Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

HEATS
Omegas go into Heat four times (once every 3 months) a year for 3-7 days depending on sex, age, health, and fertility.
Males tend to have shorter but more intense Heats than females.
Younger omegas have longer and/or more intense Heats versus older Omegas.
Fertile Omegas, male and femal will remain in Heat a minimum of four days unless impregnated or suffering from other sexual or physical dysfunction such as malnutrition or dehyrdation. But such conditions will also create a more difficult Heat the following term.

PENIS SIZE
In this world, Alphas do not have ridiculously big cocks. Alphas do however have more enlarged testes, especially if they are Bonded or constantly around unBonded Omegas due to pheremone influence on hormone production. Alpha's also have much shorter refractory periods to satisfy Omegas in Heat regardless of age. They have an abnormal stamina, even if they are older.
Betas and Omegas can be just as large as Alphas, though Omegas tend to be of average size as their penis's aren't biologically functional.

FERTILITY
Omegas have a gestation period of 9 months just like Beta women do, although premature babies are more likely to survive if born from an Omega; the cause of this correlation is unknown.
Betas can impregnate and Bond with Omegas yet most Beta/Omega couples occur through purchase by wealthy Betas or arranged marriages of freeman Omegas.
Omega females are known for carrying multiples, especially with Alphas. It is known to occur in male Omegas yet never each resulting term. Omega males do however tend to have less intense labors no matter the amount of children being born. This reason is not quite known, but this does tend to result in longer fertility life and less comlications of male Omegas during pregnancy as long as they make it past the first trimester.

OMEGA MALES

Omega males do not develop body hair like many Alpha and Beta males do. They have very little chest hair and do not need to shave their faces. Before puberty and or children, they are often very lean of frame. But after the first birth, many develop curves 'suitable' for child rearing, feeding, and carrying.

Chapter Text

The Northerners who had raided Am-Jabad carried with them wickedly curved blades and stoic if yet leering faces. The inhabitants of the former Ghian's Harem trembled in fear of their uncertain futures. Lord Kamal, who had once ruled Am-Jabad and it's surrounding lands as the Ghian had been slain in battle. Being too slow and gluttonous, it was no surprise that the slovenly lord had perished when he foolishly rode his chariot outside of the gates to meet the Northern Lords on the fields of battle.

Rumor was, that the Northerners from the old war clans of Akron were seeking a stronghold in the South in the pursuit of justice against the High Ghian of An-Bara, the Southern capital, Lord Moriarty. Lord Moriarty was said to have gone into peace talks with the Northerners in the interest of settling centuries of tensions between the Northerners and Southerners. As a show of good faith, the Northerner King Gregory Lestrade had sent an envoy accompanied by his Omega daughter, Mary, to Moriarty's Harem. With the condition of Mary becoming Moriarty's First Wife, the leader of the Harem; as well as to sign the treaty agreed upon by the ambassadors of both nations, their marriage was expected to be a great success. Moriarty had signed the treaty in exchange for Mary, yet when Mary had arrived in An-Bara, communications between her and the North had ceased, and night raids along The Border increased heavily.

King Lestrade viewed this insult as an act of war, and the city of Am-Jabad had been just another foothold for him among the Southern cities in the efforts to reach Moriarty.

As Sherlock observed the impatient women, both Beta and Omega pacing the halls and rooms of the Harem, he sighed in relief before steeling himself for his uncertain future. Sherlock's bedding ceremony had been uninitiated do to the rapid encroaching movements of the Northern army, and Lord Kamal had been unable to consummate his marriage to either Sherlock or Molly, the Beta female Kamal had purchased in his latest visit to the slave auction known as The Block.

Sherlock had been a rare prize for the slavers block. It wasn't often that a young untouched male Omega found his way there, and the buzz had drawn the Ghian out of the heart of the the city and into the slavers slums to see the beauty being boasted of by the slave trader Moran.

With his brother overseas trading on a merchant galley, Sherlock had no one to turn to when his parents had grown ill and passed away. The money his brother Mycroft sent home dried up like water in the Gabon Desert as his parents had enlarged their home, spent lavishly on parties, and hired new servants.

When the coughing sickness had taken over their lungs only Sherlock seemed to escape the effects as he nursed his parents the best he could while the servants stole the silver and furnishings before disappearing into the night. As an Omega, Sherlock could do nothing, and he inherited his parents debts, eventually ending up on the block, being sold the the Ghian.
He had known what to expect with Lord Kamal. But he had no idea what to expect with the Northern invaders. To some that uncertainty would be worse, but Sherlock thrived on the unknown.

-*-

John snapped the reigns of Lestrade’s chariot as it led the army's procession through the gates of Am-Jabad. The city had fallen quickly once it’s Lord had fallen, not wishing to spend the blood of its sons against a vastly well-trained and successful army. John felt pride in his heart for his King and the men he fought beside. As Royal Surgeon and Physician, John was allowed an intimate look at his King that few saw, and what he saw was a man who wanted the return of his daughter.

Thinking of Mary, John couldn't help but frown. He had had feelings for her that, while he hadn't acted on, lent a fierce protective nature towards both her and her father. Lestrade had always said that John was a highly competent warrior and should he ever leave the medical profession, he would place him as a General of his army posthaste. John always smiled at the praise, but his place was at his King's side, not behind the lines dispatching orders to runners while his men died.

"Another city, John," came the voice of his sovereign on the chariot beside him.

"Yes sir," John replied with a smile on his voice. "Just one more city till An-Bara, and justice for our people and your daughter."

"One city and a mother of all deserts," sighed the King.

"All will be well Majesty. This city doesn't seem to share the love for the Ghian that some of the others did. Mayhap someone will be willing to guide you along the merchant trails," John looked amongst the crowd for expressions of hostility among the people. Most looked hesitant and uncertain, yet they demonstrated respectful demeanors toward their conquerors.

They neared an area that John now recognized as Slavers Alley. Many of the Southern cities had similar landmarks that made finding a certain marketplace or area easy to find no matter the city you were in. This had been helpful for the Northern army as they moved from city to city, leaving behind men and regents to see to the city once it had been captured. A few cities had been left with their rulers and people intact as word of the Northerners superiority on the field of battle reached the people's ears. in exchange for supplies and water as well as information, Lestrade had left several cities behind with the promise of not looting or engaging with the citizens with hostility. As they continued further South, fewer and fewer cities had met them in open combat as many rulers realized that the Northern King was on a mission for one ruler, and not the entire country.

The slavers seemed displeased at the arrival of the Northern King. John grew tense as the hairs along the back of his neck stood up. Glancing up from roof to roof John saw a single man in black raise a knocked bow and aim for the King.
Drawing the reins tight and shoving the King behind him, John had time to shout to his men before fire raced down his left arm and he went unconscious.

-*-

Sherlock heard the commotion as the palace gates burst open. The haste of the Northerners seemed not to match the surrender granted to them, so Sherlock wondered at the commotion. He looked outwards through the screens to see a silver-haired man bringing his chariot to a halt. The circlet upon his head gave away his status as King Lestrade, yet his demeanor seemed unlike many Southern rulers that frequented the Lord Kamal's palace. Most rulers of the South seemed to care little of others apart from what people said of them. But the Northern King was shouting for help as he pressed upon the wound of his subject.

"Murray, find the palace physician, and someone who speaks Common. Do it now!" Lestrade shouted. He then ordered the men to carry the King's chariot driver into the palace where Sherlock lost sight of them. All of the guards apart from the eunuchs had fled, not wanting to be associated as having close ties to the former Ghian, so it was no surprise when Sherlock heard the soldier, Murray, calling for assistance. The eunuchs who Kamal had also made mute could say nothing as the soldier asked for aid.

Angry, Murray removed his blade and laid it on a eunuchs bare throat, not knowing of his inability to answer. The women and men assembled in the courtyard cried, shrieked, and whimpered at the violence as the rest of the eunuchs moved to defend them.

"Answer me!" Murray said once again, searching for the location of the medic.

Sherlock stepped forward. "Sir, he cannot speak, for he is mute."
Murray looked at the tall man who spoke to him fluently in his own language before returning to Common. "I and this woman, her father owned an apothecary," Sherlock dragged Molly from behind him, "We can help."

The Lord Kamal's First Wife, Sally sneered and stepped forward, "He is no medic. He is the property of the Ghian of Am-Jabad."

