Chapter Text
The acidity of the scent of urine woke him up. Chains clattered against the stone floor as he stretched.
“Little too excited. Ey, Tom,” yelled the man in the cage beside him. Tom ran a hand across his face, removing the tangled hair that was plastered against his brow. He looked down and noticed the smell was coming from him; the crotch of his dirty grey trousers was soaked.
“Fuck,” he huffed out, exhausted.
“Happens to me too. Don’t worry too much. We can’t expect our cocks to be normal when we have to run through the chambers. Bet the same thing happens to the omegas, but with the amount of cum they take in, they probably piss that out instead.” The man laughed loudly before he started coughing. Robert might be his name. Tom doesn’t care to remember it. He isn’t even sure if his own name is Tom. But Robert is right. The number of times he had to rut into omega cunts yesterday, it’s no wonder he feels like his cock doesn’t even belong to him. Which it doesn’t. Not really, anyway.
“Get the fuck up, you pathetic dogs!” yelled a guard, he was close, but Tom still had time to–
“What are you doing!”
“Lower your voice. I’m going to get rid of this before the guard sees and sends me to the infirmary.”
“Hey, stop! If you’re caught, we will all be punished.”
“It will be quick just keep an eye out.” Robert looked panicked, shaking his head in fear, and called out to the guard.
“Sir! He needs the infirmary!” Tom glared at him as the guard reached the shiny black bars of his cell. The guard looked Tom up and down and reached his hand inside to grab at Tom’s collar pulling him flush against the bars. Tom immediately felt the searing against his cheek but didn’t wince in pain. He wouldn’t give this idiot guard what he wanted.
“Pissed yourself, Seven?” The guard said with a chuckle. “Get undressed,” he added after he let go of the collar. Tom glared at the man in the cell beside him as he took off his thin shirt and trousers.
“Open up seven!” The guard yelled, and the black metal bars retracted into the ground. Tom was shocked in the neck by the collar that stood ever-present against his throat. The shock brought him to his knees. Two burly guards came to restrain him, while the lead guard forced a metallic mouthpiece onto his tongue, then a muzzle against his jaw. The two guards then unchained him from the ground and replaced those chains with heavy cuffs around his wrists and ankles.
“Take him to the infirmary,” ordered the lead guard to the others.
They dragged him up the damp stone stairs. His bare feet almost slipped as they pulled him along. The pit, where Tom spent ninety-five percent of his time, was underground. The infirmary was ground level. Once they got there, one of the men banged on the door.
A muffled voice answered, and the guards opened the double doors. The lights pierced Tom’s eyes. It was uncomfortably bright in there. They led him to a standing cage.
“Who do we have here?” muttered the doctor. The man was tall for a human, only slightly shorter than Tom. He wore glasses with thick lenses, making his chestnut brown eyes look huge and the bags under them prominent.
“Eighteen-year-old male fera,” said the guard.
“What seems to be the problem?” The doctor said absentmindedly as he flipped through Tom’s file.
“He’s pissing himself,” said the guard.
Tom curled his fist, his nails digging into the pad of his palm. The doctor checked just below Tom’s left shoulder for the number seared into his skin.
“Seven, did you attend the chambers yesterday?”
Tom looked at him. The doctor’s hair was unkempt, curls straying from their typical combed-back style. The doctor has been an ever-present being in Tom’s life since he first presented as an alpha and was sent to this shit hole. These last couple of years, the good doctor has aged considerably. Tom noticed three fresh claw marks on his face. Karma for what his family has done to the fera. Domesticating them like animals.
“Seven? Did you hear the question?”
The metal on his tongue stinging. Tom gave a slight nod.
The doctor hummed as his pen scratched against the clipboard.
“Let’s take a look. Shall we?” The doctor sat on a low stool which made him eye level with Tom’s slumped cock. The man reached his hand in the cage and lifted it, his other hand cupped his balls feeling their weight. Then, it went to the base of his shaft, where a slight swell appeared. Tom grimaced as the man squeezed it.
“When was the last time Seven knotted?” the guard shrugged, and the doctor sighed.
“I thought we aren’t supposed to let them knot.”
“Are you new here?” asked the doctor.
“Yes,” answered the guard.
“If they don’t knot at least once a month, they will become useless. Get him an omega ready.”
“Yes, sir.” One of the guards said as they went to make the order.
The doctor stood up and shined a tiny light into Tom’s eyes.
