Chapter Title: Governing Decisions

Author: Sam

Story: The Neutered Omega: 10 of 23

Settings: AU Omegaverse: Asgard

Note: The below occurs on two different days with a gap between, noted by a triple x between the sections.

xxx

A light caress to his head brought Thor from his drug-induced sleep. He blinked and tried to stretch, but winced when his back, thigh, and forearm screamed in pain. Falling still, Thor looked towards the owner of the hand still gently brushing his blond hair from his summer sky eyes.

Beside him sat a strawberry-blonde haired woman dressed in red and gold. She smiled at him in what seemed to be a welcoming way then pulled her hand back. Softly, in a voice lightly accented despite the Allspeak, she asked, "do you feel rested?"

"Yes, my lady," Thor responded, pushing away the shadows of pain. She was the woman in the portrait and her voice triggered the long buried memory. "Mother?" he looked at her face, worn with grief and the burdens of office. Thor pushed up slightly, wincing as the lash marks across his back cried out.

She smiled and reached again to touch his cheek with gentle fingers. "The healers are going to check your genetics to be sure, but my heart says yes, Thor."

He managed to shuffle his aching body around until he straddled the bed, one leg dangling over either side. Studying her, trying to remember and wondering what he should say, Thor was reduced to a slight smile which grew as she smiled in return.

"So, we have one son back." The voice was deep and sounded wise and slightly detached, but familiar. The man bearing the voice stood not so tall as Thor, but strong and unbent, his fine golden hair lightly dusted with the beginnings of the grey of age, marking him in his fourth millennia. Piercing blue eyes studied Thor from rumpled hair to bare feet. The king stood dressed in golden tunic and trousers with red and blue accents, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword.

Thor looked over the man once and bowed his shoulders and head, wincing at the scream of pain through his back. "Father . . ." he said, wondering how he could ever have forgotten the strong, wise man before him.

"We will see about that," the man replied, still sounding as if he held his feelings in reserve. "Can you stand? Walk? Or do you need more healing?"

Not wishing to appear weak, nor to disappoint the Allfather, Thor pushed awkwardly from the bed and stood before him. As a small smile spread over Odin's lips, Thor couldn't help beam his sunny smile in return. "I will heal," he assured the man.

Odin nodded once, studying him. "As I would expect. Though painful, seven lashings are not often enough to take down a man. Let us walk these halls as we discuss your slave." The man turned and strode from the room, his steps sure and steady but not hurried.

Thor looked at Frigga who smiled and took his arm. "I shall walk with you, if you do not mind, my son." She stepped out, leading Thor by gentle touches to his arm and side, guiding him to follow his father who strode ahead of them rather leisurely.

The walls they traversed appeared equal in construction and brightness, with little variation of decor. Thor glanced around and knew he would become lost in this unfamiliar maze of white had he not accompanied his parents. 'Have I truly been freed? Are these truly my parents?' His thoughts felt jumbled as one piled atop another.

The couple led him around one last corner and the corridor opened into a green-filled courtyard with central fountain encircled by a rainbow of flowers. Oddly enough, chained by the neck to a ring in the fountain, with enough length to allow him to sit or walk a bit, sat Tyr. His face had raised bruises along it and one eye was swelling shut, much as Thor's had two days before. The man had been dressed in trousers and tunic, boots and vest, for the first time in Thor's memory looking almost civilized compared to the last time Thor had laid eyes on him. In Tyr's lap sat a tray of food, half eaten, and beside him sat a frosted mug of rich ale. He might be chained as a slave, but Tyr was being granted courtesy beyond what most would think he deserved.

Upon noticing the royal couple, Tyr slid his supper to the bench encircling the fountain and stood, bowing over the arm he flung across his chest. He didn't straighten, and neither the king nor the queen gave him leave to, forcing him to stay in his bow of respect.

"Tell me, are you treated well, young man," Frigga asked Tyr, her voice not so gentle as when she had addressed Thor. By her tone, she judged this slave, not welcomed him.