Murray looked into her eyes "Lord Kamal is dead," he replied vehemently. Looking at Sherlock and Molly, he ordered them to follow.

-*-

Chapter Text

Molly sighed and sat back. They had done everything possible for the man, with Sherlock as Molly's assistant, they had quickly seen to the man's injuries and given him Essence of Poppy for the pain. Molly went to inform the King's man on the charioteers condition leaving Sherlock alone at his side.

The man was tossing his head in the throes of a feverish dream. Sherlock wrung a cloth from the nearby basin and laid it over the man’s forehead. The man instantly relaxed at Sherlock’s attentions, his nostrils flared and his head turned to smell the inside of Sherlock’s wrist. Sherlock flushed at the attention, but the man quickly succumbed to a deeper sleep, relaxing back into the cushions.

-*-

It took a week, with many days spent in mild yet worrying fever for the man to return to consciousness. As he had cared for him, Sherlock had noticed many things in his hours of constant study. Common Northern soldier, approximately late 20's early 30's. Respected and trusted by king. The king drove the man to safety in his own chariot. Scratch that, the man is the chariot driver, he thought while noting the calluses between thumb and forefinger and along the palms. Favorite of the king as noted by the urgency in his voice, as well as the soldiers as noted by Murray's urgency not just to follow the king's orders but to save the man's life.

My best option, Sherlock thought.

Once the man had been declared sound, Sherlock had been escorted back to the Harem's locked doors. Upon his entrance, he was surprised to see no Northerners or sign that they had 'visited' the omega's living there. A young Omega named Danae approached him, asking about the Northerners. Apparently the king had entered once to tell them they would be allowed to keep their guards, and as long as they stayed within the Harem walls, no one would be permitted to harass them.

"We don't know what is going to happen, but a few of us overhead guards talking about the previous Harem's they've come across. Apparently, he's given the Harem to whoever he leaves in control. All of us have been trying to figure out who the king will choose. The Northerners are all so handsome.

"You honestly wouldn't mind being given to a stranger? One you have no knowledge of and one who might not even speak your language?" Sherlock had noted most of the men didn't speak and of the Southern dialects.

"At least they won't be ugly or fat like Lord Kamal," Danae giggled.

"Danae!" came the shrill voice of Sally from down the hall. She had appointed two of the ten eunuchs as her constant guards as soon as the Northerners had taken the city.

"First Wife!" Danae knelt in deference and tears welled in the corners of her eyes. "I am sorry for my offence and transgression."

Sally looked down at Danae and then at Sherlock before smirking.

"You will be."

-*-

When John woke to the warm Southern breeze and the faint smell of honey and incense he thought he had died a warrior's death and been rewarded by the Heavens. He groaned as he tried to stand, his legs shaking like a newborn colt before he had to sit once again.

The door banged open at his groan, and Murray came in with a tray of food and wine.

"John!" Murray grinned, setting the food down on the side table before supporting John as he listed to one side. "Good to have you back."

"How long was I out for-." John gasped and looked up at Murray's concerned eyes. "The king!"

"All is well. The king has been making provisions for our campaign to continue. But he has been visiting you every day. Eat and if you can stand, I'll take you to see him.

-*-

"John!" Lestrade raced to clap his hand upon John's uninjured shoulder, causing John to totter sideways in his weakened state.

"It's good to see you awake," the king smiled.

"Good to be awake sir," John joked. "And ready to push on to the next city."

Lestrade's face shifted at John's words.

"John, you've been seriously injured. And I don't think it's best-"

John panicked at his prediction of the next few sentences. "Your Majesty," John knelt on the floor, "I would give up anything to serve you, please do not send me home. I must stay by your side."

Lestrade sighed and helped John stand. "John, if your injury was mine, would you recommend me going on campaign through unknown territory with the eventual outcome being open combat?"

John looked into the king's eyes before sighing and admitting defeat. "No, sir."

Lestrade smiled weakly. "I know you don't wish to go home, but I can't think of anything you could-" he paused suddenly.

John jumped on this shift of thought, "Sir, I would be honored to serve in any capacity."

"Any capacity?" Lestrade smirked at his own private joke.

"Sir?" John swallowed hard.

“Well I am in need of a new Regent,” Lestrade smirked, knowing he had John trapped.

"You want me to-. Are you out of your mind?" John asked incredulously.

"Rule Am-Jabad in my stead while I continue on to An-Bara. I trust you implicitly and what better way to award years of such loyal service." Lestrade replied. "And trust me, I've heard tales that the Harem of Am-Jabad rivals even that of the capitals."

"Harem? You expect me to keep and service gods knows how many Omega's?" John asked.

"26 Beta women, 9 Omega females, and one male Omega. The male I hear is freshly arrived and the Bill claims he's a virgin."

"I doubt fat old Kamal had time to get it a leg over before we got here," Bill snickered.

John pinched his nose, "I don't believe in that Bill, you know that."

"What, servicing multiple beauties?" Bill scoffed, "Please John, you've conquered more women on this campaign by charm alone than anyone could do by force. They'll fall for that golden hair and those blue eyes."

"And you can't just expel them from the Harem with no other options. Many of them were raised into service and would become whores and beg in the streets otherwise," Lestrade continued.

"Such a waste of beauty," Murray sighed mockingly.

John could only sigh harder before following his king to meet his fate.

-*-

Danae cried as silent as she could as the cane hit the underside of her feet. Welts were beginning to form as Sally delivered blow after punishing"en blow.

"You must have respect for your Master. The Lord Kamal was a great man." Sally huffed as she worked. Even the eunuchs flenched at the young girl's cries.

No one seemed to notice the doors of the Harem open until a strong clear voice shouted. "Enough!"

Sherlock looked up to see the king entering alongside a familiar blonde man with eyes of the clearest blue.
-*-

"Enough!" shouted John as he stepped ahead of the king and wrenched the cane from Sally's grip. Weakened as he was from his week in bed, Sally was still no match for him. Sally instantly dropped in response to his Alpha pheromones which sent a chain reaction throughout every resident of the Harem. Everyone was quickly forced to their knees. But one person was slower than the rest. John saw the willowy figure of a male Omega kneel later than everyone else, but in his anger thought nothing of it.

Looking down at the woman who had been beating the young girl he commanded her in Common.

"What is your name and position here?"

Sally, realizing authority in his voice and demeanor did her best to endear herself to the Alpha.

"I am Sally Donovan, Beloved First Wife of the Harem," she purred.

John saw right through her act. "Beloved? By who?" He looked away, dismissing her before she could answer. "I don't care what you said about the girls staying in the Harem, I won't have someone beating the others," John told the king in the language of his people. As he was looking into the crowd of faces he was surprised to see the intelligence shining through the eyes of a male in the crowd.

"You there, come forward."

-*-
Sherlock's heart pounded as he neared the man who now presumably owned him body and soul.

In Common Sherlock addressed him, "Sir?"

In his own language John questioned, "You can understand me, can't you."

Sherlock noticed the interest the king, soldiers, and even the women of the Harem took in this exchange.

"Yes, I understand your language as well as my own. I speak every Southern dialect as well as Common also." Sherlock replied truthfully yet hesitantly. He had been punished before for his knowledge. The First Wife's favorite mantra with him was that it didn't take knowledge to spread your legs and submit to your master.

John now spoke in the Common language so everyone could understand him, "Good, then as Regent of Am-Jabad and now your ruler I appoint you-" he stopped and looked at Sherlock questioningly.

Knowing the man was asking for his name, Sherlock replied.

"Sherlock. My name is Sherlock."

John smiled, "I appoint Sherlock as First Wife of the Harem."

Chapter Text

Gasps spread among the women. While not unheard of, not many males became First Wife unless looked on in extreme favor by their master. The ladies knew Sherlock and Molly had given aid to John, but Gods only knows what they must think of him now. Sherlock blushed at the thought, turning his face downward as much to hide the blush as to give a bow of thanks to his new master. The gasps turned to tense silence as the women glanced at the former First Wife. Any many Southern Harem's, demotion from First Wife meant disfavor. Disfavor was accompanied with banishment, imprisonment, or beheading. While they had no true love for Sally, most of the ladies cringed at the idea of further violence.

John looked at Sally shrewdly. "I cannot have someone like you near me. You are my subject. And I cannot allow you to harm other subjects so brazenly and cruelty as you have. You may go."

