Chapter 27
ARATUS
(Three months pregnant)
She's awake before I open my eyes.
The bond tells me everything. Her heartbeat. Her breathing. The way her scent is already shifting toward arousal before she's even fully conscious.
Pregnancy has turned her into something constantly hungry. For touch. For claiming. For the connection that proves she's mine.
"Mmm." She shifts against me, skin warm despite the ice-cold air. "Can't sleep."
"Dreams again?"
"Always dreams." Her voice is rough with need. "You were fucking me in the throne room. In front of everyone."
The image goes straight to my groin. My composed queen reduced to moaning desperation while the court watches. Blood rushes south immediately.
"Would you like that?" I ask, hand sliding to her belly. Three months along and already showing. "Everyone seeing how their queen responds to her alpha?"
"Yes." No hesitation anymore. No shame. Just pure want. "I want them to know I'm yours."
The transformation still amazes me. Six months ago, she'd have died before admitting something like that. Now she says it like a prayer.
"Later," I promise, lips against her throat. "After we deal with Fenwick's latest tantrum."
She groans. "He's testing me again."
"Testing us. Seeing if pregnancy has made you soft."
"Then he's about to learn better." Steel creeps into her voice. The tone she uses when people underestimate her. "I didn't survive you just to let some backwards lord treat me like decoration."
I laugh against her skin. "My fierce queen."
"Your omega queen," she corrects, and the title sends heat straight through me.
We're interrupted by a sharp knock. Business never stops, not even for bonded alphas and their pregnant omegas.
"Enter," I call.
A nervous servant steps in. He tries not to look at Elise, who's clearly naked under the silk sheets.
"Word from the other courts, Your Majesty. They're beginning to make their moves."
The implications hit immediately. Our success has triggered the next phase. The other courts aren't waiting anymore.
"Tell the High Council the timeline remains unchanged," I decide. "Eight bonds or both worlds face the consequences."
After he leaves, Elise sits up. Silk slides down her body, and I have to force myself to focus.
"It's really happening."
"The prophecy was always going to happen. Our success just proved it's possible."
"And if the others face more resistance?"
"Then we adapt." I meet her eyes. "The prophecy isn't optional, Elise."
She's quiet for a moment. Then nods with the kind of acceptance that shows how much she's changed.
"Will you be involved?"
"Only if requested. Each court finds their own path." I pause. "Though your perspective might be valuable. You understand both sides."
"Then I'll help however I can." Her voice is matter-of-fact. Cold. "The alternative is worse than any individual suffering."
The pragmatism should disturb me. Instead, it fills me with dark pride. She's learned to think like a true Fae noble. Weighing lives and consequences with the dispassion needed to rule.
An hour later, we're in the council chamber. Elise sits beside me in her own throne, equal in height and prominence. A deliberate statement about her status that some lords still haven't accepted.
Lord Fenwick enters with his usual swagger. He thinks pregnancy will make her easier to manipulate. Thinks carrying heirs will turn her back into the decorative omega he believes she should be.
He's about to learn how wrong he is.
"Your Majesty," he says to me, barely glancing at Elise. "I've prepared formal challenges to several recent... policies."
The dismissal is deliberate. He's treating her like she's not even here.
"Address your queen directly," I say, voice dropping several degrees. "These were her policies."
Fenwick's jaw tightens. "Your Majesty." The title comes out forced. "The new food distribution protocols are... problematic."
"How so?" Elise's voice is perfectly controlled. Dangerously calm.
"They prioritize the lower districts over established hierarchies. Disrupt traditional resource allocation. Create unrealistic expectations among the peasantry."
I watch my omega transform into the queen who's earned every bit of respect she commands.
"The lower districts were starving," she says simply. "Traditional hierarchies don't matter if people die of hunger."
"But the cost—"
"Is easily absorbed by reducing luxury imports for the nobility." Her smile is sharp enough to cut. "Unless you're arguing that imported wine is more important than children eating?"
The trap closes perfectly. Fenwick can't argue for luxury over survival without looking like exactly the kind of entitled noble everyone despises.
"Of course not, but—"
"Then we're in agreement." She turns to the scribe. "Note that Lord Fenwick supports the new food protocols. Next item."
I have to bite back a grin. She's magnificent when she's destroying political opponents.