Still bowed over, Tyr clearly said, "My Queen, yes, I thank you for the consideration and . . ."

"Be still," Odin commanded and Tyr silenced. The older man turned to his wife. "Frigga, you are protector of women, and . . ."

His words cut off at the sounds of several people running past, shouting and calling back and forth near incomprehensibly. All four near the fountain, even Tyr, looked over to watch as temple priests and priestesses ran in the direction the royal family had come from. With a grumble for the interruption, Odin glanced over at Tyr, who flushed and bowed once more. "I understand they have another patient," the king ground out, anger lacing just under the surface of his cold voice. "We will finish this in time. For now, you will be transported to the dungeons to await your fate. Finish your food, slave, as you might be long out of the sun once you are transported."

Odin whirled around and strode from the room, Frigga pressing Thor's arm to guide him in leaving as well. Neither spoke a word to Tyr, though a pair of temple guards did step forward from the shade of a pair of awning trees where they had remained in partial hiding during the royal visit. Thor did not like that he had not noticed them until they moved; his senses were dulled with the sleep drug still.

As Frigga walked Thor back to his room, she sighed. "I will talk to the victim once he is in his right mind. I understand the attack may have unhinged him." She looked at Thor.

He nodded, unable to offer any words on the matter. He knew nothing of rape, for it didn't occur in the stables. And his mind was never quick to grasp a new idea, so he could not form his opinion into words for her now.

At his door, she dropped his arm and offered a smile. "Rest, my son. We will speak again, though I hope it will be longer and more pleasant. I long to hear all about your life while you've been from my side."

Thor felt his smile tug and he nodded. "I look forward to hearing yours, as well, Mother. I have questions which need answers."

She nodded. "And the most pressing you find right now?" Her voice indicated she had little time at the present to humor him, though longing was there among the other emotions.

Taking advantage of the generous offer, now she had something emergent to do, Thor quickly asked "how long before we know if my genetics are proper?"

"Three weeks or so, my son. The seidr used for such a reading is complicated and known by few. Any who claim relation to the house of Odin will undergo such trial."

"Seidr?" He asked without thinking then flushed at his impertinence.

With a nod, Frigga smoothed a hand down her robe then lifted it, slowly turned it palm up, and uncurled her fingers. A soft green glow began in her palm then sprang into full flower, a veritable yellow rose blooming in her palm! "Few have the patience to learn its secrets, my son, and fewer still the quickness of wit to master more than a few simple energy combinations or twists. But I shall show you how to find your own seidr when we are more settled." She offered him the rose, and he plucked it carefully from her hand, amazed at the gentle spicy smell of the very solid flower. "My weavings tell me you have thunder in your heart and are born to the skies. We shall see what this means in time." Frigga smiled and walked from the doorway and down the hall, not looking back.

He watched her go and wondered at this new, confusing mystery he'd never heard of before.

A priest, old and bent and muttering to himself, carrying a food tray and a small vial of soft blue liquid, came around the same corner. Stopping in front of Thor, he twisted his neck to see up to the towering blond, smiling crookedly, with few teeth in his loose gums. "Hewe . . ." he lisped and offered the meal. There was little intelligence in the man's eyes, and Thor realized that this man was in the temple due to his child's mind.

Taking the tray with a gentle smile for the elder near the end of his time, Thor spoke firmly yet kindly. "I thank you, sir. You may go back to your duties. Go back now."

The priest nodded and hobbled off, muttering and drooling slowly through slack lips.

With a sigh, Thor turned back into the sleeping chamber and sank on the bed with his tray. He winced as the movement sent his back muscles rippling, and the still fresh wounds aching and throbbing. Idly, he wondered how Loki's day had been spent - - probably teaching yet another pair of customers the joys he had shown Thor the past two days. With a soft groan, Thor pushed images of the lovely prostitute from his mind and ate, relishing the simple, hearty food. Suspecting the blue liquid to be some potion or another for his wounds, he waited until he felt full before downing the practically tasteless dose.