"Go?" Sally cried out, "Go? Where can I go? I will be penniless. Put out on the streets! Please my lord. Cannot I do something to service you?" Sally grabbed at the new Regents thigh and tried to press herself suggestively against his body.

"I couldn't care what you do. Marry a soldier from the regiments if you like. But seek no support or shelter from me, regardless of who you marry." John stepped out of her grasp so she fell onto the floor.

"Take her to the palace gates." John commanded.

And just like that, Sherlock's tormentor was gone. And he now had control over the Harem, second only to his master.

-*-

The days after Sherlock's appointment were spent going over the Harem's stores. The servants had returned to the palace to resume duties once assured they could maintain their wages. As First Wife, it was Sherlock's duty to supervise the staff throughout the palace but especially those who entered the Harem. Only female Beta's were allowed to clean the rooms. Sally had been remiss in designating chores, so most rooms apart from her own were in need of a thorough cleaning. After the rooms were aired and new screens replaced all of the windows and sliding doors, Sherlock went about reassigning rooms based on need, seniority, and the desires of the women. Most of the women had been placed wherever there was a bed, but many of the ladies preferred the company of certain Harem members and many had been shown favoritism by Sally without earning it. Once settled, most of the women were happy with the changes. And even the ones who moved rooms didn't complain much since all of them had received thorough cleaning.

The baths were drained and scoured clean next. Using a chemical that Sherlock had experimented with before being sold, the work went twice as fast to the joy of the workers. Within hours, the baths were rinsed and the pipes release flowing clear water back into the pristine chamber.

As the ladies entered the steam filled room and stripped off their garments, they hesitated and allowed Sherlock his choice of pools and didn't settle until he entered the water. The steam curled around his body as he submerged himself under and wet his curls. A eunuch came to attend him as he had attended Sally. Working a lather of lavender oil soap into Sherlock's hair before letting Sherlock duck back under to rinse. The eunuch then added oils for shine and scrubbed Sherlock's back and arms before Sherlock took away the soap and sent him away.

"Go to the others, I can finish." he commanded, quickly becoming used to his power. Normally, sally made sure he was the last to be attended to. Letting him prune and soak in lukewarm water as she never allowed the hot water to flow after she left the baths. She was always first to leave.
Sherlock stood from the water and sighed as it sluiced down and formed droplets on his skin. He suddenly noticed the hush and attentiveness the other women had for the door to the baths. Turning slowly, he saw the man, John standing at the door.

-*-

John did his best to stop the wandering of his eyes. He had come to the Harem once the attendants had left, seeking Sherlock's council on matters of the house. Being led into the baths by one of the eunuchs was surprising until he realized that technically he was the only male now allowed entry into all its rooms.

He had paused at the site of the Harem, naked and bathing casually. Many of the women were only partially submerged, and at his appearance while some shied away blushing, others stretched their bodies displaying themselves and their features.

John, while no stranger to flirtatious woman, had never had so many eyeing him at once. Yet his eyes were drawn to the lithe body and curly hair of the male Omega who's eyes had shone with intelligence and whose body demonstrated the innocence that Murray had previously spoken of.

"I apologize for disturbing you all. Please continue." John cast his smile charmingly across the room. "And Sherlock, please come to the Regents Room when you have finished. I must run an errand but I would like for you to wait for me there."
Sherlock nodded sharply and John turned away. Once he was out of view he adjusted himself in his trousers before leaving through the gate of the Harem.

-*-

Sherlock froze as he felt John's eyes on his body. John's eyes hardly shifted, but Sherlock could feel them on his skin which was flushed from the heat of the look as well as the warm water.

"-Sherlock, please come to the Regents Room when you have finished. I must run an errand but I would like for you to wait for me there."

Sherlock's blood froze in his tracks and he was barely able to deliver a stiff nod of obedience. After all the agonizing days since Lord Kamal had purchased him and John had appointed him First Wife, John had decided to take what was his. Sherlock knew it was his duty, and didn't wish to be known for having the shortest reign as First Wife in the history of Harem's but he wasn't ready. Most Ghian's purchased virgin Omega's with the intent of leaving the untouched until they went into Heat. A virgin Omega in Heat was prized as the most intoxicating experience for an Alpha.

But John wanted him now.

And Sherlock could hardly refuse his new master.

-*-

Most Ghian's left the screen doors to the Pleasure Room open when visiting the Harem. Though John had renamed it the Regents Room, its original name was all Sherlock could think about as he entered it for the first time. The maids had replaced the mattress with a new one of soft feathers and down. The silk from Lord Kamal's days had been replaced with a cool material that Sherlock recognized as linen. Placing his hand gingerly on the blankets he drew them back and shed his robe.

He positioned himself at the base of the bed. Naked, on his knees, and throat bare.

He closed his eyes and shivered as he heard John's steps approaching the bedroom.

-*-

John opened the door and gasped at the sight of Sherlock naked and submissive. The man who he had secretly been watching give orders to the staff was no submissive. His time spent in the Harem must surely have broken his spirit somewhat.

"Sherlock!" John shouted. But then quieted as he saw Sherlock flinch and tense, his gaze intent on the floor and his demeanor made him appear so very small.
John hurriedly scooped up the silk dressing gown he assumed was Sherlock's and draped it over his shoulders.

"Cover yourself," John remedied his voice by speaking soothingly as if to an injured patient.

Sherlock relaxed slightly and held the gown closed tightly around himself.

"I didn't ask you for- that." John tried to explain.

"Do you- not want me sir?" Sherlock felt tears form but would not let them fall. "Are you going to send me back to the auction? I promise I-"

"No. No. No, Sherlock," John quieted the young Omega. "I'm not going to send any of you back to auction I promise." He reached under Sherlock's chin, bringing stormy grey eyes to meet his blue eyes.

"I need your help," John asked, he then helped Sherlock rise to his feet.

"With what?" Sherlock asked hesitantly.

"Weeding out the Harem," John answered.

-*-

"I appointed you First Wife because you're intelligent. You speak my language so you will be able to address the guards and visitors from my country, and you also show competency in leading the woman of the Harem. So, I would like your expertise in deciding which of the woman I should ask to leave the Harem and which should stay. Of course if they leave whether by their choice or mine, I shall see that they are placed in positions, occupations, or with husbands of their own. I won't see someone homeless who deserves help." John explained.

"What is your criteria for them staying?" Sherlock asked.

"First and most importantly. They must want to stay. And let them know that they may leave at anytime as long as they let me know. I will not rescind this or forbid them to leave. But I also will not take in anyone who leaves and later decides to return." John stated. Sherlock nodded and continued to listen.

"Second, anyone who is pregnant-"

"That is not possible," Sherlock replied without thinking. Closing his mouth quickly.

"It's not?" John raised his eyebrows.

"The Lord Kamal has been Ghian here since he was sixteen. He has never sired a child out of this Harem. And believe me he tried." Sherlock shuddered at the memory of the sounds of rutting and slapping flesh. Lord Kamal had made him watch the bedding of several women of the Harem when he had first bought him and Molly. Molly had kneeled beside him as the Lord Kamal had Danae bouncing and grunting laboriously as he slammed her body onto his form.

"Can't wait to have my new Omega rutting on me all night. I'm gonna fuck you so hard you'll be carrying multiples. That's right." Lord Kamal giggled maniacally as he slapped Danae hard on the ass and her cry filled the room as he climaxed.

-*-

John noticed the quiet in Sherlock's voice after his statement.

"Sherlock, did Lord Kamal-?"

"No!" Sherlock responded vehemently before subduing himself, "He just- made me watch."

"Gods," John breathed.

“I don’t believe in the Gods John,” Sherlock replied. “Motive and reason govern men. If you know what men want then you know how to react. Lord Kamal was a glutton who wanted more.”

“More?” John raised his brows.

“More women. More liquor. More food. More gold and power,” Sherlock listed. “He even hosted Moriarty when he came with the lady Mary-”

“Lady Mary,” John interrupted. “The King’s daughter?”

Sherlock looked up at the interest in John’s voice. “Yes. Yes of course.”

“How was she when she stayed here? Did she seem okay? Was she hurt?” John’s questions flew rapid fire before he halted to take a deep breath.

From John’s body language, Sherlock could feel John’s interest in the Lady Mary.

