Note:
Flashbacks and thoughts in italics.
I do not condone or encourage any behaviours in this story. It is simply a fictional story.
Content Warnings:
Dark, Heavy Angst, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Hurt No Comfort, Romance, Tragedy, Sexual Content, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Public Humiliation, Humiliation, Forced Bonding, Grief/Mourning, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Manipulation, Dehumanization, Power Imbalance, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior , Dystopia, Pheromones, Betrayal, Survival, Resilience, Alpha Tamsy Caines, Omega Amo Empoor, I'm crying
.
Amo had no time to put a hand to her heart or calm its thunder. Rudo was pierced with a lance, and she wished she could do anything else other than sob into his wounds, hoping her tears would heal him. That was just wishful thinking. Her body felt gelid. Her bleeding knees hurt. She had torn up the sleeves of her dress and tied them over the deep gash on his waist.
"It's useless, Amo," his purple lips mouthed. "I think it's a poisoned blade."
She patted his cheeks, afraid he would fall asleep. He can't. Not while she's alive.
"You're not going to die. You're okay."
He smiled when she said that, with tenderness and warmth, like he always did. She wanted it to last. She tried to carry him on her back, but he was too heavy for her small frame. She couldn't trudge even if she tried, and it was too late.
There was no escape. Sturdy horses kicked up dust and murk as they galloped into their periphery. They were closing in on them from all sides. His mane blew wild behind him, silhouetted on the crescent moon—long white curtains in the howling gales. He was wicked, every inch a devil in disguise. She observed the slow passivity in his gait as he got down from the horse.
No...
No, no, no, no, no. This is so wrong. This is not how it was supposed to go. They were so close to breathing the scent of freedom. No one was supposed to find them here—in the belly of the woods on the outskirts of the country, near the cave that sheltered them for the past two days.
He folded his hands and watched as his men effortlessly separated Rudo from her grasp. Once she read the victorious expression that rippled behind his cold, calculative façade, she knew her fate was sealed. He liked to see her defeated.
.
"D—don't hurt her—"
Rudo's eyes rolled into the back of his head, coughing blood as another kick knocked the air out of his lungs, cutting him off.
The man swung the hammer against his head, again and again and again, until there was nothing but a bloody pulp, a sickening mash of bones and fluid. Rudo's body lay on the floor, lifeless, and Tamsy's cackles echoed beyond the looming pillars.
"You always made it harder for me."
His voice chilled her bones. He slinked like a ghost, his shadows creeping closer toward Amo's terrified figure, huddled in the corner of the grand throne hall.
"Are you hearing this, Amo?" he hissed. "Look at this mess. Now your lover is dead. All because of you."
He slid about her in a semicircle.
"This is what happens to everyone who tries to save you."
"I hate you."
Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, her fists curled into the hem of her nightgown.
"You were made for me, yet you fail to see or respect the sacredness of our bond."
The cackles got louder—mist rising from his breath. He leaned down until the star pendant of his dangling chain rested on her forehead. His eyes glowed in the dark like burning suns of scathe.
"How dare you think you could run away, stupid, ungrateful bitch? The more you resist, the more you suffer."
She could do nothing but flail and scream at his iron grip as his hands closed around one of her ankles and yanked. Her frail body dragged across the ground—nobody listened to her screams. Nobody, not even the firelight licking the walls, dared.
Tamsy perched upon the throne, a menacing smile slithering on his face while his silver crown glided and sat crooked on his head. The topaz bejeweled in it glittered in the dark. His fangs glinted and a tongue peeked out to wet his lips, seductive like Lucifer's charm on Eve. His slanted eyes watched her every move. His hand came up to snatch her throat once her knees jerked with the urge to crawl.
"Stop touching me. Leave me be!"
She choked on her spit, crying out.
"I do not want a monster like you."
"Then, we'll see to it that you need me."
He hunched over to grab her jaw before she could turn her face away. He gave her lips a long, smoldering lick, glazing them with his lust.
"For every breath you take, you will feel me in your blood."
Her lips trembled and knees gave out, his overbearing presence consuming her whole—an annihilating flood.
.
She had dreamed of a life outside this cursed country and its rotten people. She and Rudo were only a hair's breadth away from salvation, and yet...
Her ancestors must have done such damned crimes, she thought. Or else, why should she and her lover fall prey to this ill-fortuned fate?
"An Omega must obey her Alpha. That's the only thing she is good for. And if she can't do what she was made for, she must be reprimanded."
Tamsy spread his arms wide, broad shoulders in royal robes reminiscent of endless wings.
"Lo and behold as I, Prince Tamsy, make an example out of this insolent wretch—my Omega." Not yet, but soon.
The crowd, loud with the jeering and curious, flocked toward them like bats out of hell. Their eyes gleamed with perverted fascination, mouths brimming with venomous gall.
Sitting beneath his feet on the raised wooden platform that thrust out into the world—a well-lit stage in the core of the Capital—reduced her into an object, an animal, a trophy. Less than human.
"Please, I'm begging you. Please don't do this."
His fangs hung right above her neck, where the scent glands lay. Exhaustion soaked her body in a sheen of sweat.
"Anything but this... I will do anything you want. Please."
"Oh, will you?"
Tamsy scoffed, moving her wet hair out of her shadowed face. She toppled to the side, holding her cheek. The gesture almost loving, his voice soft—she did not expect the numbing slap to her cheeks like a bucket of cold water. Her blood ran cold, taken aback. She winced as he hauled her up by her hair and whispered into her ear,
"Be glad I want you in one piece. I could do so much worse."
