Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The acrid scent of blood and bile permeated the tent. Rishe wheezed, sweaty and exhausted, as she retrieved another set of bandages and a cool compress from the abysmally low stock and hurried to yet another soldier’s side. A quick survey confirmed the same symptoms on this knight as all the others: face flush with fever, a sickly rattle in his labored breathing, and lacerations from battle.

The war with Galkhein had broken out again in this loop just like the last, and though Rishe was thankfully behind lines this time around, she felt closer to the conflict than ever. She and Master Hakurei had joined with other healers to provide aid to the battlefront trying to staunch the march of Galkhein troops, but they were spread thin across all the medical stations. Thinner still in these last few days, as an epidemic had broken out amongst the soldiers. They’d been coming back from the warfront with more wounds, or worse yet not at all; a clear sign the sickness was impacting their effectiveness against Emperor Arnold Hein’s elite troops.

“You’re going to be okay,” she assured. There was no way to tell if he was an alpha or a beta with his scent shrouded by the detritus of the hospital tent. Still, she refused to show this soldier anything that would further shake his tenuous hold on survival. Her weak inner omega was tucked far away under loads of suppressant, and the infection beginning to scour her own lungs was masked behind a compassionate grin. Rishe pressed the compress to his forehead. "We’re out of painkillers, but I need you to stay with me as I patch your wound. Can you do that?”

He groaned – she wasn’t sure if it was in cool relief or ragged pain, maybe both. “Yes, ma’am.”

With surgical efficiency, Rishe tugged up his shirt to expose the slash across his torso. Thank the goddess, it just hit muscle, no organs. If she could stop the slow but persistent ebb of blood and stitch the wound closed, he would live. She left just long enough to retrieve a sterile needle, thread, disinfectant, and salve. “This is going to hurt. Do you want something to bite down on?”

He shook his head weakly, and she got to work. Rishe hummed a little tune for the soldier’s conscious mind to latch onto while she meticulously mopped up the unclotted blood, disinfected the exposed tissue, and pierced the needle through the separated flaps of skin until all that remained of the gory slash was an angry red line bisected by neat stitching. The worst over, she popped open the jar of salve –

A fresh wave of screams paused her hands. Another surgery? The last amputations had been accompanied by such noises. But no, there were unfamiliar clangs of steel on steel. What could-? The apothecary’s stomach dropped. The Galkhein army had arrived!

No no no! She could save these men if she just had time! Rishe unceremoniously tossed aside the salve and bent to throw the soldier’s arm across her shoulders. “Up! We have to move!”

His skin was hot with fever and inflammation, but to his credit, the soldier slid to his feet without complaint. Maybe he was delirious, or maybe he’d come to the same conclusion she had. They stood together and stumbled towards the tent opening. She’d treated the worst of his wounds, if she could get him to the trees then she could go back to the others and-

Pain, white hot terrible pain, like her last death but different. Rishe shook and looked down disconnectedly. A spear tip protruded from her abdomen. Blood bloomed like sanguine petals around the jutting metal. The visceral wrongness of the wooden shaft among her organs triggered some horrible human instinct. Absently, she realized that this terrible sense of WRONG - because organs should never register physical sensation - was why they used soporific agents to induce patients to slumber before operating.

Blood gurgled up her throat and blackness crowded into her vision. “Go,” she urged her patient weakly. Pain was her world. Her knees buckled and the earth crashed sideways. She watched through the dark closing in as her patient ran, her own blood sprayed over his pallid skin. A flash of Galkhein blue uniforms, and he too collapsed. A curse was lost to the ichor coating her teeth. She’d just spent all that time patching him up, and now he was dead anyway! More pain chased away the last of her thoughts as the spear was yanked from her crumpled corpse. A clock began to chime.

The blackness drew back with a start. The soldiers! She had to get back to the tent! Her patient had died, but maybe there were others she could save! Rishe shoved up but found herself stuck fast. No, she couldn’t let her wounds slow her down, there were people counting on her!

A dull ache pounded inside her head. She shook it and pushed herself to rise again, to no avail. The apothecary blinked to assess her surroundings. How far had the fighting gotten? … who was the naked black haired man in front of her?

“Rishe?” His concerned voice was a key turning in a lock. Shit, Prince Arnold! She wasn’t in her second loop, she was in her seventh! She wasn’t an apothecary, she was engaged to become Galkhein’s crown princess! And she was mated! And her mate was currently caging her to his chest and staring at her. The bond, what could he read in the bond? Had her nightmares given her loops away already?

He moved a hand protectively to the back of her head and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Another nightmare?”

She nodded her nose into his collar and breathed in his hawthorn scent. It grounded her in this body, in this moment. Her stomach throbbed in phantom pains from a stab wound that never even existed in this loop, and she inhaled again. She was not impaled by a spear in front of a field hospital. She was in bed with her true mate. With Arnold.

“You blocked me out, I can’t feel you Rishe,” he whispered into her skin. “Let me back in. Let me help.”