“You care for her, don’t you?” Sherlock asked. The interest shown by John caused an unknown feeling to settle in Sherlock’s gut. John grimaced at Sherlock’s question so Sherlock spared him a reply.

“Last I saw, Lady Mary was well. She was quiet, but no more than reasonable due to her circumstances. Leaving home and going off to a strange land to marry a strange man you’ve never met before,” Sherlock continued.

John sighed.

“You love her, don’t you,” Sherlock asked, breaking John’s reverie.

John inhaled sharply.

“I do. Gods help me I do.”

Chapter Text

"I want the women to feel like they have a choice, and to know that should they choose, I will do my best to find positions for them within the court," John explained. "Many of the men the King left behind are unmarried and unattached and have shown interest in staying on with me, at least till this business with Moriarty is over."

"Staying on? Does this mean that you plan on staying in the Southern Cities indefinitely?" Sherlock looked up from the scribes desk where he had been taking notes before quickly returning his eyes to his writings.

"The King has gifted this city to me in perpetuity, meaning-"

"As long as your natural born sons can hold the city it will belong to you and your line," interupted Sherlock. At the following silence Sherlock raised his gaze to see John looking at him with an odd expression. Sherlock flushed with embarassment and ducked his head.

"Sherlock?"

A hum sounded from Sherlock's hunched form.

"When- before Kamal bought you, what did you do?" John asked.

"Do?"

"Were you working? Or in training somewhere? It's just you are extremely knowledgable of many things." John continued to look at the top of Sherlock's head.

"My parents owned a rather large library. Once I presented, I was unable to go where I wanted. The library was by far the most interesting place I was allowed to go. Before my parents-" Sherlock cut off to see John listening with interest. "Well, before I came here I had nearly finished its entire contents."

John was quiet for a beat before opening his mouth, "Are-."

"Yes John, my parents are dead," Sherlock quickly stated.

John, now used to Sherlocks' almost omniscient abilities smiled sadly.

"I am sorry, Sherlock. Do you have any other family?"

"A brother. Older. Bit of a git. He's likely halfway across the Gabon on some merchant caravan or another." Sherlock dismissed the discussion with a wave of his hand.

"Once this business with Moriarty is settled, I could send out a runner to get in touch with him. Maybe you could-"

"What? Travel the trade routes with my brother? Me, an unBonded Omega?" Sherlock scoffed. "Besides, my brother would see my position here at court as an asset, he'd never take me on even if I weren't an Omega."

John winced at the dismissal of kinship that Sherlock stated.

"In the North, family is very important. If you don't protect each other, then you die. I am not used to the differences between our cultures yet," John stood from his desk and walked to the window to look down at the courtyard.

"It's fine, John. My brother and I have never been close companions, it is no loss to me." Sherlock resumed his scribe work and gestured at John to continue his dictation.

Chapter Text

The news of the Northener victory over the city of Mihar was sent by royal courier and was a source of great relief for the new Ghian of Am-Jabad. John, who had been filling his days with work was greatly pleased for an excuse to celebrate good news from his king. His cheerful mood spread throughout the palace and Harem when he announced a feast to honor the victory.

"It is a good we have an excuse to hold a celebration, John!" Murray said jokingly. "These Southerners seem to get cranky if they go too long without some form of wine and oppulence. I've never heard so many complaints about there not being any feasts or dances in my life."

"So I've noticed." John said smiling at his friend from over the breakfast table.

"In the South, it is believed that you should celebrate every good tiding, for it pleases the Gods to know their gifts are appreciated. To not do so is bad luck," John looked up to see Sherlock striding forward, a sheaf of papers under one arm.

Sherlock's robes were neatly arranged and hung pleasantly on his frame. The blue silk overgown hung to his mid thigh and offset the plain linen of the same Northern garb John tended to wear. A linen shirt and trouser set, tucked into black boots. As the First Wife of the Harem, and the person wuickly becoming John's most loyal and trusted advisor, Sherlock had been allowed greater liberty in his choice of garment and saw his uniform as a way of fitting in with John and his men. The blue silk reamained to show his status as advisor and First Wife however, as did the eunuch guard who followed Sherlock silently at all times unless Sherlock was alone with John in his chambers.

"Sherlock! Please sit. Eat with us," John motioned an empty spot by his side at the head of the table.

Sherlock appeared shocked at this invitation and seemed hesitant as he sat beside John in a spot usually reserved for honored guests.

"I'm not-"

"Don't you dare say you aren't hungry Sherlock. You're terribly thin, and I am a doctor you know." John passed Sherlock a plate of choice meats and beautifully ripe fruit, placing it in front of him before pouring honey into a small cup of tea.

"Southerners view leaness of Omegas as a highly desirable trait and I don't require much to function," Sherlock replied in attempt to deny the offerings while in awe that he was being served by his master.

"Well, in the North, we value strength and functionality over the ability to count ribs and dance well," John returned. "Besides, we have a long day and might not be able to stop until supper. You should eat while you can."

Sherlock nodded in obedience as Johns voice turned slightly authoratative for the first time in reference to him.

As one by one, the men rose to attend their duties, soon Sherlock and John were the only ones left in the room. John was reviewing the notes Sherlock had bought with him, and Sherlock was draining his tea cup that John had filled for him. The honey was sweet and blended nicely with the tea, warming Sherlock as he wiped his mouth and fingers with the napkin and rose from his seat.

"What is on our agenda today, apart from the planning of the feast?" Sherlock replied, absently stretching his neck which was slightly sore from his late night of note taking.

"I want to begin talks with the woman of the Harem, see which ones decide to stay and which ones have capabilities to be more independent." John continued to shift through the papers, speed reading to make sure everything was in order.

"This feast, maybe you should look at it as a matchmaking session for the ladies of the Harem," Sherlock hesitated to suggest.

"Hmmm?" John turned to Sherlock attentive.

"Well, you have said most of the men here with you are single, many of prime Bonding age, why not attempt to pair some of the woman in hopes some will ask to leave the Harem?" Sherlock rubbed his neck, wincing at the dull pain he felt.

"Come here. Sit," John said, standing at the edge of the bench and guided Sherlock to sit once again, this time standing behind him with his hands on Sherlock's shoulders.

"That seems like a great idea. Have you discussed with anyone in the Harem about whether they want to stay?" John's hands moved along Sherlock's shoulders and neck, gently squeezing and tracing muscles until Sherlock groaned in relief.

John chuckled, jarring Sherlock from his altered state.

"Thank you," Sherlock placed his hand on John's, which was resting on his left shoulder, to stop his movements. "And I have. Most will only leave though if they have someone asking for their hand, and they aren't allowed to leave the Harem or interact with other men outside of supervised functions, so this feast would be an optimal time for such planning."

"Alright, will you let them know the plans and encourage them to excercise their choice to leave?" John asked, breathing lightly into Sherlock's ear. "I don't know about you, but 34 spouses are a bit much for anyone."

Sherlock couldn't help but notice the exclusion of one member of the Harem. There had originally been thirty-six members of Kamals' Harem, but Sally's exile had reduced it to thirty-five.

"Thirty-five spouses sir," Sherlock corrected.

"Er- right. Thirty-five." Oddly, John was smiling at the correction; and Sherlock for the life of him couldn't figure out why.

Chapter Text

John and Sherlock fell into a routine; mainly of John starting a sentence and Sherlock knowingly finishing it or handing him a document in an increasingly omniscient manner. John barely finished a thought before Sherlock was by his side fleshing out the details or providing documents to be signed to the effect of John's intention.

John once asked Sherlock how he could possibly predict so many of John's requests.

"I don't predict John, I deduce." Sherlock answered while they looked over the palace grainery acccounts.

John looked up from his increasingly boring paperwork.

"Deduce?"

"Yes, I observe and then deduce your intentions. It's quite simple really. People are just too stupid to notice the things I notice," Sherlock replied dismissively.

"Stupid?" John laughed.

Sherlock looked up at John's amused smile before smiling back weakly himself. "Yes, John. Stupid."

"Give me an example," John requested, putting asid the paperwork and looking at Sherlock intently.
Sherlock sighed and steeled himself. He wouldn't normally do this, especially since last time he had deduced someone- Sally- she had forced him to spend the night in the codlest and smallest room of the Harem which began the eventual campaign of bullying up to the day John had exiled her. He didn't want to hurt John's feelings, or anger him to the point of his own exile, but John had requested it of him and he couldn't refuse his lord.

