Favor of the Throne

A nobleborn Omega’s first heat was meant to be a moment worth anticipating. It was treated as a threshold of prestige, proof of lineage and promise of heirs, the kind of milestone other houses eyed with hungry interest. To them it meant advantageous connections, and the chance of prosperity, if the family was fortunate.

Keir never gave it much thought.

He was certain that when he differentiated, it would be as an Alpha, Beta at worst. He had the build for it: tall, broad-shouldered, muscled even at his age. More importantly, he had the reputation. He was the prodigy of Gwem’s training school, the boy no one in his class could beat. Every night he trained until his arms felt like they were ready to give out, chasing the Royal Guard with a single-mindedness that left no room for anything else.

“Fine work, Young Master Keir,” Old Man Reginald said, slapping him on the back.

Reginald was a giant of a man, burly as an ox, scars scattered across his face and arms like proof of every tale told about him. He had been Keir’s tutor for five years, and also the man who once snuck him into taverns for his first sip of ale at twelve.

Keir smiled and let out a short laugh. He wiped the sweat from his brow and folded at the waist until he could sink onto the ground. Every muscle in his arms and legs burned.

“Work on the counterattack I showed you,” Reginald said. “Do not lunge first. Watch your opponent’s eyes and their small movements.”

“I will,” Keir said, still catching his breath.

“You’re young. That makes you impulsive,” Reginald continued. “Do not get arrogant.” He smacked Keir lightly on the head. “Rest. You’re about to learn whether talent is enough.”

Keir nodded, tipping his head back to the sky.

He had outgrown sparring with his classmates long ago. He sought out Alphas he could not yet beat, and he returned each day hungry for the next.

The Assessment was coming.

He would earn his place no matter what.

“Yes,” he murmured, a grin tugging at his mouth. “The Assessment.” All his work would finally pay off. Everyone would see, if only it would come sooner.

It had been ten years since that day. 

Keir sat with his head in his hands, eyes swollen and red. A decade had passed, and he was still miserable, maybe worse than before. Time had moved on without him. He had only learned how to retreat further into himself.

He stared at his hands. His fingers were slender now, his skin soft and warm, too delicate, too smooth. It disgusted him. After he differentiated, his face had softened too. His green eyes looked gentler, less sharp, and his hair had grown long and wavy like his Omega father’s. He loved his father, but whenever Keir caught his reflection in water or bronze he hated what stared back at him. 

A bottle of suppressants rested beside the wash basin. He did not look at it for long. He still remembered the chalky taste on his tongue—too late, in the Assessment hall, with hundreds of eyes on him.

“Young Master Keir.”

Arne’s voice came from the doorway. Keir jerked upright and wiped at his face. He crossed to the wash basin and splashed water onto his cheeks, scrubbing as if he could erase the puffiness from crying through the night.

“Yes?” Keir answered. “I’ll be out in a moment.”

“I will let your parents know,” Arne replied.

When the door shut, Keir’s gaze drifted to the butterfly knives laid neatly on his bed. Despite everything, he still practiced. Even knowing it was pointless. No legion would ever accept an Omega into their ranks, and the Royal Guard had always been drawn from the Fifth Legion.

He scooped up the knives and stowed them away before anyone could see. Then he undressed, wiped himself down, and quickly put on simple black trousers and a cotton shirt that fell open at the throat, showing too much of his neck and collarbones. He scrubbed at his skin until it flushed red, cursing under his breath when the marks lingered. Once, he had been unable to bruise easily. Now a careless smack could bruise him.

He pulled on his socks and stepped into plain black boots. Finally, he turned to his hair. It had grown long and wavy, a black river when it fell loose. He brushed it back until the frizz lay flat, then studied himself in the bronze mirror. Satisfied enough, he left the room.

The halls were quiet now. Once they had been alive with servants and guests, footsteps and laughter spilling from every doorway. The gold-and-cream walls still gleamed. The mahogany floors still shone beneath the lush red carpet. The house remained opulent as ever, but the Tiuri name had long since fallen to ruin. This was only keeping up appearances. Nothing more.

