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998 Words
There was an inexplicable allure in assuming the guise of an ordinary man, a lowly servant to be exact. As Alpha Damian, a man born into the realm of authority and control, he found a peculiar sense of liberation in this masquerade.
His hands moved deftly as he adjusted the unassuming cap on his head, a drab and inconspicuous accessory that seamlessly blended with the common rabble. It stood in stark contrast to my customary attire, the opulent headpieces and extravagant garments that exuded privilege and supremacy. Yet, it was within these modest clothes that he discovered a semblance of tranquility, an escape from the weighty mantle of leadership thrust upon him.
He gazed at his reflection in the mirror, beholding a man vastly dissimilar to the Alpha everyone knew. A mere servant, devoid of the authoritative presence that accompanied his true identity. A slight smile of contentment curled upon his lips. It was perfect.
Just as he prepared to venture forth, the familiar figure of his loyal confidant, Stanley, obstructed his path. He was a robust man, his countenance etched with years of loyalty and dedicated service. He alone was privy to Damian clandestine endeavors.
"Dam," he began, employing the nickname he had bestowed upon Damian in his youth, "why do you persist in these charades? Why do you dress yourself as one of them?"
Damian paused, his hand resting upon the doorknob. His inquiry lingered in the air, a silent plea for comprehension. Concern and curiosity mingled within his eyes. He let out a sigh, opting to disregard his query as he brushed past Stanley.
However, Stanley remained undeterred. He trailed behind him, his resolute footsteps resonating through the silent corridor. "Dam!" he called out once more, "You cannot continue avoiding my questions."
Damian halted in his tracks, his back still turned to him. He could feel his unwavering gaze piercing through him. "It is not your concern, Stanley," he replied, his voice exhibiting an icy detachment.
"But it is," Etha retorted, his voice brimming with an uncommon determination. "I have stood steadfastly by your side throughout these years, Dam. I have observed you don this disguise day in and day out. I need to comprehend the reason behind it."
Damian pivoted to face him, his eyes meeting Stanley unwaveringly. A prolonged silence enveloped them as Damian sought the precise words to articulate this yearning for a life he had never truly experienced, a life that was withheld from Damian the moment he emerged as an Alpha.
"You would not comprehend, Stanley," Damian finally confessed, his voice barely a whisper.
"Challenge me," he countered, his unwavering gaze never faltering.
Damian scrutinized him intently, truly surveyed the earnest concern etched within his eyes. And for the first time, an overwhelming urge seized Damian to share his clandestine yearning.
"It bestows upon him a life I have never known, Stanley," he confessed, his voice scarcely audible. "A life unburdened by the trappings of power, where he is not Alpha Damian, but simply Dam. An ordinary man."
Stanley fell silent, grappling with my words. Then, he nodded slowly, his eyes manifesting comprehension. "Very well, Dam. I shall cease my inquiries."
The profound stillness expanded, an intangible thread weaving them together in that precise moment. And just as their departure loomed near, Stanley's voice ensnared Damian attention, halting his progress.
"Whither art thou bound, Damian?"
Damian spun around, vexing igniting within his chest. "Must thou incessantly pose countless inquiries, Stanley?" He retorted, his words reverberating through the desolate corridor.
Stanley flinched, his typically impassive countenance betraying a fleeting glimpse of wounded sensitivity. The corridor descended into an uneasy silence, the atmosphere growing oppressively laden with unspoken sentiments and strained emotions.
Damian lingered there, his hand still on the door, his heart throbbing in his breast. As he observed Stanley's visage, his hurt was unmistakable in his eyes. Eswy had not intended for his words to be as callous as they had emerged.
"Stanley," Damian commenced, his tone gentler this time, "I did not mean... I simply abhor being interrogated as if I were a mere child."
Stanley remained silent, his gaze transfixed upon the floor. He appeared to be grappling with his thoughts, wrestling with the articulation of his sentiments. When he finally spoke, his voice wafted forth as scarcely more than a whisper.
"Thou art is like a son to me, Damian," he said, his voice constricted by emotion. "I have witnessed the transition from boyhood into the Alpha you are today now. I am apprehensive for your safety…
I would love to let you know that I would never see you going into the grave and let you do so. What will I gain to see the boy I am so proud of die right before my eyes? Seeing you become this great that you are today is my pride."
His words lingered in the air, an unadulterated confession that evoked a lump in my throat. Damian had always been aware of Stanley's loyalty, his devotion to Damian's kin and himself. Yet, hearing him vocalize it, the impact surpassed his expectations.
"He comprehends, Stanley," Damian rejoined, his voice scarcely audible. "But I yearn for this. I crave a taste of existence, The freedom to breathe, to simply be... Damian."
They stood there, the silence elongating between them, their words resounding throughout the corridor. They beheld the turmoil within Stanley's eyes, the inner conflict between his allegiance and his concern for my well-being.
Eventually, he sighed, a profound, resigned exhalation. "Very well, Damian," he murmured, his voice scarcely more than a breath. "Just... exercise caution."
As Damian ventured forth into the bustling thoroughfares, Stanley's words reverberated within his consciousness. Guilt washed over him fleetingly, yet he promptly dispelled it. This was his momentary escape, his fleeting respite from the onerous burdens of his station. And he was not prepared to relinquish it. Not yet.
Little did Damian fathom that the world beyond held far more than met the eye.
- Writer
