My ABO System

Marriage Alliance

Dinner at the Valois house was quiet. It was always quiet.

The table was long enough for twenty people, but only four sat at it. Lord Valois sat at the head. Regina sat on his right. Dante sat on his left, back straight, smiling at nothing. And Arthur wasn't sitting at all, not yet.

He stood behind Dante's chair with the teapot in his hand.

"Tea," Dante said, without looking back.

Arthur poured. He did it slowly so nothing spilled. He had done it a thousand times, since he was eight maybe, or nine. Nobody remembered when it started. It was just how things were done in this house.

"It's too hot."

"I'll bring another cup."

"Don't bother." Dante finally turned his head and smiled at him, the kind of smile you give a dog that did a trick. "You're so good at this, brother. Mother, isn't he good at this?"

Regina's fork stopped halfway to her mouth.

She was a small woman with tired eyes and a kind face, and she looked at Arthur for a second too long. Then she looked at her plate. "Eat, Dante," she said softly.

That was all she ever said.

Arthur put the teapot down. He took his own plate from the side table, the last one, the cold one, and sat at the far end of the table where nobody had to look at him. He ate. Nobody spoke. The clock in the hall ticked, and the silverware clinked, and that was dinner.

He didn't mind. Nevertheless he knew people found it strange. But he had no way to explain it he had stopped explaining it a long time ago.

---

When he was little, his father used to hold him on his knee in the garden.

His name was Arthur too. Everybody said Arthur took after him, same gray eyes, same way of being quiet. He was a True Alpha, and Regina met him back in school, and they got married young, and for a while they were happy.

Then he got sick.

The doctors never knew what it was. Dark lines started crawling up the back of his hand, like veins but wrong, black, and each week they went a little higher. His wrist. His arm. His neck. Arthur remembered holding that hand and feeling the lines under his fingers. Warm. Strange. His father smiled at him the whole time, even at the end, even when the lines reached his face.

His father died not long after. Then, when Arthur was five, Regina married again. Another True Alpha, a strong one, a Valois. Everyone said it was a good match.

Then Dante was born, and he was just a regular Alpha.

Nobody was cruel about it, not out loud. But people talked. At every party, at every dinner. "Such a pity," they said. "Two sons, and the older one is a True Alpha, and the young master is..." They never finished the sentence. They didn't need to. Dante was standing right there, ten years old, hearing it.

He never forgave Arthur for it. Arthur understood. He just didn't know how to fix it.

So he did what he could. He took care of him the way an older brother would take care of his only little sibling, no matter how much tantrums he threw and how much Dante hated him.

He didn't mind, he just wanted to make it up to him in anyway he could, but this only worsened Dante's resentments towards him.

---

After dinner, Lord Valois called them to his study.

It was a big dark room with a big dark desk. Arthur stood by the door. Dante dropped into the leather chair like he owned it, and in this house, he sort of did.

"Two things," Lord Valois said. He didn't like long speeches. "First. Dante, the Van Del family has agreed to the match. The Omega. Elliot."

Arthur's head lifted a little. He kept his face the same.

"Of course," Dante said. He smiled, wide and easy. "I'd be honored, Father."

Too fast, Arthur thought. He didn't think it on purpose. It was just something he noticed. Dante never agreed to anything that fast, not unless he'd already decided it was worth it.

"Good. They're a fine family. Their company is worth more than ours, and nobody says it out loud." Lord Valois turned his heavy eyes to the door. "Second. Arthur."

"Yes, Father."

"You're twenty-eight. It's time. The Van Del family has another son, and I've spoken to them. Part of our company will go to you. You'll manage it, you'll marry, and you'll have your own household."

Arthur didn't move.

Behind the desk, Regina had come in without a sound. She was standing in the corner with her hands pressed together. She was looking at him like she wanted to say something so badly. She said nothing. Of course she said nothing.

"Is it generous?" Dante said lightly. He was smiling at Arthur. "Father's being very kind to you, brother."

Arthur looked at him. He didn't see anger in Dante's face. He saw something sharper, like the face of someone who just found out his favorite toy was going to be taken away and was already thinking of ways to break it first.

"I understand," Arthur said. "Thank you, Father."

"The match is with the second son. Elias Van Del."

The name sat in the room for a second.

Arthur thought about it. Elias was nineteen. That was nine years between them, and it didn't sit right with him.

"I'll agree," he said. "But not now. Let him turn twenty first. One more year."

Lord Valois frowned. Nobody said no to him. But Arthur's voice was calm, and he wasn't asking for anything for himself, so after a while the old man gave a short nod. "One year. Fine."

In the corner, Regina let out a small breath. Dante laughed under his breath, like it was the funniest thing he'd heard all week.

For Arthur, it was just a name. That was all.

But for some reason he thought of the boy in the Van Del hall, the other one, the Omega with the split lip. He remembered how that boy had looked at him. Like he'd seen a ghost.

Not him, Arthur thought. Then he told himself to stop being stupid. The old man was done talking.

"You can go," said Lord Valois.

Arthur bowed. At the door he glanced back, and Dante was still watching him from the leather chair. His face was calm. His eyes were not.

Arthur shut the door and walked down the hall. He was tired, the way he always was after talking to his father. He just wanted to sleep. But for some reason he kept seeing that Van Del boy's face, the way he stared. He didn't know why it bothered him.