Chapter Text
‘The Jewel of Vere’ was a title rarely afforded and only bestowed upon an Omega royal. The Veretian Royal family was known for producing a Dominant Alpha once a generation. King Aleron and Crown Prince Auguste were such examples. The fair Queen Hennike, a Kemptian Omega, delighted the country with the birth of the second prince, Laurent. A shy and bookish boy by all accounts who preferred the company of animals to people, save perhaps his brother. Yet his striking resemblance to the Queen caused speculation on how he would present at puberty.
Speculation and potential excitement. After all, a royal Omega guaranteed not only heirs but political advantage due to their desirability. The Queen’s arrival in Vere solidified Kempt’s alliance, proving the political value of her secondary gender.
Her untimely death weakened Vere overnight. Kempt grew suspicious of potential foul play and relations between both countries tensed. Akielos seized the opportunity at this sudden vulnerability and Vere keenly felt the loss of their Queen. War, which had been held at bay for nearly two decades was now a certainty.
The Akielon army pushed north into Delfleur and aimed to take the fort at Marlas. Forced to leave Arles and distrustful of saboteurs, the King brought his sons and brother south alongside his army.
—
“Father, we have enough supplies to wait them out for at least a month. They cannot gain further ground north without taking Marlas. If we’re patient, we can open peace talks with Theomedes.” Auguste presented his father the supply ledger as he spoke. Every guard in the room looked onto their Crown Prince, not their King, with reverence.
It was a fact that did not escape the King’s brother. “No. Theomedes has waited too long for us to be vulnerable to allow this chance to slip away. He can burn every village, farm and forest from here to Arles unless we stop them here. They expect us to hide away in our forts. An ambush as they sleep, however, will grant us an advantage and allow us to trim away enough of their numbers for them to call for a ceasefire.”
“Such underhanded tactics will not endear us to Akielos, uncle.” Auguste frowned, “Their forces are more experienced than ours in close combat. We would be showing our entire hand and leave Marlas vulnerable.”
With a scoff, Auguste’s argument was dismissed, “You have much yet to learn, Auguste. You cannot expect our enemies to talk of peace when their blood lust led them to our borders just as we are barely finished mourning our Queen.”
“Enough.” The King did not need to raise his voice to be heard. Instead of siding with either strategy, his steely gaze wandered from the war table to the door. One of Auguste’s personal guards was in low conversation with a small coltish figure looking inside the grand hall of Marlas with doe eyes.
Immediately, Auguste stepped away from the table to walk over to his 13 year old brother. His tone softened considerably as did his expression, “Laurie, what’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare again?”
“Gus, I don’t feel well.” Mumbled Laurent sheepishly, embarrassed at having interrupted such an important discussion.
“Now now, Laurent, you’re old enough to know better than to waltz in here.” The King’s brother chastised gently. Aleron himself remained silent, observing his sons with close attention.
Auguste ignored his uncle and pressed his palm to Laurent’s forehead, “You’re burning up,” he moved his hand to his brother’s neck and felt a swelling there, omegan scent glands were beginning to form. It was with tightly knitted brows that he looked back to the King.
With a grave nod, Aleron released a long exhale. “We will remain inside the fort and send a herald to Theomedes in the morning for a parlay.” He informed the room and thusly closed the matter for further argument.
“Brother, you cannot appear weak-“
Aleron silenced his brother with a hard stare before dismissing his senior officers and guards from the room. He approached his sons and crouched down to look over an anxious Laurent. The younger prince had never before received such close attention from his father. It was strange enough for Auguste to place a protective hand on Laurent’s shoulder.
“You aren’t ill, Laurent.” The King explained simply as he pushed a strand of golden hair behind Laurent’s ear. “You are presenting. It will not be pleasant for you this coming week but I will have a Beta physician tend to you and I am certain your brother will be loathe to leave your side.”
“Father is right, Laurie. You will also feel safer with a familiar Alpha you trust nearby.” His words were spoken soothingly but Auguste used the opportunity to stare down his uncle.
The stare was met with a tightening of the jaw.
