraps everyone in its grip.

The voice has been silent until now. A booming laugh shakes his mind, his head twitches violently, and Akihito and his intruder fight for control.

Akihito wars with his thoughts, emotions, and actions. The minute he can push the evil presence from one faculty, it begins controlling the others. It's a vicious cycle, and he gives up quickly. His mind is not strong enough to keep the other away. Now, Akihito watches in distress as the presence—Catharsis—chimes in.

"Since you're such a charming and obedient host, I will solve the problem for you. Just sit back and watch, dear Akihito."

His spiritual body is numb, but his mortal body vibrates with the fire of burning humiliation and fear. The pain from his burns and blisters is a catalyst that finally causes him to be engulfed in the flames. His mouth opens in a snarl, "Get the hell away from him."

Elanor's face turns white, her eyes large, and she scrambles back, her lower lip trembling. Akihito had never seen her so scared, but he had no heart to console her.

"Your Grace...please. I had nothing to do with the soap." Tears stream down her cheeks, but his body pays no mind.

"You have sealed your fate, wench." Catharsis spits.

Akihito is pulled back to the room as he hears Elanor plead, "Please, at least let me help clean the wounds."

The poor girl's hands shake as she longs to right the wrongs given to him. Her words are poor excuses; it couldn't be a coincidence that it hurts him the first time she brings him new soap. His father must have threatened her... or offered her more money.

"You can't trust her."

Why would she start hurting him now? He has left her many opportunities to harm him. She has been next to him from the start; she snuck him his Alpha's letters, for god's sake. Elanor is a good person, he thinks as he watches her huddled form.

He longs to open his mouth and reassure her, but his anger is still simmering. It's misplaced, but he has been cast from his body, forced into a corner as something bigger and more sinister takes control.

Please. Elanor means no harm! Look at her! Whoever you are, you are NOT allowed to hurt her.

"Oh, my dear charge, you aren't running the show. You gave control, and now, you suddenly want it back? Right when the wench asks to get closer to you?"

The voice in his mind is a hissing, lurking presence. It leaves a slimy residue on everything it touches. Its hands are claws, the tips painted in poison and blood, and it leaves fine lines on memories, almost as if it wishes to carve its malevolence into every fiber of his brain.

You will give her one more chance. She is to be left alone.

Catharsis laughs, and his claws retreat from Akihito's memories. He is forced back into command over his body's movement. He still can't speak, though. Catharsis retains that hold for a bit longer. His hands shake as he waits, not knowing what his mouth will spout without his consent.

One more chance. He pleads, and he hears a disgruntled sigh.

Akihito quickly closes his eyes as he fights against the tears. She is Asami's person; she should be given more leniency than his own. I can't trust my own people, please don't make me go against my Alpha's either.

"Fine."

Akihito doesn't have time to celebrate the win over Catharis before his body and mouth move. He slowly pushes himself into a seated position and finds himself against the basin.

Akihito winces internally at his tone and wishes he could take the words back, not that they were "his" to begin with. "I don't need your help. You may return with dinner anytime before that, and you won't be permitted in. Do you understand?"

Elanor weakly nods as she gathers herself. Her head is tipped down, so her chin rests against her chest. A sign of deference if he ever saw one. "Of course, Your Grace. Thank you for your mercy."

Catharsis snorts at Elanor's words. Akihito watches as she scurries out of the bathroom; her footsteps barely make any noise as she leaves.

Finally, his ability to speak is returned to him. He relishes the fact that he can open and close his mouth on his own. Yet, he still jumps when Catharsis pops back into his mind. "The wench gets one chance. If she fucks it up, I get to deal with her, and it will be your hands I use. Just so she can get the full effect of our.... bond." 

"We don-n-t hav-e-e a bo-n-nn-nd."

This time, it's a sneering laugh that echoes throughout his body. "It seems your Alpha hasn't given you all the information about that mating bite... has he?"

Dread fills his stomach, and Akihito swallows thickly, or at least attempts to. His mouth is a dessert as he ponders the presence's statement. "Wh-a-at do yo-you mea-aan?"

"Exactly what I said, dearest. Or should I call you "little one?" I will admit it has a certain charm, doesn't it? I like the way it makes you melt in your memories. The taste of your surrender is delicious."

Disgust is poignant, and he physically reels back at the salacious words. "You wi-ill n-nn-ev-err sa-ay th-oo-se wo-rrds."

"We shall talk again later, little one. Don't worry, I will let your Alpha know you say "hi."

Catharis leaves, and Akihito slumps in relief. His body no longer feels too tight against his bones. He shudders and hisses as the pain from his wounds comes back into complete focus. It takes him a couple of minutes to gather enough strength to stand.