"When I saw you for the first time-"

"In the Harem?" John asked.

"No, the courtyard. You were brought in by your King with an arrow through your shoulder. I and one of the other girls, Molly, we were assigned to nurse you-"

"Wait a minute, you were the one who nursed me?" John recalled a soothing touch and a warm hand throughout the haze of his bedridden fever.

"You- you didn't know?" Sherlock frowned.

"No, I didn't." John answered truthfully, giving Sherlock a look that made him blush lightly.

"Well- when you were bought in, I knew immediately who you were. I deduced your rank, occupation, and relationship with the King within a glance and your skill as a soldier and doctor by the calluses on your palms." Sherlock continued.
John, jarred from the revelation on the accounts of his illness was startled at Sherlock's claims.

"Explain."

Sherlock steadied himself with an inhale, "You came in on King Lestrades' chariot, yet he had no driver. A King doesn't drive into a city holding his own reigns, and due to his urgency it is unlikely that he had you moved to his chariot and his driver kicked off, hence you were his driver, a poistion of honor in the North as well as the South. Your man, Murray, he came running into the Harem seeking medical attention, a physician; a King wouldn't travel far in battle without his own royal physician, and he surely would have treated his driver with his own doctor especially with the haste in which he sped through the front gates. Also, you had a small compact journeymans bag attached to the inside of the chariot frame. Murray bought it to your sickbed and in it were a surgeons field tools, specifically to triage war wounds. It is unlikely your King utilized them, therefore they were yours. Inside the chariot there were spears- the Kings'- as it is his weapon of choice and also has is hearldry imprinted on them. A chariot driver doesn't use spears, but he could hardly be without a weapon in case the chariot should come to some injury in the midst of battle. I saw a bow, sturdy yet too small to fit the height of the king and it was clearly used by someone who is left handed, the arrow repeatedly being knocked on the left side of the bow. The King was holding the reigns in his right hand, it couldn't have been his. A bow and quiver of ready arrows, those take up space on a chariot. A seasoned soldier such as yourself and the King would only bring them if they could be expertly used. You were the one they belonged to meaning you favor long distance kills, likely you are a crack shot. A King would be wise to have a strong arm on his right hand side in battle. Who better than a doctor and marksman?"

John opened his mouth, but no words came. He closed it with equal silence.

"That was-"

Sherlock winced.

"Brilliant."

Sherlock looked up in surprise at the wonder spreading on John's face; his earlier blush returned with a vengeance.

"Absolutely and madly. Brilliant."

Sherlock smiled hesitantly.

"Can you do it again?" John asked, still beaming at Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled even brighter.

Chapter Text

Once John expressed appreciation for Sherlock's talent of deduction their relationship blossomed into one of easy comraderie. In their meetings, John treated him as an equal, just as he treated his men. John listened to his advice and often differed to Sherlock's expertise, asking for Sherlock's opinion on most matters. John never censored himself in front of Sherlock, trusting him with sensitive information from the movements and progress of the Northern army to stories of John's childhood running in the wild forests of his homeland.

"I should like to see your homeland," Sherlock sighed wistfully. "I can only imagine walking through a garden of trees so tall they reach the sky. And seeing nothing but grass for miles on the plains."

John smiled at Sherlock's daydream.

"Well, once this war is over, it is likely that I will return home. I have some affairs to settle before I can relocate permanently. If you would like, maybe you could accompany me?" John watched Sherlock's face hesitantly for his reaction which didn't disappoint.

"You- You would let me leave the palace?" Sherlock was shocked at such an invitation. "It isn't proper for an unBonded Omega to travel-."

"You would have my guaranteed protection throughout the journey Sherlock," John promised. "And you could stay, or return, or continue journeying; I won't keep you hear against your will. Plus there are much more wonders than just the forests and plains. If you go far enough, the mountains bring snow in the winter. And there is a lake near my family's home that is so deep in the center, no one has ever been able to touch the bottom. There is a cave underwater with this grotto, me and my brothers would dive down and use it to hide away from my parents when we were in trouble, or to hide treasures." John smiled at his memories of Henry and Malcolm.

"You have siblings?" Sherlock asked, hoping John would continue his storytelling session.

"Yes, an older beta sister, Harriet. And then two younger brothers. Henry is an Omega and Malcolm the youngest is a Beta. Harriet will likely take over my familys' holdings now that I am here."

"They let a female inherit over a male in the North?" Sherlock asked.

"Since she is older, yeah. Malcolm will likely be given the dower farm; not a bad peice of land for a fourth born child. And Malcolm always preferred a quieter life anyways. Now if Harry were an Omega, it would only go to her in the event of Malcolm and I passing on without heirs. In the North, an Omega can only inherit if from their spouse of if they are the oldest sibling of other Omegas. There have been cases of land holdings being willed to Omega's though," John added.

"The North seems very- progressive." Sherlock remarked.

"Compared to somethings in the South, yeah." John smirked looking at Sherlock. "Did you all think we were a bunch of dirty unwashed heathens?"

"When I heard of the Northern army approaching all I could think of was getting away from Kamal. I couldn't stand the thought of being trapped within the palace confines for the rest of my life. Rather perish by the sword than from the drudgery of servicing some lording Alpha," Sherlock looked out through the window towards the horizon.

"Sherlock, is it so terrible? Being here in the palace I mean," John asked.

Sherlock started, "Oh! No, John. This is wonderful. Having work, work that is actually important. Helping you. This is more I could have dreamed of when I first came through the gates." Sherlock smiled.

"You know I enjoy your company. It is amazing to find someone so far from home who is still so easy to talk to," John smiled. "Thank you for all you have done in service to the North."

Sherlock smiled, 'I didn't do it for the North.'

Chapter Text

"A dance!" Danae gasped, whirling with delight. Several of the other woman giggled and began to plan their outfits for the event.

"A feast in celebration of the Northern victory," Sherlock corrected.

"But there will be dancing, yes?" Danae grabbed Sherlock's hand and attempted to swing him wildly in a circle. Sherlock quickly extricated himself from her grip.

"Yes, there will. Everyone in the Harem will be required to attend," Sherlock coughed, and the woman settled down to look expectantly, knowing there was more.

"The Ghian has decided that he is unable to maintain a Harem of this size," Sherlock started; many of the woman began to exchange worried looks. "The Ghian has decided to meet one on one with each of you to discuss your futures."

"Our futures?" Danae gasped, a hand resting upon her chest in shock.

"Yes, it is his wish to settle everyone into a position where they can possibly become independent. He will not force us from the Harem but he seeks to greatly reduce our number."

Holding up a hand at the eruption of uncertainty from the ranks he quickly quieted the group.

"At the feast, there will be a number of unBonded Northern soldiers, as well as a few Betas and Alphas from the court and surrounding Guild families who are seeking wives. The Ghian has granted them permission to come with the intention of applying for the hand of a lady from the Harem. He has promised that no one will be forced into a match, but encourages you to seek your best oppurtunity."

"How many of us does he wish to keep here in the Harem," a voice asked from the back of the courtyard.

"He seeks to settle as many ladies as possible into a marriage or vocation of their choosing. He has also assured that anyone who leaves will always be granted favor and admittance to the court should they chose to marry one of the Betas or Alphas in attendance."

"But how many, Sherlock?" Danae reiterated the query.

"No more than six," Sherlock swallowed. The woman once again gasped and exchanged glances. A royal harem of six woman was unheard of. Sherlock could only think of how hard the woman would battle to become on of the six, he knew he was not guaranteed a position just because he was the First Wife. Despite John's favor, he had shown no desire towards males, let alone Sherlock.

He looked at the faces of the woman, Danae in particular looked as if she was preparing for battle.

"Our Lord recommends us to rely on establishing ourselves, and not on the hopes of staying. So he encourages each of us to make full use of the feast in two days time. That is all ladies; I must return to my duties, if there are no questions?" Sherlock quirked a brow. At the silence, he dismissed the meeting and the women scattered to go arrange their dresses for the event.

-*-

John looked up as Sherlock entered his chambers without knocking.

"John, I spoke with the ladies and-" Sherlock looked up from the scroll in his hand to see John standing by his washbasin without his shirt. He paused uncertainly.