“I’m an Omega.” It was not a question, Laurent understood now what was happening to him, why his neck and abdomen ached. He also read enough books on their history to know the implications and why his father seemed pleased by this development.
“It is a wonder I did not see it sooner, you look just like your mother.” For the first time since Hennike died, Aleron felt hopeful.
Laurent’s breath hitched when his father pressed a kiss to the top of his head. It was the first and last time his father showed him such affection.
“Go with Auguste and rest.”
“But father, what about the war?”
“Let me worry about the war, Laurent. If all goes well then by the time you feel better, it will all be over.”
With a gentle tug, Auguste led Laurent out by the hand. The princes left behind the older generation of brothers to look over a now obsolete war table.
“You knew.”
“I suspected,” Aleron affirmed, “Perhaps even hoped a little. He is ever so much like Hennike, isn’t he?”
“You can’t promise him to Akielos if you wish to regain Kempt’s favour.”
“You’re very eager to carry on with the war, aren’t you little brother?”
The King watched his brother flush with anger, much in the same way he would when they were boys, “Do not fret, you may still get your wish. For now I need you to return to Fortaine and make certain our supply lines remain secure.”
“Surely you can send one of your men to do that. I would be of better use to you here.”
“This is not a request, I will send for you if I require your counsel.” Before his brother could reply and talk him out of it, Aleron dismissed him.
—
Damen heard the whispers before the herald arrived; ‘Vere has a new Jewel’. It set his brother on edge and Kastor had been eager to stain his sword with more Veretian blood. Even Nikandros was unsure of what to make of the request for parlay, it was causing him to pace around the tent.
“It is too soon for a herald to come. Surely they would try some manner of trickery in battle first?”
“Something changed for them, that much is certain.” Damen took a drink of water, having refused wine from his slave in favour of clarity.
“What could have changed so quickly?”
“Father has his suspicions though I suppose we will know soon enough. For now he has given orders to halt our siege preparations.”
Nikandros chewed on his lip in thought, a habit he formed in his youth when he was restraining himself from giving his unsolicited opinion to his Prince.
“Nik, if you think any louder you will alert the Veretians.”
“This is no time for jests, Damen. Mark my words, Aleron is scheming something. Or more accurately that slippery brother of his is.”
“I’m not so sure. They could have attacked us during the night or holed up inside their walls. Instead, a tent was erected in between our camp and the fort on an open field with no possibility of treachery. The herald informed us that the King himself would be going alone with only a single guard. It would be dishonourable if we did not do the same. My father is speaking with Aleron about ending the war. Whatever factor it was that changed, I think it gave them more to lose.”
Finally Nikandros ceased his pacing and sat across from Damen, even pouring himself a drink of water in the process, “What could be so precious to protect that they might be willing to cut their losses now? We occupy most of Delpha once again.”
Silence filled the tent as Damen considered the question. It was certainly true that they have nearly reached their goal. Theomedes would be satisfied with the conquering of Marlas and find it too troublesome to continue north. Both sides had suffered enough losses by now. However, until this point, every move the Veretians made had been with the intent of regaining lost ground. So why now?
Then it came to him. Reports had told them that the royal family had left Arles and were now all here in Marlas. That would include the youngest prince who was five years younger than Damen himself.
“I understand the rumours now. ‘The Jewel of Vere’ is a title granted to Omegas and did Prince Laurent not accompany his family south?”
Nikandros stared at Damen with wide eyes, “Of course. A newly presented Omega would change everything for them.”
“That also explains my father’s reaction to the herald. He knew we were reclaiming Delpha but with an Omega presenting into the royal family of Vere, it will only be temporary. Now he must consider other options.”
“Marriage, you mean.”
Damen suddenly regretted refusing the wine. “It wouldn’t be right away, Prince Laurent is still only a boy.”
“Boy or not, if Prince Laurent really is an Omega then that means Vere has just gained a powerful new bargaining chip.”
Just like that, Damen was overcome with pity.
“What is that face for?”
“I feel sorry for him. Imagine going through the pain of a presentation heat, only to find out you are being used as a bargaining chip.”
“Don’t feel too bad for the boy, Damen. You’ll be in the same position if what we suspect is true. Knowing Veretians, they would never settle for Kastor as a suitor.”