“Hm, that’s odd.” The doctor said as he studied Tom’s eyes. The light gave him a headache. “When was his last DG injection?”
“The beginning of the week, like all the rest.”
“The crimson in his eyes tells me something different. Are you positive?”
“Yes.”
“Double this one’s dosage then.” The doctor narrowed his eyes. And went to talk to the guard. Hurried whispers were heard.
“He can use magic in his state. Get that dosage here immediately.” The guard nodded.
Tom shifted the chains barring him, which clinked together with the movement. When the guard returned, Tom instinctively growled at what was in his hand.
A syringe with black liquid inside, specks of indigo swirling against the glass. The doctor grabbed the syringe, lifting it upwards and tapping the base.
Tom’s muscles tightened as the doctor got nearer. His head instinctively leaned to the left; the needle punctured just below his left ear. The pain of the needle didn’t bother him anymore; it was the serum burning that caused the hatred. He could feel it spread through his veins. The doctor backed up and looked at his eyes again.
“That’s better.” The doctor scratched his pen against the clipboard. “After he has knotted, observe him. If the problem continues, we will send him to the mines.” Tom’s jaw tightened. The mines were a death sentence to the fera.
“Yes, Sir.” The guards swiftly got Tom out of the cage and led him out when a man with bone-white hair and a monocle walked into the infirmary—completely ignoring Tom.
“Doctor Granger, you have a moment to speak?” said the man before the doors closed.
Richard tried his best to be an honest man. To uphold a morality that he can pass along to his children. Children who meant the world to him. Who he would protect with everything he had. He followed in his father’s footsteps and became a doctor. Specializing in the fera. So when his youngest woke up one day clutching her chest, irises swirling golden brown, he knew.
When his eldest, Hestia, started puberty, Richard and his wife, Helen, grew anxious every day until she turned sixteen. At sixteen, if the fera gene that had laid dormant in his family since his grandmother had not presented itself, they were safe—safe from the torture those poor souls are put through.
That was not the case for Hermione. The only good thing was she presented the eve of her thirteenth birthday–relieving him of wondering for four years if she would.
Richard remembers the panicked look in her golden eyes as she wailed from the magic forming inside her. He held his hands raised to calm her, but in her panicked state, when he grabbed her, she scratched at his face, leaving him three jagged scars. That made her wail even louder, and her power threw him against the wall. He crawled to the serum he kept under her bed and rose to inject her just below the ear. The gold in her eyes vanished as the serum spread through her veins.
“Papa?” she whimpered while her hand cupped at her neck.
Richard then had to tell her the truth about their family. It’s a story he was told and his father before him. Ever the scholar, his young daughter strained to sit up, eyes wide as he told her.
“The fera aren’t what we are made to believe. They aren’t feral beasts who can’t control themselves. They are human, too. The difference is they are much more powerful, with magic flowing through them and physical strength that exceeds any human. But the fera coexisted with humans in peace for many years until The Elite found a metal that weakened the fera. Their fear and jealousy of the fera's power led them to turn this metal into weapons to take control. And it worked. The fera that weren’t outright killed in the first war were captured and put in cells with bars made out of meneium. That's the metal that weakens them and nulls their magic.”
“The Elite? Isn’t that what we are?” questioned Hermione.
“Yes, dear. Your great-great-grandfather was amongst the humans who discovered the metal and its uses. This group then called themselves The Elite, and once the fera were overpowered, The Elite appointed themselves as leaders of the human race. Your great-great- grandfather then became the doctor to oversee the fera, and his methods were—not great. When his son came of age, he was trained to take over as the doctor and did. But then your great- grandfather, my grandfather–”
“Hector Dagworth Granger,” she answered, and Richard nodded and continued.
“He fell in love with one of his patients.”
“A fera?” asked Hermione.
“Yes. He couldn’t stand sending her to the chambers, so he needed to find a way to free her. The gold in her eyes was a dead giveaway to what she was, so he spent a year perfecting a serum—”
“The DG serum,” said Hermione as she rubbed at her neck.
“Correct. He used the serum to hide her when he broke her out. The serum acts as both a magic suppressor and a mating suppressor. It wouldn’t allow her to go into a heat, making her invisible to the male feras as well. He left the compound for a couple of years and returned with a wife. No one suspected anything. As the years passed she became pregnant, at first they panicked not knowing if the child would inherit the fera gene. Grandmother then told him he should tell The Elite about the serum. It would give them even more control over the fera but would help him produce the serum out in the open and have access to it should he need it for his family.”