That explained the headache; it was the pressure of him against her mind. She sent a silent thanks to the Goddess that she’s somehow managed to wall out Arnold during her nightmare. With how badly he’d reacted when she’d almost died yesterday, how much worse would he take it if he saw her memories of drying for real? Or was it even real, considering how the timeline had looped back? Maybe that first death had been real, and the rest was the dream, even this?

“Rishe,” he growled, as if he could sense her slipping into the macabre spiral. The implied command had her omega instincts jumping to dismantle the block and open the bond back up. She didn’t know how she’d constructed it, or how to dismantle it, she just knew the moment it was done by the way his concern flooded into her mind and his grip tightened fractionally. Her heart beat like a robin’s wing where their bodies molded together. Her distress was certainly translating across to him loud and clear, but how much more could he see?

“What did you dream about?” She shook her head and bid the vision of a spear impaled through her corpse away. It was too much to speak on, too fresh. Arnold frowned, and drifted his other hand down her back to where the mortal wound should have been. “If you can’t tell me, can you at least tell me how often you get these nightmares?”

Rishe inhaled the timber of her alpha’s voice and more of that hawthorn scent to steady the tremble in her throat. “Not… not all the time. But… it’s not… uncommon, either.”

He hummed against the crown of her coral hair. She could feel the wheels in his mind turn, though not the exact nature of his thoughts. This was a problem. She couldn’t risk him paying too much attention to her nightmares that so often featured her past lives… and past deaths. Prince Arnold had always treated her like a puzzle with unexpected turns. So far she’d kept a few of the tiles close to her chest so no one could piece together the full picture. He must know she had secrets, even before her sudden onset heat. She’d seen the curiosity and amusement on his face plenty of times. His concern meant her secrets would not remain so for much longer.

The arm banded around her abdomen rubbed soothing circles into unblemished skin. “You’d tell me if it’s something I did?” Guilt colored the bond, and she was silently grateful for the clarity their mating had given her. Decoding his complex expressions had never been easy. “Marrying into my family has never been a kind fate.”

“What?! No, no it’s not. Of course I’d tell you.” Not a lie, she cherished the opportunity to be mated and soon married to the man in her arms. But nor was it the whole truth. She’d avoid telling him how he’d killed her in her past loops for as long as possible.

His frozen ocean eyes searched her, and she stubbornly met his gaze to let him see her resolution, just as she had in the church together all those months ago. Finally, the hardness in his eyes relented and he pressed another kiss to her forehead. “And you don’t feel any pain anywhere?”

Rishe gently pushed his arms from around her and lifted her own. “I don’t. You may verify for yourself that I am no longer injured, Your Highness.”

Something dark and playful glinted in his expression. Rishe had a split second where she recognized his intent through the bond before he tossed the covers away and bared her pale naked skin to the dawn light. She squawked and flushed – which was just silly she berated herself, after everything they’d done together already. Arnold rolled on top of her and pinned her hands above her head. “I will. Stay, Rishe.”

Wondering at the way that both her and her inner omega were willing to acquiesce to the command, Rishe left her hands above her head as Arnold released her wrists. He trailed fingers down the skin of her forearms, biceps, shoulders. He took time to twist her arm so he could examine the other side, and she remained pliant to his inspection. He pressed into her muscles at where she should be bruised to test for lingering hurts. He placed his palm over the place in her chest where he’d seen a sword protruding from yesterday, and found the site unblemished. He traced her nipples and the round edges of her breast – she desperately resisted the urge to squirm so she could heed his command to stay still. He lingered and pressed seeking fingers into her abdomen – wondering at her phantom pain this morning, or at the way it could swell with child one day, she couldn’t tell which.

“A-as you can see, I am in perfect health!” Rishe squeaked as his fingers circled her hip bones and threatened to go lower.

The alpha hummed. “Alright. It seems you really are well.” He reached for her fingers and helped her sit up. “I have a mission for you today, Rishe.”

“Oh?” Sitting naked together with the sheets pooled around her legs, her misplaced sense of propriety took a back seat to curiosity.

“You still have that pocket watch from Colloyes’ visit.” It wasn’t a question, but she still nodded in confirmation. Arnold traced her chin with his finger as he continued. “I’d like you to check in with me through the bond, every hour on the hour. I’ll be mostly in my office today, but you tend to busy yourself around different parts of the guest wing’s palace grounds.”

She caught on with a light bulb grin. “And with regular check ins, we can begin to map the distance the bond can stretch!” Her mate was so brilliant.

He nodded and continued, his knuckle drifting up to the corner of her smile. “It’s important you stick to your normal routines and not push to find the edge of the bond. No one but Oliver knows about us being true mates, and therefore about the bond. It’s best if we keep it secret. This is just our first test, there will be future opportunities to try further if necessary.”

Rishe pushed her lips into a pout. It’d be more efficient to keep testing farther and farther if they wanted a precise distance. But she understood that Arnold had enemies even in the palace, and there was tactical sense to keeping their bond a secret, so those enemies couldn’t take its advantage into account.

