Omega, despite eating every day like a princess from an old fairy tale, did not gain a single gram of weight. The tables, set in the morning, at lunchtime, and in the evening, were laden with select cuts of meat, cheeses, bunches of grapes, figs, whipped cream, light airy rolls, and heavy, cloying pies that contained more butter than flour. The food disappeared from the table as quickly as it did from his stomach. This did not add a shadow of fullness.
When the servants cleared away another tray, Omega sat quietly, pressing his hands to his stomach, feeling that he could vomit at any moment. Sometimes he did feel nauseous. Sometimes he just felt queasy. But most often it was just... empty.
Dinstar, the palace's chief physician, dressed in a strict blue robe, willingly explained his condition to the courtiers who were responsible for Omega with their own heads:
"Your boy's body has not yet had time to adjust. The conditions, the terrain, the new environment, the foreign mark. And, let's be honest, a mark from a Lord of his level is always extremely stressful for the body."
"How long will this last?" someone would ask for the sake of propriety.
To this, Dinstar would invariably reply with a smirk:
"When they have children with the Lord, everything will be fine!"
Children.
The word stuck in Omega's chest like a tiny dagger every time it slipped through the air. It seemed so foreign, so impossible. A child. His and Seraka's child.
How was that possible if he had been sent away?
Maybe Omega was needed for just that?
He couldn't imagine it. He didn't know how to give birth, how to feed, how to even survive next to someone who had already destroyed him from within. The thought of a child next to this person... wasn't so much frightening as it was unthinkable. There was no light in it, no future. Only a huge black hole of uncertainty.
But even more frightening was the thought of the process of creating new life.
As soon as this thought came to mind, Omega's lips involuntarily dried up. He couldn't keep his eyes on any surface: either his fingers began to tremble, or he involuntarily clenched his thighs. His cheeks flushed with heat, his breathing became uneven. No, he didn't want this. He wasn't expecting it...
But his body was already marked. His body responded. Especially when Serak was too close. His scent penetrated his skull, his bones, his stomach. He could smell him even from a distance. Even when the Alpha was silent, even when he was standing behind the door.
Sometimes Omega caught himself listening to footsteps. He could distinguish Serak's heavy footsteps from the hollow sounds of the floor. His gait was like the language of power: always confident. He could hear those footsteps even at night, even in his sleep.
And when the moment came when Alpha was too close to talk, or more often just to look, Omega couldn't raise his eyes. He felt like... a body. Just a vessel trembling from the approaching heat.
Once, Serak, passing by, accidentally, or not, ran his fingers over his mark. It was a truly fleeting movement. After that, Omega sat in bed all evening, pressing his palms against his penis, unable to understand why his skin burned as if it had been kissed by fire.
He knew that all this was not love. It was just a fleeting infatuation with another client.
But would it matter to the child born of this act how exactly it was conceived?
Sometimes, before going to sleep, Omega would press a pillow to his stomach and think: what if... someday... there would be someone small there. From him and from Him. And if that someone cried, would he, Omega, be able to pick the child up without trembling and sing a lullaby he made up on the spot?
"Ahh!" The cum erupting from his penis was so thick that Omega felt a slight pain during ejaculation.
God, what a pervert I am, dreaming of children with a penis in my hand.
The guard knocked twice. Omega twitched his whole body and stared at the door as if it were made of glass
"The master wishes you to take a walk," said the guard's even voice from behind the door.
A walk? Now?
Omega stared blankly at his sticky palms, stained with cum. His fingers trembled. He mechanically wiped them on the bedspread, leaving uneven white spots on the light fabric.
"I... can't... right now," he tried to excuse himself, quietly, almost in a whisper.
There was no response. Only the motionless presence behind the door. The pause stretched out like a suffocating ring.
"This..." " finally came the voice, "the Master's command."
The word "Master" resonated too vividly in Omega's body. Panic ran down his spine. He didn't remember how he got up, how he jerked, got tangled in the blanket, stumbled, and fell to the floor, hitting his hip loudly. But the next moment he was standing barefoot on the stone floor, frantically pulling on his pants.
His hands were still shaking and his breathing was uneven when he jerked the door handle and flew out into the corridor, not even realizing where he was being called.
Two guards, like two rocks, stared straight ahead. Not a hint of interest, not a shadow of sympathy for Omega. One glance in their direction was enough for Omega to move forward, as if under a stranglehold. Each step echoed with a tremor in his knees.
They didn't explain where they were taking him.
Once outside the castle, he was immediately struck by the fresh summer air, smelling of dust, grass, and distant smoke. The sun hit his eyes, and for a moment it was difficult to see.
He hadn't yet focused his eyes when his gaze fell on a figure in the distance.
At first, Omega's heart skipped a beat. Then it beat three times in a row. He recognized the gait. Even from a distance, even without words. It was him.
Serak stood with his back to him, as if deliberately exposing himself to the light — his figure stood out clearly, almost superhumanly. He was dressed in a light, almost transparent cloak that revealed the line of his back, the strength of his shoulders, and his hips. His hair was tousled, making him look younger.
He was beautiful. So beautiful that it made him want to cry.
"Omega?" a calm voice asked.
He didn't immediately recognize whose voice it was. And his gaze, dark and searching, pierced him.
Omega froze. His heart was pounding in his throat. It was difficult to take a step, but his legs, as if by someone else's will, moved forward.
He came closer, not knowing what to say. With each step he took, Serak seemed to retreat slightly. As if checking whether this stupid Omega was coming of his own free will or whether he would have to break him again.
"You... wanted... to take a walk?" Omega stammered. He sounded so pathetic that he was ready to sink through the ground.