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~
Where do feathers go when they float on the sea?
~
I Crowned
~
It was a sight to haunt his nights: his uncle, Falk, towering over his father, the walrus ivory guard of his sword gleaming in the sun light filtered through stained glass. It gilded Falk’s hair and gave him a halo while his shadow devoured his brother. They could have been a painting, Tragedy of the family, but the blood pooling beneath King Eugen Markus von Seemund was real and his eyes were dull as wax candles. Falk’s face was devoid of emotion as he fetched his kerchief and wiped his brother’s blood from his blade. There was no love, no regret, only, perhaps, a flicker of distaste.
The last Ben saw of Falk before being dragged away by guards, screaming, struggling, his hands roughly tied at his back, was his leaning down to lift the crown from Eugen’s head and place it upon his brow. Miraculously, it had remained unstained.
“You killed him! He trusted you and you killed him! You monster! Bastard! Kingkiller! The Gods’ wraith will strike you down! If not, I’ll kill you myself! Do you hear me? I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”
Falk didn’t look at him once.
~
II Before
~
The House of Seemund wasn’t blessed when it came to children. They happened to either die under unfortunate circumstances before the eighteenth birthday or not be born at all. Ben’s grandmother had given birth to four sons and three daughters in ten years. Two of them the yellow plague of the early century silenced forever. One daughter’s heart gave out before she could receive her name three days after birth, as was custom. The last, oldest daughter lived to present as an alpha before dying in a border skirmish with the mountain kingdom of Kaltenstätte. The second-oldest son drowned on his way back from a tavern, likely stupidly drunk, though no one would have dared to say it aloud.
The oldest son, Eugen, and the youngest son, Falk, were the only ones to survive. Their mother never recovered from the death of her other children, and some said the King didn’t either. That was why, in his last years, he was prone to fits of anger and melancholia.
The brothers had an awkward relationship. Some said it was as good as it could be, considering Eugen was eight years Falk’s elder and had been prepared for the throne since his sister’s death. The truth was, though they were both alphas, they didn’t share many interests.
Eugen liked the whale hunt, wine and good dining, and dancing on lavish balls; he never went to bed without having kissed the hand of at least five noblewomen. Falk preferred libraries and council chambers and the intimacy of hand-to-hand combat. Ben had distinct memories of looking out of his window into the courtyard to watch him wrestle poor green boys of the army to the ground. He was calm and succinct where his brother was boisterous and restless. They clashed many times – to the point that Falk refused to set foot in Seemund Castle for months at a time, staying in his residence in the Silver County instead.
Ben hated that. Seemund Castle was much more boring without Falk around. He seemed to know everything about everything and he was a skilled storyteller. Often when Ben’s father was recovering from too much wine, Falk took him out in a boat to see the breeding sites of the black doves and sea eagles, to go fishing, and to visit the farmers and fishers of the small islands and listen to their struggles and wishes. As a child Ben had appreciated the taste of adventure. Growing older, he realized Falk achieved another goal: the people of Seemund liked him.
On his birthday myriad boats and ships docked at the port of Seemund Castle. They wanted to show their appreciation of the young prince, bringing gifts and lighting candles in the royal temple. Even the ones who looked down on King Eugen’s politics and laisser-faire attitude had only words of praise for clever, diligent, and handsome Prince Benedict.
Most importantly, without Falk Ben might not have been able to hide his biggest secret: he was an omega. When he presented a few months after his fourteenth birthday, he was overwhelmed with strange sensations, feverish and whiny. He thought to have fallen ill and asked his servant to send for a doctor. The doctor never came, though. Falk encountered the servant in the hallways of the castle and had the right suspicions.
Ben recalled glimpses of his face, tense, yet determined, towering over his shaking form in bed. He recalled the heavy cloud of alpha scent that settled over his senses like a blanket and made his blood tingle. He’d never reeked that strongly. It was as though Ben had awakened in a different world. Falk’s voice too seemed deeper, rougher, and yet as comforting as the song of a nightingale.
“You’re an omega,” Falk told him matter-of-factly. He wasn’t one for elaborate explanations and pleasantries. “That’s why you feel that way. It’ll get worse if we don’t do something against it. I’ll be gone for some hours. You mustn’t leave this room, Benedict. Under any circumstances. No one else must know. Understood?”
Though Ben was light-headed and shivering, he did. He knew about secondary genders and he knew no omega could be King of Seemund. Still, he wasn’t afraid. Falk radiated confidence and certainty; he spoke to him as though his presenting as an omega was no more of a hurdle than a broken toe. Ben trusted him. When Falk returned, he was carrying a basket brimming with a certain species of red algae that – as Ben would learn later – was able to suppress pheromones and heats. From that day one he would eat it in a stew or soup or drink it as a tea at least once a day. As time passed, he only needed to do so once a month. To the people he was a beta.
Only Falk and his father knew the truth, though they never spoke about it. Ben could still get a beta or an omega woman pregnant. As long as Ben kept consuming the red algae, he could live as a beta, so there was no reason to deny him the throne. His sister turned out to be an omega as well. As the late queen had died giving birth to her and Eugen refused to marry again, it was the best and safest option. Perhaps it was the only thing the brothers agreed on.
