Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

~o~ 

The omegas’ quarters in Nassa Tower have no windows.

The Knight-Captain has the gall to sound apologetic when he says it, motioning to Tyler’s room with a sweep of his broad hand, and Tyler instantly decides he hates it. Everyone knows what having windows would entail, especially since the tower is board for so many omegas. Too many failed escape attempts, and the alphas turn around and make it even harder, try to squash ideas of rebellion before they even start. Not like Tyler would try that kind of shit in Nassa Tower. He’s always been defiant, but he also likes to live. He wonders if putting the omegas’ quarters up at this altitude was on purpose, and then inwardly chastises himself for the thought, because really, there was never any doubt.

Tyler blinks, and realizes that the Knight-Captain is staring at him, big brown cow eyes and perched eyebrows that give him a stupid, perpetually worried look, with the awful scent to match. That’s fucking weird. He’s never seen a ranked alpha look or smell uncertain in the face of an omega. Tyler supposes this Knight-Captain is of the kind that suffers from too many ideas of what he wants to do to his omegas. He wouldn’t be the first to get all indecisive in front of Tyler. Apparently he has that effect on people. 

He wonders how many of the rumors from Massets Keep have already reached Nassa, if the Knight-Captain is sifting through tales of Tyler’s disobedience and debating which punishment he’d like to use best. 

“The dinner bell should be ringing soon,” the Knight-Captain says, voice soft and…lisping? 

“Better make it quick then,” Tyler mutters under his breath. He doesn’t know how soon is soon, but it can’t be that far off now. Tyler had been getting hungry, when he’d arrived, and his stomach is generally a pretty functional internal clock. Now, he’s all but lost his appetite.

The Knight-Captain continues for a beat before he realizes Tyler’s even spoken at all. “So you can just get settled in until then or – sorry, did you say something?” 

Sorry. He just said sorry. Because he didn’t hear Tyler’s snippy remark. Who the fuck is this alpha? 

“What,” Tyler blurts, staring and trying to keep his eyebrows from going way up. 

The Knight-Captain shifts his weight and looks…away from Tyler, his scent going faint. As if Tyler’s gaze is making him uncomfortable. Which. What. 

And then he continues. “If you want to check out the library or something, you could always do that instead. Get familiar with the work environment, and all.” He pauses, cheeks reddening. “Though I guess you’d probably like a bit more time to relax before the work starts up.” 

“I,” Tyler says, rather eloquently. “Yeah.” 

The Knight-Captain studies him curiously for a moment. “Are you okay?” 

“Are you for fucking real right now?” 

It’s out before Tyler has a chance to bite his tongue. He braces himself, fully expecting the awkward, hulking Knight-Captain to raise a hand, and – 

“Yes?” 

He says it like he’s scared of answering wrong, as if Tyler even has any fucking say at all. 

Tyler tries his luck. “I want to be left alone,” he states, narrowing his eyes to stare the Knight-Captain down, if need be.

The Knight-Captain nods emphatically, as if he’d been expecting this this whole time. “Of course,” he says. “See you at dinner.” 

He’s almost out the door when he cranes his neck over his shoulder and says, “Oh, and you can call me Jamie.” 

“Nah,” Tyler says, and he shuts the door after him.

It takes a grand total of three seconds for Tyler to realize what he’s just done, and he stands frozen behind the closed door, waiting for the Knight-Captain’s pride to catch up to him enough that the door opens once more, and Tyler really does face the discipline he’d been expecting. Sweat beads at his brow as the seconds pass, but all he hears beyond the room is the slow shuffling of footsteps, and then silence.

He lets out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

The dinner bell rings while he’s still trying to regain his wits.

He shuffles on autopilot through the dimly lit corridor to the spiral staircase to head down to the mess hall. Along the way, other omegas pass him, chatting animatedly amongst themselves. They mostly ignore him, though he does receive a few passing glances. There are even a few alphas that pass him, junior knights in their standard uniforms with the Nassa Tower insignia across their chests, but they don’t push or shove their way through.

Tyler catches a glimpse of an older omega lady hobbling down the steps, clutching at the rail, and when the junior knights approach her his chest constricts and his heart rate speeds up but they – they carefully shuffle single file past her and continue on their way. He reels, a little, takes a deep breath before following, and he refuses to look at the omega woman when he passes her.

The mess hall is probably about as large as the one in Massets Keep, but the layout is completely different. The tables for alphas and omegas are separate, sure, but there are more spots for omegas than there are for alphas. Admittedly the omegas vastly outnumber the alphas in most institutions like these, but here the omegas have room to sit and eat. It’s not the cramped, closed spaces Tyler used to know in Massets.

He slowly approaches one of the omega tables, and a few turn their attention towards him and motion for him to take an empty seat next to them. They introduce themselves cheerfully and welcome him to Nassa, make small talk about the journey, settling in. They smell...content, satisfied. The food is good too, actual venison stew with mead and freshly baked bread to go with it. It’s nothing like Tyler’s ever seen before.

It feels wrong.

The Knight-Captain and his alpha men eat at the same time as them, at a lone table in the back of the hall, at the very end. Tyler squints, then jolts as he realizes that they’re feasting on the exact same meal as the omegas. They eat and drink and laugh and talk together, and the Knight-Captain sits in the middle, loose and relaxed and smiling faintly.

At one point, he catches Tyler staring, and his smile dims a little, morphing into something curious, concerned, eyes round as if seeking some sort of answer. Tyler frowns at him, and they hold each other’s gazes for a brief moment before the Knight-Captain’s face reddens and he looks away. Tyler can’t decide why that happened. The Knight-Captain hadn’t smelled like he wanted Tyler in any way when he’d welcomed Tyler to Nassa Tower and escorted him to his quarters, but now the mess is too crowded to pick out his specific scent.

They don’t see more of each other that evening, though when Tyler retreats to his room for the night, he’s half expecting his door to bust open any minute, for the Knight-Captain to come in and take what he wants under cover of night, when no one’s looking, to keep his daytime appearance untarnished. He lies awake for hours after one of the knights on patrol calls for lights out, but still no one ever comes.

Even after it’s clear he won’t be receiving any secret night time visits, Tyler stays up, purring quietly to himself and contemplating this strange turn of events, wondering what tomorrow will entail if tonight was so smooth. The alphas at Massets Keep made it clear that being sold off here was a punishment, but so far Tyler’s encountered nothing of the sort. The Knight-Captain let him be when he’d asked, dinner was the first proper meal Tyler’d had in years, and the other omegas seemed healthy and in good spirits. It’s been nothing like Massets so far. It’s been nothing like Tyler’d ever imagined.

Still, he doesn’t think there’s any way this could possibly be real, that this could possibly last.

~o~

The Knight-Captain personally escorts him to the library the next day, and Tyler still doesn’t understand a single thing. They walk side by side, which is fucking weird, as the Knight-Captain animatedly explains the type of work omegas do for them.

“...so really, anyone who knows how to read and write is a huge asset, so we’ll start you off in the library and then we’ll see how things go from there. Of course, if you find you prefer manual labor, we can arrange to transfer you elsewhere in the tower –”

“What?”

Tyler stops walking, and the Knight-Captain takes a few steps before noticing, upon which he immediately stops as well.

“If you don’t want a reading or writing task,” the Knight-Captain explains calmly, putting off the tiniest whispers of a placating smell. Tyler wrinkles his nose and exhales hard. He’s never seen an alpha try to make an omega feel better before.

“Why are you giving me the choice?” Tyler asks.

The Knight-Captain’s eyebrows scrunch up in confusion. “Because you’ll be more efficient at work you enjoy?” he says, voice rising at the end like it’s a question that he’s uncertain as to why Tyler wouldn’t have already guessed the answer.

Tyler stares for a moment, and finally settles for, “How do you know I read?”

The Knight-Captain actually laughs at this, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he does. “We received the report on you from Massets Keep just as well,” he explains. “I know they didn’t give you any type of literary assignment, but we still have the background check. Born into the noble Seguin family, learned to read and write at a young age – that kind of thing sticks on your record, regardless of whatever other...incidences might color it.” He says that last part shyly, as if he’s worried about offending Tyler.

Tyler rolls his eyes. “No need to mince words, Knight-Captain. I’m well aware of what all the alphas at Massets think of me.”

“Call me Jamie.”

“Knight-Captain.”

“Ser Jamie, even.”

“No.”

The Knight-Captain sighs heavily, but there’s no sour flare of anger, just resigned and bitter disappointment. It’s...a bad idea. It makes Tyler want to push harder, see just how far he can try his luck until he finally gets what he deserves for his cheek. He feels reckless, wild, the closest to freedom he’s ever been. He can’t let this get to his head so soon. He looks firmly at the floor and tries to ground himself. There are no windows in the omegas’ quarters, after all.

“Anyways,” the Knight-Captain continues, “while I’m well aware of the reports on you from Massets, I don’t see the point in withholding certain assignments based solely on record. I think you’ll do a lot of good working in the library with the archives, so we’ll try this out and see how it goes. I’ll have no reason to worry if your work there is good.”

It sounds an awful lot like a clean slate, and if he’s being honest with himself here, Tyler could sure use one of those. He nods mutely, and the Knight-Captain smiles softly.

“I’m glad,” he says, and damn him for sounding so sincere. He motions ahead. “Shall we?”

There’s a beat before Tyler realizes that the Knight-Captain is waiting for him to proceed. Tyler almost wants to test his luck some more, see how long he can drag this out before the Knight-Captain gives up and moves along without him, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit curious to see the library, so he steps forward. The Knight-Captain waits until they’re side by side again – so freaking weird – and they carry on.

Tyler’d smuggled books out of the library at Massets Keep countless times, and was seldom caught. He’d hoard books and matches under his mattress, taking them out to read past lights out whenever he could get away with it. Reading was always a pleasure, especially when he got to read about dragons and gryphons and all of the wonderful creatures that roamed the lands of Eneshel. The only thing better would be to be out there in the wilderness with them, unbound and unbroken.

The Knight-Captain pushes a large swinging door open, and ushers Tyler inside. It’s...

Massive.

The library is a high-ceilinged room, walls covered by bookshelves whose backs are barely visible due to the sheer volume of books filling them. Rows upon rows of filled bookshelves line the room, with a main hallway to the end branching off at each one. At the end of the hall, there is a large table, where several omegas sit sifting through texts, quills in hand, jotting notes down.

The Knight-Captain waits patiently for Tyler to finish staring before starting down the aisle. Tyler can’t help but glance into each row as they pass, and – there are omegas everywhere. At least two dozen of them. And that. That should be impossible.

“They’re all literate?” he blurts.

The Knight-Captain side-eyes him a little. “Of course,” he says. “I mean, obviously it’s very rare for an omega to show up already literate, unless you’ve had the upbringing prior to presenting, but people like to learn, you know?” Tyler does not know. He lets the Knight-Captain continue anyways. “So anyone who’s interested in learning and potentially doing work here, we provide them with lessons in the evenings, after dinner, before lights out. They can take a proficiency test after a predetermined amount of time, then they can take a trial period as an apprentice to a senior librarian already working here, and if all goes well, they become a junior librarian and start performing their own tasks. It doesn’t always work out, but when it does, it’s pretty beneficial.”