"Come on, I could use another set of hands anyways." John laughed as Sherlock started forward as if jarred from a daydream.

"What on earth are you doing?" Sherlock demanded. Half of John's bandage was tangled around his arm as if he had tried to slip out of it.

"This bandage is old, and I'm healed enough that I need a smaller one," John complained.

"You should have had a healer do this," Sherlock came behind John and helped him extricate himself from the tangled mess.

"Sherlock, I am a doctor." John huffed jokingly.

Sherlock picked up a cloth and wiped the grit and sweat that had settled under the bindings before unrolling a lighter linen bandage and helping John to wrap his shoulder once again. Securing the ends where John could easily undo them himself should he need it, Sherlock stepped back and looked away as John replaced his shirt.

"Thank you by the way. And not just for now. I never thanked you for taking care of me, when I was in the fever." John clarified.

Sherlock grunted in acknowledgment.

"So, you talked to the women?" John asked.

"Yes, I did. Half of them seemed excited at the prospect of choosing their futures, and the other half seemed ready to do battle in order to stay in the Harem," Sherlock replied.

"Gods, why one earth would they want to stay?"

"The prestige? The luxury and lifestyle? Plus the chance to service an exotic foreigner," Sherlock deadpanned.

"Exotic?" John guffawed. "Never been called that before. Most people just say sturdy."

"Most of the women here have never seen both blonde hair and blue eyes. It holds a certain appeal," Sherlock said absentmindedly.

"An appeal?" John said teasingly. Sherlock froze. "Am I appealing to you Sherlock?"

"I- I don't really do- that kind of- thing," Sherlock was shocked as he stammered for the first time in his life.

John seemed confused at Sherlock's words before his eyes widened suddenly.

"Oh! Right- err- of course. You don't-. It's-. It's all fine,"

"I know it is," Sherlock replied, confused as to what John had assumed.

John smiled hesitantly as if Sherlock's admission had cleared everything up.

Sherlock was still confused as they went over the plans for the festivities.

Chapter Text

Danae quickly shut the door to her room as the sounds of rushing feet and fabric swept through the halls. Her room was small but practically her own; she shared with Sherlock technically, but most of his nights were spent working in John's office outside of the Harem. Danae couldn't help but be envious of Sherlock's easy comraderie with the Ghian, especially the long hours he seemed to spend outside the Harem with him. She had taken to noticing Sherlock's guard returning to the Harem; an action which could only be the result of an order from the Ghian. Surely Sherlock would take one of the six spots remaining in the Harem.

Danae hoped that her friendship with Sherlock would help her case for staying, but having a beautiful dress couldn't hurt.

Before her mother had sold her to the child slavers, Danae had been taught the art of tailoring. She had learned how to hem and embroider at an early age working in the shop her parents had owned before falling on hard times. Danae had been working on a dress in the hopes of catching the new Ghian's eye; while the dress might be scandalous for an affair outside of the Harem, she needed to make an impression.

Tonight would be the perfect night to cause a scandal.

A quick knock startled her from her reverie.

"Come in," Danae called, quickly closing the wardrobe in which her unfinished dress hung. She wouldn't put it past one of the other women to sabotage her plans.

Sherlock came in, carrying a large box.

"Oh, Sherlock! I wasn't expecting you," Danae lept forward and removed the box from Sherlock's arms before grabbing his hands to spin around. "Dancing and dining with the Ghian! I'm so excited!"

Sherlock was startled and did his best to extricate himself from Danae's grip.

"Sherlock, come look at the dress I'm going to wear! It needs just a little something to finish it. You know the Ghian, maybe you can help!" Danae rushed to remove her dress from the wardrobe, presenting it with a flourish.

The dress to be put simply was daring. A dark blue tunic-like shape that would barely reach the top of the thigh. It came together like a robe would, creating a plunging neckline that could be either conservative or expose the skin all the way down to the navel. A layer of black silk had been added to give the illusion of the outfit actually being a dress. The silk overrobe formed tight sleeves and fell to the floor; it would cover most of her skin, yet would also leave much exposed flesh to draw the eye.

'To draw John's eye,' Sherlock thought before clearing his mind to reply to Danae who was watching him expectantly.

"It certainly is- eye-catching," Sherlock replied.

Danae beamed and twirled, hanging the gown before stripping out of her dress; there was little privacy between any of the residents of the Harem, yet Sherlock looked away nonetheless. Danae laughed playfully as she turned away from the wardrobe, draping the gown over her shoulders and tying it about the waist. The actual sheath of material fell even shorter than Sherlock had predicted, nearly displaying more than just a dramatic amount of cleavage.

"I want to add something, I just don't know what," Danae complained, looking at Sherlock expectantly.

"Well- it already seems quite- finished?" Sherlock hadn't intended to sound uncertain, but Danae didn't seem to notice.

"Well, I'm sure you know what John likes best. You do spend a lot of time with him," Danae replied. She turned suddenly with a more serious face. "Sherlock, can I ask something? I really want to stay here. Do you think I have a chance? I couldn't imagine leaving this place, and I know that you are surely going to be staying-"

"Nothing is set in stone, Danae. John truly is going to spend time with all of the woman. You will have your chance to impress him," Sherlock cut her off, not wanting to discuss his 'relationship' with John.

"Thank you dearest!" Danae kissed his cheek quickly before turning to admire her dress once again. As she turned, the package Sherlock had bought in.

"And what is this?" Danae teased.

"Oh, I haven't opened it yet. It's just an outfit John gave me when I told him I had nothing to wear tonight-" Sherlock stopped speaking when Danae rudely pulled on the string closing the box, lifting the lid to reveal a swath of light blue.

Lifting the garment, Danae held it aloft by the shoulders so the folds fell to the floor, she draped the robes over the bed so it could be viewed as a whole. A sky blue tunic of light fitted linen long enough to cover Sherlock from neck to ankle, with fitted sleeves and a layer of small overlapping golden plates. It was belted by a belt of woven white-dyed interwoven leather loops held by a gold buckle. An over robe of sumptuous satin of a darker blue was lined inside with golden silk, intricately emroidered with leaves and flowers. It was absolutely-

"Beautiful," Danae whispered aloud.

If Sherlock hadn't been so shocked himself with the exquisiteness of the gift, he might have registered the envy in Danae's voice.

Chapter Text

Sherlock rushed about, running errands and arranging last minute details with the kitchen and waitstaff. He hadn't had time to bathe or change for the feast yet. His hair was limp from the heat and his pace rapid as he went from the ball room to the hosting room where the table was being laid with stemware and centerpieces.

"Sherlock," a voice called from the entryway. Sherlock spun around quickly to see John standing in his newly fitted suit. He couldn't help but notice how similar it was to the one he had given Sherlock, except his overrobe was an ice blue color and his tunic was a pristine white. A ceremonial circlet of intricate gold rested on John's head, blending in with the golden strands of his hair.

"Sherlock, dinner will start soon, you must go and change." John ordered.

"But-"

"If it's not done by now it doesn't need doing," John cajoled. "Honestly Sherlock, the place looks wonderful. Now go and change!" John placed his hand at the small of Sherlock's back, guiding him into the hallway and pushing him in the direction of the Harem.

"I'd like my dining partner to be only slightly fashionably late," John joked as Sherlock rushed along.

"Wait, dining partner?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, who else would I want beside me?" John asked with a smile.

Sherlock hurried along quickly so John wouldn't see his blush.

-*-

The women had been escorted to the dining hall, and the guards had established a perimeter at the entryways. As servants ushered the guests to their seats, Danae fought the flow of movement to come stand beside John.

"My Lord!" she simpered, grasping John's arm. "I must say it is wonderful to finally have a cause of celebration!"

John had turned at the voice of the newcomer, eyes widening as he took in the sheer amount of skin left uncovered in her dress.

"Your dress. It is- quite something, Miss?"

"Danae, my lord." She curtsied remarkably low, yet still maintained a grip on John's arm.

"Well- Danae, perhaps you take your seat for dinner," John looked about the room for a servant who could usher her to an empty seat.

A sudden silence struck the room as all eyes turned attentive at the last arrival. Sherlock stood on the top step of the entryway, for the first time appearing shy and uncertain. Danae frowned at John's attention being diverted from her. Most of the guest seemed to be exclaiming over Sherlock's robes, both over it's luxury and at the similarity it held to John's robes.