Despite their differences Ben’s father asked Falk for advice (even though he rarely took it) and invited him on hunting trips (even though Falk rarely accepted). Eugen had an odd way of showing affection. He couldn’t tell anyone he loved or appreciated them. As Ben grew older, the feeling sneaked up on him that his father would’ve liked to be closer with Falk – he showered him in gifts on his birthday, clapped his shoulder whenever they crossed paths, and attempted to read some of his favorite books.
Ben found him once sunken on his desk, his snores setting the pages of a leather-bound tome fluttering he recognized from Falk’s library. Eugen hadn’t come very far. The next day Falk complained about the missing book – and Eugen, too stubborn to tell the truth, tossed it into the sea and feigned confusion. Ben knew that because his father told him about it in a drunken stupor. It was very frustrating, and it got worse as Eugen started to change.
~
III The Good Of The People
~
Ben expected to be thrown into the dungeons or that a high-ranking general would have the honor of slitting his throat. Neither happened. They locked him into his quarters. Before leaving, one of the turncoats cut open the ropes biting into his wrists. Sadly, Ben was too slow and bruised to run out of the door before it was closed in his face.
He’d done his best to fight the rebels who’d spilled into the castle – some of them had worn the colors of Hoheneisen, which made Ben believe Falk had made a deal with their king. However, a single man, no matter his strength, could only do so much. He’d cut down a good number of them, protecting the King, though Falk had taught him himself. His uncle had disarmed him swiftly, callously, looking him in the eyes.
Ben shuddered at the memory of his gaze. He would never have thought Falk capable of treason – of killing his own brother, the father of his nephew. Of gazing at him with this coldness, as though he was a stranger. His vision grew blurry. Ben rubbed his eyes before discovering with a hiss the bloody scratches on his knuckles. They must’ve come from the nails keeping down his fists as he’d struggled to free himself. To no avail. One of the guards had kicked him in the stomach to silence him. Daniel. He was one of their oldest and most loyal soldiers. Or so Ben had thought. Nothing made sense anymore.
Ben hammered his fists on the door and shoved himself against it, though it was made of good wood and iron; it didn’t budge. As his anger gave way to exhaustion, only pain remained. It was a hollow in his chest, burning with each breath he took. He paced the room, worrying about Rosali, his sister, and recalling the last hours with vivid detail, as though he could change them through willpower alone. Regretting. Finally, as the sun crossed the sky and kissed the horizon, Ben curled up on his bed and wept.
~
Falk came to him the next morning. The creaking of the door woke Ben though he couldn’t remember falling asleep. The sight of his uncle was a pleasant one – until he spotted the crown, wrong as mold on fresh rye bread, and the memories of the day before crashed into him like a flood. Ben leaped out of bed. In lack of a better weapon, he grasped the letter opener on his desk and pointed it in Falk’s direction, glaring at him.
“Scum!” Ben’s voice was hoarse from his screaming and crying the day before. “You dare to wear his crown!”
“Please lower your … weapon,” Falk drawled, a finely curved brow raised in mockery. Still, as he continued, his features and voice softened. He was wearing his usual garments: loose tunics of fine linen and a leather jerkin without any distracting adornments. His light brown hair was short and wind-swept. “I’m not here to harm you, Benedict. Calm yourself. I wish to talk with you.”
“I don’t want to see you ever again,” Ben growled, still clutching the letter opener, though his hand was trembling. His chest ached. A groan fell from his lips. “How could you do that? I don’t understand. I thought I knew you.”
Carefully, Falk reached out, his hand closing around Ben’s and pressing into the joints of his fingers, forcing them open. Ben bit back a sob as the letter opener slid through his grip. He turned away from Falk, his eyes squeezed shut. “Why?”
“We should sit. I’ll have tea and pastries served. You must be hungry.”
Ben didn’t move. “Why?”
“Fine. Have it your way.” There was a beat of silence before Falk said, “You have witnessed your father’s decline as well as I. His memory was failing him. He was getting aggressive. Once he hit a chamber maid strongly enough that she lost three of her teeth. Another time he kicked a servant down the tower stairs. He was losing his sanity, Benedict. Such a man shouldn’t be allowed to rule.”
Ben winced. He knew all that, and yet… “He wasn’t always like that. Most of the time his mind was clear. We could talk. We played a game of cards just the other day. I’m eighteen years old, damn it – two more years and I could’ve become King!”
“Kaltenstätte is robbing our people. There’s a war brewing on the horizon. We couldn’t wait two more years. Our people deserve better than that.”
Ben scoffed, feeling sick with fury. He spun around with clenched hands, wishing he could spar with Falk on the courtyard – wishing he could win against him. He took two steps in his direction and spat in his face. Falk wasn’t quick enough to dodge; a glob of spittle hit his chin. He wiped it off with his kerchief, eyeing him like a feral dog.