Tyler has no freaking clue what to do with this new information. It doesn’t make any sense. It can’t possibly be as good as it seems. There’s just no way.

They reach the end table down the hall, and the Knight-Captain stops facing an elderly omega woman hunched over the other end of the desk, nose deep in the pages of a thick text. Tyler realizes with a jolt that it’s the same woman he saw hobbling down the spiral staircase the night before, the one whose safety he’d feared for. Now, with the Knight-Captain looming over her, so large and demanding, a tingle of dread shoots up his spine once more.

But the Knight-Captain simply waits a few moments, then raps on the wood softly with his knuckles to get her attention.

The woman does not respond for a second, and Tyler’s pulse jumps, but then she makes a quick mark on her page with a quill and looks up with a gentle smile.

“Good morning, Ser Jamie,” she says sweetly, and Tyler stares. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this rare visit? You’ve spent all your time at the dig site lately.”

The Knight-Captain shrugs. It’s too casual. “Good morning to you too, Anabel,” he replies. “I will certainly be back at the site later today, but I’ve had other matters to attend to as well. Have you met our newest transfer, Tyler?”

Anabel’s beady black eyes turn on him quickly, and Tyler stiffens. “I have not,” she says slowly, observing him closely. Then she stands, extends her hands, and breaks into a wide smile.

Tyler hesitates before holding out his hands, which she takes eagerly in hers and then clasps them together.

“What a pleasure it is to meet you, Tyler dear,” she says. “I’m Anabel, and I run the research and archiving units here.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Tyler manages. The Knight-Captain’s looking at him weirdly, but he tries to ignore it. Everything’s off, and Tyler’s got no way to get his bearings.

“Anabel is the highest-ranked omega in the library,” the Knight-Captain explains, and there’s a hint of something that smells a hell of a lot like pride, but there’s just no way that it could be real. Tyler suspects his nose must be fucked up from the new environment, and that’s why all the scents have been so messed up. “I won’t get into details, as I’m sure Anabel can tell you plenty, but you’re going to spend your first week working with her, and then we can check in and see if this assignment is suitable or if you would be better off elsewhere.”

Tyler nods dumbly, a little stuck on the fact that the Knight-Captain had said working with, and not working for.

Ostensibly satisfied, the Knight-Captain gives them both curt nods. “Excellent. I trust you’ll find your time in the library enjoyable. I wish you both a good day, and if I don’t see you later, a good week as well.”

“And the same to you, Ser Jamie,” Anabel says. The Knight-Captain gives her a brief smile before turning on his heel and striding back down the hall towards the exit.

Tyler watches him go, unable to grasp what’s just happened. He only realizes he’s a little light-headed when he places a hand on the desk to steady himself. He resists the urge to pinch his arm.

“So, Tyler,” Anabel says, and Tyler turns back around to face her. “I’m sure you’d like a tour of the library, which I would be more than happy to give you, but first I’d just like to explain a few things. Please, have a seat.” She motions to a chair at another end of the desk and Tyler slowly moves to take it, lowering himself and slumping into the seat once he’s there.

“How much do you know about the projects at Nassa Tower?” she asks.

Tyler shakes his head.

“Well, without going into too much detail right away, Ser Jamie’s knights are involved in a very special and complicated project involving dragons.” Tyler perks up right away at that, and Anabel gives him a knowing smile. “You know much about dragons, dear?”

It doesn’t sound condescending. Tyler answers, “I’ve read a lot about them, and I’ve heard stories here and there. I know that they’ve been impossible to tame with scent magic, even though people have found a way to make it work for all sorts of other creatures.”

Anabel beams at him. “That is exactly right,” she says. “Scent magic has been researched for as long as I’ve been alive, probably, and we’ve come a long way in figuring out what kinds of scent combinations serve what purposes, including creature taming. Unfortunately, we still don’t know what it takes to tame a dragon.

“Ser Jamie and his knights often travel to the foothills of the Dals Mountains, search through dig sites there for artifacts and other things. It used to be that the mountains were hugely populated by dragons, but not so much anymore – they’ve moved on to other parts of the continent, it seems. I think it’s been fifteen years since the last dragon was spotted there. Still, there is interesting evidence there, different scents we’ve never played around with, so it gives scent masters a lot to work with. Of course, the next step is to market those scents to dragon hunters, and see how things go.”

“But nothing’s worked?” Tyler asks.

Anabel shakes her head. “No, not yet. However, dragon hunters do document their experiences. That’s part of where we in the library come in. We read through their texts and make note of the most pertinent information. This information is compiled and passed on, and then we archive the originals.”

Tyler stares, unable to believe what he’s just heard. “We,” he says flatly.

“Yes.”

“The Knight-Captain trusts that omegas will give him the right information.” It sounds like the most ridiculous thing in the world. How are the alphas here even still alive, letting their guards down so easily and then going off to find actual people-killing dragons?

Her face softens. “We have a very good system here, Tyler,” she says kindly. “I don’t know how things were where you came from, but I promise you, things will be good here. If you’re willing to put in the work, good things will come.”

Tyler’s heart breaks for her, that she could be so naive and misguided despite her age and the years spent here. He wonders if this is what will happen to him, one day, if he spends his entire life a slave, if this is the shell of a person with no real hope left, a person who’s fallen victim to a system he can never escape, a system that’s officially had him fooled. She seems so kind, so sincere, and yet Tyler can’t bring himself to trust her.

For now, he supposes he might as well play along. It’s not her fault, he tells himself. It’s not her fault this is all she’ll ever know.

“All right,” he says. “So, what do you want me to do?”

~o~

Tyler slumps over the table in the mess, just careful enough not to let his head fall into his bowl of soup. Next to him, Anabel laughs, though not unkindly.

“We’ve got the whole afternoon ahead of us still,” she reminds him.

Tyler groans. “No one ever told me we’d be working with the heavy books,” he grumbles.

Okay, so he’s being a bit overdramatic, but it’s been kind of a shock, working in the library. Tyler’s never seen so many books before, never looked through so many documents detailing discoveries in scent magic and creature taming. Of course, that also meant he’s never sorted them either. Most of his morning had been spent sorting books by subject into alphabetical order, and then climbing tall ladders carrying as many books under one arm as possible, and then placing them in their designated rows at the top of the bookshelves. It wasn’t overly difficult, but it was still something new, and that in itself was a challenge to get used to.

Anabel rubs two small circles into his back. “Eat your soup,” she orders.

“Aye-aye, cap’n.”

She laughs. “Save that for Ser Jamie.”

Tyler stiffens.

Anabel notices, and glances into his eyes sharply. “What’s wrong?”

Tyler pushes himself into a sitting position and shovels some soup into his mouth to keep from answering right away. When he swallows, he asks, “Why do you call him that?”

“He asked me to,” she says simply. “He’s a humble man, you know, and he doesn’t enjoy the use of his title.”

Tyler wrinkles his nose. “That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard,” he mutters. “Alpha knights love parading their superiority around.”

“Most knights didn’t have to fight their way into the system like he did, though,” Anabel says.

Tyler frowns at her. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh,” Anabel shrugs. “He’s a farm boy. He sends most of his earnings back home to his family in Riavic so that they can survive.”

“No way.” Anabel’s smiling at him, and there’s no way, she’s gotta be pulling his leg right now. “You don’t know.”

“Sure I do,” Anabel says, and she doesn’t seem the least bit perturbed by Tyler’s brazenness. He doesn’t get why he hasn’t been reported or sent off for discipline yet. None of the knights on library patrol had said a word when he’d loudly complained from the top of a ladder earlier that morning, nor had any of them come by and rattled the legs to scare him into shutting up. None of this makes any sense.

“What, he just straight up told you?”

“Well, yes,” Anabel says. “He doesn’t exactly make a point of hiding it. Besides, all the other knights here know.”

“It’s hilarious,” another omega woman jumps in from across the table, older than Tyler but definitely younger than Anabel. “A Knight-Lieutenant challenged him once, didn’t like how Ser Jamie ran things around here. Called him soft because of his upbringing, a disgrace to knights and alphas everywhere.” Her eyes sparkle with pure glee. “That duel was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. It was over before it even began. Ser Jamie is incredible.” Her expression turns dreamy, and Tyler rolls his eyes and returns to his soup. Gross.

Anabel pats his back again, but she doesn’t try to reason with him this time, which is good. Tyler finishes off his lunch, slurping the last of his soup straight out of the bowl, and grabs a small bread roll before pushing up to his feet and heading back to the library with the bread sticking out of his mouth. No one says anything, and no one stops him.

~o~

Tyler’s first week passes by remarkably quickly. He graduates from sorting books back on their shelves on his second day, and spends the rest of his days scanning through texts written by knights speaking of their endeavors to tame certain creatures and what scents and potions they used to accomplish their feats. He makes tables, listing creatures down the left column and known working scents in the middle, followed by known failed scents on the right. Sometimes, he’ll add little notes as an aside, if there was any sort of adverse reaction. Anabel looks over his work at the end of each day and beams at him, gushes about how skilled with a quill he is and how clear his words are for others to follow.

It’s a lot of praise. Tyler remembers seeking such words from his parents as a child, always eager to impress, eager to prove that he would be a suitable heir to the family line. He would preen when he’d receive it, and it spurred him to work even harder. Those days are so far away now, Tyler barely dwells on them anymore. Now, though, he finds it difficult to keep a straight face when Anabel praises him, but he fights hard, because he refuses to give himself away, not here, not now.

The Knight-Captain returns from his expedition on Tyler’s sixth day at Nassa Tower, just after lunch. Tyler spots him from the library window, though he’s barely a speck from this height, accompanied by another dozen or so knights and a few omegas, no doubt helping to carry their belongings and care for the horses. Tyler spends the rest of the afternoon furiously scanning through texts, constantly glancing at the doorway and wondering when the Knight-Captain will enter.

He does show up, just before the dinner bell is set to ring, and he casually manoeuvres Tyler into one of the aisles just from the way he walks, without even touching him, as Tyler’s carrying some books from a shelf back to his work desk.

“Knight-Captain,” he says with a curt nod, trying to ignore the prickling sensation at the back of his neck.

“Good afternoon,” the Knight-Captain returns with a similar inclination of his head. “I trust this week has treated you well?”

“Sure,” Tyler answers with a shrug. Let the Knight-Captain stew on that.

“Anabel speaks very highly of you.”

“That’s news to me.” The sarcasm just slips right out.

The Knight-Captain sees through him easily, though, and he chuckles a little before raising his chin and continuing, “She has even requested in her report to have you promoted immediately.”

Now that’s actual news to Tyler. “Knight-Captain?”

The Knight-Captain rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t seem like a gesture out of frustration or annoyance, more out of disappointment. He certainly hasn’t smelled like he’s out to punish Tyler for his attitude. If Tyler didn’t know better, he’d venture that the Knight-Captain was amused. Ugh, he thought his nose would be working properly by now, after this much time acclimating to Nassa Tower.

