Read this out with these music : { golden brown or love story remix or the original, Let the world burn, elastic heart , constellation, without me , let me down , what was I made for , and finally everything I wanted}
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The sudden silence in the suite, now devoid of Kyon's furious rage and the desperate, primal noise of their struggle, was absolute. The only sounds were Arion's ragged, shallow gasps and the faint, whimpering cries of Aiden slowly fading back into exhausted sleep in the next room.
Arion leaned against the doorframe of the parlor, fighting the nausea and the searing pain that radiated from his bruised face and aching body. The violation, though borne under a calculated plan, left him physically and emotionally decimated. Yet, the sheer depth of the brutality had bought him an invaluable window of time.
He forced himself to assess the situation: Kyon was completely unconscious, his chemical stabilizers overloaded by the unanticipated sedative.
The guards outside the nursery would only assume the deep silence meant the Consort and the Prince were engaged, an assumption Kyon's violent dominance had expertly engineered.
Arion had perhaps fifteen minutes before the potent sedative began to wane.
"Focus. The mission," Arion rasped, the words tasting like blood and shame. He didn't waste time trying to clean himself, knowing the visible disarray would only reinforce the guards' assumption.
He moved on raw adrenaline, stumbling through the enormous Royal Suite toward the restricted area, Kyon's private study and office. The door was a heavy slab of polished, dark wood, locked with an intricate biometric scanner.
Arion reached the door and, with shaking fingers, examined the lock. He knew Kyon's obsession with privacy. He didn't need a key; he needed the right combination of scent and touch.
He pressed his hand against the smooth scanner panel, concentrating fiercely. He didn't use his own residual omega scent, which was too distressed.
He used the recent, overpowering scent clinging to his skin.
Kyon's own dominant alpha pheromones, now thick and demanding from the drug-fueled assault. The system, keyed to the highest-ranking Alpha present, registered the powerful signature, and the lock clicked open with a soft, mechanical sigh.
Arion slipped inside the study.
The room was not opulent; it was clinical. Walls were lined with leather-bound journals and scientific texts. The centerpiece was an enormous desk covered not with state papers, but with anatomical diagrams, chemical formulae, and detailed charts of human secondary gender biology.
It was the lair of a scientist-king.
Arion's eyes immediately went to the safe hidden behind a large portrait of the deposed, aging King. He tried the combination he'd spent years calculating: the date of Kyon's chemical initiation. The safe refused to open.
His gaze scanned the desk frantically. He saw a series of complex blueprints weighted down by a heavy paperweight, a small, tarnished silver vial identical to the one Arion himself had used, but clearly empty.
Arion seized the blueprints. They were complex diagrams, not of a castle, but of a specialized chemical synthesis laboratory hidden deep within the palace's sub-levels. The labels were detailed, marking out vats, filtration systems, and pressurized chambers.
But what truly mattered was the accompanying logbook. Arion flipped it open, his heart pounding.
The crisp, clean handwriting was Kyon's.
The log confirmed everything. Dates, chemical compounds, and precise dosages detailing the long-term stabilization process. The Jade Heart was indeed merely a catalyst for the final, permanent injection ,labeled Project Phoenix.
Arion's eyes scanned the final entry, dated only days ago ,the day after the maid reported seeing Aiden:
Day 1,470: Project Phoenix complete. Administered final 10cc stabilization solution. Subject: Self. Pheromones locked to absolute Alpha Dominance. Instability eliminated. Need for external catalyst (Jade Heart) is negligible, though retained for political symbolism.
Result: All previous vulnerabilities are extinguished. The Serpent King is complete.
Kyon hadn't just stabilized himself; he had chemically fortified his alpha status, rendering the Jade Heart completely irrelevant. Arion's strategic advice to Cassian,to target the amulet,would have failed catastrophically.
The logbook was the Architect's Blueprint of Kyon's entire reign,proof of the chemical manipulation, the treason against his own biology, and the absolute deception used to seize power. It was the only weapon that could truly shatter Kyon's legitimacy.
A low, painful groan filtered from the parlor. Kyon was stirring.
Arion snatched the logbook and shoved it into the inner lining of his silk tunic, the thin volume pressing against his bruised ribs. He stumbled out of the office, re-engaging the security lock with Kyon's scent signature one final time.
He returned to the parlor, collapsing onto a fainting couch just moments before Kyon staggered back to consciousness. The Prince groaned, clutching his head, his face pale and marked by a vicious, possessive smile.
"You should have known better, Consort," Kyon rasped, still half-drugged and disoriented. "You are mine. Now, where were we?"