“Horseshit. We could’ve talked with the Council. You could’ve served as regent in those two years. We could’ve sent for doctors of other kingdoms, someone who might’ve known the sickness my father was struggling with. We could’ve found a way. But, no, you rather collaborated with Hoheneisen and gathered a bunch of turncoats around you to seize the throne by force. I never thought you could be that selfish, that obsessed with power. I don’t recognize you.” Ben grimaced. “You never wanted me to become King, did you? You always looked down on me, silently scheming. Always.”
“No.” For the first time Falk’s voice rose, quivering with tension. “I always respected you, Benedict. I still do. I think highly of you. You’re a far better man than your father ever was.”
Ben laughed mirthlessly. “Why do you hate him so?”
Falk squared his shoulders. He was a tall man with an intimidating gaze if you didn’t know him well, and he was using that to its full advantage. His pheromones seeped into the air, a hint of salt and earth, and Ben tensed despite himself, suppressing the urge to take a step back. Most of their family had blue eyes, some green, but Falk’s eyes were a colorless gray, calling to mind iron and slate and the sky after a vicious storm.
“Oh, yes, I hate him. Eugen was an arrogant fool who rather chased after ladies than the criminals of our realm. I know he’s your father – a miracle he managed to do something right, truly – so I refrained from speaking ill of him in your presence until now. But if you must know the truth, there it is. Did you know it was his fault our brother Joshua died? They’ve been drinking together in the tavern. Eugen betted he wouldn’t be able to swim up the river to the brothel they often frequented, never once considering Joshua might actually do it. He was careless like that. He went home alone and forgot about him. Of course the people mustn’t know such horrible tales about the heir to the throne.”
“No,” Ben whispered. “My father – he wasn’t always right, but he had a good heart. He simply didn’t know how to express himself. He loved you!”
“He loved me?” Falk spoke the words as though tasting a new and exotic wine. His lips curled. “I doubt that. Of our many lands, he gave me the Silver County – a county of lone islands and whale hunting.”
“He did it so he could be closer to you,” Ben said. “He hoped you could share his passion.”
“Well, he hoped in vain. He should’ve known better. But your father never learned. Honestly, he should’ve abdicated a long time ago – some of his bad decisions are still eating our realm like worms. What I did, Benedict, I did with our people in mind. Your father would’ve lived in the past. We’ll have a chance now to build a future.”
Ben gritted his teeth. It was hard – he’d lost not only his father but also the uncle he’d loved. No matter how bad of a ruler Eugen might have been, it gave Falk no right to commit fratricide. In the end, he was as he described Eugen: petty and selfish. Maybe it ran in the family.
“You would’ve been a great King,” Falk added quietly, almost warmly. “I’m sorry you were witness to all of this. I’m sorry for you, if not for him.”
“I don’t want your pity,” Ben spat out. “I don’t want anything from you. To me, you’re just as dead as he.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“Why am I still alive? Or will there be a public execution? If you want to be King, you can’t let me live – whatever wife you’ll take will want me gone, so her sons are sure to sit the throne. I’d be a risk.” He gave a thin smile. “All the work you put into my education – it’s all for nothing now. What a shame.”
“I understand you’re upset,” Falk said. “I hope you’ll try to see my point of view when your grief has waned. And no, you won’t be executed. You indeed not know me well if you believe I could have you killed. I never pretended to like you; I never feigned interest in your development. I spent time with you because I wanted to spend time with you, and that’s the truth, as much as you want to see me as a monster.”
Ben scoffed. He was tiring of this conversation. He felt as though he was talking to a man in a mask, as though the real Falk von Seemund might still be out there, as horrified at the actions of his doppelganger as Ben. “What then? The monastery?”
Falk gave no reply. Ben studied him with a frown, noting a bit of color in his cheeks. His fingers drummed on the guard of his sword as they always did in his rare moments of restlessness – or nervousness. He couldn’t meet Ben’s gaze. A dark sense of foreboding unfurled within him. His skin prickled as though rodents were scurrying through his garments. “Falk?”
“There’s one logical course of action,” Falk said. “The people of Seemund love you. You already said it; it would be a shame to waste your potential – your education, your intelligence, your charm. I’ve already promised Rosali's hand in marriage to the son of King Albert von Hoheneisen – it will strengthen the relationship between our kingdoms and provide new trade routes –, though the shock of the rebellion has rippled through our people and the waves need soothing. What better way to join the fractions than through marriage?”
Their gazes crossed. Falk’s eyes were wide, yet determined, as though expecting pushback; it was the look he gave opponents of a duel. Ben’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand. What marriage?”
Falk gave a sound of exasperation. “You’ll marry me, Benedict.”
Ben’s stomach flipped. He must’ve misheard him. “I’ll marry … you?”
“Yes.”
Ben stumbled back, as though from a venomous snake. There was a wall at his back. He hit the back of his head on rough stone, pain flaring up. A few strands of fair hair spilled from the leather strap he used to tie it back and swayed in his field of vision. He shook his head, feeling numb. “No. You can’t be serious. T-that’s – that’s ludicrous. Marry you? We’re family!”
“It’s been done before,” Falk replied calmly, as though he’d practiced those lines before a mirror. “I could show you the records in the library. It’s not forbidden either way, and as I’m an alpha and you’re an omega, there’s a high probability of compatibility in regards to children. Our lineage will be secure.”