The urge to write his Alpha back scratches at his Omega instincts. He longs to curl up in Asami's arms, seeking out the Alpha's protection. However, he also longs to ask the man about Catharsis and what he means about their mating bite.

Will Catharsis always be a part of him? Popping in and out of his head, controlling his speech and movements without his consent? What pledge had he uttered to the thing?

His mind spins, and he shudders when a cool breeze brushes his skin. Looking down, he sees that he is still naked from the bath earlier. Returning to the bedroom, he walks to a large mirror in the corner. He winces when he sees just how bad the burns and blisters are. His eyes scan his form before looking away. He hopes the burns won't scar; he doesn't want Asami to feel the need to heal him again. Once is all Akihito deserves. He wishes that he had a way of heading to the infirmary, but the mere thought of stepping out of this room cripples him. How can he know that the herbalist from whom Elanor received the soap wasn't the same herbalist who resides on the estate?

Has his father finally turned everyone against him?

He shrinks in on himself as a cold sweat forms on his skin. He idly wonders if his wounds have caused him to go into a fever-induced panic. His hands itch to claw at his skin to stop the incessant throbbing of the burned flesh. He wishes to pop the nasty blisters and be done with it all.

Years of experience halt his movements. The moment he pops the infected blemishes is the moment he succumbs to a worse fate. How many times did he end up lying in a dark room, his back covered in festering wounds as he dozed in and out of hallucinating dreams? He doesn't have that kind of time here. The minute the maids notice his predicament, his father will demand entrance. Then he will be seen as unfit to stay as the Omega of Asami.

He can't afford to have that happen. He promised his Alpha that he would ensure the livelihood of his people. Even if it causes Akihito harm, he will stand up and demand the respect taken from him repeatedly. Taking a deep breath, he stands straight and squares his shoulders; his chin raises high in the air, and his eyes are hard; no emotion shows. He gives his reflection a curt nod and turns away. His strides are long as he moves towards the wardrobe, retrieving one of the longer robes and less flashy slippers.

Once his outfit lays on the bed, he begins the arduous task of cleaning the wounds. The only thing in his room is the basin filled with burning soap or a small hand bowl with cool water. He doesn't hesitate to grab a small hand towel and dip it into the water. His body spasms as pain circulates throughout his nerves. He nearly chews a hole into his lip as he pats the burns, tears forming in his eyes. He wishes he had the foresight to stock healing salves or even begin a small garden of medicinal herbs in the flower box outside one of the windows. It would have been helpful.

However, now that the situation has presented itself, he can begin the process if something else ever happens. It never hurts to be prepared, especially with his father roaming the estate as he pleases. Once his skin feels less like flames are licking and scorching him, he sighs in relief and walks over to the bed. The robe slides over his arm and almost sends him to the floor in pain, but he simply inhales sharply and then releases the breath in three short bursts.

He smoothes the material down over his stomach, a slight bump showing when the robe is pulled taunt. A smile touches his features at the sight before it falls away.

The smile falters when he hears a timid knock on the bedroom door. He pauses and listens, hoping whoever it is will announce themselves. When no voice follows, he steps cautiously to the door and slowly opens it. He half expects to see his father standing on the other side, but the doorway and corridor are empty.

He frowns as he peers around, trying to determine if someone is playing a game with him. He doesn't hear rushed footsteps or whispered laughter, so he shrugs off his concern and trips over a basket while exiting the room. Bandages, vials, and salves roll across the floor, and he huffs in irritation. His body is slow as he kneels and begins to gather the provisions. Among the spilled contents of the basket is a small piece of parchment.

Small, shaky letters line the paper, and Akihito squints as he tries to decipher the handwriting.

Hope these supplies come in handy, Your Grace. I will be back with your supper at sundown.

-Elanor

Even after everything that happened today, Akihito is overwhelmed by the young girl's generosity. Where Elanor should be running and cowering in fear, she instead sought to help him - probably still fearing his wrath and pushing ahead anyway.

Akihito's heart constricts, and he smiles as he stands, the basket a welcome weight on his uninjured arm. He will ensure she never fears him again, but he is content to sit in his room and nurse his wounds for now. He has a letter to answer and an Alpha to make proud.

Chapter Text

The scent of damp stone and coal clings to the air, thick and unrelenting beneath the weight of the morning mist. Vareth never sleeps—not in the way peaceful cities do. Here, silence is not comfort but warning. Ean Whittaker adjusts the torn edges of his cloak, ensuring the filth on his skin and the sharpness of his gaze do not conflict. He has spent weeks preparing for this moment—studying the rhythms of the city, memorizing its secrets, and readying himself for his greatest deception.

Tonight, he will be chosen.

The mission is clear. Lord Asami himself has entrusted Ean with infiltrating the Dragon Kingdom, slipping into their ranks, unraveling the power behind their Queen, and ensuring that when the time comes, Asami will not strike blindly.