“You’ve done well with compiling information together into short but detailed documents,” the Knight-Captain explains. “Anabel thinks you would be a fine asset in the more in-depth research, something that requires a little more independence and autonomous thinking.”

“No one wants me thinking like that,” Tyler mutters. The Knight-Captain quirks an eyebrow and Tyler stares hard, challenging his gaze. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to be so honest here, why he’s trying to warn the Knight-Captain against letting him have these little bits that almost feel like freedom. It’s a little unnerving.

The dinner bell rings, and the Knight-Captain smiles. “I’m sure you’ll prove them wrong, then,” he says, and then he goes.

~o~

And so it goes. Tyler spends his days with Anabel and some other omegas in the library, perusing the shelves for anything he considers relevant to Anabel’s current research topics, then reads through them to find pertinent information which he then recopies in point-form on papers that eventually make their way to the Knight-Captain.

It’s interesting work, is the thing. Tyler’s constantly learning something new about Eneshel, about magic, about the creatures that inhabit these lands – heck, even about his own bodily functions. (He accidentally finds what seems to be a diary entry describing what it’s like for an omega to be in heat, scribbled in the margins of a biology tome, but he quickly turns the page, hoping Anabel doesn’t notice the way his face turns red and fiddling with the suppressant amulet hanging from the chain around his neck.) It leads him to wonder if this was the kind of stuff he’d have been learning years ago back at the manor, if he hadn’t presented as an omega. In the end, though, there’s no use for wasting thoughts on the past and on would-have-beens, so Tyler just focuses on absorbing all the information he can.

He also learns about the other types of tasks omegas can be assigned to: animal duty, which involves managing the stables and all creatures kept there; standard manual labor for building furniture and making adjustments on areas of the Tower that need repairs; kitchen duties for preparing meals and snacks; and various other tasks, some indoors and some outside.

Truth be told, Tyler wouldn’t mind a chance to be tasked outside, maybe in the stables, maybe get a chance to travel when some of the alpha knights take their excursions, but he has a strong hunch that he’s being confined to the library due to his record, and that the Knight-Captain is purposely withholding that information to try to make him feel better about himself. It’s ridiculous and stupid, and Tyler kind of wants to call him out on it, wants to make him fidget nervously upon realizing that Tyler’s onto him.

On the other hand, luckily for Tyler he’s in the library and not on the obvious cleaning duty, which Tyler has noticed happens to be the Knight-Captain’s go-to punishment rather than confinement in the dungeons. In fact, Tyler hasn’t seen or heard of a single omega getting sent to the dungeons since he’d arrived.

He’s almost tempted, honestly, to see just how much it takes to earn solitary confinement, to play out this game of testing the Knight-Captain’s patience and tolerance, see how far it stretches, see how bad it could be. He could ruin whatever supposedly good thing the Knight-Captain has going on here, set a precedent, force the Knight-Captain into making decisions because of Tyler. That kind of power, that kind of control – it’s tantalizing. Reckless, too, but Tyler doesn’t give a fuck about that. Knowing he can do that, knowing he can get under an alpha’s skin, that’s what pushes him.

The lesser-ranked knights are all biddable, too. The Knight-Captain gives them their orders and assigns them their duties – there’s a rotation, Tyler’s discovered, between guard duties and combat training and actual excursions – and they go easily, minding their own business and only interacting with the omegas if there’s some major slacking going on. Tyler sees an alpha knight with an impressive red beard asking an omega who was dozing in an aisle in the library to please make sure she gets enough sleep from now on, because he’d “really rather not have to report this to Jamie, such a dumb thing to get put on a record, honestly, so let’s keep this a one-time thing.”

In the end, Tyler does test his luck, when he notices another omega girl with dark skin and bushy hair staring at him from further down the table in the mess hall. He flashes her a grin and winks when she blushes, and he carefully watches her movements when dinner’s over, trails far enough behind her as she returns to her quarters that it won’t appear suspicious. Years of practice at Massets Keep have taught him all the tricks to the art of sneaking around, and Tyler suspects it’ll be even easier here.

He’s right. It’s all too easy to meet up with the girl a bit later, to find a dark corner to do their business. Originally, he’d figured a quick exchange of handjobs would be a good start, but once they get started the thrill of the secrecy takes over, and he craves more. He makes a mental note to nick some oil from the kitchens next time he gets the chance.

They don’t get caught, of course. Tyler’s too good to get caught.

The encounter leaves him limber and satisfied, though he’s not entirely sure if it’s a direct result from the activity itself or more from its illicit nature. Either way, he goes to bed that night pleased with himself, and resolves to do that more.

~o~

The Knight-Captain makes an appearance in the library one day while Tyler’s scribbling notes on how the presence of an omega can be soothing to a cu sith. He looms over the desk and silently waits for Tyler to finish before saying anything. Because he can, Tyler pretends to be busy, takes his time finishing his sentence and peering at his reference text constantly to double-check, even though he really doesn’t need to. The Knight-Captain says nothing, so Tyler finishes his line and begins the next one. Still, he’s met with silence.

He stops after this new line, however, because as sorely tempted as he is to see how long he can drag this out for, he also wants to get whatever this is over with. The Knight-Captain smells funny, and it’s tough for Tyler to pick out all the nuances of his scent, what they all mean. Most of the alphas are pretty easy to figure out – the ones on guard duty are bored most of the time, sometimes hungry. Occasionally, they smell excited or upset about something, but it’s muted; it’s as if all the alphas here have been trained to mask their scents. It’s the first time Tyler’s ever encountered anything like this. He can’t complain, though; it’s so much less distracting without inhaling raging lust and greed every minute.

Which is another thing that’s been weird – he hasn’t caught any of those predatory scents yet. This group of alphas seems pretty damn disciplined, which is uncanny, but Tyler also knows it’s only a matter of time before that changes. After all, he hasn’t smelled any alphas going into rut yet. He’s not looking forward to that.

Now that he’s thinking about it though, he smells it – smells the hint of it wafting from the Knight-Captain himself. His nostrils flare and he freezes, staring up at the Knight-Captain, trying to get it together enough to keep a straight face, but he knows he’s probably failing.

The Knight-Captain steps back, eyes going wide. “Hey, no – I was just coming to check on you, see when you thought this next compilation would be finished.”

Tyler frowns and rubs his face. Now that he’s noticed it, now that he’s managed to pick it out amidst all the other scents, he can’t get it out of his nose. And it hasn’t even really hit yet, but it’s all too reminiscent of the beginnings of things at Massets Keep.

He looks away, staring firmly at the words on his page. “It’s going well,” he says stiffly. “It’ll be done by the end of the week.”

Tyler wishes that were the end of it, but the Knight-Captain doesn’t move. Something else has picked up in the Knight-Captain’s scent, something bitter and fierce that Tyler can’t place. He instantly decides that he hates it.

“If you’re here for something else, better make it fast,” Tyler snaps. He doesn’t even care if this will earn him extra discipline at this point.

The Knight-Captain fucking stutters. “N-No, that was all.”

“Then go before you change your mind,” Tyler mutters.

That weird scent flares so violently that Tyler nearly chokes with it when he breathes in, but he refuses to look back at the Knight-Captain, refuses to give any further indication that it’s affected him.

“That won’t happen,” the Knight-Captain says, soft but firm, resolute. “That kind of thing doesn’t happen here.”

Tyler picks up his quill and starts writing again, desperately trying to focus on keeping his hand steady. There’s footsteps, fading scents, the opening and closing of the thick library door, and then the Knight-Captain is gone.

He doesn’t see the Knight-Captain for three days, and when he finally does, his scent is completely neutral again.

~o~

For all the Knight-Captain’s determined words, it happens anyways, and Tyler hates the part of him that actually believed them, because really, he should’ve fucking known better. In the end, it doesn’t matter what kind of system you have in place: alphas are the same everywhere.

He’s just heading back to his room one evening after spending some extra time in the library. The spiral staircase is deserted, but as he reaches the landing for the omegas’ quarters he catches a fierce whiff of that scent and his heart sinks, because he knows exactly what he’ll find through that hallway but he can’t ignore it now, not when he’s been seen.

The armored knight there inhales sharply as Tyler walks briskly past him. He means to shut the door to his room as fast as possible, but he’s too slow and the alpha holds out an arm to catch it, sniffing and sneering when he looks up and down the length of Tyler’s body.

Tyler takes a step backwards, tries to put some distance between them. Maybe if he can draw the alpha enough into the room, there’ll be enough space for him to bolt.

“Nice,” the alpha says with an appraising nod, breathing ragged with lust already as he approaches further into the room. The scent’s filling the room now, reeking of hormones and Tyler thinks he might gag on it. “You’ll be good for me, yeah? Won’t take long, not with a pretty thing like you – hey!”

The knight yelps as Tyler lunges forward, rolling past the outstretched arms and then kicking the alpha directly behind the knee, right at the gap in his armor. He scrambles to his feet so he can flee down the hallway, but he trips and loses ground and then cold ironclad fingers grab hold of his shoulder, forcibly whirling him around, and the next thing he knows a steel fist is hurtling towards his face.

There’s a burst of pain just above his jaw, against his right cheek, as he’s trying to turn away, and Tyler crumples. His world goes black for a split-second and the next thing he knows he’s on cold, hard ground, with voices and smells all around him, overloading his senses and he’s dizzy with it and there’s a purr threatening to claw its way out of his chest but he can’t let that out here.

Another cold hand grips him, and suddenly he’s being pulled into a sitting position, resting against the stone wall, and...not being hit.

“Easy, you’re okay,” someone’s saying, to him maybe? Tyler blinks hard and shakes his head a little, trying to clear the spots out of his vision, his cheek stinging and the taste of blood metallic and bitter in his mouth, and comes face-to-face with the bearded knight he remembers seeing in the library, crouched in front of him, concern etched across his forehead.

He tries to heave himself to his feet, but the knight places his hands firmly on Tyler’s shoulders, grounding him. “Whoa there,” the alpha says. “Take it easy, get your wits back first.” He peers into Tyler’s eyes. “You remember who you are, yeah? Where you are?”

Tyler frowns. “He got me in the cheek, not the temple, I’m fine.”

The knight barks out a quick laugh. “Still got the attitude. Fair enough, I get it.”

And Tyler’s never actually spoken to this guy in his life, and he’s definitely lower ranked, so how in the world does he know something like that?

The confusion must be written plain as day on his face, because the alpha says next, “I’m the Captain’s brother, I’ve heard all about you.” He grins. “Come on, let’s get you up and to the infirmary to get something to help with the swelling. Then maybe the mess for some bread and water to make you feel better. If we’re lucky, we’ll catch Jamie giving Ser Lucas hell.”

The Knight-Captain’s brother – fucking brother, that explains a lot, though they look nothing alike – pulls Tyler to his feet, and Tyler only lets him because he was too slow to pull away. Once he’s standing, though, Tyler draws back, leaning against the wall momentarily to steady himself until the brief wave of dizziness subsides. All around him, alphas and omegas are gathered and staring – omegas whispering amongst each other, while knights do the same.

