A Medoly of Thorns

    Ezarah watched as the sky slowly changed, ink pouring into water, while the sun sank down. He took the cigarette holder to his lips, distracted, the smoke filling his lungs and escaping in a tired exhale, crashing into the glass of the window before disappearing. His thoughts where not that far away, tarrying in the great doors some meters ahead. It would fly farther, if allowed, but he kept himself anchored at the present problems.     He had arrived some time ago and was stopped by the guards, the servants at service explaining that the king was in an especial meeting with his son. He stood by, merely off hearing limit, but his ears still captured some words here and there. If it wasn’t for the guards on the doors and the servants, he would be trying to listen the conversation shamelessly, it had been a long time since he started trying to understand the reason between so many misunderstandings in the royal family, that seemed to go far beyond the heir’s sickness.      It wasn’t that hard to figure out, a king with an only heir, an inadequate and ill alfa, the answer should be clear. Ezarah looked once again to the prince’s omega servants, a retinue that waited for him few steps away from the door, making them shrink even more. He rarely ever saw the prince, and when it happened, the heir was always surrounded by them, wouldn’t it be easier to hire betas, who had no need to take days off in every heat, or incite the prince hormones? It was a big question in the whole palace, source of many gossips, the favorite one being that the man, despite being sick, was depraved, his retinue actually a personal harem. There was also many other problems, like the fact that he didn’t know the land he would someday rule, besides, the rumors said he didn’t study, after all, there was not a word about any teachers who had instructed him.     Ezarah had his qualities, between the bad and the good, loyalty was amongst them. He was loyal to the king and would be equally loyal to the prince once the man ascended to the throne, and an inadequate king brought only misery to the people and the land. But no matter how much he tried to spy, any information was derisive. The security the ruler put around his son let it clear there was something to hide.     He bite the tip of the cigarette holder, extinguishing the ember and passing it to his personal servant, Oliver, a beta who never seemed to be paying attention to anything at all, but whose calm temper pleased the alfa and was quite useful when the he get mad.     He thanked the gods when the doors finally creaked open, making a sign to Oliver to wait outside, while walking quickly and determined towards the prince. He stopped as close as he dared, bowing gracefully, his golden hair falling in his face.     “Your Highness.”  Ezarah saluted, his expression detached. “I suppose His Majesty’s humor must be kind of… Relentless today. I fear for the one who tries to the smooth it.”     “He is always relentless.” The prince muttered to himself, his voice low. Arden, the famous heir, was just like his father. The same honey eyes and black hair, high cheeks and strong jaw. Yet, they could not be more different. While the king exhaled strength and life, the heir had in fact the look of an ill man, thin and close-mouthed, no muscles to reinforce his stature.     Ezarah didn’t answered, staring at him for some seconds before giving way to His Highness to keep walking. That was definitely weird, the king took yet some minutes before calling him in, and the general usually didn’t had to wait. He  had served the monarch since past generations.     When the door was opened again and his name was called, the alfa didn’t waste any time before entering the great hall, his steps muffled by the thick, red carpet that covered the whole floor. The king had a stocky build, looking like a tree who had seen too many autumns. His skin was the color of almonds, slightly burnt by the sun, a square face and yellow eyes, wavy dark hair. That day, his face seemed to be retracted, as if all the tension gathered in his decades ruling had let all his muscles permanently tense.     “It’s great to see you in good health, Majesty.” He hurried to salute, bowing once more, at a respectful distance.     “My dear Ezarah, come closer, right?” Tierno Dagen, the great king of the nation, said, waving a hand to his general, who rose up and walked to where he was. The whole room was decorated in red and purple hues, the falling sun shining bright in some places, while creating bloody shadows in others.     “I am grateful for you to meet me in such a short time. The matter was unexpected, as my message said.” Ezarah gave a few steps close to the throne, made entirely of gold, his hands behind his back. His young sister, a beta who had married to a man of her class, was trying to get pregnant for years and had finally given up. She turned then to adoption, as a great part of the couples who had enough money. The children were twins and had less than a year of life, coming from a distant part of their family, their parents murdered while traveling. It would not be a big matter if they were not so close to the king. Besides, children were a rare item those days, and the general would make sure the twins were not taken away from his sister.     “There is no need to worry, it has already been resolved.” Dagen said, handing him an envelope with the royal seal. Ezarah accepted, politely smiling, opening the envelope and checking the papers as fast as he could, making sure everything was in order.     “It is a great relief for me and my family…” The general began to say, but was stopped by hand gesture. “Your Majesty?” He frowned.     Dagen made a sign, to which all the servants who stood by answered, moving as one, bowing before leaving the room, never once turning their backs to their monarch.     “I had something to ask to you, and I don’t want you to see it as me buying favors.”     “Under no circumstances.”     “You know well, as everyone knows, that my son is sick.” The king made a pause and the general nodded. “But only a few people know what it is. What keeps him locked in this palace.” He raised a hand, gesturing towards the whole place. “His condition has only worsened and is the kind that needs to be hidden, as you see, until a solution comes, and you’re on the little group of people I trust in these fragile times.”     Dagen sighted, straitening his back even more. The posture of all alfas used to be stern, to show the dignity that was expected of them, and even omegas and betas kept their shoulders from falling. However, for a second, the king’s shoulders were down, as if he was debating with himself before speaking, giving him a sinister air.     “The fact is that Arden is an omega.” A long pause, while they stared at each other and Ezarah assimilated the consequences of what has been said. “This sickness conversation is only a trick to justify the collateral damages of his medicines, inhibitors and stimulants, so he may look and smell like an alfa, while his omega servants cover up any vestige with their strong perfumes.     