I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

A sudden gust of cold air caught Zarius square between the shoulders, making him flinch. He reached up to rub the back of his neck, shooting a dark, thoroughly annoyed look toward the open balcony doors.

Cherion paused, his hands holding a freshly folded linen shirt. He looked over at the Duke, his eyes narrowing slightly in mild irritation. "Put your clothes on quickly," Cherion murmured, stepping closer and tossing the shirt toward Zarius’s chest. "You’re going to catch a cold standing around naked like that."

Zarius caught the fabric lazily, letting out a low, rough hum that vibrated deep in his chest. "I’m not cold," he grunted, a slow, dark smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes locked onto Cherion. "It’s just... you put on quite a performance earlier."

SLAP

Cherion’s hand flew out, landing a sharp, stinging slap right against Zarius’s bare shoulder. "Keep your mouth shut," Cherion muttered, his face flushing a sudden, deep pink, though there was no real venom behind his tone.

Zarius merely chuckled, a low, contented sound that seemed to warm the dimming room. Outside, the sun had almost entirely dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in heavy shades of deep orange, violet, and bruised blue. The warmth in the room hadn’t even faded yet, but the illusion was gone. The world outside was waiting, and they both knew it.

They pulled on their trousers in quiet synchronization. Cherion moved behind Zarius, reaching up to help adjust the broad leather straps and heavy dark fabric across the Duke’s back. Zarius didn’t move away; instead, he leaned back slightly into Cherion’s touch, reaching one hand upward to gently stroke through Cherion’s soft hair, his thumb brushing over the nape of his neck with quiet affection.

"Do we really have to go out there?" Zarius asked softly, the usual confidence in his tone entirely gone

"Yes, we do," Cherion replied, his fingers deftly pulling the last strap tight before patting Zarius’s shoulder. "We’ve been hidden away in this room for hours. People will notice."

Zarius let out a long, heavy breath, adjusting his dark cuffs. "What does the King even want now?"

He suddenly recalled the frantic interruption from earlier, when Reiner had knocked on the door, practically bursting in to deliver an urgent message. Reiner had barely managed to stammer out that King Alderon had ordered all nobles and Solaric delegations to assemble in the Grand Banquet Hall by this evening. Before Reiner could even finish the sentence, he had caught a whiff of the suffocating, intense alpha aura radiating from the room and had bolted down the hallway as if his life depended on it.

"Whatever it is, we’ll find out soon," Cherion said, pulling his own tunic straight and checking his reflection briefly in the dark glass of the window. "Let’s go."

The Grand Banquet Hall was already humming with low, restless activity by the time Zarius and Cherion stepped through the heavy double doors. The banquet hall was every bit as lavish as they remembered. Massive crystal chandeliers flooded the space with harsh, pale light, reflecting off the marble and long tables.

As usual, the moment Zarius walked in, his broad frame commanding the space, with Cherion walking comfortably by his flank, heads turned. Whispers rippled through the gathered nobles and Solaric delegations like wind through dry grass. Everyone was staring. Some people quickly looked away out of habit, but most just watched them with that classic capital mix of fake politeness, quiet fear, and curiosity.

Before Zarius could even take five steps into the room, Elios appeared beside them. He leaned in close to Zarius, eyeing him up and down with a sly, knowing look over the Duke’s refreshed appearance.

"It’s your rut, isn’t it?" Elios muttered under his breath, a playful, knowing grin spreading across his face.

Zarius stopped, turning his head slightly to give Elios a sharp, warning glare.

"Oh, come on," Elios scoffed quietly, waving a hand dismissively. "We’ve known each other’s cycles for years. Though... yours is definitely hitting earlier than it was supposed to." He let out a dramatic, envious sigh, leaning his back against a stone pillar. "Ah, I’m so jealous. Must be nice to actually have a mate around to help you get through it, while I’m still stuck swallowing bitter suppressants like candy."

Flio chimed in smoothly from behind them, holding two untouched wine glasses. "Then maybe you should go quickly settle down, rather than standing here complaining about it."

Elios rolled his eyes skyward. "Oh, please. Trust me, I want to. I just don’t have as much luck as our dear Duke here."

Cherion, who was standing right next to Zarius, let out a soft, huffed chuckle. "As much as I’m enjoying this deeply educational conversation about ruts," Cherion chimed in smoothly, keeping his tone casual even as he steered them back to reality, "does anyone actually know why the King summoned everyone here so suddenly?"

Flio shook his head, his playful demeanor instantly straightening into his usual professional composure. "No. The royal guards just swept through the estate and ordered everyone to gather. They haven’t dropped a single hint."

Zarius didn’t join the speculation. Instead, his eyes slowly swept across the cavernous banquet hall, scanning the crowd. He frowned.

"Where is my sister?" Zarius asked quietly.

Elios and Flio both raised their hands at the exact same time, their forefingers pointing straight toward the far side of the room. Marielle stood completely alone by one of the tall, arched stained-glass windows, her arms crossed tight over her chest. She was staring blankly out at the dark courtyard, her shoulders slumped as she stared blindly into the dark glass.

"Don’t ask me what happened to her," Elios whispered, leaning back in toward Zarius. "But she definitely hasn’t looked like herself ever since she came back from her little walk with Princess Iryna."

Cherion’s eyes shifted across the room, tracking toward the central royal dais where Gillian and Iryna stood among the Solaric delegation. Iryna was smiling, looking perfectly poised and utterly relaxed.

"The princess..." Cherion murmured softly.

Both Flio and Elios gave a firm, synchronized nod.

Zarius broke away from the group without saying a word, his heavy steps carrying him straight over to Marielle.

Marielle was so lost in her own racing thoughts that she didn’t even notice the shadow falling over her until Zarius stopped right behind her. Marielle startled, her head whipping up as she snapped out of her trance.

"Oh! Brother..." Marielle blinked, her defensive posture dropping as she looked at him. She immediately reached out to grab his arm, her eyes scanning his chest and shoulders with sudden, anxious concern. "You’re here. Are you alright? Did something..."

"I should be asking you that," Zarius interrupted gently, his hand coming down to rest on her shoulder, cutting off her panicked inspection. "Why are you cornering yourself here?"

Marielle caught herself, swallowing hard as a sudden flush touched her cheeks. She quickly pulled her hands back, smoothing down the front of her jacket with unnecessary force. "Oh... it’s nothing. I’m fine. Just thinking." She cleared her throat, her eyes darting past his shoulder toward the entrance. "Hey... where’s the little..."

She caught the word healer just before it slipped out of her mouth, biting her lip so hard she nearly drew blood.

"...I mean, where’s Cherion?" Marielle blurted out hastily before she brushed past Zarius to escape the conversation entirely.

Zarius turned to watch her vanish into the crowd, his brow furrowed in quiet suspicion.

Before he could follow her, a loud, sharp horn sounded from the grand upper balcony. The low chatter across the Banquet Hall instantly died down into dead silence. The heavy doors swung open wide, guarded by two lines of fully armored royal guards.

King Alderon swept into the hall, looking stiff, cold, and entirely untouchable, accompanied closely by Crown Prince Yerel walking half a pace behind him.

Immediately following them was Karson, and the Captain of the Imperial Guard, his hand resting sternly on the pommel of his sheathed broadsword.

Zarius’s jaw tightened as he watched the grim procession march toward the central dais.

This is about the poison. The hour of reckoning has come.

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