The Knight-Captain’s brother rolls his eyes as he guides Tyler out of the hall and towards the stairs with a firm hand on his back that Tyler’s too tired to flinch from this time. “Nothing else to see here, folks,” he says loudly, overly cheery. “You can all carry on. Hey, Ser Trevor, cover for me while I take this one to get cleaned up?”

People shift to the sides to give them access, and Tyler pulls away from the alpha once they reach the stairs, leaning on the rail for support instead. The knight stays close to Tyler’s side as Tyler hobbles downwards, but doesn’t push it, even though it’s obvious the process would be quicker if he helped. Tyler’s not quite sure what to make of that, but everything’s still a little fuzzy.

The infirmary warden is a beta lady named Vertil, one of the few betas actually living in the tower. Her hands are gentle as she brushes against Tyler’s cheek, carefully inspecting his face, opening his mouth to check his teeth and the cut on the inside of his cheek. In the end, it’s nothing serious; she gives him a cold compress and some scented salve for the bruising (“put some on before you go to sleep, the scent acts as a relaxant”) and declares him free to go after he’s had a glass of water.

Back out in the hall, the Knight-Captain’s brother looks at him expectantly. “So, you want something from the mess?”

Tyler shakes his head, a little dumbfounded still, to be honest. He’s never been offered food outside of the predetermined dinner times. He’s also not really sure if he’d be able to keep anything down, even if it’s just bread.

Whatever concern the knight might have harbored disappears suddenly, replaced with a grin that Tyler can only describe as shit-eating. “Let’s listen in on Jamie giving it to Ser Lucas, shall we?”

Only now does Tyler notice the alpha’s badge on his chest, determining his rank. “Knight-Lieutenant?” he asks, still not really getting it.

“Come off it, my name’s Jordie,” he answers.

Why are they so weird about their names?

Still, he follows the Knight-Lieutenant back up the spiral staircase, past the landing for the omegas’ quarters and up one more floor, to the offices of the higher ranked knights. They don’t even need to cross the landing into the hall to make out the voices, and the Knight-Lieutenant does a giddy little shrug that confuses the hell out of Tyler.

“Ser,” says a familiar voice, and Tyler gets a whiff of that awful scent again, but it’s muted now under fear.

“My rules were very clear,” another voice says, cold and sharp. It’s the Knight-Captain, even more determined than that time in the library, even more powerful. It sends a tingle down Tyler’s spine, and he fidgets where he still leans against the rail. If the Knight-Lieutenant notices, he doesn’t say anything; he’s too busy grinning from ear to ear. “Any alpha who goes into rut must take temporary leave to seek maintenance elsewhere.”

“But Ser –”

“No excuses, Knight-Corporal,” the Knight-Captain growls, his words dripping with authority, and a full-body shudder goes through Tyler, because that’s his alpha voice issuing a rank-dependent order, and it’s so powerful, Tyler’s compelled to obey him even though the command isn’t even directed at him, even though he’s not even in the same goddamn room. Even the Knight-Lieutenant’s grin has faded a little.

It’s...a lot to take in. The Knight-Captain is growling and using his alpha voice on another alpha – not an omega, Tyler’s yet to see him use it on an omega – and it’s absolutely terrifying, yet it’s also one of the most beautiful sounds he’s ever heard.

But it’s still a growl.

“I’ve given you another chance before, but insubordination seems to persist on your record even outside of a rut,” the Knight-Captain continues, still using that voice. “You’re out of warnings, Ser Lucas. Get out of here. I will arrange to have your things delivered to you.”

“Ser,” Ser Lucas tries again, voice wavering.

The Knight-Captain speaks one last time: “Go. Now,” and Tyler shivers all over.

The Knight-Lieutenant shifts to stand protectively in front of Tyler as Ser Lucas makes his way out of the office, through the hallway and to the stairs. Amazingly, he doesn’t even spare them a glance; he flees down the staircase, never once looking back, and gradually the air clears.

There’s a long, tired sigh; the Knight-Captain steps into the hall and notices them standing by the landing. His eyes widen and his cheeks go red.

The Knight-Lieutenant laughs and steps forward. “Good going, little brother,” he says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’ve never seen that imbecile look so chickenshit in my life.”

The Knight-Captain barely manages a smile, instead looking straight at Tyler, who’s still trying (and failing) to process what’s just happened. His eyes pose a question; Tyler tilts his chin defiantly, daring the Knight-Captain to find something wrong with him. In the end, the Knight-Captain must find what he’s looking for, because he sighs one last time and shifts his gaze.

The Knight-Lieutenant turns back, as if suddenly remembering that Tyler’s still there. “You okay to get back to your quarters?” he asks.

Tyler realizes, suddenly, that he’s covertly asking if Tyler doesn’t need his help so he can stay and chat with his brother. He’s tempted to tell him no, just to be an ass and force him back downstairs, but at the same time he doesn’t want to show weakness in front of the Knight-Captain, nor does he want to be seen being helped back to his room.

“I’m good,” he says, and, putting as little weight on the rail as possible, makes his way back downstairs.

Those brothers are fucking weird, he thinks that night as he lies in bed, staring up into the choking darkness that comes with lights out and no windows, letting himself purr just a little. It’s nearly impossible to wrap his head around the evening’s events. Tyler wonders how much of it was a show, how much of it was the Knight-Captain simply parading his power around because he could. He wonders if Ser Lucas has made his way to a brothel to play out his rut, and how long it’ll be before he returns. There’s just no way the Knight-Captain would actually decommission the guy. Not for something as meaningless as this. Tyler knows better.

A week passes, then a month, and still Ser Lucas hasn’t returned. There is no mention of his name, not even among the other alphas.

Tyler never sees him again.

~o~

Tyler’s going over another omega’s notes when he finds it.

He’d earned himself another promotion, if you want to call it that, thanks to his great work in the library. Now, he gets to supervise other omegas on top of getting through his own work. It’s not difficult, or anything like that – essentially he’s taking some of the load off Anabel’s shoulders, easing some of her stress. He’s glad to do it, really – she’s getting older, after all, and things are slowing down. The Knight-Captain hadn’t made it out to seem like a problem when he met with Tyler to discuss the new assignment. Tyler hadn’t thought it would be, not really, given the current track record of this place, but, well, he’d still had his doubts, still had nightmares that one day the alphas would decide Anabel was too old to be of use to them and throw her out on the streets, for some wild creature to get her. The Knight-Captain easily quelled those doubts, maybe too easily.

It’s weird, being torn between wanting to trust and hating himself for it. Tyler’s lived in this system nearly half his life now, ever since he presented at thirteen. He knows better.

But sometimes, he wonders if this place is a glimpse of what things could be like.

He’s slow to shake himself over when he has those thoughts these days, but he still does it. Still alphas, he reminds himself when he’s been contemplating for too long. And alphas, in the end, are the same everywhere.

Today, he’s not even thinking about that until he finds the error. It’s a hunting report; one of the nearby towns is apparently having a gryphon problem, and the knights of Nassa Tower have been called in to take care of it. Apparently, there’s an untamed gryphon that has claimed territory where the village alphas like to hunt, and it’s ruining their chances at catching game and has also incited some predatory behavior from the beast.

As such, one of the current library tasks is to compile information about gryphons and their territorial behavior, as well as any hints as to what might be effective in either safely driving it away, taming it or, in the worst-case scenario, killing it.

(Tyler has to admit, it pleases him to hear the reluctance in the Knight-Captain’s voice when he mentions that final option; it sounds like it’s only there to cover all bases. On the other hand, these are alphas going in there. Tyler knows all too well how easy it is for alphas to forget their sense of reason and lose themselves in their emotions, in their greed.)

“Do you want to get the knights killed with this?” he mutters to himself as he scribbles over the fatal mistake, mostly sarcastic until he’s hit with a moment of oh, shit.

There are definitely people who’d like to see the alphas meet an untimely end.

But not his charges.

At least, not that he knows of.

He takes a closer look at Regina’s papers. Regina would never willingly make this sort of mistake in her reports; Tyler learned on his very first day that her crush on the Knight-Captain was probably visible even to the moon. Besides that, her work has always been thorough.

He squints where he had been crossing out the error. It’s an added line, close to the margin, and it...is not Regina’s handwriting. In fact, Tyler’s pretty sure that handwriting doesn’t belong to any of the omegas working with him, which makes no sense because the only others allowed to access these documents in the library are the knights on duty here.

Tyler remembers that first day, remembers how he had learned of Regina’s crush through the story of how a Knight-Lieutenant had questioned the Knight-Captain’s authority, and the realization hits him all at once.

He looks around the library from his seat, finding the Knight-Captain’s brother idly patrolling between rows. He watches him get distracted by one of the potted plants in the corner.

Before he can think it over too carefully, Tyler’s ripping out a small piece of parchment and quickly scribbling a warning. He adds a tiny star to Regina’s report, right above where he corrected the mistake, and then draws that same star on his little note. Then he crumples the note in his fist and walks over to the Knight-Lieutenant.

The Knight-Lieutenant nods as Tyler approaches, but Tyler doesn’t have time for that. He ignores him and passes over to the plant, glancing all around to make sure no one else is watching. He conspicuously lets the balled up paper fall into the pot, and sees the Knight-Lieutenant’s perplexed expression.

“Does the plant’s health meet your expectations, Knight-Lieutenant?” Tyler asks, carefully keeping his voice low and neutral, just in case anyone’s listening. “Do you think I should water it more often?”

He steps aside as the Knight-Lieutenant inches forward, slowly crouching over the plant. He reaches a hand and pats at the soil, testing it. When he straightens out again, the note is gone.

There’s a brief pause. “Seems to be flourishing,” the Knight-Lieutenant finally answers. “Keep up the good work.”

Tyler nods, turns on his heels, and briskly returns to his desk. He glances around one last time and exhales loudly, sinking further into his seat.

What the fuck is he doing here?

~o~

The handwriting is eventually traced back to Ser Charles, another Knight-Corporal who had apparently been fast friends with Ser Lucas. Tyler doesn’t get to hear the reprimand from the Knight-Captain, which is kind of disappointing, kind of a relief. He feels a little dirty, truth be told, but hey, he never sees Ser Charles again, so that’s pretty cool.

It starts becoming a common occurrence for Tyler to leave notes for Ser Jordie in the potted plants around the library, over pretty much anything he finds suspicious even if it has nothing to do with his own labor – at dinner, overhearing other alphas muttering amongst themselves about what they’d like to do if they could corner that pretty omega boy from the kitchens; from the library window, spotting an omega girl who works in the stables left unattended after a horse accidentally kicked her; leaving warnings whenever he can smell the beginnings of an alpha going into rut, to make sure the Knight-Captain ensures they disappear to a brothel for a few days to take care of it.

A lot of the time, Ser Jordie leaves him something in return. Usually it’s just a tiny piece of paper with a messy Thanks scrawled across it, but sometimes there’s more. Sometimes there’s a time and a place scribbled on the page, and when Tyler cautiously shows up he’ll find some sort of gift waiting for him: a second helping of dessert, usually, but once he gets a thin book on recent advances in scent magic, which is pretty neat. He hides it under his mattress and takes it out to read in the evenings, before lights out.