His fingers brush briefly over the sigil tattooed onto his chest—a silent reminder of his loyalty, of the leader who has given him purpose. Asami has given him this mission. He will not fail.

His thoughts are clear and concise as he watches the streets and their everyday hustle and bustle. Women and children stick to the sides and gutters—their attempts at blending in almost work—but not fully.

Men walk around the streets, their eyes hard as stone as they gauge the people around them. Some are higher in social class - their clothes and canes set them apart.

Others are just as better off walking naked than the flea-infested garments they wear.

Ean barely glances at them before he settles himself against a stone pillar. It's a spot he has scouted for several days - enough so that the local plagued and homeless have started to leave him scraps of their food and bedding.

He has been welcomed into their circle, and he softly smiles at the women and children across the street from him at their kindness. Even though they barely have enough for themselves, these people still make it a habit to offer what they can to others.

He has just torn a small piece of bread off a rotting loaf when the carriage arrives exactly as expected.

It moves like a phantom, rolling silently over uneven cobblestones, its presence felt long before it is seen. Ean smothers his anticipation well, but he inhales momentarily when the door opens, revealing her.

Queen Mishyca.

She steps onto the street without ceremony, her cloak brushing against damp stone. No guards. No attendants. Just her. She does not need protection. She is the predator, and the strays of Vareth are merely creatures awaiting her selection.

Her opalescent skin and white hair shine like beacons in the dim, grime-littered streets. Ean understands now how some of her subjects view her as a saving grace. Something ethereal and untouchable.

But he also knows the other side of her. The cold, calculating, ruthless Queen.

Ean does not move as her gaze sweeps over the filth, lingering on a frail woman curled beneath an overturned cart. Then, a boy, barely old enough to know fear.

Then, finally—him.

He does not break eye contact.

Her lips curve, amusement flickering beneath the cold amber of her stare. "Stand," she murmurs.

He does, slow and deliberate.

"Your name?"

He knows what answer to give. "Ean." No title. No history. Just the sound of it.

She studies him for a moment longer before nodding. "You’ll do."

Triumph surges through his veins as he stoops to gather his meager belongings. A small satchel with a few scarce coin jingles as he picks it up. Without looking at the Queen, he walks over to the woman and child across from him.

He bends down and offers the satchel without flourish. The woman's eyes glow with barely restrained tears, and he gives her a soft smile. Glancing over his shoulder, he makes sure the Queen isn't paying him any attention before he bends closer, his cracked lips brushing the woman's ear.

"There is a band of soldiers ten miles west. Tell them Ean sent you, and you and your little one will be taken in and given protection. All I ask of you is a favor."

He pulls back enough to see her quickly nodding. His eyes narrow as he smiles at her. His words are hushed as he places the satchel of coins into her palm. "You need to give the man wearing green armor the message: 'Embers are warm. A gentle breeze will allow for a burning blaze.'"

The woman's eyes are wide, and he gently chuffs her under the chin. "Repeat those words back to me."

Her voice is small and croaky, but she has the words memorized in only a few seconds. He stands and sends her one last smile before facing the Queen and her final selections.

The others are chosen just as swiftly—each one a piece in her ever-expanding game of control.

As Ean steps into the carriage, the wooden door closing behind him with a soft click, he lets out a slow breath. The air inside the carriage is thick with tension. The other chosen servants sit stiffly, their bodies hunched, hands curled into their laps.

No one speaks.

Mishyca sits across from them, silent but observant. She rests a single clawed finger against the seat, tapping idly—a slow, rhythmic sound that feels deliberate. Testing. Measuring.

Ean keeps his breathing steady, watching her without watching her. Then—a strange sensation. A flicker of warmth in his chest, just beneath his ribs.

The bond.

It isn’t fully formed—not yet—but the connection between himself and Asami stirs at the edges of his consciousness like a whisper carried on the wind.

This is not fear.

It is anticipation.

Chapter Text

The air thickens with the scent of damp earth and smoldering embers as Ean approaches the gates of the Dragon Castle. Jagged and ancient, their black iron is scarred from centuries of battle; they rise like beasts waiting to devour intruders.

A cold mist slithers through the cracks in the stone, curling around the towering structure, clinging to the heavy chains draped along its walls. The fortress is a monument to survival, not vanity—no gilded embellishment, no banners fluttering with royal pride.

This is not a place built for royalty. It is built for war.

Its weight settles into Ean’s chest. The walls seem to breathe, alive with the whispers of long-dead warriors who once knelt where he now stands.

Then—a voice cuts through the mist.

"Kneel."

The word is sharp as steel, echoing against the stone like a blade dragged across bone.

General Aldrik stands at the entrance, his posture rigid, his presence suffocating. His black armor absorbs the torchlight, swallowing it whole, reflecting only in the sharp edges of his gauntlets, polished to gleam like mirrors of judgment.

