Days passed in a state of suspended animation within the Eastern Estate. Arion was sequestered in the comfortable, spacious nursery suite with Aiden, attended only by his mother, Duchess Maeva, and his sister, Lyly. He was healing physically ,the combination of sustained rest, proper food, and the estate's skilled physician slowly mending the deep exhaustion of his body. But emotionally, he remained raw, trapped by the knowledge that the only shield strong enough to protect his son the Duke's unconditional support was being withheld.
His father, the Duke of the East, maintained his rigid distance. He refused all direct contact, communicating only through Bartholomew or Maeva, his commands sharp and uncompromising: Arion was to remain hidden, and he was a temporary problem to be solved through exile.
Finally, Arion couldn't bear the silent rejection any longer. One morning, after ensuring Aiden was soundly asleep, he dressed in the finest clothes his sister could procure for his current size silks that felt alien after months of rough wool , and walked downstairs. He found Maeva directing servants in the grand hall.
"Mother," Arion said, his voice steady. "I have to speak with him. I can't stay here, feeding off his tolerance. I need his strength, not his scorn."
Maeva's expression was weary. "He won't budge, Arion. He sees only the shame, the political disaster."
"Then I will endure the shame," Arion insisted. "I have survived far worse. Just tell him I am waiting by the study doors. I won't leave until he speaks to me."
Arion stood outside the Duke's formidable study doors for nearly an hour. He didn't pace or fidget; he stood in the rigid, still posture of a soldier awaiting command. He didn't know what he would say ,how could he possibly explain the complex horror of being turned into an omega and forced to bear his enemy's child?, well that a hard question.
Finally, the doors creaked open, and Bartholomew stood aside. "His Grace will grant you five minutes, My Lord. And he requests you refrain from mentioning the child or... your altered state."
Arion nodded once and walked into the study.
The Duke of the East was seated behind his massive desk, his back straight, his face etched with disapproval and deep, banked fury. He didn't rise, didn't offer a greeting, and didn't meet Arion's eye directly.
"You have four minutes left," the Duke stated, his voice cold and devoid of any paternal warmth. "Speak your piece, Arion. Then you will accept your marching orders."
Arion swallowed, looking not at the Duke, but at the ancestral seal carved into the wooden mantelpiece, the same seal he had sworn to uphold before he left.
"Father," Arion began, his voice rough with emotion, "I know why you refuse to look at me. I broke my vow to you years ago. I chose the King's Guard over the East, and I paid the price for that arrogance. I brought shame upon myself, and now I have inadvertently brought the shadow of the Serpent King to your door."
He paused, letting the silence absorb the weight of his admission. He couldn't explicitly state the truth of his omega status or the child, given the Duke's rules, but the words were a clear plea.
"I ask your forgiveness," Arion said, his voice dropping, carrying the absolute sincerity of a defeated man. "Not for the sake of my personal comfort, but for the sake of the Eastern Dominion. I know I am a disgrace. But I am also the only man who survived Kyon's schemes and returned to tell you the truth of his ambitions. He is not just seeking the throne; he is building an empire of political dominance, and he used me to secure his alliance with the West and the Jade Heart."
Arion finally met his father's gaze, his own eyes burning with the cold light of hard won knowledge. "I came back because I am the best weapon you have against him. I know his mind, I know his methods, and I know his weaknesses. I need your resources, Father. I need the political shield of the East to finish my healing and to launch a strike that will dismantle his empire. I am asking you to look past the shame I brought home, and to see the soldier who can still save your House from the inevitable war Kyon will bring."
The Duke remained motionless, his jaw rigid. He looked at Arion then, his eyes sweeping over the remnants of the powerful alpha who had walked away and the broken man standing before him now. He saw the desperation, the undeniable marks of suffering, and the fierce, intelligent determination in his son's eyes. But his pride, forged over decades of command, was still the final arbiter.
"Time's up, Arion," the Duke finally said, pushing his chair back with a sharp scrape. He stood, towering over his son, but still avoided addressing the heart of Arion's plea. "The answer remains no. Your presence is a liability, not an asset. You will be sent to the Northern Hunting Lodge within the week. You will take the boy with you. You will be given a small allowance and two trusted servants. You will have your sanctuary, but you will not use the Eastern name for any political maneuvering. My order stands: i do not forgive you. You will not return to the Capital until I am dead. Now leave my sight."
The rejection was final, absolute, and utterly crushing. Arion felt the cold finality of the Duke's resolve. He had offered his life, his knowledge, and his very soul, and the Duke had chosen pride. Arion bowed stiffly, his hands clenched at his sides. He had his marching orders: Exile, with an expiration date. He turned and walked out, leaving the Duke alone with his rage and his fear.
What am I supposed to do now, thought , and clenched his fist hardly , his nails dig into his palm , he lower his head and stand still in front of his father office door.
Arion bite his lips until he taste blood on his tongue.