(He finds out in the next note that the book was the Knight-Captain’s idea. Tyler stubbornly decides not to make anything of that, because alphas aren’t prone to giving gifts to omegas without asking for something in return, but days go by and nothing seems to come of it, so Tyler shrugs it off and enjoys the book like he wanted to.)

The most shocking part about all this, the part that leaves Tyler reeling and wondering if this is all some elaborate hoax, is that most of the alphas genuinely seem to care about the omegas’ well-being here. There’s rarely a complaint, and well, when there is, usually the knights take the appropriate measures to take care of it.

Ha. Appropriate. Like that was ever a word Tyler would’ve associated with alphas before now.

The thing is, though, that he’s even starting to catch himself taking the alphas’ side when he overhears an omega complaining about not being allowed to transfer to work in the library. The dude’s griping about how he wasn’t given enough of a chance to learn how to read, and Tyler – he knows the protocol, by now, even helps supervise it, and the guy just wasn’t good at it, he was lazy and slacking and was only half-assing his way through it because he didn’t like stable work in the first place and –

When did he become this complacent?

He’s never been content to be biddable. There’s no reason for it. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter how well he’s treated; he’s still a slave, and nothing more. Just a tool, a means to an end, a laborer to do the work others won’t.

He looks at the ink permanently etched on his upper left arm, his family name and crest entwined across his bicep. As he traces the lettering S-E-G-U-I-N, he remembers the thrill of sneaking out of his cell at Massets Keep to find the visiting inkmaster, the overwhelming pride when he first gazed down at the work – the fruits of his defiance, proof of where he once belonged, an everlasting reminder that he would not be contained.

So when a new traveling inkmaster passes through the nearby towns and stops at Nassa Tower for a night, Tyler knows exactly what he’s going to do.

~o~

The Knight-Captain sighs. “Really? Really?”

“Really really,” Tyler answers cheerfully.

The moment an alpha had spotted the fresh ink magicked onto his skin, he’d been locked in his quarters until the Knight-Captain could see him for discipline. Tyler had let himself be steered back into his room without complaint, too busy beaming over the finished sleeve, filled with even more mementos and reminders of who he was, who he is, who he always will be.

“You know I have to put you on cleaning duties for three days now, right?” the Knight-Captain says, sounding and smelling a lot like he regrets it. “And confinement to your room whenever you’re not working. Meals will be brought to you. No loitering, no spending free time in the library in the evenings.”

Tyler shrugs. He wonders if his punishment would have been worse had he not already proven himself so useful in the library, and with the snitching. Now that the Knight-Captain and his brother appear to actually enjoy having him around. When an alpha has his eye on an omega, that can only lead to bad times.

The Knight-Captain continues, “The lunch bell will be ringing soon, so you’ll stay here for now. Someone will bring you your lunch and then they’ll let you out when it’s time for you to report to your cleaning duties. Then you’ll be escorted back to your room when that’s done for the day.”

“Sounds good.” Because Tyler also apparently harbors a death wish, he adds, “Thank the inkmaster for me before she leaves, will you?”

The Knight-Captain groans and rolls his eyes. It’s such a human gesture that Tyler has to take a moment and internally shake himself over. “I shouldn’t, but I suppose I can make an exception if you promise not to do this again.”

“Only if no more inkmasters come to visit,” Tyler says. “I’m thinking of getting a full sleeve to match on my right arm next.”

The Knight-Captain is still for a moment. “I don’t get it,” he says finally. “Your record’s been spotless up until now. You’ve been one of our biggest assets since your arrival. There hasn’t been a single inkling of you repeating any of your previous transgressions from Massets until now, and then the one thing that does it is illegal bodily modification. Why ruin your record for something as trivial as some tattoos?”

Tyler lifts his arm to see the words on the underside, words that are important to him, and his values. “No offense, Knight-Captain, but this is a pretty shitty interrogation.”

The Knight-Captain makes a sound like he’s been punched. “I’ve told you to call me Jamie.”

“And I’ve told you nah.”

Tyler’s still got that thought festering at the back of his mind, wondering if this confinement is the Knight-Captain’s perfect opportunity to get him alone, and if this is, in fact, a worse punishment than if he’d never tipped Ser Jordie off about that fudged report. Worst of all, he can’t even tell, can’t figure out what the hell the Knight-Captain is smelling like. His scent is too complex, too much all mingled together so he can’t differentiate specific scents. He pretends to continue admiring the new ink.

The Knight-Captain moves towards the door, opens it slowly and takes one step out before turning to look at Tyler over his shoulder. He opens his mouth to say something, then seems to think the better of it. He closes the door behind him without another word.

He returns to bring Tyler his food. He escorts him to where Tyler will be on cleaning duties near ground level, where the knight on guard duty there takes over supervision. He comes back to escort Tyler back to his quarters for the evening, brings him supper. He attempts to ask about the tattoos again, and Tyler deflects. It goes on like this for the full three days.

The Knight-Captain never attempts to do anything more.

The morning Tyler’s punishment is set to end, the Knight-Captain shows up with breakfast, setting it down on the little table next to Tyler’s cot and then standing back to give Tyler space. In these past couple of days, he’s picked up on the fact that Tyler refuses to eat with the alpha too close to him, so he retreats until he’s leaning back against the wall next to the door.

Tyler eats his porridge slowly, acutely aware that he still has a short period of time left in discipline, and that he is in confinement with a large, hulking alpha. It was only a matter of time before it came to this, he thinks bitterly. The food is tasteless under his tongue, and he’s having a hard time swallowing.

He drags it out as long as he possibly can, but the Knight-Captain never attempts to rush him. And then, when Tyler’s set down his spoon and edged away from the table, in the farthest corner of the bed, he simply approaches, pick up the tray, and moves back towards the door.

“I’m leaving your door unlocked,” the Knight-Captain informs him. “You’ll report back to the library now.” He bites his lip, and Tyler stares.

The silence stretches for what feels like a really long time. Then the Knight-Captain blurts, “Is it worth it?” At what no doubt must be an incredulous look from Tyler, he adds, “The tattoos, I mean. Having them there.”

The question actually does make Tyler think, along with the added shock of hey, it’s not happening. “Yeah,” he answers finally. “Yeah, it is.”

And the Knight-Captain goes.

~o~

Another inkmaster does come by, along with a potions master, two charm masters, one male and one female, and a few other tradesmen who specialize in various types of magic. They’re all betas, and their visit to Nassa Tower constitutes part of the tower’s regular maintenance and upkeep in conjunction with the Order. There’d been visits like these at Massets Keep as well, so Tyler knows what to expect when he hears the knock on the door of the room next to his in the hall.

He figures he might as well be patient with it, get on their good side so he can corner the inkmaster later, so when his turn comes he lets the charm master into his room, flashing an inviting smile. He goes easy when the charm master asks him to sit on the edge of the bed and take off his shirt. He doesn’t flinch when the charm master reaches out to touch the amulet hanging from the chain around Tyler’s neck, even though the fingers are cold.

The charm master makes a curious noise. “This one’s new, yes?”

Here it goes again. Tyler works his jaw a little to keep from grinding his teeth. “A few months old.”

“What happened to the old one?”

“It broke.” It’s not a lie.

“How did it break?” The charm master’s voice is so judgemental already, and Tyler fucking hates it. Right. This is why he’s always loathed these visits.

“It wasn’t a charm failure or anything like that, if that’s what you’re wondering,” he grits out. He can’t afford to fuck this up, not if he wants to get another sleeve.

“I see.” Thankfully, the charm master seems to accept his response, blissfully unaware of the aggravated scent Tyler must be putting off. Betas are lucky like that. He releases the amulet from within long, bony fingers, and pulls out a journal and quill from his satchel. Then the standard questions begin.

“Have you ever taken this amulet off?”

“No.”

“Have you had any fevers in the past three months?”

“No.”

“Has there been any random discharge appearing in your loins?”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “No.”

“Have you been involved in any sexual activities in the past three months?”

Tyler glares at the charm master. It’s a required question, he knows, but he’d much rather what he does – willing or not – remains a secret.

“Have you been with an alpha in rut in the past three months?”

He curls his fingers into the bed sheet, the closest he can get to not making a fist. “No.”

“Have you been knotted in the past three months?”

“No!” he snaps.

“Settle down,” the charm master says mildly, though his eyes are dark and his frown is deep. “You know as well as I do how important it is to make sure an omega doesn’t go into heat, how dangerous and harmful that can be.”

The words trigger something, in the back of his mind, but the thought is too vague for him to grasp at it right now. Instead, Tyler stares at the wall behind the charm master and answers the remaining questions.

Once the question period is over, the charm master inspects the amulet some more until, ostensibly satisfied, he backs off.

“Everything seems to be in order,” he says, stretching to his feet. “The charm looks good, so if you keep wearing it the way you should, there shouldn’t be any problems for the next year or so at least. There will be more maintenance visits before then, just in case, but if all goes well there shouldn’t be cause for worry.”

“Thanks,” Tyler says, forcing one last smile before the charm master leaves.

He flops down onto his back across the straw mattress when he’s alone again, breathing slowly through his nose. The beginnings of a purr are rumbling through his chest, but he doesn’t want to let it out now. Instead, he blinks hard, focuses on his breathing, and turns his attention to planning how he’s going to get a hold of the inkmaster.

~o~

It ends up being too much of a job to get done at once, so Tyler only manages to get half a sleeve on his right arm. Still, it’s better than nothing, and he exults in it, even when he’s caught and placed in punishment for another five days.

Ser Jamie brings him his food every day during his confinement, always mindful to keep his distance while Tyler eats. His attempts to chastise Tyler for his behavior are just that – awful attempts that really get him nowhere, and Tyler finds it hilarious.

“If anything, I think this whole ordeal is hurting you more than it’s hurting me,” Tyler tells him frankly on the third day.

Ser Jamie quirks an eyebrow. “Why would you think that? You’re the one who’s not allowed in library, not allowed to talk to anyone.”

On a whim, Tyler reaches under his mattress. It’s a risk, he knows, but he doesn’t actually think it’ll turn out badly, not with Ser Jamie being so ridiculously tolerant like he is. And, well, if that changes now, it’ll mean Tyler’s won the game, stretched the limits and found his breaking point, though he’s pretty certain alpha pride can’t be broken quite so easily.

He pulls out the book that had been left for him as a gift and waves it in the air like he’s holding a treat for a horse. “I just take the library with me,” he says airily, trying not to laugh at the way Ser Jamie’s eyes widen and lock on the text. “Besides, aren’t you the one who gave it to me?”

As Ser Jamie goes red all the way to the tips of his ears, still staring firmly at the book, Tyler feels his grin stretch to the point where he cheeks start to hurt. Aha.

“I mean, come on, we both know Jordie doesn’t have the brains to think of this sort of thing,” he adds, and that breaks the weirdness, causes Ser Jamie’s shoulders to sag in relief and the corners of his mouth to curl upwards.

“Careful what you say,” Ser Jamie warns, but Tyler knows his tone and his smell enough by now to know the threat’s completely empty. “I could extend your punishment for insubordination if you keep on with that mouth.”