“Also,” with a thumb on her chin, the alpha tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “You will be accompanied by my guards or myself at all times. You will not abandon or send away your guards, you will not be with guards you do not recognize as my own, and you will remain in the palace grounds where more guards can come to your aid quickly if you need it. As we discussed before, I will be with you anytime you leave the palace. Given recent events, do you agree that is entirely reasonable?”

And just like that, her inner omega and the rest of her clashed once again. He was being entirely unreasonable! But, in Arnold’s defense, he hadn’t barred her from any part of the castle or even leaving the castle, just insisted on more protective measures than the ones that had clearly failed in the recent past. She still had her freedom, and better her privacy jeopardized than her well-being. Reluctantly, she tilted her chin to the side to bare her neck and felt her omega realign. “Yes alpha.”

He rumbled a pleased note and pressed a fanged kiss into the column of her exposed throat. “Submitting like that used to be much harder for you. You’ve already come a long way with your instincts, Rishe.” She preened at his praise and the pride glowing down the bond. “We’ll meet at three o’ clock for training. You said before you could sense my proximity through the bond, use that to find me and the place we’ll train.”

When he released her chin, Rishe looked at him and clenched her fist in determination. “I won’t let you down!”

Chapter Text

Walking through the palace halls with Kamil and Dennis armed and dutifully tailing a few steps behind her, Rishe clicked her golden pocket watch closed and tucked it back into the ruched folds of her dress. She could sense Arnold general direction, like a north point on a compass, but combined with some general awareness of proximity. Rishe tugged lightly at the bond and felt her mate silently turn his attention from paperwork to her. I’m at Theodore’s office.

Oh? And why would you be there? His tone seemed amused.

The future crown princess hid a grin. Of course, Arnold had more than 1 reason why he ever did anything. Their little check ins were not only for practice using their mate bond and getting a sense of the distance, but also a deniable reason to keep tabs on her and her schemes. But she’d planned for this and was ready to disarm the alpha’s suspicions. I’m checking in on your brother. We haven’t had the chance to speak since we were both kidnapped. People say that taking care of the pack is an omega’s job. I’m taking care of our pack.

Arnold was silent for a moment, likely surprised by the unexpected turn, though she was too far apart to sense that level of emotional nuance to be sure. She and Theodore may be allies in their schemes regarding Arnold, but this time it really was the truth. Though she disliked the emotional labor getting automatically relegated to an omega, Rishe legitimately valued aiding the pack in each of her past lives. She cared about people because that’s who she was, not because she had some so-called biological proclivity for empathy more than any other designation. She could be a good friend without any of that nonsense.

After an elongated pause, Arnold finally responded. Do as you wish. That was a… strangely loaded response. Rishe mentally pinned that to revisit with the crown prince later as she came to a door and knocked. At the muted “come in,” Dennis opened the door for her for her.

Rishe dipped into a low curtsy. “Good morning, Prince Theodore.”

“Sister!” The beta’s familiar clove scent was light in his office; he clearly didn’t use it often. Theodore grinned at her from behind extravagant floppy sleeves on the other side of the desk. Then his nose crinkled, and he reared back. “You reek of my brother.”

Rishe rose with a blush staining her cheeks, but plowed on. “How are doing, Your Highness?”

Theo’s brows furrowed. He hopped off his chair and called for a tea service, sending Dennis scurrying away to find a servant to oblige the request. With only Kamil – loyal as equally to himself as he was Arnold and Rishe – left in the room with them, Theodore circled around the desk and into the omega’s personal space. His voice was quiet but urgent. “Are you well? When we were rescued, big brother had said you were going into heat. And it’s no secret he was away from court for a week. My spies report that he…” he paled, “accompanied you, throughout your heat. And yesterday, he was spotted running across palace grounds, though my retainers lost sight of him before his destination was apparent.”

Rishe sighed – that had probably been her fault, with the way the world had turned grey. “I’m fine, really. I actually came here to check on you, Prince Theodore.”

He waved as if dismissing the very notion she’d need to check on him, then pulled her by the sleeve to sit with him on a couch beside a small tea table. “My brother should have given you the space and respect you deserved, instead of closing the doors with you both inside with you in such a state. He didn’t hurt you, did he? I can get you out of the palace and set up somewhere, just say the word.”

“No, no that’s quite alright.” She said firmly, but settled on the couch at his behest. It really was sweet of him, if a little misguided. “I’m honored to have your support, but I assure you never hurt me.” Not the full truth, he had been rather rough with his love after she’d nearly died yesterday, but her near-death experience and miraculous healing needed to stay under wraps. Still, he deserved a little reassurance, so she drew the long curtain of her coral hair back to expose the bite mark on the side of her neck with a blush. “We actually…”

“You’re mates now?!” The poor beta blanched. “We need to get you out of the country. Or I can contact one of my clinic workers to take care of any pregnancies discretely. Whichever you prefer, I’ll make sure it’s taken care of before the Emperor finds out.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” When he looked even more horrified, Rishe rushed to elaborate with a highly edited version of yesterday’s events. “Arnold was summoned to an audience with your father yesterday. His position on any future children was made very clear.”