“What a sweet way of saying you’ll rape me.” Ben felt sick.
“Benedict,” Falk growled, his eyes flashing, his alpha’s nature surging; usually, he had it well under control, behaving more like a beta than the picture of an instinct-driven alpha. Something within Ben wanted to whimper and cower. “It’s the sensible decision!”
“Fuck you! You’re not even giving me a choice. How can you suggest such a thing? You’re the one losing his sanity!" Ben was yelling again, panting, shaking all over. Falk crossed the distance between them like an eagle clawing for prey and grasped his arm before Ben could slip away. He yanked him against his chest, a hand at the back of Ben’s head, caging him in a stiff embrace. Ben pushed against him, squirming, though Falk seemed to put every ounce of his strength into keeping him there. He slumped against him with a dry sob.
“The ceremony will take place ten days from now,” Falk murmured close to his ear. “You’ll have time to get used to the idea.”
“I don’t want to get used to the idea,” Ben croaked. His skin was itching where Falk was touching him. The very thought that he’d be undressing him in ten days, kissing him, caressing the most vulnerable parts of him, made him want to throw up. Tears sprung into his eyes. “You don’t need to do this. Tell them all I’m an omega and marry me off, use me as a bargaining chip, I don’t care, but please don’t do this. I don’t want to marry you, Falk. You can’t – you can’t possibly want this…?”
Falk went silent. His grip, having gone softer, tightened again. The fingers rubbing gentle circles on the small of his back dug into the folds of his embellished tunic, almost possessively. And Ben realized with icy horror Falk wasn’t agreeing. He closed his eyes. His voice was barely above a whisper. “How long?”
“How long?
“How long have you,” Ben choked on the words, “wanted this?” Me?
Falk sighed. It was such a ridiculous idea Ben thought he’d deny it after all, offering him all the neat explanations he’d already given, clinging to logic and the good of the people and the security of the realm. He was no man who let himself be reigned by his emotions; he was proud of it. Well, apparently his brother and he had more things in common than he wished.
“Benedict.” Falk drew out his name. He let go of him, though something glued Ben on the spot, keeping his body paralyzed as easily as the cold water of a frozen lake. He lowered his head, unwilling to see Falk’s expression, scared of what he might find in it. “We don’t have to have this conversation now.”
“Yes,” Ben said. “We do. You already killed my father. You’re forcing me to marry you. The least you can do is give me the truth now.”
“As you wish. First, I want you to know it wasn’t an easy decision. I knew you wouldn’t be … pleased–“
Ben scoffed.
“Either way, I started considering the idea this past year. I did consider promising Hoheneisen your hand in marriage instead of Rosali’s, but, as I’ve stated before, the people of Seemund would’ve missed you. Moreover…”
Ben narrowed his eyes. Falk’s alpha scent was becoming stronger, a tickle in his nose like pollens in the air or wind kissing his skin. Ben didn’t know if it was Falk’s doing or the fact that he’d have to take another dose of red algae soon. He took shallower breaths through his mouth. “Yes?”
“I don’t want them to have you.”
Ben chuckled bitterly. “You sound like a scorned lover.”
Falk’s voice grew strained, husky. It was an explanation as much as an accusation. “When you presented, I was the one who found you.”
Ben looked up with a jolt. Falk’s eyes were storm clouds, lightning flashing. It made a shiver run down his spine. “B-but you were calm, you knew what to do, you helped me hide it. You were clear-minded and unaffected, nothing like the alphas I’ve read about.”
Falk laughed, a grim quirk at his lips. “I’ve been honing my self-control since a young age, even before presenting as an alpha. Of course I didn’t want you to know what I was feeling and thinking in that moment. I tried to breathe as little as possible. If you’d said as much as a single word, perhaps even if you’d moved your head a certain way, I would’ve pounced on you like a wild beast, I would’ve claimed you then and there, all consequences be damned.” Falk gave him an ugly grin. “So, really, you should consider yourself lucky it’ll only happen ten days from now.”
Ben took a step back. “You disgust me.”
Falk’s expression became blank once more. He straightened, as distant and awe-inspiring as a true King. The crown suited him. It was as though it had always been meant to be on his head. “Ten days, Benedict. You’ll stay here during that time. If you wish for physical exercise, you may request a sparring match. But you’ll understand I can’t let you leave these quarters on your own.”
He turned around, though at the door he paused, giving Ben a last glance. “If it’s any comfort, I can assure you your feelings on this matter will change. Omegas are meant to be with alphas. If your mind doesn’t recognize that yet, your body will.”
“Wait!” Ben called as Falk opened the door. “The red algae. Will you bring it to me?”
Falk tilted his head. “You’ll hardly need that anymore, do you?”
The locking of the door sounded like the clatter of swords in a duel, just before the defeat.