Tyler snorts. “And risk losing your best scribe in the library for even longer? You’re horrible at this, Captain, don’t even.”

Ser Jamie looks so badly like he wants to dispute that, and he struggles with opening and closing his mouth for a moment before he gives up. Instead, he comes over and takes Tyler’s tray, even though there was still maybe less than half a bite left in the bowl, and makes for the door.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he says, and leaves. Tyler laughs behind him.

~o~

Ser Jamie’s watching Tyler eat the final meal from confinement when his expression goes oddly serious. Tyler stills, spoon halfway to his mouth.

“I still don’t get it,” Ser Jamie says slowly, as though he’s searching for the right words. “Ruining your spotless record for the sake of tattoos. You say it’s worth it, but I don’t see it.”

Tyler shrugs. “Maybe you just need to be me to get it.” He’s not about to have a heart-to-heart with a freaking alpha Knight-Captain, seriously.

Ser Jamie continues. “I mean, all things considered, things have been going well for you here. It’s a huge change from Massets. So, there was no need for your little show of defiance – unless there’s something specific about the tattoos themselves that does it.”

Tyler swallows hard, puts down the spoon. Fucking won’t happen; he won’t talk about this outside his terms, much less to an alpha. He’d thought about telling Anabel, back when his first punishment had ended, but in the end he’d been too paranoid that she’d go straight to Ser Jamie with the info. It’s better, in the end, to just keep his mouth shut about it to everyone.

“You know,” Tyler says, forcing an air of indifference, “most alphas would just be happy I’m not punching them in the balls or trying to escape, and leave it at that.”

Startled laughter punches out of Ser Jamie, and Tyler bristles, heat flaring through him all at once.

“Yeah, you laugh now, but I doubt you’d have found it funny if I’d permanently damaged Ser Lucas’ manhood before he had a chance to deck me in the face.”

Ser Jamie quiets instantly, his face stricken, and Tyler realizes, just then, how much he’s given away.

“I’m sorry,” Ser Jamie says, so soft it’s almost a whisper.

Tyler shrugs, stares firmly at his spoon, while he aims for a disaffected drawl. “It’s whatever,” he says, his voice surprisingly more steady than he thought he could manage. “Alphas aren’t dismissed for inappropriate behavior anywhere else. That shit’s on the omega. So, discipline. Don’t kid yourself into thinking it was just one bad place.”

“I know.”

The voice is so resigned, Tyler’s head snaps up to his face of its own volition. Ser Jamie's eyes are full and round and honest, and Tyler can't bear to look at them. “You would tell me, right? If ever, if there's anything...you'd say, wouldn't you?”

The words are too heavy on Tyler's tongue, his throat too thick. The truth is just too big, too much for this moment. He has to duck his head and focus on his feet to ignore the stinging behind his eyes, the lump when he tries to swallow.

“Maybe,” he says instead.

Ser Jamie exhales softly, but he doesn't say anything at first. Then, “Okay, Tyler.”

It's too gentle. It's not at all what an alpha should sound like. Heck, Ser Jamie isn't all like that. His alpha voice is more powerful than any he's ever heard, and yet –

And yet he's somehow capable of this. Like the two aren't mutually exclusive after all.

Ser Jamie stays a moment longer, then slowly leaves the room. The second Tyler hears the door shut behind him, the purr bursts from his chest, and he's helpless to stop it. He slumps across the bed and purrs and purrs and purrs, until the stutter settles into a steady rumbling that then fades into sleep.

~o~

Tyler asks Ser Jamie to go outside, one day. He knows there’s a short expedition coming up because he’s been helping to organize the necessary preparation reports, and yeah, he likes books, and the library at least has windows, but he hasn’t been out since his transfer to Nassa Tower – and even then, he’d been blindfolded most of the way. Before then, at Massets Keep, no one in their right mind would ever let Tyler out, so really, he hasn’t truly been outside since before he presented, and that was ten freaking years ago.

When Tyler asks if he can be one of the omegas chosen to accompany the knights, though, Ser Jamie instantly shuts him down.

“You’re of more value here in the library,” Ser Jamie says, cutting off Tyler’s immediate protest. “You’re so good at the work you do here, there’s no sense in assigning you somewhere else.”

Tyler puts on the biggest pouty face he can, because he might as well go all out here, see if he can get Ser Jamie to sway. “If I’m so good, why can’t I be rewarded for it?”

Ser Jamie’s eyes darken and his scent goes strange, like he’s uncomfortable or frustrated. Tyler wonders how much the whole ‘rewarding an omega for being a good slave’ thing is failing to compute in his brain. Then again, Ser Jamie did get him that book back then, but maybe he saw it more as a return favor than a reward, which is a funny line to draw, but he’s finding more and more that Ser Jamie’s thought process is just plain weird most of the time.

“That’s not how it works,” Ser Jamie says.

Tyler tries again. “You’re the captain, right? You get to choose who goes with you. You know me. You know I’d be good. You totally want me around.”

“That’s not how it works,” Ser Jamie repeats firmly, his cheeks going red, no doubt because he can’t argue to save his life, wow.

“You’re awful at debates,” Tyler remarks.

That, somehow, gives Ser Jamie pause, and he regains his composure, straightens up and Tyler is once again reminded of how big he is. “Good thing I don’t need to engage in them,” he says. “As you said, I’m the captain – I make the decision.”

Tyler can’t even bring himself to be offended because he knows as much as Ser Jamie does that that’s a load of bullshit, that Ser Jamie always takes outside opinions to heart before taking a stance on something, but Tyler knows that alphas have stubborn streaks that run for days, months even. Last he’d seen, Ser Jamie and his brother were involved in a sparring series that had been going on for four months already, and didn’t seem to be ending anytime soon, even though Ser Jamie had yet to lose a single match. (Tyler hadn’t felt at all guilty about laughing at Jordie later. The man was a fine warrior, but, well, it was becoming increasingly clear that Ser Jamie was on a level all his own.)

He sighs and lets it be. Ser Jamie looks relieved, and Tyler wonders if Ser Jamie had honestly worried that Tyler would use this rejection to stir up a big fuss.

It’s only after Ser Jamie’s left the library with Tyler’s latest report that Tyler realizes this is the first time he’s lost to Ser Jamie since he first arrived here. He’s always considered their exchanges like little games, contests to determine who would back off first. And as much as Ser Jamie rides his stubbornness like his life depends on it, Tyler has a pretty mean streak to match.

Except not this time, he thinks as he stares wonderingly at the door Ser Jamie had vanished through. He distantly thinks it should bother him more than it does. Huh.

He’s not sure he wants to know what that means for him right now.

~o~

It goes like that for a good deal of time, to the point where it’s turned into a bit of an inside joke. Ser Jamie will approach Tyler requesting a research report for an upcoming expedition, Tyler will request to be one of the assigned omegas, and Ser Jamie will reject him.

It’s kind of funny, seeing Ser Jamie squirm his way around yet another refusal. For whatever reason, Tyler’s protests make him uncomfortable, so while it doesn’t beat actually being allowed to go outside, it’s still pretty entertaining to engage in these debates. Tyler’s not kidding himself here; messing with Ser Jamie is one of the things that make living here actually tolerable. Sometimes he still can’t believe he can get away with it.

It’s all fun and games, basically, until the day the dragon’s scream echoes throughout Nassa Tower, and everything is thrown into chaos.

Tyler discovers three things in quick succession after that: First, the dragon came down from the Dals Mountains, and no one knows why. No one even knew there were still dragons in the mountains anymore, at least not this close to civilization. Second, the dragon is terrorizing the closest village, stealing sheep and destroying their crops, and attacking anyone who tries to stop it. Third, Ser Jamie’s gathering a small force to set out to defend the village, and either tame the dragon or drive it away.

There’s a heck of a lot that can go wrong with that plan, and Tyler lets Ser Jamie know right away. He’s done enough readings on dragons that he’s memorized where all the relevant texts are in the library, and he produces them for Ser Jamie before he’s even had the chance to approach the desk and ask for them.

“If we could hear the scream from here, that means it’s a female,” Tyler tells him. “Not only that, but females have a worse vicious streak than the males.”

Ser Jamie sighs and runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “I know that already,” he huffs. “Look, I just need enough information to formulate a plan of action.”

“There’s never enough information when it comes to facing a dragon,” Tyler mutters, but he’s already flipping through two books at once, quill and parchment ready for when he finds what he’s looking for.

“Well, we’ll take what we know and try something new, then,” Ser Jamie says, like it’s that simple.

“How about you take me with you,” Tyler begins, and the words are barely out of his mouth before Ser Jamie’s glaring at him, an obvious no. “Wait, just hear me out. I know a lot of this stuff already. It’s all in here.” He taps his temple. “I could give you information on the spot, so you don’t need to memorize a set of notes.”

That does actually make Ser Jamie pause and think. In fact, he appears to seriously consider it, eyes distant and biting his lip. But then something flashes behind his eyes, and he says, “No.”

“Dude –”

“It’s a bad idea, and far too risky,” Ser Jamie says, resolute. When Tyler opens his mouth to protest, he snaps, “No buts. I need the most complete report you can muster within the hour.” Then he turns and strides out of the library without another word.

~o~

Ser Jamie and his unit are gone for a week, taking one omega with them that Tyler doesn’t know but instantly dislikes. The whole time they’re away, Tyler can’t shake the incessant prickling at the back of his neck, the discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

Anabel notices, because he’s putting off a scent without meaning to. “You’re worried about them,” she remarks, rubbing her nose with a frail, bony hand. When Tyler says nothing in response, she continues, “No news is probably good news.”

Tyler shrugs. They haven’t heard another scream since the first day. Based on Tyler’s readings, it makes sense; dragons have different types of screams, and the one that travels the farthest distance is a type of territorial claim – a warning to anyone else nearby. He wonders if the dragon is screaming a different kind, now, if Ser Jamie and his men are locked in combat. He doesn’t expect any taming attempts to work. Alpha growls generally only serve to further incite a dragon, and the potions they keep in the infirmary don’t bear any useful scents for this kind of thing.

“I’m not worried about them,” he tries to argue.

Anabel quirks an eyebrow, and her expression plainly states that she recognizes his words for the load of bullshit they are. “You’re allowed to be, you know,” she says, her voice oddly gentle. Tyler can’t stand it.

“Can you not?” he says, and it sounds like a whine even to his own ears.

Anabel shakes her head at him. “Maybe if you try to stop smelling like someone stole your cake after dinner.”

Tyler rolls his eyes at her, but he does try a bit harder after that.

And by trying harder, he means by finding other forms of distraction – notably in the form of an older, male omega, big and thick who fucks Tyler’s ass thanks to the bottle of oil Tyler stole from the kitchens.

It’s dark all around them and they’re still mostly clothed, just in case someone accidentally finds them. The prep is hasty, and it burns with every thrust. Tyler stuffs a fist into his mouth to keep himself from whimpering, focuses on all the sensations around and inside of him, because he asked for this, he wants this, he does.

