Chapter Three
Virion
The time before a bearer’s wedding was supposed to be one of the most exciting moments of their life, or so Vir had been told. He had to wait a month’s time in isolation, fed and watered only from a small slot in the door like a prisoner and kept free of contaminants .
Cock.
Twice daily, he’d be given honeythistle water and fresh fruit and vegetables, which at their time of year had a poor selection. Thirty days on tubers, blood turnips, and daybells with their thin skin, mealy fruit and somewhat sweet aftertaste had done no favors to his already thin body, and had the palace any rodents, he’d have seized one for just a taste of meat.
He’d been told to sit in quiet meditation, thinking of ways to please his husband to come. He would need to be chaste and comely. Monogamous and fuckable. His husband would require service from him. Sex and emotional labor. And he would be a shining star at his husband’s side. An accessory to ogle. Though, none of that could have been the real reason the purification existed. It was merely a waiting period to prove they weren’t pregnant by another male before being wed off, but Vir was smart and always took precautions.
Despite his lack of the nightflower for his preparatory tea to prevent conception, he avoided sex during his fertile times, even though conception with a beta was rare, and he never sought after an alpha, as that could have him labeled unclean. Nemiah would change all of it though. He’d rut with Virion before the court and knot him shamelessly. The sheer dread of the moment sickened him.
His silent anguish made the time pass quickly, until the day that bright light entered his chambers and they announced he’d be transported to Drashil immediately. On that last walk through the castle, servants he’d known his entire life cast their gazes away from him. Drashil soldiers, females, escorted him to bid his loved ones farewell before entering the carriage. Though they found nobody waiting for him.
The ride had been a quiet one, with a driver in the front navigating the road, swapping with his guards, who refused to speak to him day and night. Their stern expressions never wavered in duty, only when he attempted to speak, flickering between unease and frustration.
“What is Nemiah like?” he asked. No answer. No questions about his favorite things or the kingdom. Only cold indifference.
For three days and two nights, he traveled so.
Despite being near starved, they’d fed him little, and the lack of sleep had him stumbling on his feet while being ushered about like a felon, shoved into a world with dark skies, a sun shadowed by mountains and clouded with the soot of forges.
Dressed in pale-pink silk to match his eyes , he’d not been permitted to change until he arrived, escorted along sleek cobblestone walkways into a castle jutting from the face of a mountain. Each brick stood out in sharp relief as a fa?ade that drew Vir into halls carved from the very stone of the interior itself.
Where in his father’s keep, his steps echoed from bare walls and cavernous displays of ostentatious construction, the walls there hummed with muted sounds, the echoes muffled by countless tapestries and portraits. Were Vir in a state to fuss, he’d demand they slow down and inspect the artwork, grander than those on display in their great library back home. There, history was to be hidden. In his husband-to-be’s home? History was there to be seen.
Vir had learned not to ask or talk in his days of journey, his gut clenching every bit tighter as he neared a wing of the castle that opened with tall and ornate steel doors. The things they did with blacksteel had grown into an art form in and of itself. He reached a hand out, fingers trembling as they neared the door, but the steel swung away and the guards stopped. Vir hesitated for but a moment until soft gasps and ethereal voices swept around him before warm, dainty hands cupped his arms and shoulders in a flurry of muted, pale colors.
Nymphs…
The creatures were uncommon in his land, not in servitude, at least. They lived free lives among the forests and rarely ventured into the cities. Among the well-lit halls, all dressed in sparse greenery, they stood out like shining gems, their skin ethereal shades of pastel colors and clothes the mere gauzy remnants of fabric and plant. Vir was one artemisia mugwort leaf away from seeing a rather pert nipple, he was certain, when a lavender-skinned nymph reached out for him. “Good morning, Virion.”
“Address him appropriately. They are Blessed Prince Virion of Liaberos,” one of the female soldiers that had escorted him there said. She lifted her chin ever so lightly, the chain mail cowl at her neck clinking.
“He is in our land, warrior. We recognize no princes. No king, no lord, or master but one. Be gone.” A pink-skinned nymph with flowing light-pink locks curled amid clover shooed the two away and slammed the door. “Foolish bloodshedders. You are an innocent soul and do not need titles, do you, Virion?”
“N-no.” Virion stared at her, taking in her misty eyes full of a penetrating energy, much as the forest nymphs from his own kingdom.
“Of course not. Look at him. Tired and starved. Ghoulish cleansing,” The lavender one with mugwort leaves nestled between her legs and circling her chest said.
The pink one with clover cooed, and she gestured for Vir to walk. A green one floated about nearby, her coverings that of fox ivy, the leaves small and curious.
“It is lovely to meet you. I have not your names, so might I call you Ivy, Clover, and Artemis?” He respectfully pointed to the green, pink, and purple one in turn.