It acted swiftly, surprising Thor with the sleepy sensation which quickly coursed his veins. With a frown, he lay down on his front and allowed himself to fall into sleep, hoping he would not be dosed regularly, as he preferred to remain aware of his surroundings.

xxx

As Thor wandered the vaguely familiar halls of the royal palace, he tried to absorb the last three days of his new life. Having arrived in his sleep that first night of freedom, Thor hadn't even been aware of his location change until the morning. He'd been asked questions by administrators, examined by healers, and measured for everything from shoes to armor to a horse he knew not how to ride yet. In all the chaos he had seen the royal couple only at meals, where he sat with them at the high table to be applauded and toasted by nobles and courtiers of every description, all pleased at the suspected return of one of the missing princes. Between meals he was encouraged to explore the many palace rooms, chatting with whomever he wished, and accepting their respectful bows.

He often escaped into the hallways instead, avoiding the fawning confusion of court life in favor of time alone to think and wonder. Every turn in the vast corridors brought new sites and new memories and fresh tears. How he had ever forgotten the palace and his family, Thor didn't understand, but he supposed an overwhelmed child of seven might find it easier to forget those he'd lost than to cling to seeming false hope. However, his journeys through the rambling palace were never alone, even if he failed to stop and speak to anyone he passed. Always, the royal guard Fandral was at his heels, assigned to watch over and aid him. The man actually slept in Thor's outer chamber: he had been given a suite grander than even the brothel keeper Laufey had awarded his own son, Loki.

The rooms were vast and numbered five in all: one for bathing and relieving himself, one for dressing, one for sleeping, one for visiting with close friends and family in private, and the outer room where other visitors were seen and Fandral slept rolled up on a pallet before the door. Four of the rooms had great wide balconies, open to the warm sweet air and sunshine, only the front receiving room was fully enclosed. The dressing room was almost as vast as his private sitting room as it contained his slowly increasing wardrobe, something that grew hourly as the castle seamstresses and tailors worked to provide him the clothing necessary to his rank. Apparently, despite being able to survive on little, being a prince required Thor to own more than he could ever hope to use or want.

But at the moment it was not his currently increasing possessions which interested him, beautiful and wondrous as they were. Rather, Thor was lost in serious thought, waiting for his requested audience with his father. King Odin was vastly busy, and his time was precious. The Allmother, Frigga, was equally pressed for leisure time, which might explain how Thor had mistaken her in his memory for one of a group of caregivers and not the mother he so desperately loved in his dreams. Fortunately, in the sparse time they had shared these past three days, he found that love had returned in abundance, not diminished by time or distance. Her eyes spoke of her equal love for him, though they remained sad and searching. He knew she missed his brothers as much as as she had longed for him. It was one of the things he wished to discuss in his coming audience with his father, also someone for which his old love had not disappeared.

The sound of footsteps down the hall alerted Thor and he stopped, Fandral coming to a stop beside rather than behind him. At first his guard had tried to show the kind of respect everyone expected, but Thor had reminded the man of his promise to be his equal and his friend. Thus, Fandral had taken to walking beside him, talking openly to him, and addressing him with little formality. Thor found it soothed him to have one friend among the strangers in his new life, and the rest of the people around seemed to accept that Fandral had special privilege in this relationship. Perhaps they believed the man had earned it due to his rescue, but Thor cared not what others thought. He valued Fandral's laughter and advice.

A palace messenger slid to a stop - - literally; the floors were highly polished and the messengers wore soft-soled shoes. "My prince, my lord, the Allfather requires your presence."

'Finally!' Thor nodded and offered his sunny smile to the man "thank you." And he trotted off, not quite running but certainly faster than a walk. Fandral loped beside him, easily keeping up on his long, muscular legs. "At last, Fandral. I may speak my thoughts."

"Carefully worded, Thor, as we discussed. Odin is busy and there is unrest in the outer realms. He may merely be calling you to tell you he will be at war."