Hermione bit at her lip before she spoke. “Meneium nulls the fera’s magic but it’s supposed to burn like the serum,” she said as she shook at the metallic bracelets against her wrist. Richard gave a soft smile as he grabbed her hand.
“These are fake. You were to get the real ones after your sixteenth birthday like Hestia but—we had to give you these so you wouldn’t stick out. These are special. They belonged to your great grandmother. Hector made them for her so she could blend in with the other wives of The Elite.”
Hermione sat in silence as she played with the indigo bracelets. Richard’s heart still pounded in his chest. This would change their lives forever. He knew Helen wouldn’t be able to handle it. She was livid when he first told her about his family’s secret. But he assured her that the fera gene was flushed out since there had already been two generations without one. His concerns were him being cautious. When Hestia turned sixteen, the relief on Helen’s face was drastic.
“Hermione,” he said in a low voice. “We have to keep this a secret and I–I think it best to just keep it between us. I’ll provide you with everything you need. I’ll even teach you how to make the serum, and you can train to be the next doctor.”
“I can’t tell Mama or Hestia?” Richard took his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes.
“Yes, my dear. I think that would be best for our family.”
“Papa?” Richard looked up and saw the tears welling in her eyes. “I’m scared.”
“Come,” he pulled her into his chest and held her tight. “Nothing will happen to you. We will hide you in plain sight like your great-grandmother was hidden.” She shook with her silent cry against his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt.
“Granger?”
Richard was brought back to the present. The Heir of Sterling sat across from him. The Sterlings were the highest members of The Elite and owned the compound where they were located. He has known Thaddeus Sterling since they were boys. Sterling looked exactly how you’d think the highest member of an organization claiming to strive toward the greater good would look. He had the signature white Sterling hair, a tailored suit made of the finest fabrics, Oxford wingtips shined to perfection and a monocle on for god’s sake, its frame made of meneium. The precious metal littered his attire: cufflinks, rings, and a watch. The quality of meneium on a person told what class they were a part of. And Sterling had the best of the best. Meneium’s name roughly translates to moon metal. The best time to harvest the metal was during a full moon. Though it was harvested daily by the fera who worked—were enslaved in the mines. One of the most potent meneium came from the harvest during the full moon. The other which was the most poisonous to the fera—the same metal that littered Sterling's person, was from the harvest during a blood moon. They happened every two years, and only the metal harvested at the blood moon’s peak, which lasted about an hour, would gain its signature scarlet sheen. The scarlet metal would leave lasting marks on the fera who harvested it. It's why the Elite wore it. The ultimate protection from the beasts.
“Granger? Are you okay? Your mind seems miles away.”
“Sorry, Thaddeus. I–the girls, you know, they are teenagers now and–”
“Say no more, my friend,” the man laughed. “My boys are around the same age and give their mother and me hell.” Richard feigned a smile. He cleared his throat before looking at his clipboard.
“The auction is why you're here, right?” said Richard.
“Yes, do we have any alphas we can sell?”
“Yes,” said Richard as he trailed his finger down the line of fera. “One twenty-one, three twenty-five and three twenty-three. They haven’t bred with an omega, and we have enough as laborers. We don’t need them.” Sterling nodded as he served himself a drink from Richard's small bar in his office.
“As for omegas–” Richard’s voice broke slightly at the last word. He cleared his throat and continued, “Twenty-four, one-twelve, and one thirty-four. They are barren but are young and could be used for work or–” the word stuck on his tongue.
“A few whores to sell, good they will go quick. Do we have any decent alphas to spare? I wouldn't want to look like the fool of the auction.”
“Hmm, let's see. I have a few on a watchlist. Three Alphas; seven, one thirteen, and two eleven.”
“Perfect, we will set their price higher than the others. No one will shame Sterling’s fera as being inadequate.”
“Of course.”
A neighboring compound was holding the auction. When Richard arrived with his family, they were greeted by servants dressed in black. They were led to a grand hall that was already bustling with people.
“Doctor Granger!” called the compound’s owner. The large man patted Richard roughly on the back, telling him he wanted to introduce him to a few people. Richard kissed Helen on the cheek and Hestia on the crown of her head. Then, he met Hermione’s concerned eyes and leaned in next to her ear.