Ivy, he called for the ivy covering her shame, beamed. “A well-educated and polite boy. You know better; I’m impressed.”
Artemis curled about him, her form insubstantial but tangible as she floated by. “I might have given him my name for free, but I like his name better. I accept it.”
“Accept? I think that’s the best thing. Not too clever a name, but Nemiah wasn’t much cleverer.” Clover laughed. “He calls me Blush.”
“And me, he calls Violet,” Artemis said, gesturing to Ivy. “And she’s called Jade.”
“Not anymore.” Jade turned her nose up. “I favor Ivy.”
The exchange brought a soft smile to Virion’s lips. Strange to this new world, it was nice to see nymphs so happy. “I’m glad. I would never be so foolish to ask your name from you. I have manners.” And common sense. Names cost more than people were willing to pay, always.
“As you have my name already, I am to assume you were told I was coming?” Vir followed their gentle guidance until faced with a rather pretty set of engraved doors.
“We were informed to have your room ready for you.” Clover pushed the door open, her pink fingers spreading across the dark, ornate metal. Behind lay a rather grim domicile with a luxurious but small bed and rich rugs woven and shorn a color as dark as the juice of elderberries in fall. Between one step and the next as he entered, he was stripped of his pale slippers.
“Not my husband-to-be’s room, then?” Vir peered about the space, eyes lingering on walls that were all but bare, while still devoid of details. Instead of ornamentation, thick wall hangings draped the dark stone. The rich color of darkest black interwove with more of that pitch berry color in a variegated pattern that brought something akin to harmony to the room.
“We wouldn’t allow that. You’re not wed yet and for that, you’re not even bound or in love.” Artemis waved a lavender hand dismissively and rolled her eyes. “That’s more dangerous than I’d like.”
Virion sucked in a sharp breath, freezing in his place. He’d heard many things about the former king, Behran. “Is being with him that dangerous?”
“No more dangerous than any other Drashili king. It comes with the territory.” Ivy frowned, her misty eyes, no pupils to speak of, glimmering at him like two opalescent stones. “I don’t envy you.”
Vir hadn’t expected any different. In his days of isolation, it’d been a never-ending torment of all the horrific stories he’d heard of Nemiah’s father, the elder king and his dozen concubines, his lonely wife. And in all of it, Vir wondered whether he’d be the concubine or the wife that had to watch the violence pass. Or, even worse, would Behran take an interest in him? Would Nemiah grow bored and toss him aside? He could only hope for the best.
“Surely Behran is worse?” Vir cringed as the words tumbled from his lips.
“Fortunate you are that Nemiah disposed of him not three months ago. He’s being crowned as we speak, he is.” Clover’s mouth twisted in distaste, a cute pout of ever-pink lips. Her dark lashes fluttered, pink hair swimming about her shoulders as she floated by, delicate hands tracing his arms.
“I had no idea.” Vir’s hair stood on end, body shivering at the thought. “Shouldn’t I be there to witness his coronation?”
“You should let us dress you and be ready for your ceremony after. You’re exhausted and the Liaberians wish to witness the spectacle of your mating.”
Vir’s stomach knotted at the thought, but he’d been mentally prepared for that moment since he was a young lad forced to witness his first royal ceremony. The omega closed his eyes tight, reciting something under his breath until his new husband had locked in. After they separated, he gathered his clothes and ran away and nobody ever said anything about it again. Vir told himself he’d do the same when time came, if he couldn’t put his father off indefinitely. Half the problem was that he’d never found a male worth suffering that indignity for. “Don’t remind me.”
“It is not their way, that is for certain. The Black King was never secretive about his affairs, but he did not flout his manhood about. Certainly not about us.” Clover sniffed indignantly and Ivy nodded in agreement.
“In that way they are more civilized than I.” Virion nodded as a comb found its way through his unraveling hair.
“Oh.” The three women unwound his strands. “Finer strands I’ve never seen. They’re diamond pale and ever so soft.” Ivy’s green hand slid down his arm to strip the sleeve of his robe away. The belt unraveled and went elsewhere.
“And so pale. You could be one of us, fair moon lily,” Artemis cooed as she took the robe away and traced slender, warm fingers down his back. “I’ll go fetch a washbasin.”
“It comes with my bloodline. Are one of you to be my handmaiden?”
A series of giggles swept about as Ivy returned with a washbasin and cloth, drawing with it a heavy scent of lavender.
“Or not. I’m not incapable of caring for myself, but having a guide for a time might help.” Vir gasped as the cold, wet cloth touched his skin.
“Nemiah has asked us three to tend you. No prince of this kingdom is limited to one handmaid. I thought Liaberos to be a wealthy nation.” Artemis frowned as she drew the cold cloth around. “Apologies for the temperature.”
“And I should thank my husband-to-be for your company and service.” Vir tensed but didn’t move. “Is there no time to warm the water?”