Poor Theo was gaping now. Being one of the few survivors of his father’s eugenics, he no doubt understood the Emperor’s ‘position’, and Arnold’s hand in it. “… And? What are we going to do?”

We, he’d said, and despite the dire circumstances, Rishe couldn’t help the grin. Her brother-in-law really was an excellent ally. “We are going to come up with a plan to deal with it. And I’m sure your help will be invaluable. In the meantime, we don’t even know if we have to worry about a baby quite yet, and even if we did we’d have many months to handle things still.” She placed a hand over his. “I’m sure you’ll be an excellent uncle one day, Prince Theodore. And I’ll make sure you’re the first to know when we’re expecting.”

The beta puffed in his trademark pride. “Of course I will. And you’d better tell me first. Before my brother, even. I want to be there to see his reaction.”

Rishe giggled at the mischief behind the idea, then gently tugged Theo’s hand up and towards her. “Of course, your Highness. Now, let me see your wrists. I remember you were bound with rope? Even though you cut through it, it can leave some nasty marks. I want to make sure you’re healing properly.”

With an overzealous eye roll, the young prince huffed his chin to one hand but dutifully let her inspect the other. “… so, you’re an omega, huh? You’re not like any other omegas I’ve met.”

She hummed, but turned his hand over in her own, carefully inspecting the skin for remnant irritation. She’d been taking her homemade suppressant tonic since before Theo had tried to kidnap her in a vain attempt to garner his brother’s attention, so this was his first time scenting her real designation, smothered as it was under her alpha’s. This line of questioning wasn’t her favorite, but she’d be patient with the curious young prince. “Yes, I really am an omega.”

“You were smart, to hide it.” His expression turned dark. “If that trading company you employ can’t help, I can get you suppressants discretely. Omegas aren’t treated well in the Emperor’s pack.”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re not a part of the Emperor’s pack,” she snapped as she released his hand, satisfied that it was suitably healed despite not having the benefit of the goddess blood.

Theo scrunched his nose. “What do you mean? You’re marrying my brother. Of course the crown prince’s bride is a part of the Emperor’s pack.”

She looked up at him with steel in her emerald eyes, and repeated what she’d insisted to Arnold the night prior. “I am not a part of the Emperor’s pack, I haven’t even met the man. Arnold has long been acting as the leader of his own pack independent of your father, and I am marrying him.” Rishe pointed a painted nail at the wide-eyed beta. “And neither are you, for that matter. His scent isn’t on me, and it’s not on you either. When was the last time you even saw the man? No, we adopted you into our pack when you allied with me and Arnold started trusting you with delegations.”

Something clicked into place with the brazen declaration. Theo’s gaze went even wider as he sensed it. A bond. Not like the one she and Arnold shared, but a pack bond. It was more than the other pack bonds she’d shared in the past, more than scents and instincts and comradery, though it was all of that too. She could sense him now like a string tied them together, granting them both an awareness of distance, direction, and space.

Arnold’s attention whipped towards the two of them. He must have sensed the change too. Rishe?

“You’re… you’re true mates…”

She could feel a displeased growl rumble through the mate bond. I told you to keep that a secret.

I didn’t tell him, he put it together himself! Rishe defended. All I did was show him your bite mark, and tell him he was a part of our pack instead of your father’s. Then the bond did that, and your brother put the rest together on his own. He’s smarter than you give him credit for, you know.

The alpha grumbled, but relented. Rishe smiled wanly at the younger prince. “Your brother’s not going to be happy when he realizes you figured it out.” She could at least keep the mind speaking and other such true mate powers under wraps, until they could figure out enough to explain to their pack at least. “You’ll keep it a secret, won’t you?”

Something proud glittered in his expression. Pride in being trusted with such a secret, pride in belonging to his brother’s pack instead of the cruel Emperor’s, and pride in his expertise with secrets. “Of course, sister.”

Chapter Text

That afternoon, Rishe went back to her rooms to change out of voluminous skirts into training attire. The hostage princess buckled on a sword – black, in a style matching the crown prince – and smiled to herself at the thoughtfulness and the irony, then mentally turned to the task at hand. He’d said this morning to use the bond to find him, and the thought of hunting Arnold as she had in her fifth life sent a little trill through her heart.  

With a long inhale, she settled herself and sent her senses outward: her own magnolia scent accompanied by linen and lamp oil, the rustle of curtains in the breeze, footsteps as maids busied themselves. No Arnold. On an exhale, Rishe grasped the bond like holding an end of a chord. Immediately, she got that compass-like sense of direction that was beginning to feel familiar. With a nod to herself, she threw her doors open to where Kamil and Dennis were guarding her door, and turned confidently down the hallway with the two of them dutifully in tow.