Thor frowned but didn't argue. How could he? He knew little of court or ruling, and so how could he know what weighed on his father's time or heart? They slowed as they approached the vast doors to the throne room and Thor smoothed his stiff new red and gold tunic over his dark blue trousers. He was unused to clothing but knew that citizens always went about fully clothed - - as a sign of respect to one another, he supposed. Once he was ready, Thor nodded for the guards to open the doors.

The throne room stood vast and gilded in pompous glory. Thor had not yet seen this chamber, but he looked little at it now. He was too focused on the sight of his father seated on his great throne, a pair of ravens at either shoulder, leaning over to listen to something an equally serious adviser murmured to him. Odin nodded as Thor came to stand at the bottom step leading up to the dais. Thor and Fandral, a few steps behind, dropped to one knee, arm across their chests, heads bowed in respect, and awaited the notice of the Allfather.

He finally waved his hand to silence the other man and looked down at his son and the man who claimed friendship with him. "Rise, Thor Odinson," he intoned, and watched carefully, his blue eyes intent on the former slave.

Thor rose, keeping his arm over his chest but lifting his face to grant his father his sunny smile. "Your majesty," he replied, having been drilled by Fandral in the proper way to address the man in court.

"You wished to discuss things with me? Well, what are these things?" Odin asked, his voice sounded imperious but with an underlying warmth Thor couldn't help but hear. No smile graced the man's face though his eyes twinkled his good mood.

Taking that as a good sign, Thor continued to smile. "First and most serious, I wish to ask after the intended trial of the man known as Tyr, Father. He is accused of a serious crime and his alleged victim should not be left waiting for justice." Out of the corner of his eye, Thor caught sight of Fandral mouthing the words he'd drilled into Thor's head over the past three days. The sunny smile quirked then became a full out beam.

Odin appeared to ignore both Fandral's actions and Thor's wide grin. Rather, he said, "we are awaiting final verdict on the health of the alleged victim, as it appears the attack was more serious than first thought. If this man Tyr did perform this crime, he may have broken more laws than even he knew. Do you have another item to bring before me?" Odin continued to watch carefully, but seemed to respect Thor's pause to gather his thoughts.

Thor had not thought to hear that the unknown Lopt was badly off. Finally, recalling his next question, Thor asked, "Father. I am unsure of the laws concerning ownership of slaves or debt servants in the court. For now, I am under the belief that the man Tyr owes me servitude. Is this still true?" Thankful for Fandral's strict, repetitious teachings, though he had been bored by it, Thor smiled at his father, proud he had started to master the speech of court and etiquette.

With a slow nod, Odin looked over the people attending that day. He looked back at the tall blond before him. "If the person owes a legitimate debt, a courtier may bring the debt servant to the court. The words slave and thrall are but semantics in court. All are considered debt servants no matter what brought them to owing a contract of servitude."

Without waiting to be asked, Thor jumped into the next question, ignoring Fandral's groan at his haste. "And might I buy someone's contract, Father, or would the debt have to be directly involving me?"

A frown crossed Odin's features then and he leaned forward. "This depends, my son, on why you wish to own such a contract. Each man's punishment for crimes or sentence for debt is carefully assigned by the magistrate. If you intend to make a good hearted gesture by freeing someone before his time, for instance, you would have to have good reason to question the laws of sentencing." Those piercing eyes seemed to see right into Thor's soul.

Thor nodded, his heart falling. He had secretly hoped he could purchase, then free, Loki. But if the man's father held a legitimate contract on his son, Odin's warning just explained that Thor could not interfere. Perhaps a lesser man could free slaves on a whim, but Thor's station now prevented such a thing. Thor nodded. "Thank you, father," he said, though his smile had dropped and his tone was less hearty.

"Have you another item of business, my son?" Odin asked politely, though by his tone it was evident he expected these questions to end very soon.

Lifting his eyes, equally blue but far more open and transparent in his emotions, Thor nodded. "One more, my king." He noticed Odin sit straight at the more formal phrasing. "I offer my help, in any way I can, to locate my brothers. I wish to see them restored to their birthright as I have been." He bowed over his arm, signalling the end of his desire for an audience.