The other omega – Tyler hasn’t even bothered to learn his name, he barely ever sees the guy – comes first, then jerks Tyler off and leaves, leaves him a gross, sticky mess. Tyler picks himself up and returns to his quarters, admittedly a little unsteady on his feet, and focuses on those feelings as he drifts to sleep.

When Ser Jamie and his men do return, however, their scent is worse than anything Tyler could’ve put out on his own. They smell like a collective mass of exhaustion, a mix of both sour and bitter, and most of the knights are nursing various wounds that have them all spending the night in the infirmary. Only Ser Jamie returns straight to work in the Tower, his armor tarnished and banged up in places, but otherwise seemingly in one piece. Not much is said of the excursion’s results, only that the dragon had eventually retreated from the village, back into the mountains and maybe further.

(Tyler later finds out from Jordie that Ser Jamie had suffered a few bruises, but nothing wholly serious. He doesn’t know if that’s because Ser Jamie mostly stayed back and let the others do the dirty work, or because Ser Jamie’s that good.)

Dinner that night is a strange affair. The atmosphere around the knights’ table is completely subdued, but the meal is almost celebratory, a welcome-home type of thing. There’s even a sweet-smelling drink that’s like wine, but not, that Tyler can’t get enough of. He figures the knights probably brought it back with them from the village, maybe as a thank-you for driving the dragon away, because they’ve never had anything like this before. And hey, he’d rather inhale as many whiffs of that scent as possible than wrinkle his nose every time he glances at the alphas.

Tyler tries to tease Ser Jamie about his injuries the next time he steps into the library, but it backfires spectacularly.

“Too bad I wasn’t there to keep you from bruising,” he jokes, and immediately knows he’s touched a nerve because something deep spikes in Ser Jamie’s scent and his eyes go cold.

“You would’ve died,” Ser Jamie says, with that vicious quiet sharpness of his. “Is your report finished?”

Tyler knows when it’s a bad idea to be an idiot. He fishes through his stacks of paper for the latest write-up, and decides he can let this topic drop.

~o~

Life working in the library at Nassa Tower isn’t awful.

Okay, well, if he’s speaking in relative terms, anyways. Objectively, slavery is always awful, and life sucks that way because stupid society has guaranteed that no matter where they go, omegas will always get the shit end of the stick. So, really, it’s safer to stay in these knight-run institutions, where he’s guaranteed food and board in exchange for his work. Tyler’s heard the horror stories of what happens to omegas who escape their institutions.

Point is, Tyler has it okay here. Ser Jamie might be an alpha, but he’s probably the least awful of them all – and all alphas are awful in some way or another, all things considered, but at least Ser Jamie tries to make things comfortable for them. It’s a huge step up from Massets Keep, and from anywhere else Tyler could’ve gone. Ser Julien, his former Knight-Captain, had made it abundantly clear that shipping Tyler off to Nassa Tower was supposed to be a punishment. Tyler supposes it was, at first – traveling blindfolded for a month was a horror show in itself – but he actually kind of likes working in the library. He likes learning, and he likes being good at what he does, likes being praised for being good at what he does.

That’s what’s new here. The acknowledgement. The fact that everything Ser Jamie does says, I see you, in ways that Tyler’s never been seen before, ways that make him feel like a human again, and not just some tool that’s a means to an end.

Well, almost. Once an omega, always an omega. Always a slave.

Still. It’s the best situation Tyler’s been in since before he presented, and those days are awfully far away now.

At least, it is until the envoy from Fort Bosz arrives.

They show up one afternoon, shortly before the dinner bell rings. Tyler spots them from the window while he’s busy carrying a massive pile of books over to his desk. He quickly deposits the tomes on the wooden table and scurries back to the window, watching as a tall knight wearing an impressive set of armor walks proudly – eugh, he can see the pride emanating from even this high up – to the gates. Behind him are two armored men that must be junior knights, dragging between them what’s clearly an omega, hands bound and eyes blindfolded judging by the way he or she stumbles.

Ser Jamie comes to greet them at the gate with a small crew of his own knights. There is talking for a while, some gesticulating that Tyler can’t figure out from this high up, and then the doors are opened for the four newcomers. Nassa omegas are called forward to take care of their horses and supply cart, and then they split off, the Nassa omegas and horses to the stables, the knights and bound omega inside.

“Visitors,” Anabel says from behind him. Tyler starts; he hadn’t noticed her approach. “What did you see?”

Tyler tells her, and Anabel’s face slowly shifts into a frown. “What?”

“That knight leading them,” she says. “What was his armor like?”

“Big,” Tyler answers. “Bulky. Looks like it’s more for show than anything else. I don’t get how people can move in pauldrons that big. But they look shiny, even from this high up. Looks like gold.”

“And did you catch the insignia on his chest? What were his colors?”

“Black,” Tyler responds. “Or black and gold, I guess. I’m not entirely sure. It blended with the armor.”

Something in Anabel’s face darkens, but only briefly. She looks more pensive that anything else. “Sounds like a high-ranking officer from Fort Bosz to me,” she muses. “He might be hold rank over Ser Jamie.”

Tyler freezes. There aren’t many classes of knight higher than a Knight-Captain, and most institutions are only ever run by those. The higher classes generally stay and serve the most noble houses, esteemed lords and ladies with insane amounts of wealth and power over the lands. Even his parents hadn’t been that well-off so as to get those kinds of knights as part of their guard.

“What does one of those want with us?” he asks. “It’s just a bunch of knights helping out the nearby villages and doing research. We don’t bother anyone.”

Anabel shakes her head, smiling slightly. “It’s not as simple as you say,” she tells him gently. “Of course the knights of Nassa Tower answer to a noble family, in the end. Ser Jamie remains in constant communication with them. All of his reports are sent that way as well. There’s no such thing as a band of knights who aren’t owned by some form of nobility.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine, but Fort Bosz? That’s closer to Massets Keep than it is to here. Eneshel is huge. Why is a high-ranking knight from there coming all the way out here? And with an omega?”

Anabel shrugs. “Could be another transfer. You were one once, you know.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get that kind of escort service.”

Anabel’s expression grows serious. “I know,” she says calmly, but her eyes betray her. Tyler can see the worry lines across her face. “I don’t have the slightest clue why this is.”

They don’t get to find out what the play is until the dinner bell rings, and the three visiting knights are at the end table next to Ser Jamie, sandwiched between him and Jordie, the heavily armored one directly next to Ser Jamie. The bound omega from earlier is nowhere to be seen. The mood is strange; the atmosphere is thick, somehow, and all of the omegas seem to be affected by it – they all shuffle quietly to their tables and eat quietly, making no attempts at their usual conversation. Meanwhile, most of the alphas do converse amongst themselves, but there’s still an aura of something tense, like they’re all treading on eggshells. Tyler has no idea who this new alpha is, but it’s strikingly clear that he’s asserted some form of dominance over all the knights, even Ser Jamie.

Ser Jamie talks with the new alpha, but he’s wearing his serious face, the one that always makes him look like he’s in a constant state of worry. Tyler knows that’s just how Ser Jamie is, and that he’s way more confident a person than that, but this new knight doesn’t, and Tyler wonders if Jamie’s being poorly judged, and if he is, what that’ll mean for everyone else in Nassa Tower if some high-ranking knight decides that there’s a problem here and needs to fix it.

Tyler doesn’t want to know what would happen if someone else took over control of Nassa Tower.

He also hates this stupid fucking silence.

“Pass me a bread roll, will you?” he says to Regina, who’s sitting three seats down from him. It’s as if the entire room turns to locate the source, as though Tyler’s interrupted something big. He hasn’t, he knows he hasn’t, but suddenly the tension in the room feels even heavier than before.

As for Regina, she startles so hard she nearly slips out of the bench, but she does pass the bread, blushing furiously as she does, mouth clamped shut, which is totally unlike her.

Tyler rolls his eyes. “Thanks,” he says loudly. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the new knight staring at him. Ser Jamie is, too, his expression unreadable. Then the new knight turns to Ser Jamie and says something, and Jamie averts his gaze to discuss with the other alpha.

The end of dinner is fucking weird, too. A few omegas get up to leave, but there’s a sharp bark from across the room: “Stay seated!”

Everyone’s heads snap to the main table, where the new knight in the golden armor is leaning menacingly out of his seat, half-over the table, and glaring at them all. “You do not get to leave before your masters,” he says, his voice rough and commanding, too powerful to resist. “You will wait until we have all finished, and we have all left.”

Tyler feels the order reverberating through his bones, locking him to his seat and sending chills up and down his spine. He feels sickly and weak, suddenly, and judging by the look of it, all of the omegas around him feel the same. That was a heck of an alpha voice, and Tyler despises it, stomach churning like he might regurgitate everything he’s just eaten.

This isn’t supposed to happen here.

“Ser Petr,” a clear voice rings through the air, snapping the tension suddenly.

It’s Ser Jamie. His expression is calm, yet Tyler can see the emotion behind his awkwardly large eyes. “Ser Petr,” he says again. “I respectfully ask that you refrain from exerting unnecessary discipline over my subjects, and save it for when they have actually disobeyed orders.”

“They were leaving your dining hall without permission,” the new knight – Ser Petr – says, frown deepening.

“They have my standing permission to leave the mess when they are finished eating,” Ser Jamie replies smoothly. “They were acting within their rights.”

Ser Petr bristles. “You may expect less of your slaves, but I will not tolerate this behavior in my presence,” he says.

Ser Jamie seems to be calculating for a moment, and then he nods. “Very well.” He rises from his seat and addresses the omegas. “There will be a change in regulation, effective immediately. After every meal, all omegas are to remain seated in the mess hall until all of the alphas have finished.” Ser Petr leans over and mutters something into Ser Jamie’s ear. Ser Jamie frowns, clearly hesitating, but then he adds, “Furthermore, effective at breakfast tomorrow, no omegas will be permitted to begin eating until the alphas have finished and left.” Another mutter, and another strange, almost pained look flashes across Ser Jamie’s eyes before he adds, “Anyone found not in compliance of these new regulations will face discipline in the dungeons. That will be all.”

Tyler inhales sharply through his teeth. Yeah, he fucking hates this new guy already. He bites aggressively into his bread roll to keep himself from swearing loudly and getting himself in trouble.

Thankfully, it’s not much longer before the alphas all begin to file out of the mess. Ser Petr and Ser Jamie leave first, all other knights deferring until they have finished before leaving as well. Once the knights have left, a collective sigh fills the room, and the omegas all slowly head back to their quarters for the evening.

In hindsight, Tyler probably should have expected the knock on his door a couple of hours later, should have expected to see Ser Jamie slowly make his way into the room and close the door quietly behind him, staring at the bed where Tyler sits reading.

“Hey, Captain,” Tyler says, waving a casual hand as he finishes his paragraph.

Ser Jamie sighs. Like, an audible, wholly exasperated sigh.

“You can’t do that, Tyler,” he says quietly.

Tyler shuts his book. “Can’t do what?” He’s going to force Ser Jamie to spell out every little thing for him. He’s not mad at Ser Jamie specifically or anything, but he is mad, and hey, if he can take it out on a relenting Knight-Captain, he will.

“You can’t talk at the dinner table like that.”