It wasn’t as simple as heading straight in the direction their bond was leading her, as the palace grounds had too many structures to navigate as the crow flies. Arnold felt too far away to be in the same building, so she walked out the front door on the sunny southern side of the building. There were a few training grounds interspersed across the palace, each in different directions from her wing, and the bond seemed to point towards the one north of her. With an air of confidence, Rishe set a quick pace circumnavigating the building and heading north.

As she approached she felt a metaphysical tug, as if quite literally someone was pulling on the other end of a string. Arnold? She could sense a trickle of emotions now – amusement, mischief, something sinister in intent – but her mate didn’t elaborate. Then, the direction of the pull shifted.

Sweet goddess, Arnold was moving. As if this were a large-scale game of tag. He was… playing? Rishe shook her head. The ruthless future Emperor Arnold Hein did not play. But… she’d seen him act more his age like this with Oliver. And when they’d danced. And sparred. Fine, maybe her mate was playing, but Arnold never did something for only one reason. Where exactly was he leading her, and why?

With a determined grin, Rishe turned towards the new direction. Her trusted guards exchanged glances, then a shrug, and trudged after the hostage princess. She was grateful they no longer questioned her antics as she sporadically turned and backtracked through the fortress-like walls.

The bond thrummed. She was close! She’d bet her own weight in salt – a far more valuable commodity than gold per kilogram – that Arnold was in the building before her. Her mate wanted to play? Rishe could play. With a quick word of assurance she dismissed her guards, then pulled on her hunter skills from her fifth life. Slowing her breathing to merely sip the air, Rishe masked her presence. Blood lust and killing intent was a giveaway, but there were other telltale signs a good spy could repress: her stance, her footfalls, even her breaths fell into measured silence.

Instead of stalking through the door, she prowled to a nearby tree – one of the overgrown ones she and Arnold had identified in their night stroll some weeks ago. It was a simple matter to scale the trunk and peer through the branches into the building’s windows, and only a minute of comparing the direction of the bond to the different rooms to spot the glossy dark hair of her mate through the glass. Arnold was warming up with a few sword drills in the center of the room, facing the doorway he clearly expected her to walk through.

The omega allowed herself a few additional moments to marvel at how the black blade cleaved and thrust with practiced power. Heat pooled low in her belly with every swing, and some instinct-crazed part of her hindbrain wanted to drool. What the-? Rishe pushed the instinct aside; as justified as she might be in ogling the alpha now that they were mated, she refused to objectify the prince, and she needed to focus if she were to pull off her ambush.

With another practiced breath, she silently navigated the tree’s branches to the edge of where they’d bear her weight. When the wind rustled the leaves to mask her next move, Rishe leapt. Sky and ground passed around her in open air for one, two breaths, then she tucked and rolled onto the rooftop with less than a whisper against the tiles. Determined not to waste another moment, the ex-hunter crawled quickly to the edge and reached down to the window. Rishe’s fingers found the windowpane’s edge and pulled up gently. Evidently the maids in this wing were efficient, as it slid upward without protest. She waited for just a three-count to listen for any sign Arnold had been alerted despite her efforts, but the prince’s sword whistled through air without pause.

With a victorious grin, Rishe placed one hand on the sill, the other on the hilt of her sword, and swung.

She passed through the open window like an avenging goddess, tail of coral hair billowing, sword singing out of its scabbard. Her mate turned. Rishe met Arnold’s azure gaze and vicious grin at the same time their swords met in a metallic clash. He sidestepped her momentum and guided her strike down and out of the way with clean easy footwork. Rishe hit the floor, rolled over her shoulder and into a crouch. But before she could raise her sword again, she felt a cold metal tip at her neck.

“Tell me, mate,” Arnold looked down the length of the black double-edged blade at her and tilted her chin up with a gentle tap, “why you have an aversion to doors?”

A flush colored her cheeks and Rishe sputtered. “I-I don’t have an aversion to doors, your Highness!” Heat singed her blood at the sight of him towering over her, at his expert counter to her surprise ambush, at the brutal beauty of those sea-dark eyes. Mortification only served to deepen the blush. That was the sword that killed her, dammit, she should not be turned on!

“Don’t push down your instincts, love,” he tilted her chin up just a tad more with the flat of his blade, and damn him, she’d been about to do just that. He leaned closer and bared his fangs, and it felt second nature to bear her neck at the sight of them and the pressure on her throat. “You’re doing so well. I could feel you start to draw on your instincts earlier in your pursuit. Do not stop now. What are they telling you?”

What were they telling her? Between the way he looked doing drills, and the way he handled her ambush, and the way he held her in submission now, her inner omega was uncomfortably close to the surface. It didn’t make deciphering that instinct any easier. If anything, the distracting dampness only served to mystify her thoughts further. Seeking clarity in logic had always been a good reason to push her instincts away, but she couldn’t afford to do that now. Not when…

Her eyes widened as her observations mentally fell into place. “You were expecting me not to come through the door. You moved when it was time for me to start looking for you, so you could make sure I approached from the side of the building with the tree. And you positioned yourself in the room so I’d see you through the window. You lured me, Prince Arnold.”