The general passed a hand through his blond hair, looking away, to a window again, the sun finally gone, in silence. Life had taught him how important it was to listen. Dagen got up from his throne, walking to a nearby window. Both stood quiet for a long moment, the same military posture of men who had fight and were always fighting, even when the kingdom was at peace.     “How can I serve you, Your Majesty?” He finally said, coming some steps closer, standing behind the king.     “The drugs he uses are not working as they used to as he grows old. I need him to be away from the court, in a safe place, where he can stay until I make a decision. The situation is quite a delicate one. I don’t have another heir, I cannot let my lineage perish, even it means passing the crown to a low omega.” Dagen turned to face the other man, his expression serious. “And, if time comes and it is the only option, I need him to be educated. Discretely. You are the only person I trust to this job and who has the needed qualities.     “I am grateful for your trust.” Ezarah replied, thinking about what should be such “needed qualities”.     “You are painful perfect, my friend.” Dagen put his hands on the man’s shoulders, a small smile on his lips.     “Sometimes, I wonder if after all those years, crises and battles, we are really friends.”     The king laughed when the answer did not come. Heading back to his throne, he stopped midway, as if he just remembered something. “Arien!” The monarch’s voice resonated and a good looking servant appeared. “Send him in.” Arien, the servant, exited rapidly, and Dagen sat down once more, now looking impatient. Ezarah was lost in toughts, in a resting position by mere habit.     The smell break into him before anything else, entering his blood flow like a drug. He closed his eyes, knowing full well what was coming, his fists tightening, making him very aware of all his body and the space that separated him from the source of the perfume. His mouth watered, and he was forced to swallow, while opening his eyes. The pupils were dilated, he could fell his teeth sharpening just a little bit before he got hold of himself once more. For a second, his own scent almost got out of control, filling the whole room, but Ezarah took a deep breath, telling himself that it was not one of the two moments that his instincts should awake: to hunt and to f**k. But then, to his bestial instincts, everything seemed to resume to this. Hunt and f**k.     He smelled nature, a forest waking up after a morning rain, dried leafs and fresh fruits, making him wish to sink down in it. The young man who entered the room by a side door was as delicate and complex as his scent. His body was not excessively feminine, something always in vogue, but slim and elegant, his curves in the right place, his skin in the same hue as his own, a deep brown of someone who had saw a lot of sun. His hair were also short, falling a little above his shoulders, wavy, a shade darker than his skin. The eyes compounded his appearance perfectly, so dark the general could not discern his pupils from his iris.     “What is this?” Ezarah exclaimed, moving a few steps away as if to avert the situation, but his attention kept immovable in the newcomer.     “This, general,” Dagen stretched the last word in his tongue, taking his time in it. “is a gift and a reminder. A reminder that you have passed your third decade and still don’t have an heir, even knowing the importance of your kind to us.” Ezarah kept his head down, forcibly. Now awake, his instincts shout against any authority but himself. “And a gift for you. A concubine. I know how… Rigorous your tastes are, so I took the trouble of finding another lupus to procreate with you.” The omega came closer, as if that was his cue, kneeling besides the king, head low and eyes on the floor. “And let’s not forget Alysson.” The blond clenched his teeth, a headache starting to form in the base of his skull at the mere reference to his younger brother. “An omega not matched yet. And a lupus just like you. It’s the crown’s right to match all the ones like you, but we let your family free from it for generations, as a recognition of your loyalty. But now you and your brother seem to be abusing the privilege, that I am now taking back. Give me an heir as skillful as you, use my gift to it and have a pure blood. Allyson has until the end of this year to present me a partner, or else I will choose an alfa to him.”     When Dagen finished his little monologue, Ezarah has ready to kill him right there. To make him pay for threatening his family and interfering in his personal life, but he knew he was much more than the fury that hurtled against his chest. Allyson was his house’s jewel, a warm light in a world that was too dark or blinding, he’d die to protect him. Even when he thought about loyalty and how long his lineage had been serving the kingdom, how great was their prestige, being on their own category, above most of the noble and the most influent merchants, the certainty that he would never allow his young brother to be touched without his wish was long seated in his bones. Blood claimed to be honored, and honored it would be, no matter how much blood would be wasted in such cause. Even then, the general agreed in a serene manner, his expression again calm and pleasant, looking to the omega as if measuring him and approving what he saw.     “He will follow you to your room. You will pass the night together and I hope not the listen of someone running in the middle of the night.”     Once again, the blond agreed, he was too smart to do anything but. The kingdom would kiss the sole of the king’s boots if it made his steps more comfortable, the sovereign was rightful, but inevitably feared. It was the general who had the privilege of counting on his favor, and it prevented any true friendship from blooming, even when the king thought there was one. Dagen had proven himself good, something unexpected coming from someone with power, he had his faults, as any human, but was always prudent.     “I appreciate the show of… Appreciation, but I don’t know if I am…”     “You are. You are worthy. That’s why I am entrusting my only son to you and remembering you that your family must continue to serve the crown.” The king cut out, rapidly and clear.     If Ezarah thought too much about the matter in that moment, about all the information and responsibilities that had been thrown at him, he’d be stuck in a dead end path. So he only nodded.     “You’re dismissed.”     The general reached out to the omega, who had remained quiet and forgotten the whole time, gesturing towards the door.     “Come, follow me now.”     Hearing the words, the omega stood up, at least the was properly dressed, Ezarah thought,  with a long shirt that fell to his knees, simple trousers, in a matte purple, a pretty expensive color those days. Practical and comfortable clothes, not the kind made for exhibition, what pleased him deeply. Another studied movement from the king, who apparently knew him too well. They both bowed in synchrony, walking backwards to the exit, as formality demanded.     Out of the room, some distance away, Ezarah was finally able to think about the s**t up to his knees and rising.