Chapter Text
The prince consort of Vere didn’t look like any of the omegas she’s seen before. He was a tall, burly man and the size of one of his biceps was almost as big as her head. If it wasn’t for the softness on his cheeks and his belly, she would be completely fooled about his status.
His dark brown eyes studied her with an unnerving caution. “What are you called?”
She needed to swallow once to wet her suddenly dry throat. “Florie, your highness.”
“Florie.” Prince Damen repeated. “Listen to me carefully. Your priority is to never leave Prince Thiodore alone with the king’s staff in case I’m absent. Not even if the king tells you to leave.”
“My prince.” Florie gasped. “I can’t go against King Laurent’s orders. I’ll have no choice but to leave if he commands.”
There was a dangerous edge in the prince's voice the next time he spoke. “I won’t repeat myself. If I ever find out you defied my orders, I’ll snap your neck with my own hands.”
He turned around and left her standing in the middle of his parlor all alone, shaking and horrified.
-
Despite his blood curdling first impression, Florie soon discovered the prince consort was actually not a dreadful master. He was actually a rather standoffish man who rarely left his chambers or initiated a conversation with anyone.
There was something deeply somber about him. Florie couldn’t make herself look at him for too long unless she wanted a stinging in her eyes.
The only time his beautiful face lit up was when he was with his son. Prince Thiodore was only three but he was such a chubby babe that he could easily pass for five. He inherited the prince’s thick curls, olive skin and straight nose.
Every other feature he inherited was from the king. Especially his light blue eyes.
Prince Damen hugged the child so hard that sometimes Florie wondered if he was trying to bury him inside his ribcage. He drowned the young prince in kisses, fed him with his own hands and played with him until the child’s nursemaid came to take him for his nap.
After that, the joy quickly left his face once again and he quieted down.
“He’s a fucking disgrace of an omega.” Lijart spat one day while Florie was in the kitchen, waiting for them to prepare milk and honey for the toddler prince. “What kind of a consort shuts himself in his chambers like a freak and slacks off his duties? What kind of a consort feeds his own child like a peasant instead of letting his nannies do it?” She was peeling the potato so furiously that Florie wondered if she was imagining Damen’s face. “Our late queen Hennike is turning in her grave. Only god knows why the king deemed that ox worthy of marrying when there were plenty of proper omega boys from noble families.”
Florie heard a discordant laugh. When she shifted her gaze, she saw a sinister smile on Marin’s face. “You know exactly why the king married him. I think Queen Hennike is turning in her grave for an entirely different reason.”
Lijart’s face instantly turned purple. “If the harlot kept his legs closed–”
“Enough!” Pernert hissed suddenly. “Are you out of your minds? We will all lose our heads because of your foolishness!” He thrusted a small goblet in Florie's hands. The heat of it burned her skin. “Take this back and don’t you dare utter a single word you heard here to anybody.”
Florie had no intention of doing it. She was sixteen, not stupid.
When she returned to the prince’s chambers, Prince Damen was in the middle of teaching Thiodore a lullaby. His voice immediately cut off once he noticed Florie but she heard enough. The song wasn’t Veretian.
She put the goblet in front of the prince. He took it after a brief pause, blew on it for a long time before taking a tentative sip. Once he deemed it warm enough, he gently extended it to the prince.
Thiodore gave him a toothy smile as he accepted the goblet. “Thank you.” he said in his high baby voice and then said something else.
This time, Florie was certain the little prince spoke Akielon.
-
One month after Florie entered into the prince consort’s service, the king finally returned from Marches.
In the morning of the day he was to return, Florie picked some of the finer pieces from the prince’s closet and spread them on his bed. The prince wore rather simple clothes in the king’s absence, made from quality fabric but rather homely, and she thought he would want to don a better attire when he greeted his husband at the entrance of the palace.
Prince Damen looked at his bed for a moment before shifting his blank eyes at her, so she hurriedly explained her reasoning.
“I won’t be greeting the king.” he said plainly, like he was talking to a particularly dense person. “And I certainly won’t be wearing any of these ridiculous attires. Remove them from my bed and don’t bother me again until Thiodore wakes up.”
Florie watched helplessly as he left the chamber without another word.
The union between the prince consort and the king was dysfunctional in every way. Before she even arrived in Arles, Florie heard the prince consort was formerly a bed slave gifted to the freshly ascended King Laurent from another freshly ascended king, the bastard king of Akielos who succeeded the crown after both the former king and the trueborn heir mysteriously died. The rumors between the common folk said King Laurent wasn’t fond of the slave in the slightest before he suddenly freed him and married him within days. The uproar this scandal caused shook the whole country for weeks, especially since the consort disappeared from earth the second they were wed.