The pride swelling through the bond was all the confirmation she needed. Arnold graced her with that small close-lipped amused grin that had her heart tripping over itself. But her heartbeat outright stalled at the next words delivered through those beautiful lips.

“Good girl.”

The world spun, then fell into sharp focus. Her instincts babbled a continuous stream of alpha approves and such a strong alpha and similar nonsense. Her blood became scorching, and she was sure her eyes narrowed to slits. Was she… was she in heat? No no no no it wasn’t possible, not so soon after last time, she should have at least another six months!

“Shhhh,” Arnold lowered his sword and replaced its presence with a hand cupping her jaw. Her breaths came in hummingbird fits where his pinky rested against her windpipe. “It’s okay, Rishe. You’re not in your heat cycle, this is different. This is just a heightened state, where your instincts come to the forefront, like we talked about before, remember? You’re safe, Rishe, it’s okay.”

She locked her gaze on his, searching for confirmation. The pieces of her that preferred logic was screaming for more of a reason, but her inner omega was driving now. If alpha said she was okay, then she must be okay. Her traitorous body slowed from a panicked frenzy, though the lava in her veins remained urgent and insistent. Her mate drew his thumb in an arc over her cheekbone and pressed a kiss into her forehead in reward.

“Don’t let it slip, now. Grab your sword.” They were commands, but not in that no-quarter commanding alpha voice; given her mentally encumbered state, Rishe was glad for the direction without demand. When Arnold withdrew to give her space to move, she found the grip of her sword and brandished it in front of her. He took up his own stance but furrowed his brow. “I can feel you thinking, Rishe. Use your words.”

The omega scrunched her nose (and chose to pointedly ignore her mate’s little huff that told her how cute he thought that was). Words were… hard. She could feel her tongue in her mouth but could form no shape with it. Coherency was a tangle in her throat. Everything was scent, emotion, concept, but the threads of the bond leapt to her fingertips. She pushed concern and concrete thought towards her mate. Shouldn’t we use practice weapons, not live steel?

He huffed. I won’t let you hurt me. And you need to get used to the weight and balance of your new sword.

Of course, her brilliant prince had not only planned to help her practice with her instincts and their mate bond, but also to familiarize her with the sword he’d commissioned her. Efficient and clever as always. His lips quirked in the only indication he was preening under the praise, but her sharp omega eyes caught the fractional movement. Or was it just her familiarity with him as bonded true mates that clued her in?

Her eyes flicked at a minuscule tilt in Arnold’s boots, as if he masked a tiny shift in balance to the balls of his feet. What-? She didn’t have time to analyze, he was already swinging. The sword drew a beautiful arc through the air, but as clearly as she could trace the black steel and its trajectory, Rishe also saw his grip wasn’t right to follow through. This was a feint!

Rishe reacted accordingly with a slight twist to let the blow slide harmlessly by and extend her own sword in a counter. It was heavier than her body was accustomed to in this life, and she knew before the move was even complete that it was too slow. Arnold flicked his own blade up in a powerful blow to knock hers skyward, leaving her open. But his blade was heavier than hers – she could see his grip tighten to reverse the inertia back down at her – so she produced a swift kick to the center of his chest.

The future conqueror of the world went sprawling backwards. Rishe reveled in the momentary victory. This is what it meant to harness her instincts! Her body might not be stronger or faster like an alpha’s, but she could see more than she’d ever noticed before. Details she’d likely overlooked, even as observant as she’d already been, came funneling in like a faucet had been cranked. And it was more than sight. The leaves past the window sounded crisper. The hawthorn scent of her mate was stronger, and she could smell more underlying scents that hadn’t been fully scrubbed clean from the walls from previous occupants. It was a lot to filter through, borderline overwhelming, but it could be done with practice. Elation swelled her heart. If only she’d learned this in her previous lives! She would have been able to best Arnold the Emperor instead of her most recent death!

A spicy note joining the hawthorn and a predatory inhale telegraphed Arnold’s next move. She already had her sword ready to block before he swung from the ground at her knees. The swords clanged, flat to flat. His muscled shoulders bunched before he released one hand from the hilt to grasp for her leg to grapple her to the floor with him, but Rishe danced out of reach so his fingertips caught air. Arnold’s expression was savage, but not cold; the bond thrummed with pride in his mate’s prowess, cunning as plans and opportunities unfolded to use her talents, smug possessiveness that she was strong and dangerous and his.

She drank it all in with slitted emerald eyes as Arnold pulled himself off the ground. Molten wet heat pooled again in her hips, and something in her alpha’s ocean-dark eyes turned liquid. His voice was a taunt on her fevered skin. “What do you need, mate?”

Rishe ran her tongue across dry lips and fangs. He knew what she wanted.

He raised his sword so the two were squared off again. “Come and get it.”