John turned to Murray who stood at his side. "Could you escort Miss Danae to the table mate?"

"Sure thing, John." Murray grinned at the direction of John's attention. John walked towards the entryway, standing at the foot of the stairs.

"May I?" John held up an arm in invitation.

"You may," Sherlock replied. John was pleased at the light blush that peppered Sherlock's striking cheekbones.

"I'm glad you wore it" John nodded, gesturing at Sherlock's outfit.

"It was the best suit available to me. And I believed it would be rude to turn down your gift," Sherlock looked sideways to see a slight frown on John's face. "It would also be a waste to not where something so obviously tailored to me. I am very greatful for your gift my lord."

"So you like it, and not just because I gave it to you?" John asked, smiling hesitabtly.

"Very much so, my lord."

John smiled brightly as he steered Sherlock towards the head of the table.

"I took the liberty of assuming you would sit beside me tonight," John pulled out a chair and guided Sherlock to sit before taking his place at the ornate chair set at the head of the table. Sherlock, shocked that he had been seated by John himself, was the recipient of many looks as everyone waited for their Ghian to take his seat before taking their own. John raised his goblet of wine to command everyones attention as he made a beginning toast.

"In the North, we like to toast at the beginning of a celebration; not just to get in our two cents before everyone is too drunk to care." (chuckles from the Northern soldiers echoed throughout the room) "But we also must take note that our campaign is a serious one. We are here to right a wrong that has been done towards the honor of not just Princess Mary and our King, but our country as well. And along the way, we have met new friends" (a look was exchanged between Sherlock and John) "and we have been priveledged to experience the life and culture of the South. We hope that we are as welcomed as you would be in our country, and we hope that these sad events that bought us here can lead to a newer brighter coexisistance between our people."

A polite clap sounded throughout the room.

"Now, enough seriousness. A toast! To the victory of our King, and the future liberation of the South! May peace come swiftly, and may everyone find their way home safely."

Everyone raised their glasses, toasting and clinking their wine glasses as the room filled with chatter and exclamtaions as food was bought to the table.

Murray, as well as Danae were sat on the left side of John, and Sherlock to John's right. Danae, had insinuated herself between John and his friend in attempts to recapture his attention.

John hardly turned his attention away from Sherlock throughout the whole dinner.

Chapter Text

 Once the dinner had ended and many couples had moved to the ballroom, John was forced to leave Sherlock's side to dance with various guests and ladies from both the court and the Harem. Before John had left his side, he had granted Sherlock the first dance, marveling at how graceful Sherlock was, causing a reappearance of a blush on Sherlock's face.

As the dance had ended, John had drawn Sherlock away from the dancing crowds and towards the balconey which opened onto the Royal Garden, a veritable labyrinth of hiding places for couples and elicit lovers.

Sherlock blushed at his thought process, greatful that the moon was too waned to showcase the rosiness staining his cheeks.
 

"Sherlock, I know how I have stressed the need to be rid of as many of the Harem residents as possible-. But- I had hoped-. That is- I'd be greatful if you decided to stay," John nervously clasped his hands before himself.
 

"You want me to stay? In the Harem?" Sherlock queried.

"No! Not that is- if you don't want to. But, I do feel closest to you, and would hate to see you leave. Whether you stay as a member of the Harem or a member of the court, I would just be honored and greatful if you stayed at my side. In the capacity that suits you best," John clarified.

"Many would see my gender and say that a royal whorehouse would be a place that suits me best," Sherlock replied with an edge of resentment to which John winced.

"Sherlock, you must know- I do not see you that way. You are madly brilliant and beaut- quite handsome. And I do solemnly belive that there should be no Harem at all. I was inclined to keep it solely as it is a tradition that I believe the castle would be at odds if I discontinued it," John winced. "Now, saying this, it seems a poor excuse as many would think I am just keeping it for the women."

"You haven't visited a single one of the ladies. I know you don't keep it for that reason, John," Sherlock replied softly. "I would be greatful to stay under your protection my lord." Sherlock bowed deeply before returning to his towering height over John. During his bow, John must have stepped forward, for there was a much lesser distance between them. John gently grasped Sherlock's hands, placing them atop of his right, before using his left to guide Sherlock's chin to a chaste kiss upon his lips.

John's breath was warm and his lips soft against Sherlock's as his breath hitched slightly. The hairs of John's short beard brushed softly against Sherlock's smooth skin, causing a shiver to pass subtly down Sherlock's spine.

"You're cold, let's return to the party." John misinterpreted, guiding Sherlock away from the aclove.

A gasp and a twig snapped underfoot as a dark shadow raced away from them.

Male. Beta. Standard sole shoes, inexspensive. Livery suit. Obviously a worker from the party. Getting off on following two supposed lovers in the gardens or spy?

"What the-?" John gasped, clearly wanting to chase the figure but not wanting to leave Sherlock alone in the garden, to which Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"He's long gone anyways John," Sherlock this time was the one to guide John back to the lights of the ballroom. "Come, you have more people who wish to kiss your ring."
John laughed at the imagery.

"Too bad we didn't give him more of a show," John smirked as Sherlock's blush be came apparent in the lantern light of the balconey.

"I'll see you when you have taken a turn with all the ladies. Go, John." Sherlock gently pushed John forward into the swarm, John smiling at him before being forced to turn his attentions to the crowd.

"Sherlock dear, I've been looking quite everywhere for you. Wherever have you been?" Danae called, sweeping forward to latch onto Sherlock's arm. "You must be thirsty," she raised an arm to a passing server who held a single glass of champagne, obviously on the way back to the service station to refill his tray. Scooping up the glass himself Sherlock downed it quickly without thought, the cool chapagne going smoothly down his throat.

"I simply must go and find Lord John for a dance," Danae exclaimed. "I will see you tomorrow?" she twirled off without waiting for a reply, her head seemingly empty of nothing except for the enticement of John into her bed.

------------------------------------------------------------

Sherlock flushed with the heat of the room and felt weak as if the days expense of energy was hitting him all at once. Deciding to turn in early, he placed his glass upon a table and walked towards the closest exit to the Harem. He could think of nothing but falling into bed, not even noticing that no guard stepped forward to escort him safely back to the Harem doors; his time with John, unimpeded by guards had made him forget their necessity. He stumbled forward, catching himself against the wall before sliding down to the floor, to weak to support himself.

Sherlock saw the dark figure of a server approach him and attempted to grasp his forearms and pull himself up, but the server only bore him to the ground and spread Sherlock's legs under his robes. One cold hand, callused from work as a servant sliding up his inner thigh to his undergarments. Sherlock gasped at both the coldness and the sensation, for no one had touched him so intimately yet, not even when he had been up for auction.

Male. Beta. Livery suit. The man from the garden? Inconclusive. Need more data.

"Get off," Sherlock slurred. Pushing as weakly as a newborn kitten against the shoulder of the man who was now undoing his belt and insinuating himself between Sherlock's legs. Sherlock whimpered in helplessness while he was disgusted at himself for being powerless to stop the assault. All he could smell was the sweat of the man's skin and the sharp tang of pheremones of an Omega in distress. A single tear fell from his eye and he had little energy to do anything other than study the face of the man who was attempting to belabor him.

The server. The one who gave me the champagne.

"Oi!" came a sharp voice from down the stretch of hall. The male above Sherlock quickly jumped up and took off down the hall.

Murray ran towards Sherlock and pulled Sherlock's robes down his legs to cover him. He turned towards his companion, a lovely beta woman whom he had met a dinner.

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"Go get John, discreetly. And four guards. Tell John that Sherlock needs him," Murray ordered.

The woman took off without question, her slippers making soft sounds against the tile floor as Murray did his best to right Sherlock's garments and lean him against the wall. Sherlock appeared in a daze, slurring unintelligent sounds. His pupils seemed dilated, even in the weak light of the candles and torches scattered through the hall.

"Murray," came a shout from down the hall as John quickly arrived with four trailing guards and Murray's companion.

"Gods, what happened?"

"Someone tried to assault him. I would have given chase but Sherlock seems to be drugged and I didn't want to leave him." Murray responded.

John gasped and quickly knelt by Sherlock's side. Taking his pulse and viewing his pupils. He then scooped Sherlock to his chest and stood, cradling Sherlock's lean frame against himself.