~
IV Marriage
~
Ben considered jumping out of the window, but he was too much of a coward to do it. Though he paced his rooms like a fox in a cage, he didn’t ask Falk to spar with him and he didn’t accept his invitations to dine with him. He ate only bits and pieces of what the servants brought him in the morning and the evening, his stomach churning all day long, dreading what was to come. He prayed to the god of the sea and the god of the sun, wishing his father a safe arrival at their halls. Sometimes he cried.
At the sixth day his scent started to change. There was a sweet note to it, as though he’d been rolling in a field of daisies. Though he didn’t use any different soaps, his hair gained a shiny wave and his skin grew softer. The changes weren’t big, nothing a beta would detect, but any alpha he encountered would know, and once his secret was exposed, there would be no hiding it again. He’d live as an omega. Falk’s Queen. Getting heavy with his children. Ben shuddered.
The day of the marriage ceremony came too soon. Servants dressed him in many layers of white lace and silver jewelry. They powdered his face and braided his shoulder-length hair, adorning it with pearls. He didn’t recognize himself in the mirror. He’d always preferred tight, practical clothes; he liked hunting as much as his father. The man staring back at him beneath a translucent veil looked like the omegas in myths, the ones famed for their beauty and grace, wrapping every hero around their little fingers. Ben suppressed the urge to yank at his garments until they tore.
Seemund’s marriages happened on sea. A procession of soldiers and servants accompanied him on board the most lavish and largest of Seemund’s ships, the Königsadler. The deck was decorated with flower garlands and ribbons and brimming with people: noblemen and women of all the known realms they were on friendly terms with, council members and politicians, infamous merchants and bankers, the most popular actors and musicians. Their faces blended together. Ben was glad he wasn’t expected to speak before the vows had taken place. He wasn’t sure he could’ve opened his mouth without either screaming of breaking into tears.
A priest in scarlet robes was standing before an intricate table holding two candles and two goblets of seaberry wine. Falk was already standing at his place, regal and handsome in a coat lined with bear fur, a brocade tunic, and shiny leather boots. His hair was combed for once, neat beneath the crown, though the wind was already tugging it into disarray. Ben stared at the man he was about to marry and wished he would have taken the leap. Somehow he arrived at his side; he couldn’t remember walking. He couldn’t feel his legs at all.
Falk’s gaze roamed over his veiled face. Ben was burning beneath it. Slowly, without taking his eyes off of him, Falk took Ben’s hand and breathed a kiss to his knuckles. He smelled of alpha more strongly than ever. It gave Ben a headache. The people cheered. Inside, he died a little more.
Falk kept holding his hand while the priest spoke. His words didn’t register in Ben’s mind. The sun was an angry-red eye on the horizon, the sky orange bleeding into purple. Doves chained to the masts with thin silver circled the deck high above their heads, like vultures. Eventually, Falk’s voice replaced the droning of the priest. He spoke his vows, turning to Ben with a squeeze of his hand.
Ben pressed his lips together. There was a moment of silence in which he considered refusing to speak the vows, though their people would take that as a bad omen and Hoheneisen might call off the marriage between their prince and Rosali. Falk had always known what to say. Ben would not put his own well-being above that of the realm.
He spoke his vows flatly. Falk had added some embellishments, mentioning the bright future of the kingdom and including some flatteries that rattled inside Ben’s mind like stones. He said only what he needed to say. When Falk lifted his veil, he glared at him, leaving no doubt about his real feelings about the matter. Daring him to kiss him like that. Falk wasn’t intimidated, though. He grasped Ben’s chin and pressed their lips together, deepening the kiss for a moment or two, not at all deterred by his stiffness. Ben’s mouth kept tingling afterwards.
Finally, they drank the wine with interlinked arms. Ben let some of his spill across the rim, red drops tainting his garments like blood. There was something oddly satisfying about it, though of course no amount of spite could stop time or keep them from getting married. The priest touched their foreheads with holy oil and proclaimed them King and Queen of Seemund. Ben closed his eyes with a sigh. It was drowned out by the people clapping and cheering; they felt like demons, hungering for his soul, though Falk was the worst of all.
The banquet was just as bad as the ceremony. People stared at him and whispered behind his back, their smiles exaggerated and false. There was relief in their eyes – the golden prince wasn’t lost as his father was. He saw their pity too. It wasn’t enough to dampen their enjoyment of the party, though. They didn’t have to marry their uncle, the man who was like a second father to Ben.
His only comfort came in the form of little Rosali, 14 years old and sweet as a rose. Though the death of their father had left marks on her face and her eyes were still swollen, she carried herself with the grace of a lady older than her years and tactfully avoided speaking of the incident. If you were talking to her, you could’ve thought there had never been a rebellion. She was seated beside Ben, and as he hadn’t seen her since his imprisonment in his quarters, he was glad to see her mostly all right.
It was odd: he was supposed to be the protective, older brother, though Rosali was it who cast worried glances his way. Sadly, they couldn’t speak openly. Her disapproval of Falk’s decision showed only in the furrow between her brows and the grim line of her mouth whenever she looked at their uncle. She squeezed his hand under the table. “You’re very brave.”
Ben thanked her even though, deep down, he’d never felt more afraid.