Chapter Text

Iron sang a sweet note, an overture to the battle in Rishe’s bone and blood. In the momentary nearness where the air heated with intermingled breath as they pressed their swords for the stronger angle, she caught his pupils narrow and fangs lengthen. Her mate was rising to her challenge, and her instincts thrilled. No alpha had even entertained a challenge from her before, what with her inner omega hidden or suppressed all her life. But here he was, ready to receive and match her. And for once, it didn’t feel like she was fighting herself, or fighting for dominance, or even fighting Arnold. She was challenging herself to do better, to be better, as any skill is honed. Arnold not only received her challenge but met her step for step with unending support, stood beside her as much as stood opposite her.

Her heart squeezed as she fell impossibly just a little more in love with him.

Strength bolstered by his rut, Arnold won ground against her sword, and Rishe disengaged before he could press his advantage. The beautiful weapon slid forward into her empty space and back into an easy guard position, one that invited her strike as much as those gorgeous eyes and captivating smirk. Rishe bared her fangs in a tight snarl and took in her opponent in a great torrent of information to scan for openings. This guard form was best against torso slashes, and his left side was always the tiniest bit slower.

Alpha? She sent the question down the bond, as much to throw him off balance as to get an answer. What did you mean earlier? When I went to check on your brother?

Arnold’s expression dropped. She closed the distance fast and slashed at his left hip. He knocked the sword aside, but she was spinning with the momentum while his blade was bound up on his weaker side. She threw her elbow to his nose where his guard was exposed. The alpha managed to backstep barely far enough to evade the clever strike and overextend her balance. When she stepped forward to regain her footing, he stepped to the side and brought his arms up. With brutal efficiency, he had her trapped in an iron grip, her side perpendicularly pressed firmly into every inch of his towering frame, his sword hovering an inch from the jumping vein in her neck.

Rishe thrashed against the binds of his arms, but he held fast. His rut-roughened voice rasped in her ear. “Good. Try again, little mate.”

I mean it, Alpha. What did you mean by ‘do as you wish’? His body heat was fire against her skin. His breath was lava in her blood. Everything Arnold was molten between her legs.

But he smelled of victory, and she wasn’t done yet.

Rishe grabbed the arm around her chest, planted her feet, tipped her hip, and heaved.

Her muscles burned with the effort. Arnold’s weight fell exactly as she directed in a well-practiced hip toss. The momentum dragged him forward, over, and down. Both their swords dropped with a clatter in the fall. The arms caging her dragged her down too, but he twisted on instinct to cushion her above him, and she scrambled to secure the upper hand. The next second, Rishe planted the Galkhein prince on the ground, straddling his hips and gripping his wrists to trap him.

The air was thick with hawthorn and magnolia and spice. He looked up from beneath her with disoriented pride. The next second she was already kissing him.

Her lips vibrated with a graveled sound torn from his throat – something between a moan and a growl. It ruined her frayed command and undid the bonds of her meager control. She danced her tongue brutally with him, lavishing his mouth and his fangs and his lips. She relished in his body as her hands worshiped every inch of his frame. Her hips seated perfectly onto his so that the hard line of him strained against the wet seam of her.

I meant you should do as you wish, Rishe. Always. I will never limit you. The words had her heart leaping out of her ribcage because she wanted that, by the goddess her whole life she had wanted that. And she could feel the truth behind it in the nearness of the bond drawn taught in desire. Arnold’s alpha nature wasn’t insulted by this position, in fact he relished it, flooding their connection with hot praise and passion. But there was more her instincts could sense, more he wasn’t saying, something dark. She caught the way he subtly tensed in the silent unspoken pieces of that sentence. And she would not stand for it.

You don’t want Theodore in our pack?

She was too far gone to manage his buttons and zippers and complicated layers, and though he growled in response to her accusation, Arnold’s finger flew to undo them, lest she rip his belongings and regret it later. Rishe gave him just enough leeway to shuck his jacket, then his shirt, then she was on him again. She laved at his chin, the pulse in his neck, the plane of his pectoral. He was salt and musk on her tongue.

He's better off not in our pack. Arnold tugged at her shirt, and she was forced to momentarily disengage from his skin so he could yank the hem from her breeches and over her head. She took the moment to grind deliciously into his hardness and didn’t miss the way his hands shook.

You’re wrong, mate. The omega wanted to get Theodore away from his abusive father and closer to his estranged brother for both his and Arnold’s emotional sake. All of her – instincts included – cared too much for others to overlook it. But she knew the better way to get through to the stubborn alpha she’d mated. Stealing him from the Emperor’s pack weakens him and strengthens us. It’s the right thing to do.

“Rishe~” Arnold growled a shapeless command in a desperate response to her onslaught – a warning and a plea wrapped up in the syllables of her name. The edge of him was rigid under layers of fabric, and she rocked hard to chase her own pleasure as much to chase answers out of him.

He nearly tore the bindings from her chest. The chord of his abs clenched as he leaned up to lavish his own onslaught to her breasts. She carded fingers through his dark hair and held him against her as he palmed the rounded underside and sucked against the outer curve. Her nipples pebbled and her hips bucked. You know I’m right!