"Murray, I want the remaining soldiers in the barracks to do a sweep of the grounds. Enter every room, even the Harem. I want to make sure no one is hiding or in a place they shouldn't be. Give them as thorough a discription as possible and only then can the guests return to their rooms. I'll be in my rooms if you need me," John swooped off, followed by his guards towards the royal chambers.

Murray kissed his companion sweetly on the cheek. "I apologise dear. Duty calls," before taking off to obey his lordships orders.

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John dismissed the guards to the outer hallway once they had swept through and cleared his apartments. Going to his bed, he turned down the covers as best as he could, placing Sherlock between the sheets. Sherlock, who had been non responsive since being found in the hallway, seemed to sigh as John removed his heavy outer clothes and belt and then tucked the coverlet up to his chin. Smiling weakly at Sherlock's response, John let out an sharp exhale. Sherlock had come so close to being irreparably harmed. John quietly stood and exited the room to give an order to one of his men.

"Let me know if anyone finds the suspect. No matter the hour, you come and wake me." John ordered.

"Yes, sir."
-*-

IN THE MORNING

Sherlock woke in a daze; his vision was blurry and his temples throbbed, his throat was sore.

A flash of memory overcame him at once and he bolted upright in the bed, his breath coming fast as he grasped the blankets to his chest while one hand traveled down his body to feel his clothes still on him, although he was no longer wearing his belt, over-robe, or slippers. He didn't recognize the room in which he was in, but the early sunrise peaked through the gossamer curtains and the room smelled of tea leaves and light incense.

The door opened and Sherlock turned to see John entering with a tray holding a basin, cup, and pitcher of water.

"Sherlock," John strode forward quickly, placing the tray on the bedside table. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he placed his palm on his patients' forehead and viewed his pupils. "How are you feeling?"

"Water," Sherlock croaked, and John jumped to pore him a glass which he quickly drank. John refilled it once more and Sherlock sipped this glass slowly. "The man. The one who attacked me. Has he been found?"

"Someone has been found, but- we aren't sure if it is the same one who attacked you. Do you remember anything from the attack?" John asked.

Sherlock relayed all of his deductions that he had made the previous night, adding in the story of seeing the man working as a server who had given him a drink, obviously laced with whatever had incapacitated him the night before.

"It is very likely that he was the one who ran from us in the garden," Sherlock concluded, looking up to see a cloud pass over John's face.

"If only I had gone after him. Maybe, this wouldn't have happened," John replied softly.

"John, don't blame yourself. Neither of us could have known," Sherlock replied. Standing up and using the basin to bathe his face, neck and hands. "You say you have a suspect? I can identify him, lead the way."

"First, change." John handed him a change of robes that had been taken from Sherlock's rooms. "I'll be outside."

Sherlock was grateful to be able to put on something more substantial than his party clothes.

-*-

"He's dead," John said once they arrived at the door to the room in which the suspect had been found, in a corridor designated for visiting guests. "He was found not an even an hour ago, by one of the guards."

"Murder? How peculiar?"

"How can you know it was murder without seeing him?"

"If he had the brains to run away when your man found me, then he would have done anything to escape. If he worked here which is likely, then he obviously knows his way around," Sherlock replied, grasping the handle of the door.

"Sherlock," John said, grasping his arm. "Are you sure you want to go in?"

"Don't be ridiculous John, I'm the only one who could definitively identify the body. And you know I'm not squeamish," Sherlock explained. "Besides, a mysterious murder? It's the best birthday gift one could ask for!"

"Birthday? Wait, Sherlock!"

-*-

"Beta male. Still wearing his livery. Definitely our man," Sherlock said within seconds of observing the scene. "Exsanguination. Awful way to go." A long red line split the skin of the man's neck; blood pooled around him on the carpet, sticky with age, yet still scarlet in color. Someone had come up from behind him and slit his throat.

A cold hand between his thighs. A weakness to his knees.

Sherlock shook his head to clear his thoughts.

So a server attacks me, then comes to an empty guest corridor instead of going to either the servants quarters to retrieve their belongings or to the stables to steal a horse. He came even deeper into the castle versus escaping. Why would he do that?

Conclusion: To meet a co-conspirator.

Additional conclusion: He was only a pawn. There is another here who still plots against me; potentially even against John.

"-why you never even told me it was your birthday," John's voice broke through his thoughts.

"Oh. John." Sherlock responded as if suddenly remembering he wasn't alone in the room. "The man was meeting someone; whoever ordered, and or paid him to attack me. Presumably, they killed him to cover their identity and he was no longer useful to them; therefore it is likely that they are still within the walls of the palace."

"That's- that's brilliant Sherlock. Any ideas as to who?" John asked.

"Could be anyone," Sherlock said as his eyes took in the rest of the room. "The murderer was behind them, so it's unlikely there was much blood transferred. We can't know until they make another move, or unless we find something in his rooms."

"We've searched it, nothing but livery. No personal affects, books, papers, or items. Nothing."

"Unfortunate," Sherlock muttered. "Though I can't say I'm not happy that he's dead; it would have been better if we knew who he was working for."

"Surely it must be an agent of Moriarty," Murray postulated as he entered the room. "Not many people in the court who miss old Kamal."

"Most assuredly, but there haven't been new guests or staff turnover apart from the people you bought with you. That means whoever is working for Moriarty was already established here, or he acquirred them more recently."

"But who could it be?" Murray asked.

"I'm more worried about why they targeted Sherlock," John replied. "Most of the guards were in the east wing for the party. They could have gone through my desk or had an assassin lying in wait; yet they drug and attack a member of the court leaving a party."

"If I was a true target then I would have been killed. No professional would risk his cover for a tumble. I'm not even in Heat for another two weeks," Sherlock rambled.

John blushed and cleared his throat. "So what now?" he asked.

"Now, I'm going to return to the Harem and talk with the women," Sherlock whirled around.

"See if they saw anything?" John followed Sherlock's long strides back to the Harem.

"No, to see if any of them suddenly want to leave."

"Leave?"

"Apart from your people and a few well established nobles, the Harem were the only unknowns at the party. I'm going to see what opinions have changed and who wants to run off with who. Who knows, maybe one of the ladies objected to someone with two left feet."

"Maybe- Wait hang on!" John objected as Murray laughed.

"Don't be ashamed John, your a healer and a soldier, dancing requires an entire different skill set."

"Git." John mumbled so only Sherlock could hear.

For some reason Sherlock couldn't help but smile.

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Hi. I have gone back to reread what I have written so far and I believe that my desire to put out chapters as fast as possible has created a work that is not as detailed as I would like. So I am planning on rewriting the story. I don't plan to change anything in the story line. I only plan to elevate the language and add some foreshadowing and details into the plot. So I ask, do you mind if I start now or would you prefer me to finish the story before I rewrite. Keep in mind that I will leave this version online for those who wish to reread this. Please respond either by yes or no or with a comment under this chapter and by March 17th 2016. I will total up the opinions and go from there... Thank you for reading and giving your opinions! I love you all!

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So it appears to be a mixed bag when it comes to whether or not to go ahead and start with the rewrite. So my plan now is to just continue posting chapters here, and then if I get a serious case of writers block I will go ahead and post the revised version. I will let you guys know and post a link when I have the new version up but for now I will continue with the story as is. Thank you guys so much for caring enough to comment and post your opinions. I’m glad to know I have somewhat of a regular following on this story.

LOTS OF LOVE TO ALL YOU READERS, WRITERS, and POETS!
And anyone in between!

Please feel free to comment on how you are enjoying the story, your opinions, or your theories about what is happening next. Don't worry about your posts changing the story though! I've already got the timeline written up for this story. It's only a matter of bridging events!

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First, I just want to admit that I have been a dreadful host and lost track of all of my stories and projects... I need to do better.

While I haven't abandoned this story I am currently working on an Sword Art Online/Attack on Titan crossover. Harem was my first epic writing engagement and of course I want to finish! I apologize to everyone reading who will be reminded of this story that I started such a long time ago :0 and think that this is a new chapter. I am going to do better! This story will get an ending!

I'm sorry if you thought I fell off the face of the planet and died... I hate when I find a good in-progress story and see that it was last updated two years ago... I feel your pain at the same time I feel defensive about my procrastination and overall forgetfulness....

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 to you all! sorry I ghosted you...