~
Around midnight when the guests spilled from the Königsadler and torches illuminated the darkness beneath a starry sky, Falk led him downstairs into the intestines of the ship where they would consummate their marriage. Ben let him hold his arm as long as it took for them to turn a corner and be alone. There, he shook it off. “I can walk on my own, thank you very much.”
Falk inclined his head. “Very well. The last door in the hallway, if you please.”
Ben glanced down the hallway, his heart beating in his throat. He bit his bottom lip. “Is there another bedroom on this ship?”
Falk clicked his tongue. “Benedict. Please don’t make this any harder on yourself than it needs to be.”
Ben bit back a sigh. Entering the cabin felt like crossing over into the maw of a beast, or perhaps a different world, a future where nothing would be as it was before. There was a large canopy bed, a vanity, two chairs and a table draped with a lavish flower bouquet. The walls were painted with sea creatures, ships, and rolling waves. Ben couldn’t appreciate the beauty of them. He wondered if this was how the little birds noblewomen liked to keep in cages in their homes felt. Frustration and resignation came and went like the tides; he didn’t know what to do.
Ben had known he likely wouldn’t be able to choose his wife – his father had been writing letters to neighboring kingdoms, aiming for the most advantageous match – though he’d hoped he could at least talk to the potential candidates first and take his pick from them. He’d hoped he could say no.
Ben dropped into the chair before the vanity and wiped his face with his kerchief, sick of the powder making his skin itch. Roughly, he opened the intricate braids framing his face, flinging the pearls carelessly aside.
“You forgot one,” Falk said. His long fingers dipped into Ben’s hair and gently freed the last of his strands from their braid. His hair was curling slightly, swinging about his chin playfully. Ben’s anger trickled away like water in a desert. When Falk’s hand landed on his shoulder, his sight grew blurry and the corners of his mouth sunk. Worst of all, he smelled him, a heavy, salty scent that should be unpleasant and yet wasn’t, and for the first time in his life ancient instincts stirred within Ben, whispering alpha in the back of his mind. Urging him to lean into his touches. He rose, shoving Falk’s hand away. Before his courage could leave him, he started to undress. “Well, we should get started. I’m tired.”
Ben freed his upper body and was about to rid himself of his breeches when Falk’s voice stopped him. “Don’t get naked yet.”
Bitter laughter burst out of Ben. He cast him a dark glance. “You’re joking. Let’s not pretend we’re here for anything else. Please go ahead and fuck me – after all, you waited long enough.”
Falk’s expression remained guarded, empty. “You’re still upset.”
“Oh, am I? What gave it away?” Ben muttered wryly. He’d always been in awe of Falk’s self-control, his ability to endure every inconvenience and problem with stoic poise and calm, but now it was like salt in his wounds. Falk had already admitted he’d planned this, he’d wanted him since Ben had presented as an omega. The least he could do was be man enough to show it.
Falk took off his coat and his outer tunic. He kicked off his boots, standing before him only in a loose shirt and breeches. Ben could make out the dips and arches of his muscles. Though he’d often seen him with his chest exposed and glistening beneath the summer’s sun, his throat tightened at the prospect of seeing it again.
Falk reached out a hand, “Come here.”
There was a growling undertone in his voice. A shiver ran down Ben’s spine. Despite himself, he took a few steps in his direction, feeling as though dragged closer by a rope. Only when he stood before Falk did he realize it was his alpha’s voice, a forceful command some of them could use on omegas, putting suggestions into their minds. It didn’t work for long and only if one was susceptible to it. Ben had trusted him for too long for his mind to reject it.
When Falk grasped his chin, Ben winced. He didn’t lean in for a kiss, though. He watched him with his cold eyes, reminding Ben of a general searching for the lie in his soldier’s face. He breathed in his scent, feeling light-headed, warmth unfurling in his body. When Ben lowered his gaze, it felt like a defeat. A part of him wished to apologize, though he couldn’t say why. His eyes were level with Falk’s lips. He found himself staring at them. They were generously curved, not at all like the thin mouth of his father, almost feminine. He’d never quite noticed them before.
With heated cheeks, Ben averted his eyes, only for them to land on Falk’s neck, the naked skin disappearing beneath his collar. Something about it drew him in, stirring the urge to open the buttons of his shirt and find what was concealed beneath. The fingers on his chin were calloused. He was a strong man. A leader. A smart and resourceful alpha, not at all like the young braggarts at court who got into stupid fights.
Why was he thinking like that? About Falk? Ben’s stomach flipped. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away from him. He croaked, “What are you doing to me?”
“Nothing.” Falk’s voice was low and melodic. “You’re getting into heat. When alphas and omegas are close, they react to one another. It’s simple biology.”
“But you’re my uncle,” Ben spat out. He inhaled sharply when Falk’s fingers grazed his nipples, almost accidentally. They stood erect, heavy beneath his touch, larger than usual, and hot with strange need. The skin of his chest was flushed. When Falk twisted a nipple between his thumb and index finger, Ben let out a broken moan. Fire ran through his veins. His cock twitched, swelling in his breeches.