Arion endured the final humiliation of playing the part of the willing, exhausted victim, ensuring the narrative of their violent encounter was perfectly maintained for the guards. He had paid the price, but he had secured the ultimate truth. The logbook, hidden against his skin, was their only hope for freedom.
Kyon stumbled back toward Arion, still deeply affected by the sedative's tumultuous interaction with his stabilizers. His movements were slow, disconnected, and clumsy, stripping away the Prince's usual grace. He wasn't fueled by rage now, but by a heavy, drugged possessiveness. He collapsed beside Arion on the fainting couch, his face inches from Arion's, his breath hot and uneven.
Arion braced himself, his hand instinctively pressing against the logbook hidden beneath his tunic, drawing cold comfort from the proof of Kyon's lies. He played the part of the spent, willing consort, letting his head loll back against the velvet.
Kyon didn't immediately demand more intimacy. Instead, his eyes, still slightly dilated and unfocused from the chemicals, fixed on Arion's face.
His gaze, usually so sharp and calculating, was frighteningly empty,or perhaps, terrifyingly honest.
"You asked me what I won," Kyon murmured, his voice thick, slurring slightly, betraying the powerful sedatives.
He pressed his forehead against Arion's, his scent now a confusing blend of fading burning amber and the bitter tang of residual chemicals. "You asked what the point of the lies and the treason was."
Arion remained silent, waiting, listening through the blinding headache and the agony of his bruised body. This was the moment the stabilizers failed, the moment the real, vulnerable Kyon might bleed through the political armor.( yes )
Kyon sighed, a deep, shuddering sound of profound weariness. "I said I won freedom. That's a lie I tell the courtiers. It's what I tell myself when I look at the throne." He paused, his breath catching. "But you know the real answer, Arion. The one you despise the most."
His voice dropped to a near-inaudible whisper, the most genuine sound Arion had ever heard from him. "I thought I'd win love."
Arion froze. The word, spoken by the Serpent King, was a jarring dissonance. Kyon, the man who chemically altered his own son's mother and plotted his father's downfall, was speaking of love?
"Love," Kyon repeated, the word sounding alien on his tongue. He gripped Arion's wrist, his fingers cold.
"I was an experiment, Consort. My mother, the mad genius, saw me as a fascinating genetic anomaly to be perfected. My father saw me as a biological defect to be contained. They only loved the idea of power I could bring them , the perfect Omega Consort, the politically useful Alpha son."
Kyon turned his head slightly, his cheek resting against Arion's. "I never knew what it was like to be touched without calculation. To be held without a chemical agenda. I saw Cassian with his mother, the way she looked at him... I saw my father look at his first Queen. They had loyalty. They had affection. They had... a bond that wasn't built on a lab table."
The confession was shattering, the ultimate shame of the Serpent King, a lifetime of loneliness.
"I built an empire on lies, Arion, to force a connection. I thought if I was powerful enough, if I was absolute, someone would look at me and stop calculating. Someone would just love me, not the Prince, not the Omega, not the Alpha, but the man who bled for every injection."
Kyon pulled back slightly, his eyes searching Arion's face with a devastating vulnerability. He touched Arion's cheek gently, his thumb hovering over the bruise he himself had inflicted.
"You," Kyon whispered, his voice cracking. "When you defied me, when you challenged me, when you looked at me without fear in the market... I thought: He sees the truth. He's an Alpha who hates the lie, but his body submits to the bond. He could be the one."
He gripped Arion's chin, forcing eye contact. "You know what love is, Consort. You felt it for your family, for your son. Tell me, what is it?" Kyon demanded, the desperation in his voice stripping away every layer of royal façade. "Can you even recognize it when I give it to you? Or is it just another calculated submission to you, too? Does the true feeling even exist, or is it just another useful political construct?"
Arion stared back, unable to speak. The true Kyon was a traumatized, broken boy who had simply traded one form of abuse for another, exchanging chemical control for political control, all in a desperate, misguided search for affection.
Kyon, receiving no answer, let out a choked sound, a mixture of despair and returning Alpha frustration. The softness vanished.
"Silence. Of course," Kyon concluded, the mask instantly slamming back into place, albeit slightly cracked.
He was still the Serpent, but now Arion knew the wound that fueled his venom. Kyon's eyes narrowed, the familiar possessiveness returning as the residual chemicals were processed.
"Well, if I cannot have love, Consort, I will settle for obedience. Now, where were we? The night is still young, and I have plans for a new heir."