A very long silence followed, and Thor resisted the urge to shift on his feet or straighten. His shirt brushed against the bandages over his back, but after three days of excellent medical treatment, his wounds were healing far faster than he had ever thought, so the position held no discomfort. Only his own rising nerves at the length of Odin's silence made him want to fidget like a small child caught stealing sweets at bedtime.

At long last, the Allfather's voice rang out, a sound of merriment which drew Thor's head up sharply to see the smile across the elder's face. "As do I, my son. We shall discuss this later with the Allmother and see what our three minds can conjure together." With that he stood and raised his hand to signal the next courtier to come forward.

But the double doors opening wide drew curious stares and whispers. Thor's entrance had been the last expected; all other petitioners had already come to the room, it had been thought. As they watched, a dark-skinned warrior dressed in white and gold strode the long carpeted floor, his golden gaze never leaving the Allfather's. When he stood next to the bemused Thor, Heimdall bowed briefly over his arm but straightened without waiting for clearance.

"Allfather, there is a problem at the temple. An omega was found in captivity and abused and the priests cannot stop the Omega's heat. They feel it will end in madness or death."

A shock ran through the court and worried cries and whispers rose as everyone looked to the king for his reaction.

Odin frowned and lowered his hand to the sword at his side. "Go on, Heimdall, there must be more. The priests have tried mating her?"

Heimdall nodded once. "Yes, my king. They presented three different mates but none were successful in knotting. It is feared that the Omega's abuser is the bondmate."

Frigga's voice, from where she had stood silent and watchful by her husband's side, came forth, strong and concerned. "And have they tried potions, Heimdall? Inhibitors?"

He nodded once more. "They have tried but the inhibitors made the Omega sick. A bad reaction, they said, as like to poison. They ask for the Allmother to come to decide whether they should try more drastic measures."

Without looking to her king for confirmation, Frigga gathered her long skirts in one hand and stepped down from the dais quickly. "Yes, of course. I am coming now."

The dark-skinned watchman bowed to Odin and called out, unexpectedly, "My king, in my discussions with the prince in our past, he has shown a remarkable empathy for the plight of the people. His curiosity even went to how the temple treats our Omegas. Might I suggest that this unfortunate, yet rare, turn of events might provide a very good learning experience for Prince Thor?"

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they looked to Odin for his decision. The Allfather, and therefore the princes, had no reason to interfere with the temple and the Omegas; that was the provenance of the Allmother and any daughters, which had sadly not been produced in this case. But Odin took Heimdall's suggestion to heart and nodded, stepping from the dais. "An abused Omega is a concern to all of Asgard and I commend my son for his desire to help our people. Come, Prince Thor, you will accompany us to determine how we might help this poor woman. Court is adjourned."

With that, Heimdall led the royal trio, followed by a fairly sprinting Fandral, from the throne room and to an awaiting glider boat. They entered the sporting vehicle and allowed Heimdall to take them, at almost dangerously high speed, back to the temple where Thor had first been treated.

He had a sick feeling that the slave Lopt might be the Omega, and that Tyr had committed an offense as high as treason in his rape. Of course, they had referred to this particular Omega as a female, so maybe he was wrong, but Thor didn't think so; he'd mistaken Lopt for a female when he'd first heard of the attack, too. After all, who would think a man would be raped?

Heimdall brought the glider boat to a stop inside the fountain courtyard and aided the queen to dismount. The men followed in quick order, watching as several priests and priestesses rushed forward, their voices rising in a cacophony of noise in their effort to explain the victim's distress. Odin lifted a hand and frowned, silencing them. "Thor, my son, while we sort this out feel free to roam the halls of the temple and ask the staff anything you wish. I think this problem may be too far gone to explain to you as we help the poor Omega. We will tell you how it turns out when we have finished. Heimdall, Fandral, go back to the palace and get Tyr from the dungeons. He will be brought here in case our only solution lies with him."