The rest of the session goes similarly. Every challenge met with cold logic. Every attempt to undermine her authority turned back on the challenger. By the end, the lords are treating her with the wary respect she's earned.
"Well done," I murmur as we leave the chamber.
"Fenwick's an idiot. He handed me everything I needed to demolish him."
"You're getting better at this."
"I had a good teacher." She glances at me sideways. "You taught me how to use power effectively."
"I taught you how to submit effectively. You figured out power on your own."
We reach our chambers, and I can smell the change in her scent. The combination of political victory and pregnancy hormones has her aroused again. Always aroused these days.
"Aratus." My name comes out breathless.
"I know." I back her against the door, hands framing her face. "I can smell how much you need me."
She whimpers at the words. "Please."
What happens next is hungry and desperate. Three months pregnant and she wants me more than ever. The omega biology driving her to constant need for her alpha's touch.
When we're both sated, she lies against me, already thinking ahead.
"The other courts," she says quietly. "Will their claimings be like ours was?"
"Each bond is different. Each omega requires different methods."
"But they all end the same way."
"With successful bonds. Yes." I stroke her hair. "Whatever it takes."
She's quiet for a long moment. "I used to think that was monstrous."
"And now?"
"Now I understand that sometimes monstrous is necessary." She looks up at me. "The prophecy has to be completed. Eight bonds or chaos."
"Even if it means other women go through what you did?"
"Especially then." Her voice is steady. Sure. "Because the alternative is worse for everyone."
The cold calculation in her tone reminds me why she's become such an effective queen. She understands that sometimes necessary choices are ugly.
"Any regrets?" I ask.
She considers the question seriously. Her hand moves to her belly, where our children grow.
"About how it started? Yes. About where we ended up?" She shakes her head. "No regrets about choosing this life."
"Even knowing what's coming? The other courts will need to claim their omegas. Some might resist more violently."
"Then they'll learn what I learned. That fighting only makes it harder."
The ruthless pragmatism should disturb me. Instead, it fills me with possessive pride. She's become exactly what I needed her to be. Not just an omega to bear my children, but a true partner in the necessities of ruling.
A sharp knock interrupts the moment.
"Enter," I call, pulling the sheet higher to cover her.
Captain Lysander steps in, his expression grim. "Your Majesty. Reports from the border. Human governments are mobilizing. They're calling it 'training exercise' but it looks like military preparation."
The implications are clear. Our success with the bonds is creating pushback. The humans are organizing resistance to future claimings.
"How serious?" Elise asks.
"Serious enough. They're establishing facilities they're calling 'omega sanctuaries.' Places to hide women from Fae courts."
I feel Elise tense beside me. "That will only make the claimings more difficult."
"More violent," I correct. "The courts won't let humans hide their chosen omegas. If they have to take them by force..."
"War," she finishes quietly.
"Possibly." I dismiss Lysander with a gesture. "But that's a problem for tomorrow. Tonight, we focus on what we've built."
She settles back against me, but I can feel the tension in her body. The knowledge that our happiness comes at a cost others will have to pay.
"The babies are moving," she says suddenly.
I focus through the bond, feeling what she feels. The flutter of tiny movements. Our children stirring in their crystalline cradle.
"Strong," I observe with satisfaction.
"They'll inherit all of this. The power. The responsibility. The choices we're making now."
"They'll be ready for it. We'll make sure of that."
She's quiet for a long moment. "What kind of world are we creating for them?"
"A stable one. Where omega women don't die slowly in human societies that can't accept what they are."
"Even if it means war to create that stability?"
"Even then." I pull her closer. "The prophecy isn't optional, Elise. Eight bonds or both worlds collapse into chaos."
"I know." Her voice is small but determined. "I just hope the other women are strong enough to survive what's coming."
"They will be. They have to be."
Because the alternative is unthinkable. The prophecy must be completed. Eight courts. Eight bonds. Eight women who will either adapt to their new reality or be destroyed by it.
Just like Elise adapted. Just like she chose to become exactly what I needed her to be.
The thought should probably disturb me. Instead, it fills me with dark satisfaction as I drift off to sleep, my pregnant omega safe in my arms and the future of both our worlds slowly taking shape through bonds forged in desperation and claimed through necessity.
Tomorrow will bring new challenges. Tonight, I have everything I never knew I wanted.