Kyon's hand tightened on Arion's silk tunic, beginning to pull him closer, ready to resume the brutal, loveless intimacy. But Arion was ready. He had his confession, and he had his freedom. He had the logbook.
Kyon's final, desperate question—"Does the true feeling even exist?"—hung heavy in the air, a poisoned dart aimed straight at the hollow center of his own brilliant, tragic life. Arion looked at the defeated Alpha, seeing not the Serpent King who had violated him, but the traumatized child of Queen Celine's lab.
The rage, the hatred, the shame—it all momentarily collapsed under a wave of unexpected, profound pity. Arion understood betrayal, but Kyon had been betrayed by his own parents, by his own biology.
Ignoring the throbbing ache in his face and the painful protests from his abdomen, Arion shifted, pulling Kyon's heavy, chemically-disoriented body closer. He wrapped his arms around the Prince, pulling him into a firm, unyielding embrace.
This was not submission. It was an act of genuine, albeit calculated, compassion. It was the only weapon Arion had left that wasn't steel or political maneuvering.
The impact of the simple, non-demanding touch was immediate and devastating. Kyon, who had endured a life of calculated touches and violent corrections, flinched violently against the contact. His muscles tensed, and his Alpha scent spiked with confused irritation, quickly followed by a heartbreaking, profound vulnerability. His eyes, still unfocused, welled up with moisture, an utterly foreign response to the hardened Prince.
"Don't," Kyon rasped, trying to pull away, his mind fighting the softness of the gesture. "Don't touch me like that.It's...unprofessional."
A small moment of tensed silence then Arion spoke up .
"Tell me everything," Arion commanded softly, tightening his embrace. He held Kyon like a drowning man, allowing no escape. "Tell me what you wished for. Not the King, not the Alpha, but the boy who hated his own genius."
Kyon resisted for another agonizing moment, but the sedative, combined with the absolute novelty of unconditional physical comfort, broke his will. He suddenly slumped, leaning into the warmth of the hug, his full weight pressing against Arion's chest.
"I just... I wanted what Cassian had," Kyon confessed, the words muffled against Arion's shoulder. The admission, stripped bare of all political veneer, was an agonizing, juvenile jealousy.
"His mother looked at him like he was worth something, even when he was a brat. My father tolerated him. He looked at me like I was a contaminant. Like I was a ticking bomb."
His voice was a trembling whisper. "The Crown wasn't his to give. It was mine. My genetic marker, my Alpha capability... I was the superior heir, but my mother's instability and my father's fear meant I had to be broken first. I had to become the perfect, docile Omega to even survive the Palace. I didn't want to rule from the shadows; I wanted the right to exist, whole, on the throne that was mine."
Kyon clung to Arion, the physical manifestation of his life's pain pouring out into the unexpected safety of the hug. Arion felt the tears,unwanted, hot, and utterly heartbreaking, soaking into the silk of his tunic. He felt a deep surge of emotion, a painful empathy for the Alpha who had caused him so much suffering.
He tightened his arms, pulling Kyon impossibly close. It was an involuntary reaction, a deep Alpha instinct to comfort and protect the vulnerable mate, regardless of the cost.
The pressure, intended as solace, became too much for the chemically agitated Prince. Kyon's body suddenly snapped from passive confession to sharp, defensive aggression. He let out a low, irritated snarl, quickly followed by a heartbreaking sob, and a single, final, hot tear traced a path down his cheek.
Then, the true Alpha returned, fueled by the complex chaos of the drugs and the terrifying intimacy of the hug. Kyon yanked his head back, his eyes flashing with renewed possession. The vulnerability vanished, replaced by fierce, possessive need.
"I don't need comfort, Consort," Kyon growled, his voice now regaining its power with a crack in it . "I need proof."it more like he beg for it then command it .
He seized Arion's face, his lips crashing down in a kiss that was no longer brutal or calculated, but desperate, raw, and demanding, kyon lips were shaking . The unexpected confession had opened a floodgate, and now Kyon sought to bury the terrifying sincerity under a wave of overwhelming physical coupling.
He refused to show his pain any longer and try his best not to cry .
Arion, exhausted, bruised, and emotionally fractured, responded with a mix of despair and resigned fire. He knew this was the price of the confession, the tax Kyon levied on any moment of genuine emotion.
The parlor, just moments ago the scene of a fragile, heartbreaking moment of truth, was once again filled with the sounds of their loud, aggressive coupling, masking the deeper, silent war still raging within the Consort's heart.
"no one loves me." Kyon said softly almost a grunt next Arion ears .