Damian's POV
The pain started at breakfast.
Damian sat at the royal table surrounded by advisors and courtiers and people who would kill him if they knew the truth. His stomach twisted into knots. A dull ache that was becoming more and more familiar. His suppressants were wearing off again.
He'd taken an extra dose that morning. Double what the doctor recommended. But his body was fighting back harder now. After twenty-six years of hiding, the Omega inside him was getting tired of pretending.
Damian picked at his food and tried not to show any discomfort. Around him, nobles chattered excitedly about the wedding. About the northern princess arriving today. About the strength of the alliance that would be born from this union.
They had no idea.
His mother, Queen Helena, sat across from him. She was watching him carefully. She always did. The only person in the entire kingdom who knew what he really was. The only person who understood the weight of the lie he carried every single day.
He caught her eye for just a moment and gave her a small nod. I'm fine. Don't worry. The performance continues.
She looked away and returned her attention to her meal.
By midday, Damian's chambers were crowded with advisors preparing him for the bride's arrival. They dressed him in formal clothes. Pressed his hair. Made sure every part of him screamed power and strength and Alpha dominance.
Damian stood still and let them dress him like a doll.
He'd been doing this his whole life. Standing still. Letting others shape him. Becoming what everyone needed him to be. An Alpha. A prince. A leader. Everything he wasn't underneath all the lies.
The suppressants sat in his pocket. Small bottles of clear liquid that kept his Omega nature hidden. His doctor, Felix, had refined the formula over years. Made it stronger. Made it work better. But the cost was getting higher every month. Nausea. Pain. Unpredictable heats that had to be covered up as mysterious illnesses.
But the alternative was execution.
By late afternoon, a servant rushed in and announced that the northern carriage had been spotted on the horizon.
Damian dismissed everyone and moved to his window.
He watched from the tower as the massive golden carriage rolled through the gates. Guards surrounded it. Musicians played welcoming songs. The entire courtyard was packed with people eager to see the princess who would strengthen their kingdom.
Damian felt nothing.
This marriage was politics. Nothing more. A way to secure a treaty that kept both kingdoms stable and safe. The northern princess was probably a nice enough girl. Well-trained in diplomacy and etiquette and all the things princesses were supposed to know.
She was also a stranger he'd never met.
The carriage door opened.
A figure stepped out onto the red carpet. Dressed in traveling clothes. Elegant and composed. Damian couldn't see her face clearly from this distance, but he could see her movements.
Something was wrong.
Her walk was too careful. Too calculated. Like she was remembering steps from a dance rather than moving naturally. Like her feet weren't quite sure where to go next. A nervous bride moved stiffly, yes. But this was different. This was someone performing the role of a nervous bride rather than actually being one.
Damian leaned closer to the window.
His mother appeared beside him, having climbed the tower steps without him hearing her.
"She's beautiful," Queen Helena said softly.
"She's performing," Damian replied.
His mother gave him a sharp look. "Aren't we all, my son?"
There was weight in those words. A reminder of what they both were underneath their crowns. A reminder that everyone in this palace was hiding something.
Damian watched as the bride bowed to Queen Helena. Even that movement seemed rehearsed. Practiced. Like someone had taught her exactly how a princess should bow and she was following instructions very carefully.
"Be gentle with her," his mother said. It wasn't a request. "She's far from home and probably terrified."
"I'll do what's necessary for the kingdom," Damian said.
"I know." His mother placed a hand on his shoulder. "But perhaps try to do it kindly."
She left him alone at the window.
Damian watched the bride being escorted through the courtyard. Watched her move through the crowd of nobles like she was trying to remember exactly where to step. Watched her disappear into the palace.
Something about this was wrong.
But Damian couldn't place what.
He returned to his chambers and tried to focus on council meetings. On policy discussions. On anything that would keep his mind from the knot of pain building in his stomach.
The suppressants weren't holding.
By evening, the ache had become something sharper. Something that made it hard to breathe. Damian sat through dinner without eating. Smiled at the proper moments. Listened to toasts about unity and strength and all the political nonsense that his marriage was supposed to represent.
Nobody noticed anything was wrong.
Or if they did, they had the good sense not to comment.
When the evening finally ended, Damian excused himself and retreated to his private chambers. The pain had become almost unbearable. A heat was coming. One of the bad ones. The kind that made his entire body feel like it was on fire from the inside out.
He locked his door and sent away his servants.
Then he pulled out a new bottle of suppressants and drank it down.
The liquid burned his throat. Burned his stomach. Burned everything it touched. For a moment, nothing happened. The pain continued. The heat built. And then suddenly his body went rigid.
Every muscle locked up.
Damian collapsed to the floor of his chambers, gasping. The pain was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Like his body was tearing itself apart. Like the Omega heat was fighting against the suppressants and both were destroying him from the inside.
He couldn't move. Couldn't call for help. Couldn't do anything except lie on the cold stone floor and feel himself coming apart.
This had happened before. Not often. But enough times that Damian knew what was coming. The pain would eventually fade. His body would eventually give in. The suppressants would win out and he could pretend for another week that everything was fine.
But each time it happened, he wondered if his body was finally giving out. If this was finally the moment when the lies caught up to him. When his Omega nature overwhelmed everything else and exposed him to the entire kingdom.
Sweat poured down his face. His breathing came in shallow gasps. His hands clawed at the floor.
Through the pain, he thought about the bride. About her strange movements. About the way she didn't move like any princess he'd ever seen.
Damian's eyes rolled back and darkness crept into his vision.
The last thing he heard before consciousness slipped away was a servant knocking at his locked door, worried and calling his name.
By then, it was too late.
Crown Prince Damian collapsed fully across the cold stone floor of his chambers, his body finally giving up the fight against the poison he drank every single day just to survive.
And in another part of the palace, the bride was also lying alone in her room, staring at the ceiling and wondering if she would survive tomorrow.