“No, they wouldn’t.” Damen agreed with a frown, wondering if Kastor would be offended at being passed over during negotiations. “Speaking of Kastor, I have not seen him since the herald arrived.”
“Nor I.” Admitted Nikandros with a shake of his head, “He’ll cause trouble for your father before the day is done. You will see.”
“You never did trust him, did you?”
“He almost killed you years ago, Damen. I know you do not listen but I worry you are blinded by your affection for him.”
“That was an accident, Nik.”
“Was it? An accident you still bear the scar of on your flesh. Anyone else would have been executed for treason for daring to mark the Exalted’s heir during a spar. I would have intervened without thought were I there!”
Nikandros spoke so fiercely that Damen knew it was a mark of his loyalty towards him and couldn’t help but smile. “I am blessed by the Gods to have you as my friend, Nik.”
All the protective anger evaporated off Nikandros and he sighed, “It is Akielos who is blessed by you, Damen. You have proved yourself during this war as a leader and led your forces with honour. Kastor has lost far more men than you have, you know. He does not care for them as you do. You care for Akielos, your brother cares for himself. Remember that if you ever doubt yourself.”
During such moments, Damen felt older than his years. He was barely a man at 19 and yet the weight of responsibility and duty bore down on him. Sometimes he wondered if Kastor would act differently if he had remained heir when Damen was born. His frustration at being passed over was understandable. Until Damen was born, he had been raised as if he were to inherit the throne. Yet there were times when Kastor acted if he were younger and not ten years older.
“Damianos Exalted, the King summons you to his tent.” A soldier informed him as he stood just outside the tent.
Damen exchanged looks with Nikandros and stood up from his chair, “He’s back then. I suppose it is time to find out what Aleron proposed. Will you wait for me?”
“Of course.” Nikandros replied easily.
—
“We have won, then?” Kastor asked, confused by what Theomedes was telling his sons within the privacy of the King’s war tent.
“In a manner of speaking, we have. Delpha is ours once again. It appears Aleron has more honour than I thought. He will surrender the lands we have conquered if we agree to stop our march north.” The King explained, removing the golden laurels from his head as weariness began to show through his facade of strength.
“Then why stop now? We have them begging for mercy. Father, we could take all of Vere and rule it as one kingdom as it once was.”
“To do so would only make us the barbarians that Vere believes we are. They have fought and lost. It would dishonour us to take more. We have Delpha again, it is enough.”
“Our men long for home.” Damen remarked, agreeing with his father.
“They should long for glory!” Kastor snapped, “We are on the brink of greatness and here we are playing nice with Veretians when we should be conquering them!”
Theomedes stared at his eldest son with a look of such disappointment that it silenced Kastor, “You are drunk. Go to your tent and sleep off the griva before you disgrace yourself further. I wish to speak with my heir alone.”
“He will remember that.” Damen mumbled after Kastor stormed out.
“I hope he does. Kastor needs to learn his place. Now come and sit with me Damen.”
The King reached out to place a hand over Damen’s when they sat adjacent to one another at the table. “I wish to tell you that I am proud of you. Do not think your king is blind to your efforts in battle. Your men have informed me that you saved them more than once from Veretian trickery. They admire you openly and would follow you anywhere. That is why you are my heir. Your brother might also be an Alpha but he does not inspire as you do. You also know your duty.”
“I… yes, father. Is this about the Jewel of Vere?”
“Clever boy. No, you are a man now. I must remember that. You are right, Damen. Aleron’s youngest son is newly presented. I have agreed to a ceasefire until we have met him. It will be a week until then but it is your duty to make a good impression as a suitor. Do you understand?”
“Yes, father. But he is only a boy still.”
“Indeed, it would be years before Prince Laurent is wed. Still, it would be wise if we secure this match for you now. With a Veretian consort on your arm, Delpha would remain uncontested. It would give our people peace of mind to know that there would be no more war at the border.”
“I understand my duty. Akielos comes first.” Damen nodded, ready to bring peace to his people by any means necessary.