If felt like a repost when he pulled a nipple into his warm wet lips and circled the areola with tongue. The sensation pulled a leud sonorous moan from her throat. Goddess, it was too much and not enough. Her fingers fisted around the waistband of his pants and she ground down on him to insist.

He released her with a wet pop and nudged her own hips up just enough to shimmy out of his pants. While he did so, she leaned into his chest to continue her own lips’ ministrations against the dips and groves of his muscled torso. The notion came down the bond that if she just waited for a moment, he could get them both naked that much faster, but her alpha was capable she was not to be deterred from her worship.

And worship it was, in the omega’s mind. She’d yet to pay homage at the temple of his beauty. She was captivated by her mate and laid down her need as a tribute to his glory.

Arnold surged upward to unseat her, his alpha strength giving him the edge no matter how she saw it coming. She was beneath him, wrists bound in one of his hands. He had that cold look in his eyes, the one he wore when he told her she was a hostage, the one he wore when he insisted he was cruel, the one he wore when he spoke of war and conquest and family. I am not someone to worship, Rishe. Do not forget.

The omega bared her fangs and snarled. There were layers to this altercation: learning the strengths of her instincts, competing to best him and better herself, taking her hot need into her own hands for the first time ever, her mate supporting all of those endeavors… but they were still fighting, still at odds, because most of all she was resolved to be his wife, which meant she needed to stop his bloodthirsty plans to survive this loop, which meant both thwarting him and breaking through a lifetime of trauma. There was no gentle way to do such things. No, she could not afford to lose this fight.

She squirmed and bucked as he held her down. His free hand was at the button of her pants, flicking it free and tugging them down. Be he had to let her up just enough to get her feet through the pant legs, and she took the opportunity afforded when he was tossing them aside. With a growl, Rishe canted her naked hips to unbalance him, then planted a foot into his sternum and pushed. Her whole thigh quivered with strain, but it was enough to tip her mate over and off her. He released her wrists and grabbed her ankle in the tumble, intent on grappling her back into submission, but she was already over him, reversing their positions. His grip only served to spread her thighs wide as she crouched victoriously above him.

And surged downward onto his straining cock.

Their moans snarled through the room. Their minds tumbled into one another as their bodies merged. He was big and hard and filled up all of the space inside her, almost uncomfortably deep in this position. Rishe craved this. Him. All of him. Her husband. Her alpha. Her mate. She was wet and hot and quaking around him. He didn’t try to unseat her again; instead both his hands raced to her ass. He squeezed the muscle beneath her soft skin with a groan and offered his strength to bolster hers as she raised up again on quaking legs.

She looked down with emerald eyes. Her mate was beneath her with awe clearly conflicting with the turmoil her instincts’ insistence wrought. He wanted to run from the message she was determined he’d hear. And he wanted to be no where else but beneath her for the rest of his days.

She slammed down again and released a ragged cry. Sweet goddess, was he knocking against her womb? Between the plane of her stomach where his thumbs bracketed her hips, they could just see the slight bulge of him pressed up inside her. The hands she braced on his shoulders quaked. Full full full, she was so full with him. So full it drove the last vestige of coherent thought from her body to make space for the sensation of him. Her whole being was need and pleasure and reverence to her kind and beautiful mate. It tumbled overwhelmingly through the bond in breaking tidal waves to drag him under and drown him in the undeniable truth of it.

His grip clawed at her as he thrust upward into her, meeting her trembling plunges with his hips. His own closely-checked emotions tumbled with hers in staggering cacophony. Her breath hitched in a wordless keen and her wash of hot tingles built from the tips of her fingers and toes to the center where they joined. His lust-dark eyes flitted from her swinging breasts to the place they were wetly joined to her flushed open-mouthed face. Her legs quaked from overstimulation and exertion but she couldn’t stop, not when they were both teetering so close to the edge.

Finally he snapped, throwing his head back in an open fanged snarl. His grip was bruising as his hips pistoned rough and hard in a glorious once, twice, and then a final pulsing time. His knot swelled even larger inside of her and she was too full, too full. On the precipice where pain met pleasure, her vision went white and they careened together into bliss. He spilled hot and wet inside her and her whole body drew tight and shook. Wave after wave ricochet through her nerves and across the bond, drawing out a long quaking orgasm as Rishe trembled above her mate in joined ecstasy.  

Knotted together, she curled forward into him to press her forehead into his chest and breath him in. Arnold’s hands drifted to her back and shoulders to cradle her to him as the aftershocks arced through them. With every fresh wave of cum, her belly swelled a little bit further to press more firmly between them.

Arnold… Rishe clung to her mate on a sigh full of reverence and unnamable emotions.

His arms squeezed just a little tighter and he pressed his nose to the crown of her head. Possessiveness, pride, awe, and a cocktail of other impossible emotions took the form of her name in his voice. Rishe…