Chapter Text
The world was burning, flames of terror and war consuming everything, leaving nothing but fire and ashes behind. Atsumu was hopeless to stop it, to prevent the tragedy taking root in the capital. He could only stand helplessly and watch as the enemy marched through the capital, striking civilians, painting everything in crimson blood.
They had lost the war, failed to protect the people from grudges and hatred. They were paying the price for the selfishness of kings.
His father failed to rule, had allowed his greed to consume him until the spark of war was ignited. Their kingdom was driven to its knees, bowing under the forces of a powerful enemy.
Everything was destroyed.
The world was bathed in flames, in blood and the screams of agony as people were killed before his eyes.
Miya Atsumu's fingers tightened around the dagger hilt. He was not allowed a sword, he was not allowed a single weapon to arm himself with, yet there was no one to stop him from wielding a discarded dagger, not when his parents have fled, taking with them the remaining loyal guards.
They had abandoned their son as readily as they left their kingdom, fleeing from the fire of retribution that Itachiyama had brought to their doors.
He was as powerless as the people screaming in the burning streets; he was a hopeless omega with no strength. He was not a protected, treasured prince. Instead, he was another casualty of a destructive, vicious war.
He could only take comfort in the fact that Osamu was not there to witness this massacre. His brother was safer on the frontline, fighting for a lost kingdom, a king that didn't care who fell protecting a ruined Inarizaki.
He knew what fate awaited him. He would be killed by an army that saw him as an enemy; he was going to be murdered while the true villain escaped.
Why must they always pay for their father's greed?
Why must the people suffer for their king's sins?
He could hear the heavy footsteps on the stone floors, the screams and shouts of soldiers invading his home. Atsumu knew with a frightening certainty and acceptance that his death was near.
He would not go down without a fight. He might've been a sheltered omega, unloved by their parents, ignored by their nobility, but Atsumu was still a prince loyal to a burning kingdom; he was a protector of their culture, their history.
He would fight until he died, would delay the fall of Inarizaki with his last breath.
Nothing was ever going to be easy on Osamu, not the war to take Inarizaki back, not Atsumu's death, but he vowed to ease his journey, to soften his grief. He would make Osamu proud of his death.
"He's here! Surround him, don't let the monster escape."
Atsumu was an omega, a carrier of life. He was a separate being from Osamu, a fragile person that was never allowed to practice self-defence and was never left to live his life. Atsumu was loud and sarcastic, everything an omegan prince was not allowed to be, but he was not weak; he was not someone who gave up without a fight or a struggle.
Atsumu had struggled his whole life, and he refused to go down any differently. He might've not been trained like Osamu was, but he spent the majority of his life watching his twin swing a sword from the comfort of his rooms.
He was afraid, frightened and unwilling to give up and die.
He swung the dagger as a soldier stepped toward him, aimed to blind, to wound, to protect his life from slipping away, to protect their home and their people.
He wanted to prove to the world that he was more than just an omega to marry off, that Osamu was not the only prince of Inarizaki that counted.
He was going to die without achieving anything. He was going to be executed before marrying Sakusa Kiyoomi.
He screamed and thrashed and fought, dodged a punch and a kick that forced him onto the sharp tip of a sword and Atsumu's escape was halted, his options snatched from him, and nothing but death remained as he was disarmed, the dagger dropping to the stone grounds with a deafening clang.
His death would amount to nothing; another loss added to the number of growing casualties in a bloody war.
They were innocent, all victims of greed and hatred.
Atsumu hated his fate, despised his story. He lived a shallow life; his sole achievement was protecting Omi's sister from being assaulted by his father, shielding her from the cruelty of greed.
Atsumu died resisting, struggling against war. He wished he had fought as resolutely against society, tradition and the cruelty of his father.
He thrashed under the arms shackling him, tugged against the robe tied around his wrists and the hand gripping his shoulder, pulling him to what he knew was his death.
The world was cruel, life was unfair, and as an omega, Atsumu struggled every step of the way, fought against prejudice and loneliness with no allies on his court but a single brother who loved him more than anyone else in the world.
The world was cruel, and still, Atsumu did not want to leave it, didn't want to die.
"Be gentle with him."
The command was unexpected, an order the guards couldn't deny from a princess they couldn't defy. Atsumu watched with wide, terrified eyes as the guards dropped to their knees, bowing to the princess that was the catalyst to war, the instigator of the slaughter of his people.
Atsumu did not regret saving her, not when she was his Omi's sister, not when she was an innocent omega fighting the same battles. She was just another victim of his father's greed.
"Prince Atsumu's engagement to my brother might've been broken, but I'm positive that once this war is over, he'll resume his role as our crown prince's betrothed. But, for now, be clear that I'm alive and unharmed, thanks to his highness' protection."
"Your Highness, I will not marry Omi." The words tasted like poison on his tongue, bitter and hard to swallow, a truth and a lie. He loved Sakusa Kiyoomi, had always loved him and always will; a war would never change that. Still, he refused to marry into a family that slaughtered his people, refused to be the king consort of a nation that would not spare innocent people in a conflict of nobles and rulers.
Atsumu loved the crown prince of Itachiyama, but he loved Inarizaki and his people more.
He was the second prince of the nation, and he would stand or die with it.
He refused to be like his cowardly parents, who chose to save themselves when they were the ones to bring destruction to their nation.
The princess smiled, a slight curl of her lips that reminded him so much of Sakusa's, and it made his confession that much harder, that much more painful. Princess Kayoko was patronizing him; he was insignificant, his thoughts irrelevant, and he hated that she looked so much like the man he loved as she did it.
Life was a nightmare.
"Take him to the throne room, and remember, be gentle."
He was dragged like a doll, pulled and tugged; his struggles were futile and his attempts to escape hopeless. He was surrounded by guards who were prepared to strike, enemies who wouldn't hurt him but disregarded his thoughts.
He was alone in this battle of ranks and politics, his sole alley beyond his reach and thoughts.
The throne room was crowded with the people who once served his parents, who bowed to them while harbouring treachery in their hearts.
They were the people who saw him as an unsuitable omega, unrefined and crude, with no worth or rank. They were men and women who would feed him to the wolves to save their skins.
Osamu's the only man they would bow to and swear fealty.
He was led through the room, eyes following his path until he was seated on his mother's throne, bound to a chair of power as if he was not an Inarizaki prince but an Itachiyama royal.
Atsumu could view the entire room, everyone within his field of vision.
He could see his parents where they were forced to kneel, swords held to their throats, criminals facing judgement for their atrocious.
Atsumu could not breathe, could not move as he screamed and tugged against the ropes burning his skins and holding him back. He was hopeless as the princess passed judgement on the king who kidnapped her when lust tainted his soul.
The victors were named, and the defeated must suffer.
They were prey, weak against the predator that cornered them.
He did not know why he was pleading for parents that never loved him. He didn't understand why he was weeping for them when they never spared him, never took his side or had his back.
They never loved him, but he did. He loved them with all his heart, no matter the pain they caused him, no matter how he was nothing compared to Osamu in their eyes.
He did not want to watch them die in front of his eyes, and yet he could not escape, could only scream and beg as the judgement was carried out and his father's head rolled, severed from his neck.
The world was burning, flames eating at the edges, growing closer and closer until they consumed him, and Atsumu allowed the fire to burn his conciseness and darkness to surround him.
If only this were a nightmare.