He descended the left winding staircase, crossed the antechamber of the drawing room, and followed the corridor to the dining room.

His mother sat at the head of the table, still tall and broad, her brown eyes as dark as her hair. She wore plain clothing similar to Keir’s. His father was dressed simply too, though the golden earring in his right ear remained, the one he never removed. Kaia was the only one in a dress, modest but elegant. She had taken after their mother most, save for their father’s brown hair.

When Kaia noticed him, she waved him over. “Keir, you slept in again. You missed Father’s lessons. This is no good.”

Keir rolled his eyes and took the seat across from her. Breakfast was simple: porridge and bread, steam curling upward and carrying warmth to his face.

Kaia resembled their mother, but she carried their father’s gentleness. When she smiled, her eyes brightened, and it was easy to understand why people found her charming. She was only fourteen, yet even with the Tiuri name in ruins, her marriage prospects still looked promising.

“How can you know how to be a good Omega?” she asked, wrinkling her nose at Keir. “How will you behave when you marry?”

Keir tore off a small piece of bread, rolled it into a pellet, and flicked it straight at the center of her forehead.

“Keir!” Kaia yelped, hands flying up.

He laughed, but their father’s disapproving stare sobered him quickly. Kaia’s words had slipped between his ribs like a blade, twisting on instinct. How could she know what his life had been? It happened when she was too young to understand. Still, it hurt. Worse than it should have. He was raw today, and everything found its mark.

“Forgive me, Father. Mother,” Keir muttered before either of them could scold him. 

His father pinched Keir’s cheek, then softened, thumb brushing along his skin. “It is fine if you do not attend,” he murmured. “I only worry for your future.”

“Twenty-five and unmarried,” his mother snorted. “It makes you look like a spinster.”

“And how old were you when you married me?” his father teased.

Color rose in her cheeks, creeping up the tips of her ears. Kaia giggled into her porridge.

“That is different, Leigh. I am an Alpha,” his mother said, then her lips pursed. “And yes, he looks like you so naturally he would not have trouble, if he would stop turning people away. He has refused so many proposals they do not come anymore.”

Keir lifted a spoonful of porridge, pretending it required his full attention. Those proposals had never been sincere. They were barbs wrapped in honey, sent to mock him. After the Assessment, after that day, it was as if he had begun to stink of weakness. Like rot. People who had once smiled at him crowded in only to watch him bleed.

How did they think he could not hear it, the laughter beneath their sweetness?

His grip tightened on the spoon. He ate another bite.

“If he marries, he marries. If he does not, he does not,” his father said. He reached over and combed his fingers through Keir’s hair in a familiar, comforting gesture. “He can stay here with us as long as he likes.”

His father had always doted on him since before Keir could remember. After he differentiated, that gentleness had become something fiercer, more protective. Leigh was the only one who truly understood what that day had been like for him. The fever. The fear. The heat that had felt like being burned alive from the inside out.

“It is because you spoil him,” his mother said, her gaze pinning Keir. “He should make a life of his own. A family.”

“Yes, if that is what he wants. But not all Alphas are kind, my love, not like you. An Omega bound to someone cruel… I cannot imagine that for either of our children. We may have little now, but I want their happiness more than anything, the way I have found mine with you.”

His mother rose and crossed to the other side of the table. She bent and kissed their father. “Dearest to my heart, I wish the same.” She kissed him again, first on the lips, then his cheek, then near his eye, before returning to his mouth for a longer kiss.

“Mother and Father are still so in love,” Kaia cooed, laughter in her voice as a blush crept to the tips of her ears.

Keir watched them, a smile brushing his lips before it faded. He had not thought love like that could be possible for him. Still, he loved his father for his thoughtfulness and kindness, for the way he never stopped trying to make Keir’s life feel like it still belonged to him.

Keir owed them everything. Some days it felt as if he would never be able to repay it. Omegas in his position were rarely given a choice. Keir had learned that lesson once already, and he suspected the world was about to remind him again.