“That is the burden of a king and a lesson you have taken to heart young. In a week’s time we are invited to dine with the Veretians inside Marlas. We will formally begin negotiating terms for peace and a treaty will likely be drawn up. I am trusting you to befriend the Veretian princes. Auguste will be King along with you and it would be prudent to get the measure of him.”
“I will not fail you, father.”
With a tired smile, Theomedes pat his son’s hand before sitting back to rest his head against the king’s high chair. “You never have, Damen.”
— (TW)
True to his word, Auguste had dutifully watched over Laurent. Or he did until his father summoned him into his chambers. The king had returned from his initial parlay with Theomedes and wished to speak with his heir. Concerned over Laurent’s safety, Auguste posted two of his most trusted men to guard his brother. Jord and Orlant were Betas but no less skilled for it. Their loyalty to Auguste was unquestioned.
Still, it meant Laurent had to be left alone without the comfort of a familiar Alpha for a time. He was small for his age and took up almost no room at all on the large four poster bed he was burrowed in. Auguste had left one of his shirts behind for him to hold onto. Despite the perspiration from the presentation heat, Laurent felt cold. Without his brother there to hold his hand and keep him company, he succumbed to the fever.
An Omega’s first heat was not to find a mate, it was merely to begin puberty and the development of scent glands. There was no desire as would be expected of a fully matured Omega in heat. Instead, a presenting Omega went through a feverish ordeal where their body required rest and plenty of fluids. The presence of trusted family normally helped the process go smoother. It was necessary for them to feel safe and be around familiar scents in order to avoid stress. Otherwise their body would shut down in defence.
When a cold hand brushed Laurent’s cheek, he was relieved. He thought that for a moment, his brother had returned. Something felt wrong, however. Auguste’s hands were always warm. The scent was also off. It was sour with intent. Though his senses were still developing and he couldn’t be sure. Feeling delirious with fever, Laurent tried to open his eyes slowly and it was not without effort.
“You poor thing.” Cooed his uncle, “You’re drenched in sweat. Don’t worry, I’m here to help you.” He pulled the covers off Laurent’s shoulders and clicked his tongue. “No wonder you’re so warm. The physician didn’t think you’d sweat through your pyjamas?”
The next thing Laurent knew, his soft pyjamas were being peeled off of him and all he could do was whimper. He trusted his uncle but he wasn’t soothed like he was with Auguste. For some reasons, his nerves were on edge. Was it that sour scent making him feel this way?
“There, that’s better.” His uncle was smiling, Laurent could just about make it out through his heavy eyelids. A cool wet cloth pressed to his skin and cleaned him off. It was a gesture that was appreciated given how sticky he felt.
“T-thank you,” Laurent managed weakly, expecting that to be the end of it. Yet his uncle continued his attentions and stroked at his flushed skin. It confused him, “What-“
His uncle shushed him and began to rub circles on the back of his neck, right on his aching scent glands. The effect was immediate and he felt his limbs go limp. The fever was trying to pull him under and he was only vaguely aware of being moved. Laurent laid on his stomach and his hips were pulled up high enough for a pillow to be pushed under him.
“Good boy, just go back to sleep. I’ll make the pain go away. This is exactly what you need.” A belt was being unbuckled behind him and Laurent couldn’t make sense of what was happening.
An angry shout that felt more like a roar echoed into the room. There was a commotion that Laurent couldn’t hear clearly. His body felt like it was shutting down. A primal sort of fear and sense of danger gripped him.
“Laurie!” Auguste’s comforting baritone pierced through the haze and wrapped Laurent up in a soft blanket.
Laurent gripped onto his brother to breathe in the comforting scent of protection coming off him. It was enough to help Laurent open his eyes and take in his surroundings.
There was blood on his brother’s hands and more on the floor.
“What happened?” The fog was clearing from his mind.
“You’re safe now, that’s all that matters. Someone tried to hurt you but he failed and I won’t leave your side again.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” Auguste held him tighter to his chest, shaking with suppressed rage.
For the rest of the week, Auguste spent every waking moment watching over his precious little brother. Vowing that no one would ever again try and take advantage of Laurent, not while he still drew breath.