With a groan, Ben stumbled back, horrified. Though Falk was still regarding him calmly, the ice in his eyes had melted. The smallest of smiles was curving his lips. He seemed to glow in the firelight. Ben had never found him attractive. He could tell he was handsome objectively, but he’d never paid much attention to his looks, and why should he?
He’d never been affected by his beauty, but now his heart leaped as it did at the sight of his childhood crushes, urging him to cross the distance between them. It was maddening. Ben’s mind knew this was Falk, his uncle, the man who’d murdered his father, but his heart and body longed to be close to him. He felt sick.
Falk approached him, slowly. He placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder, tracing its arch, wandering down his arm. Ben held his breath. It didn’t help. His body felt too hot, as though it might melt like iron in the blacksmith’s fire.
“You see?” Falk said. “It’s very natural. You don’t need to be afraid. You’ll be a wonderful omega, won’t you?”
Ben whimpered. His cock was aching. He hadn’t known he could be this hard while feeling absolutely terrified. Maybe it wasn’t Falk he was afraid of the most; maybe it was his own body and those cursed reactions of it, the ones he hadn’t known himself capable of. Falk grasped his arm, leaning in. His lips brushed Ben’s cheek, hot breath tickling it. Ben rasped, “I wish you hadn’t been there back then. I wish you’d never told me to hide it. My father would have married me off, but at l-least – at least not to you.”
At least Ben wouldn’t feel like a stranger in his own body. At least he’d know how to deal with this onslaught of strange emotions. Falk pressed a kiss to his lips. It felt like a punishment. “I’m very glad it didn’t come to that. You’ve grown into a beautiful young man, Benedict.”
Ben shivered. “P-please don’t…”
He couldn’t finish the sentence. His mind was reeling. He felt confined in his garments and restless with desire. He’d never had sex. He shouldn’t hunger for it so; he shouldn’t feel so horribly empty. It made him feel like an animal, driven by instincts. He felt dirty. How could Falk say he was beautiful? How could he torment him so?
Falk kissed him again, more gently this time. Ben leaned into it ever so slightly, shaking with dry sobs. He reached for him only to forcibly withdraw his hands, panting. Falk tugged at his breeches. “I think you’re ready. We should relocate this conversation, don’t you think?”
Ben hated how his fingers moved swiftly, as though having only waited for the suggestion, the implication of more. He opened his breeches with a husky sigh of relief, his hard cock flushed and pulsing. He didn’t want to be naked in front of Falk – but an alpha, one as strong and handsome as he, was a temptation.
Ben’s skin was tingling all over. He crossed the distance to the bed slowly, as though swimming through stormy weather, and dropped on the covers with a heavy, feverish feeling. There was wetness between his legs. Slick. Ben flushed with shame. He pressed a hand to his mouth, silencing the miserable noises coming out. A tear slipped from his eye and ran down his cheek.
“You’re doing well,” Falk told him in a warmer voice, almost fatherly – if it weren’t for the edge of desire tainting it. He couldn’t hide it anymore. His hands found Ben’s hips. He’d climbed on the bed from the other side and now leaned against Ben’s back. Falk’s lips caressed his neck, his teeth grazing it, as though in preparation of the mating bite.
Ben gave a low moan, yet deep inside he felt cold. Falk would claim him. This day marked the death of his freedom. And the worst part was Ben’s body shivered in anticipation at the thought of belonging to an alpha. His legs fell open ever so slightly. Slick trickled out of him.
“I hate you,” he whispered, without strength.
“You don’t,” Falk replied close to his ear. “It’s painful, isn’t it? This want. You’re not used to it. This is how it would always have been, Benedict. This is how it’ll be from now on. Rest assured, though, I won’t leave you alone. I’ll help you, as I always did. You remember that, don’t you? You don’t hate me. You couldn’t.”
He wrapped an arm around Ben’s waist, drawing him to his body, his thick cock pressing against Ben’s ass. It should’ve embarrassed him, it should’ve horrified him, but he only sighed, imagining the full length of it in his mind, imagining its sweet pressure inside him, and ached for it, his hips twitching.
“Oh, and Benedict, my dear, you’re wrong.” Falk buried a hand in his hair and kissed his temple, giving a low moan as Ben reflexively pressed himself closer. “I wouldn’t have let your father marry you off. I would’ve rather claimed you back then than let it happen. You’re mine.”
“Yours,” Ben mouthed before regaining clarity, shuddering. “Gods. How c-can you…”
Falk flipped him over and pinned him on the bed by his throat, his eyes thin and blazing. Ben couldn’t breathe, his gaze fixed on Falk, both monstrous and alluring, his dark blond hair unrulier than ever. His thumb pressed against Ben’s Adam’s apple. Ben threw his head back with a groan, a prickling sensation dancing over his skin. His hands hung lifelessly by his sides, his legs were spread. Falk smiled. “That’s a good omega. You’re aching for an alpha to claim you, aren’t you? You’d let me do whatever I want to you.”
“N-no,” Ben ground out, knowing it was a lie. If Falk had told him to suck his cock, he would have been kneeling before him within a heartbeat. The very thought of his cock made his mouth water.