“We could, but cold water will wake you better and ebb the swelling a little from your ride.” Clover hummed as the cloth roamed and his hair swept up and away.
“I doubt my back is s-swollen.” Vir huffed as the cloth moved and his pants fell to the floor, exposing his undergarments that he’d worn for three days. He’d been permitted to take so little with him that a second pair of undergarments hadn’t been permitted. They too fell away, but Vir had long since known not to be shy.
“Or your manhood. Sisters, he is very cold.” Clover giggled and eyed a rather glib Ivy.
“None have ever accused me of being a man . And I am a perfectly respectable size when engaged. Thank you.” Vir gasped as the cold rag went south and cupped his ass with a fervent and fragrant scrub.
“But you are a man.” Ivy hummed as she made him raise his arms, and Artemis combed and worked his hair. “Or do you identify else wise?”
“I would love to be considered a man. But in Liaberos, omegas aren’t considered male. We are other.” Vir’s stomach twisted.
Artemis made a soft noise and raked her fingers through his hair, undoing his braid work. “Then we’ll do your hair as a man. Nemiah was under the impression you viewed yourself as other when he spoke to us, but I saw it in your eyes that you wanted to be male.”
“As are the ways of nymphs. I’ve not spent much time with your kind, but I know you feel our hearts.” Vir adjusted his stance as a giggling Ivy slid him into a new pair of undergarments.
“Such are we few that love a man. We are not welcome back into our forests once our loves pass on.” Clover sighed. “We’re stuck here, among men we’ll never love, but the crown has always been lovely to us in some ways.”
“So that is true? You are bound to our kind forever if you ever fall in love with a fae?” Vir lifted a leg as a pair of pleasantly stiff pants of a smooth material were presented to him.
“Or a human,” Artemis added. “We need to be bound in service if we do not live with our kind. We bind ourselves in service to a man if we fall in love, and once they die, we must find someone to serve. Since we’ll never love again…”
“It’s easier to go in service to a crown because they are wealthy and we are kept well.” Clover smoothed his hair gently.
As a new set of fine robes slid over his arms, a dark and silvery gray that complemented his pale features, he examined them, the way the sleeves hung and instead of being made from draping fabric weighted not to flutter. It was tailored more to fit. While still not the clothes of a warrior, it held the laxity made for omegas, the robes easy to adjust for growing bellies in time. The idea had been a sweet one at a time, but as he grew, he examined every male presented to him as the potential sperm donor to the child he’d bear… He thought twice about it.
Thinking of bearing a child for Nemiah brought cold indifference. The male hadn’t been cruel to him yet . But, Virion had accepted his fate, obligated to bear a dusk child, one born of the night fae and sun fae. If anything, his long weeks of isolation had helped him resign himself to that fate.
“You appear scared?” Ivy drew him toward a mirror to stare at him over his shoulder, her misty eyes kind.
“I don’t know him. I’m terrified.” Vir glanced at his reflection and the panic in him settled for a blink. The clothing looked more masculine, his hair woven in a man’s braid. The darker color on him had been done so well that it didn’t wash him out. So when Clover leaned in with a fine brush to swipe silvery mica over and under his eyes, he could only feel assured that he would have their company, at least.
“You will accustom yourself to him in time.” Artemis fretted with his hair and pinched his cheeks a little to bring color to them, fruitlessly, as he stared at a small bottle palmed in her hand. Lover’s oil. “In more ways than one.”
As the small bottle slipped into his pocket, the weight hung there far heavier than he’d thought. A whimper of fear escaped his lips.
“It’s to oil yourself before he—” Clover giggled, interrupted.
“I know what lover’s oil is for, thank you! I am not untouched.” Virion’s shoulders tensed and the women glanced between one another nervously.
“You are not a virgin?” Ivy trailed her hands down his arms, smoothing imaginary wrinkles.
“Virgin to alpha, yes. But I’ve experimented with betas. Is my husband untouched?” Vir scoffed, and the girls shook their heads.
“Lovers, he’s had a few. Excuse me.” Ivy pulled away and left the room with a knowing look at the other girls that did nothing to ease Virion’s nerves.
Artemis kissed the top of Vir’s head with an affectionate gesture, one far more motherly than he’d known in a long while. “Nemiah has given us to you as a gift. We will care for you. Worry not, for we dress all wounds, even of the heart.”
A soft knock at the door turned heads as Clover went to check. She glanced back at Vir and smiled. Even if a little forced, it brought Vir some comfort. He’d lost Pilki, who’d not even made eye contact with him upon his departure. His siblings had been nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he’d see them at the wedding, preferably not at the consummation.
“The sooner it’s over with, the sooner you can rest, child.” Clover shooed him out into the care of the soldiers.
Vir took a deep breath as Artemis slid new slippers onto him, much the way they’d taken the ones he’d arrived in. Every step forward would be a first from there.