Mishyca’s most trusted blade.

The other servants obey without question, dropping to their knees, heads bowed, eyes locked on the ground as if they dare not risk a glance upward.

Ean follows suit—but not in fear, not in surrender.

His movement is deliberate, the descent controlled, and his expression neutral. This is not submission; this is strategy.

The stone beneath his knees is frigid, numbing, biting against his skin like a silent warning. The weight of the castle looms above him, pressing down, testing him.

Silence stretches between them, thick and suffocating.

Then—her voice. "You will serve. You will obey. And should you fail me… you will not live long enough to regret it."

The words do not rise in anger; do not fall into cruelty. They exist in a terrible neutrality—an undeniable promise from a ruler who does not threaten, only declares what will be.

Mishyca does not need to stand over them to be terrifying. Her voice is a weight all on its own, pressing into their ribs, curling into their bones.

A chill presses against Ean’s spine. He has heard threats before. He has made them himself.

But this?

This is not a warning. It is certainty.

Ean listens as Queen Mishyca takes slow, measured steps toward them, her movements like ink spilling across parchment—fluid, irreversible, permanent. Her steps are not loud but pointed in their deliberate hollowness.

She paces in front of the kneeling line of servants several times before she stops in front of him. "What is your skill?" Her tone is light, almost careless. But Ean knows better.

This is not a question—it is a challenge.

"I serve well," he answers carefully.

She hums before she kneels in front of him. Her clawed finger traces over a line from his temple to the middle of his throat. She waits as if weighing the truth of his words against the silence and pulse of his heart.

Then—a test.

"Hold out your hand."

The request is quiet. Almost gentle. But Ean knows better than to mistake gentleness for mercy.

He extends his hand without hesitation, fingers steady despite the roiling anticipation beneath his skin. She lifts a dagger from her belt—thin, curved, wicked—and runs the tip lightly along his palm.

Her movements are mesmerizing. The blade leaves pale white lines across Ean's palm as she dances it over the dry skin. Her following words are playful in their glee. His stomach churns as he processes the command.

"Do not flinch."

The blade barely presses against his skin, but he knows it is sharp enough to slice through flesh without effort.

He does not move.

The seconds stretch between them, thin as wire, taut as a bowstring. Then, just as quickly, she withdraws. "You might be of use to me," she murmurs before turning away, her interest in him noted—but not yet cemented.

Ean allows himself a slow exhale. He has passed.

For now.

Mishyca plays with several other servants, and her giggles bounce around the courtyard. She notes which ones flinch and cut themselves and which ones barely react.

Her favorites are the ones that burst into tears - their fear of the knife overwhelming their survival instincts. Those individuals she is quick to silence. Their bodies thud against the gravel road every few minutes.

When she makes her way through the line, she gives a disappointed sigh. Her fun has been cut short.

Ean risks a glance up and is stunned when he notices her face is twisted into a pretty pout. Her cheeks, neck, and the top of her breasts are sprinkled with blood. The spatter is stark against her pale visage. Several parts of her hair are streaked with the ruby red liquid.

He watches in fascination as she licks some of the blood off of her fingers and then the blade of her knife. In the lantern light, she is a true angel. He has to shake his head at the thought. The Dragon Queen is anything but an angel. Yet, at this moment, it takes everything in him to not fall at her feet and ask to worship her.

Her elegance, grace, and ability to smile at the most gruesome things should make him run. It should make him want to kill her now. But it's doing the opposite. Someone would only derive that much pleasure from another's suffering because they have suffered far worse.

Ean is intrigued by the thought; his need to find out more and his assignment to kill her war in his mind.

Finally, the remaining servants are directed to stand, their movements stiff from kneeling on cold stone. The quiet command from the guards offers no relief, only a new expectation—to move forward, to enter, to obey.

They march toward the castle doors, their steps perfectly synchronized, a line of shadows gliding over damp cobblestones. No sound is made. Not a whisper, not a muttered breath of fear.

Even the worn leather of their boots does not dare scuff against the ancient stone.

As they pass beneath the castle’s immense archway, the world shifts. The open air of the courtyard is swallowed, replaced by a suffocating stillness, the towering stone walls pressing inward like giants leaning close to inspect their new prey.

The torchlight flickers uneasily, casting elongated silhouettes across the polished floor—dark, twisted reflections of the servants themselves.

Above, stone-carved dragons loom, their expressions fierce, their hollowed eyes watching with a frozen intensity. Their presence is not ornamental—it is a warning.

Ean keeps his gaze forward. Unwavering. But the weight of the castle settles into his chest like a silent oath, whispering a truth that lingers in the marrow of his bones:

This is not a home. This is a throne carved from war. And he is stepping deeper into it.