“You’ll make a fine mate.” Falk joined their lips once more, his tongue darting into Ben’s mouth, drawing small sighs from him. He reached for Falk and found the strong muscles of his naked chest, his smooth skin. He needed to touch him – he needed to be touched by him. When Falk broke the kiss, Ben wrapped his hands around his neck and pulled him back down again, rasping tiny, incomprehensible pleas.
“I know,” Falk replied to whatever he’d said, cupping his cheek. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you? Let me breed you, pump you full with my seed – you’ll have no choice but to become pregnant. A Seemund heir. Doesn’t that sound wonderful, my dear?”
Ben nodded, tears in his eyes. He wanted to carry this alpha’s pups like nothing else in this world. Nothing, except maybe his cock inside him, freeing him of this torturous emptiness. “P-please… please…”
Falk smiled, rubbing circles on his thigh. Ben hooked his legs around him, whimpering. He bucked his hips wantonly, unable to get out a single coherent sentence. Thankfully, Falk didn’t let him wait long. He lined himself up and thrust a probing finger into Ben’s wet hole before pulling it back with a satisfied noise.
When he entered him, pleasure surged through Ben like a wave of fire. He wrapped himself around Falk’s body as closely as possible, trying to take him deeper, drunk on the fullness, the friction inside him, the knowledge that an alpha wanted him. He was so strong. He’d care so good for him. They’d make perfect pups.
“Now, it’s not so bad, is it?” Falk murmured with strong, deep thrusts, Ben rocking in his embrace.
Bad? He thought, uncomprehending. How could anyone think this was bad?
“M-more,” Ben gasped, nuzzling Falk’s neck. He smelled like the sea on a bright morning. he couldn’t get enough of it. “F-feels so good. P-please…”
“I knew you’ll understand, my dear, my sweet bride,” Falk rasped, picking up the pace. “You’re perfectly wet for me, sucking me in. It’s your first cock, isn’t it? Saving yourself for me?”
Ben nodded. Of course. Of course. There was only him; there would always be only him. Falk tucked a strand of sweaty hair behind his ear. “Go on. Come for me.”
His climax crashed over him like raging waves, unfolding with a long, husky moan and shudders in the rhythm of Falk’s motions. It carried him away, farther and farther, until Ben thought he might go mad with ecstasy. Falk’s cock felt just right within him, stretching him just so and hitting him where no one else had ever be and ever will, joining them as one. Gods, he wished to stay like this forever; he’d be content riding him all day long, if only he could stay this close to him.
Ben lost all sense of time and space. There was only this alpha – Falk – fucking him, and the anticipation of his seed, his mark, that stoked the fires of his lust. They made him spread his legs further, made him come again as Falk tilted Ben’s head and dug his teeth into his neck, right where his scent glands emitted the heavy, floral fragrance of an omega in heat. It mingled with the alpha’s, with the smell of sweat and sex. Ben hissed at the pain. His body, though, was writhing in pleasure as jolts of heat ran through him at each movement of Falk’s incisors locked in his flesh. He moaned when Falk licked across the wound, helping it heal. There was peace inside him. He’d never felt this complete.
“Now you belong to me,” Falk murmured into his ear, kissing the mating bite. “You’ll always be mine. My Queen.”
“Yes, y-yes…” Ben shivered. He turned his head to kiss Falk, tasting his own blood on his lips. It turned him on all the more. He bucked his hips. “Please. P-please!”
Falk chuckled hoarsely. “You want my knot so badly?”
Ben moaned quietly, nodding, holding onto Falk’s shoulders. His thrusts became rougher, faster. He pressed Ben into the mattress in a way that should be uncomfortable, frightening, and yet Ben could only feel safe and loved in his embrace. When Falk came with a growl, grabbing his thighs to bury himself deep within him, Ben followed him, his orgasm like white light. Hot cum spilled inside him, stretching him further. It was a sweet kind of heaviness. Falk’s knot swilled, locking him inside Ben, and for a long moment Ben knew only the bliss of union, pressing himself close, his humming like the purring of a cat. Their labored breaths and slick sounds echoed in the silence. Wax was dripping from half-burned candles.
With a heavy sigh, Falk flipped them around, so Ben was lying on top of him. Eyes closed, Ben rested his head on the scattering of chest hair beneath his collarbones, close to his heart. It was beating faster than usual, yet he’d never felt more soothed by it.
It was a few moments later when Ben felt the tears cooling on his cheeks, when he looked up and saw Falk, his steel eyes bright with victory and satisfaction, and the blade in his stomach twisted, reminding him it was still there. Mate, his heart crooned. Murderer, it whispered.
“F-falk,” Ben croaked, trembling. No, no, no–
But when Falk cupped his cheek, the pressure inside him eased and Ben sighed, clinging to the warmth he gave. Shoving away the horror, the fear. Falk kissed him gently. “Shhh, it’s all right, Benedict, my darling nephew, my sweet omega.”
Omegas were meant to be with alphas, and Ben would be with the greatest of all. The King of Seemund. Falk’s knot deflated, his cock slipping out of Ben. Still, it didn’t take long for the heat to return, and when it did, Ben spread his legs for his mate all too willingly.
~