One priest sent up his protests immediately, pleading with Frigga for intervention. "Allmother, that is horrendous! Barbaric! Even if the rapist has forced a bond with Lopt, the poor boy cannot be expected to live forever with this beast!"

"Allmother," another chimed in, "the potions didn't work because he's been dosed with Alpha inhibitor, and it poisoned him. He was given the wrong inhibitors . . ."

"I say we need to neuter him."

The last suggestion came from the High Priestess Freyja herself, and all others fell silent and backed away. She bowed to the royal couple and gestured with a graceful hand towards the main entrance. "Please, come with me and I will tell you all we have done for the child. But I fear he is too far gone in his heat fever as it is. All my attempts to aid him, all my gift with seidr, has failed."

Without further words, the main group left the courtyard. Heimdall and Fandral mounted the glider again, Fandral turning to Thor. "Stay out of trouble, Thor. They'll need everyone they can to help that poor man. When I saw him, he was half-mad with fever already . . . and that was three days ago." And the pair was off to retrieve Tyr - - who might in the end be rewarded for such a heinous crime as raping an Omega if his actions had indeed forced a bonding.

Feeling sick to his stomach at the thought that the poor Lopt might be actually bonded to such as Tyr, Thor stepped through a smaller back entrance. He strode down the halls not seeing anyone, glancing into the occasional opened door. These were all healing rooms and recovery rooms, but none were currently occupied. He was in the long-term healing section of the temple then, for patients who needed more than a few hours treatment. Trying to figure out what might cause someone to need a long term stay with specialized healers, rather than a convalescence in bed at home, Thor turned a corner and found he faced a long hall that dead-ended.

About to turn back, he heard a keening moan trail eerily down the corridor. Puzzled, heart clenching at the godawful noise, Thor began to follow the heartbroken sound. As he got closer, it became interspersed with a hoarse voice calling out barely recognizable words.

"Norns, please! Somebody kill me!"

Surprise pulled Thor's blue eyes wide and he tilted his head, still following the ragged moans.

"Please just kill me if you won't fuck me! I can't take this any more!"

A second voice murmured in concern, "I cannot do so. Please, let me go. They will help you soon. I promise!" A priest, disheveled and half undressed, stumbled from the room at the end. He took a deep steadying breath, with his hand to his chest, and looked up. A flush crossed his face and he sighed, "thank the Norns! Hurry, he's gotten worse, sir."

Not sure how to take the greeting, Thor loped over to the priest, who continued to babble. "It most likely won't work. It hasn't before. But we can only hope, can't we? None of the others could knot him, and he's going mad in the heat fever! If you can't help him, they've talked of forced neutering! And in his fighting mood, it won't turn out pretty when it heals."

Keeping his voice low, Thor asked, "is the one in there the Omega, Lopt, then?"

"Yes, of course. You're at the right room. Now get in there and mate him, for the love of all that's sacred. And pray you can knot him and get him with child, or he'd be better as dead as he's begged for!" The haggard priest then shoved Thor through the open door and hurried off down the hall on a private mission he never explained.

Thor looked from the room, frowning, realizing he had been mistaken for yet another Alpha being sent to try to help the half-mad Omega Tyr had raped. He should get the real man who was supposed to do the job, but the hoarse whimpers and moans behind him drew his heart, and Thor only hoped he was the Alpha Heimdall had accused him of being so he might try to help this poor man. The least he could do was use Loki's brief lessons to bring Lopt some relief while they awaited the real selectee.

Finally turning, horror shot through Thor and he nearly collapsed at what he saw.

The Omega lay splayed wide across the bed, totally nude and finger fucking his fine ass with three slick-dripping fingers. His jerked on a swollen, near-purple cock as he grunted and thrust against himself. His eyes were blown so wide that the original color was indistinguishable. His black curls were a wild tangle that clung to his creamy skin. But worse of all, as Thor watched those fingers pistoning in and out of that gorgeous ass and that long slender cock being tugged and abused, he registered in abject horror that the poor prostitute Lopt was his beloved Loki!

xxx

To be continued in Chapter Eleven: The Final Lesson