She snarked and asked again, not controlling her livid tone,
"Please, don't mark me."
It was more of a command than a request. She was yet to get disillusioned as to who was in control of this predicament of hers. He could break her in half if he wanted. But no—she was lucky. He liked her...
A frown etched his face. The last thing she seemed to want was his claim on her body.
"Anything I want?"
He tapped a slender finger to his chin, taking his sweet time to toy with her.
"Then, I won't."
He chuckled, squatting down to face her, his firm grip still in her hair.
"Okay. All you have to do is strip naked, right here, right now, suck my cock, and tell everyone how much you want it—loud and clear."
Her nostrils flared, face singeing red in fury.
"Not that hard, is it?"
She clutched her clothes and braced herself before she allowed herself to breathe.
Is it pride that is lurking in the swathes of her mind? Is it pride that she wanted to feel? Did she want to feel anything at all?
It's complicated—a nebula twisting inside her, going on forever without a direction. She felt lost, floating down the gushing nebula. It had a direction, an arrow to her heart.
She closed her eyes and pictured the arrowhead meet its target, drenching in the color of her blood.
"You are just like your father—sick and twis—"
"Enough talk. If you can't do it—"
The world went silent when Amo slipped her dress off her shoulder, gaze glued to her feet, shamefaced. Then it whistled and cooed, urging her to finish what she was doing—getting louder with every article of clothing that left her body.
Alas, she undid the cloth that covered her chest and cunt. His breath hitched as it pooled at her feet. There was nothing left for her to lose, other than her freedom. She might as well sacrifice everything she could to be free.
Stepping out from the bunch, she felt like a strange specimen in an exhibition—shoulders stiff and frozen—trying to cover herself up fruitlessly with her arms. The night was cold, and she prayed for it to end—and never end.
"I... I would..."
She stuttered, not knowing what to say. Her throat was parched, conflicted.
"I..."
"Heavens, you're terribly bad at this."
He leered at her form, eyes raking over her body appreciatively.
"Come on, I'll teach you how to do it."
He paused to click his tongue, too close to her tense face.
"Properly. Like an Omega should."
Tamsy touched the small of her back, his firm palm trailing down to knead her ass, smirking as he made her kneel again—this time, between his legs.
Then he did something nobody expected him to do.
He ripped off the scent patches concealing his scent glands—something which every person carries with them, just like the clothes on their bodies—letting his pheromones, his desire, charge the air.
She felt hands on his feet, shaking him. She was desperate, her gaze swimming from the intense gush of pheromones. In some countries, it is considered unfair to assert one's dominance over an unsuspecting Omega with one's powerful pheromones—but not here.
Here, he decides the rules.
"Why, you said you wouldn't—you said you wouldn't mark me if I obeyed?"
She tried to stop breathing, because it felt like she got pushed to the edge of a cliff, and into a rift in time.
Winter.
All around her was winter. She didn't even need to close her eyes. Pine trees with boughs that stooped from the weight of the snow, hailstones stinging her feet, white mist and balsam.
She could breathe it in forever.
Her mouth watered, her tongue tingling like it tasted something flavorous, delicious.
Nevertheless, the fog lifted, and his voice broke her reverie.
"I haven't." Yet.
It would be nice to knock her up. The empire needed heirs, and his carping old man—on his deathbed—had been going on and on about getting him married. It's only a matter of days, and Tamsy will inherit the throne as the youngest king.
He felt a surge of pride rushing through him at the effect his scent had on her. It made her weak in the knees.
Why hadn't he done this sooner? What was he afraid of?
She had settled in his lap, brushing her pebbled breasts on his face, squirming and biting his earlobes and slobbering into his clothed neck before she knew it, and his voice seemed to have brought back some of her sanity.
He could tell from the horror lining her face.
She flinched back, but he wasn't going to let go.
He had grown impatient, and died to feel her, breathe her in, like she had breathed him in.
He held her tightly, despite all her kicking and pointless thrashing, and a feral need took over him.
He pressed his lips to her neck and sucked.
And when it sent her panting—what a sight it was!
She was completely helpless.
At his mercy.
He grinned toothily, eyes darkening. He wanted more. He sucked hard until the skin turned red, and the patches came off on their own, off her puffy glands from which the peculiar scent welled out—emanating the "love" he had long yearned to whiff—and maddened the watchful sea of Ground-dwellers.
They raved, out of control—but not out of his hands, if his Beta soldiers were not entirely useless.
It was the most intoxicating fragrance he had ever felt.
She smelled like wine and roses.
When Tamsy threw his cloak over her naked, shivering body, oddly, he felt like he had done something wrong.
A flash of emotion.
He couldn't quite grasp what it was, and brushed it off as pity.
Strange, however.
He never felt pity.
He lifted her into his arms and escaped into the night on his horse, toward the safety of the Caines Castle that stretched into the dawning sky.
He did what every man he knew did—destroy, steal, and conquer.
It was only logical.
He felt the silky fur of his horse between his fingers and rode against the breeze that washed away his thoughts.
In her daze, the soft fabric of his cloak made Amo imagine the wings of seraphs enclosing her frame, engulfing her in a puff of feathers.
She moaned softly, from pain or pleasure, and Tamsy felt that emotion again.
He waited for it to fade—
—but it didn't go away.
.
Author's Note:
️ T-T my baby...