“You’ll be fine, dear. I’ll keep an eye on you,” he whispered. Hermione bravely nodded while her fingers fiddled with her bracelets. It was her first time in public since her fera gene presented itself. Richard would have loved to keep her safe at home, but he had no excuse for it and didn’t want Hermione to think herself an outcast. He gave her a fresh dose of the serum this morning.
Everything will be fine.
The compound’s owner, whose name was a blank in Richard’s mind, led them to a group of men chatting about the female fera being sold. Disgusting and vile words left their mouths, turning Richard’s stomach. Had they always been this despicable? Was he only noticing now that it could be his daughter they were salivating over?
“Calm down, boys. I wanted to introduce you all to Doctor Granger. He's Hector’s grandson, and that son of a bitch Sterling got his hands on him before I could.
“Doctor Granger, a pleasure to meet you. The contribution your grandfather bestowed upon us was a godsend. We now have a domesticated workforce. Before the serum the beasts were best dead. Now we have free labor–”
“And slick obedient cunts to warm our cocks,” said one of the men, his glass lifted in a toast. The other men laughed and lifted their glasses.
“To the Grangers!” Richard did his best to keep his face somewhat agreeable, then excused himself to find his family.
Helen was talking to Sterling, and his boys were talking to Hestia and Hermione.
Alexander, Sterling’s youngest, was a year older than Hermione. The boy was tall for his age and stood proud. His white locks fell over his eyes as he smiled at Hermione and asked her something that made her blush. Her brown eyes looked towards Richard as she whispered something back to Alexander. The boy then nodded and came up to him. He had his mother’s sapphire eyes as opposed to Thaddeus’ grey ones.
“Hello, Doctor. May I take Hermione for a walk in the garden?” Richard looked at his daughter and saw that she wanted to go.
“That’s fine. Don’t wander too far off, and return before the auction starts.” The boy eagerly nodded and grabbed Hermione to take her away. She smiled at him, and his heart warmed. His brave girl.
Richard checked on the Sterling fera that were to be sold. Guards lined the back of them in case of any mishaps. The omegas stood hands bound and muzzles on, faces frightened. The alphas stood on their knees to not intimate the buyers with their size and had hoods over their heads. They were shirtless as they always were, their sculpted muscles on display. Some alphas were also used for darker needs than a workforce or breeding. The humans that indulged in that activity played with death each time. An adult alpha could tear a human in half, and no magic was needed.
When the auction began, his family stood by as he presented the fera of the Sterling compound. He subconsciously watched as Hermione stared at them. Her breath was calm, but her eyes worried.
Richard quickly presented the omegas, which were swiftly sold as Sterling had predicted, and then moved on to the alphas. They also sold quite fast. He let out a strained breath as he stood before the last one. Seven. The boy was almost fully grown; already taller than the rest. He would definitely be their biggest sale today. While he was giving Seven’s information, he caught Hermione in his peripherals, stepping closer to the boy. He ignored it because she was always a curious girl. But then there was a gasp from an older woman in the crowd, and Richard looked back. Everything happened rather quickly after that. Hermione’s hand was on the alpha's chest, and in a split second, he broke through the chains that bound his hands, grabbed at her shoulders, and rose with her. Her legs dangled in the air when the boy stood at full height. Screams erupted in the crowd. Everyone focused on the tall alpha and didn’t notice the gold in the surprisingly calm girl’s wide eyes. Richard yelled for the guards, who quickly shot the boy with the serum on both sides of his neck; he slumped down back to his knees, face still covered. Richard still had to pry the boy’s hands off Hermione’s shoulders then held her to his chest as he took her somewhere secluded. She was whimpering.
“Papa, what’s wrong?” She cried. Richard knew exactly what it could be but didn’t want to say it out loud. He injected her with the serum he had in his pocket, and the gold left her eyes. He held her tight as his wife found them.
“Hermione! Are you okay?!” yelled Helen as she grabbed the trembling girl from his arms. Hestia running in right behind her.
“She’s fine, she’s fine,” he tried to comfort them as well as himself.
Only one thing could negate the serum as quickly as that. Richard has only heard about it happening once in his lifetime.
Mates.
Seven was Hermione’s.
The protocol was to separate mates immediately. If they were to bond, the effects of the serum and even the most potent meneium wouldn’t harm them. It was such a rare occurrence that it wasn’t a hindrance when overtaking the fera.
Richard steadied himself as he went back into the hall. He needed to get Seven as far away from Hermione as possible; he couldn't outright order his death, so he would have to suggest the closest thing to it.