Vere was once again gripped by a huge shock when it was announced Prince Damen gave birth to a boy six months after the wedding. Then it became painfully clear why the king decided to marry his slave.
He should’ve cut the whore’s belly open and pulled out the babe, her father said once they heard the news, face twisted in disgust. Or have him quietly give birth and send them far away.
Lord have mercy, her mother gasped in horror. Do you really think he should’ve killed or abandoned his own blood? You will not set foot in heaven.
Neither will he, her father said unconcernedly. He still sired a bastard outside of marriage.
The council was also furious and kept pressuring King Laurent to declare war on Akielos for tricking them by sending an omega bed slave to the king. The king paid them no mind. When the first murmurs of bastard and whore started circulating, he issued an edict and said anyone who dared to say something vile about Prince Damen or Prince Thiodore was going to be executed.
The hanged bodies of the ten men at palace gates was enough to reduce the murmurings. Another ten and they were cut completely. Another ten and people were properly horrified. No one uttered a single word even when they were alone because they all believed the king had eyes and ears everywhere.
Florie wondered how much time Lijart had left.
Despite being the object of the king’s fierce protection, it was clear Prince Damen harbored no strong feelings towards his king. In fact, she suspected what little emotion the prince had for the king was entirely negative.
Florie slowly began tidying up the bed. She wasn’t hired to think after all.
-
The door of the prince’s chambers opened suddenly in the evening. Florie nearly jumped out of her skin but the prince consort was unconcerned. The only giveaway of his tension was the way his grip tightened on Thiodore before he relaxed it and let the boy slide out of his lap.
Florie threw an evasive look at the door.
Just like the prince didn’t look like a typical omega, the king also didn’t look like a typical alpha with his lean frame and delicate features. Though, he certainly had more muscles than the rumors suggested. Florie watched as his pellucid eyes softened once they landed on his son.
The king got on his knees and opened up his arms. “ Mon étoile. ”
Thiodore shrieked in happiness before throwing himself in his father’s arms. Florie couldn’t take her eyes off of them. King Laurent carded his fingers through the child’s curls repeatedly, kissing his cheeks and forehead and patting his back.
His eyes fixated on a spot over Thiodore’s shoulder while the child continued babbling in his ear. Florie subtly turned her gaze that way too.
Prince Damen was still comfortably sitting on his chair. He looked like he had no intention of making a move to acknowledge the king.
“Bathe the prince and take him to my rooms,” said the king all of a sudden. “We’ll have our supper there.”
Prince Damen sent a sharp look in her direction. Florie didn’t need him to open his mouth to remember his order.
She immediately followed the king’s staff out but was forced to return halfway. They couldn’t go far since Thiodore threw a tantrum when he realized they left his toy lion behind and the nanny forced her to go and retrieve it. Praying to god that Prince Damen wasn’t going to be furious with her, she was about to sneakily make her way in when she froze at the half open door sill.
The king was on his knees again but this time he was right in front of the prince’s chair, holding his hands. She didn’t hear what the king said but there was a terrible emptiness on Damen’s face.
“My apologies.” the prince said after a long silence. “Let us do it again.” He leaned closer, almost as if he was going to kiss the king. “Welcome back, dear husband. How I wished someone finally killed you during your trip.”
Florie held her breath. King Laurent only laughed.
“That’s not a very nice wish, is it?” he questioned softly, as if he was soothing a child. “If I die now, how long do you think it would take before Thiodore is poisoned and you are sold to an omega whorehouse?”
Damen’s lips turned snow-white upon the king’s words. He didn’t respond.
“I really hoped you would grow out of this childish resentment by now.” Laurent continued. Florie could see him shake his head. “It isn’t as if I’m holding you here forcefully.”
Damen’s voice was made of poison. “You won’t let me take my son with you. You constantly threaten to separate us.”
Laurent’s pause was longer this time. “Thiodore is my heir. Surely you don’t expect me to allow you to take him away from his birthright? Or poison him against his sire?”
Damen was still silent.
Laurent leaned in and nuzzled his nose against where Florie knew he laid his claim mark. “Three years, Damen. Almost four. When are you finally going to accept that you are mine forever?” He got up without expecting a response. “Get your appearance in order. Today, we dine as a family.”