“Oh, so I can’t ask for food I can’t reach?” Tyler snipes. “You want me to show awful table manners that tell everyone, oh look at this gross, disgusting omega that doesn’t have a shred of human decency? Oh wait, we don’t have any of that to begin with.”

Ser Jamie is silent.

Tyler could go on, wants to go on, and damn anything Ser Jamie will do or say in return, so he does. “You let this – whoever he is – just come in and change the rules just like that? I thought you were better than the others. But you’re not, you’re a coward who’s afraid to actually impose yourself because I bet you’re looking for a promotion and you have to lick their shoes to get –”

“Will you shut your fucking mouth,” Ser Jamie snaps, and Tyler stops mid-sentence, mouth hanging open, because that wasn’t even his alpha voice and yet it drips with venom Tyler’s never heard before.

Ser Jamie is fuming, seething from head to toe, and Tyler’s never seen him loom so large. The only other time was with Ser Lucas, and even then, Tyler hadn’t been able to properly witness it.

Tyler had thought, back then, that it was so peculiar that Ser Jamie had only ever asserted himself in front of his own knights, alphas like him, and not omegas. Tonight, though, Tyler realizes that he was wrong about a lot of things regarding his Knight-Captain.

Then, just as suddenly as it came, the anger diffuses and seeps right out of him, and Ser Jamie curls in on himself, a little, his eyes wide and sad. “I – I’m sorry,” he huffs. “That was unbecoming of me. I shouldn’t have spoken like that.”

Tyler closes his mouth. He doesn’t know what he should say to that, torn between accepting that it was truly a moment out of turn, or if he should drag Ser Jamie even further, see how far he can stretch his guilt.

Ser Jamie takes his silence as a permission to speak. It isn’t really, but for once Tyler figures he should probably think before he speaks, so he’ll deal with it, even if it’s words he doesn’t want to hear.

“It’s not like that at all,” Ser Jamie says. “I don’t give a shit about becoming a Knight-Commander like Ser Petr. I’ve got more than I need already here.”

“Yeah, you’ve got all your nice little omega slaves ready to do your bidding anytime you like,” Tyler mutters before he can stop himself.

Ser Jamie flinches. “You know it’s not like that,” he says, and there’s a hint of a pleading tone to it. Tyler rubs his nose, trying to get rid of the sourness in the air. “Tyler, you know what would happen if you were anywhere else, or abandoned in the wilderness.”

Tyler humphs, but says nothing. It’s not something he’s willing to admit to Ser Jamie, or anyone.

“Ser Petr won’t be here for very long,” Ser Jamie continues. “There’s...there’s an omega transfer, and he’s overseeing the assimilation. There were extenuating circumstances. It’s only temporary, hopefully a week, or two at most depending on how things go, and I swear on my life things will go back to how they were once he’s gone.”

“Yeah, cause you need to impress him,” Tyler grumbles, and he knows he’s being an ass. He remembers the look on Ser Jamie’s face when Ser Petr instigated the orders. His shoulders slump and he sinks a bit into the mattress. He’s fully aware of the circumstances, understands them even. He just – he hates it, all of it, and there’s not much he can do to vent his frustration.

“If I don’t, he could have me decommissioned,” Ser Jamie admits, and Tyler closes his eyes, because yeah, he knew this was coming. “He’ll restructure Nassa Tower, make everything ten times worse than it was. I can’t let him do that. I won’t let him do that to you.”

The you stirs something, and Tyler blinks his eyes open, eyeing Ser Jamie carefully. He knows Ser Jamie meant the general you, as in all of the omegas of Nassa Tower, but for a fleeting moment, he’d nearly misinterpreted. He silently shakes himself over. Gross.

“I’m trying to keep you guys safe, keep things good for you, better than they would be anywhere else,” Ser Jamie finishes. “You have to believe me on that.”

Tyler sighs. “I do,” he says softly. The admittance makes something both loosen and tighten in his chest all at once, and he hates that too.

“Thank you,” Ser Jamie says, and he sounds so fucking sincere, so god damn grateful that Tyler, an omega, believes him, and Tyler can’t stand it.

“You need to be careful around Ser Petr,” Ser Jamie continues, and his voice is sharp again, steady. “He won’t hesitate to put you in discipline if he dislikes the slightest thing about you, and it won’t be simple cleaning duties or confinement. It’ll be the dungeons.”

Something clicks. “That’s where that new omega is, isn’t it?”

Ser Jamie’s mouth twists. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. Tyler can’t even say he’s surprised.

“They’re not just gonna be stuck there though, are they?” Tyler asks. “That makes no sense for you to just keep someone down there.”

Ser Jamie nods, struggling for words. “His case is...complicated,” he settles for. “I’m not at liberty to divulge specifics. You’ll see him around soon, though.”

“What’s his name?” Tyler asks.

“I’m sure he’ll tell you on his own,” Ser Jamie says. Tyler makes a show of rolling his eyes at him, and Ser Jamie muffles a chuckle into a cough.

The room lapses into silence, and Tyler finds that he doesn’t mind it one bit. Ser Jamie, on the other hand, fidgets a little, shifts his weight around as the silence lingers.

Tyler’s content to let it stretch out longer, cause it’s hilarious to see a Knight-Captain this awkward, of all people, but time alone also sounds pretty nice right now. “You needed anything else, Captain?”

Ser Jamie clears his throat. “No, that’s it, I guess.” He moves to the door, then pauses. “Just – be careful, okay?”

Tyler meets his eyes, intent and serious and full of something he can’t place.

“Yeah, sure,” he says. Ser Jamie nods and, ostensibly satisfied, leaves the room.

~o~

The next few days are weird. All of the omegas are terse and jumpy, especially whenever Ser Petr or either of his two Knight-Lieutenants is nearby. Even feeble Anabel is skittish as she goes about her work in the library.

Tyler can’t blame her. The Fort Bosz knights have taken an interest in the research work undertaken by the Nassa Tower omegas, and as the senior most librarian, Anabel gets the brunt of the attention. He’s seen Ser Petr hovering over her, dangerously close, lips just a hair’s width from her ear as he watches her write and murmurs something Tyler can’t make out. He clenches and unclenches his fists, reminding himself that there is absolutely nothing he can do right now without making things worse for everyone else, and that Ser Petr hasn’t actually done anything to Anabel. Yet.

Tyler receives his fair share of attention as well, and he’s not sure if it’s because of his outstanding reputation within the library and with Ser Jamie, or because of his actions in the mess hall that first night, or a combination of the two. Either way, Ser Petr seems to be legitimately interested in observing Tyler’s skills, so he maybe shows off, just a little, deliberately using big words because he can, and juggling five texts as once as he transcribes, taking bits and pieces from all of them at an equal pace.

Unfortunately for him, Ser Petr never seems to be quite satisfied. He always leaves with an offhand comment of, “Not bad,” or, “I suppose this can be considered efficient,” even though Tyler knows there’s no way anyone else in the tower is as fast as he is.

He tamps down on the frustration and forces an obliging smile as Ser Petr makes to leave, and their eyes meet for a second, hold, and something flashes behind Ser Petr’s eyes and Tyler gets a whiff of something spicy. His nostrils flare and he turns his head away so he can rub his nose.

Tyler gets to meet the new omega on the fourth day. The Fort Bosz Knight-Lieutenants drag him out from the dungeons, hands still bound behind his back, and tie him to a wooden chair in the library. It’s fucking confusing – apparently their plan is for him to sit there all day and watch the others work – so Tyler just tries to ignore it. In the end, though, curiosity gets the better of him, and he can’t help but steal glances at the new omega every time he passes by.

The omega looks to be only maybe a couple of years older than Tyler. He’s got small, beady eyes, messy hair and a lot of scruff on his face that suggests it’s been a while since it’s been cared for, and an abnormally large nose. He sits surprisingly calmly in his chair and simply observes his surroundings in silence. Tyler doesn’t know why his compliance is so unnerving. Belatedly, he realizes it’s because he was expecting something drastic, something violent.

Around the fifth or sixth time of Tyler walking past the omega to fetch a book that he really doesn’t need, the omega speaks.

“Lots of books in here, eh?”

“Sure,” Tyler says carefully.

The omega actually laughs. “Everyone’s treating me like I’m a time bomb. Dude, chill, I’m just like you, just maybe with a more colorful record.”

Tyler can’t help but smile. “Been a while since I met someone with a record worse than mine,” he says.

The omega’s grin widens, and something lights up behind his eyes. “Awesome,” he says. “I’m Bradley.”

“Tyler.”

“So, Tyler, you been here long?”

“Six months now, about.”

“Where’d you come from before that?”

“Massets Keep.”

Bradley whistles lowly. “You came a long way to get here.”

“I could say the same for you.”

A knight patrols down one of the nearby aisles, so Tyler busies himself with rearranging a few books on the shelf in front of him. There’s nothing for him here, but he kind of wants to hear what Bradley will say next. Besides, he’s done plenty of good work here. He can spare a few minutes and no one will care.

“They wanted to get me as far away as possible,” Bradley says, his tone amused. “I can’t even blame them, really. How about you?”

Tyler hesitates a moment, unsure of how much he should tell. “It was supposed to be my punishment,” he says. “Send me even farther from home. I don’t really care.”

“Where’s home?”

“None of your business.”

It maybe comes out a little harsh. Bradley raises his eyebrows. “Whoa, whoa, no worries. I was just asking. You don’t have to tell.”

Tyler’s shoulders sag. Countless questions nag at his brain, but he’s not sure which ones to ask. “Welcome to Nassa Tower, I guess,” he settles for eventually. “It’s probably better here than Fort Bosz, most of the time.”

Bradley snorts. “Don’t kid yourself, man,” he warns, and his tone is still light but there’s a touch of something darker beneath it. “Alphas are the same everywhere, in the end.”

Tyler sighs. It’s easier when he’s the one telling himself that. “Yeah,” he says. “You gonna be around the library much more?”

Bradley shrugs. “For today, I guess? I don’t know what’s happening past that. I’m going right back to the dungeons when the day is done.”

“They haven’t prepared a room for you yet?” Tyler asks.

“Oh, they have,” says Bradley. “Ser Petr just likes to make me suffer.”

Tyler pauses with his hand on the spine of a thick red tome. “Oh.”

“No big deal,” Bradley says airily. “I like the special treatment. It’s a sign that he’s scared of me.” He flashes another grin. “Wanna trade stories?”

And that’s – Tyler’s never spoken to another omega like this before. He’s overcome, suddenly, with the urge to abandon the rest of the day’s work and simply stay here and talk to Bradley. He thinks there’s a lot he could learn from this man. He seems like an older reflection of himself, and Tyler can’t help but be drawn to him.

On the other hand, Ser Jamie’s words echo in the back of his mind, warning him against anything rash. He’s not used to sacrificing personal gains for the sake of others around him. He’s not even sure he wants to, he realizes guiltily as he glances back at Anabel working at her desk.

Fuck it.

Tyler takes a black leather-bound book off a shelf and opens it, casually flipping through some pages while never taking his eyes off of Bradley. “Sure.”

~o~

Tyler learns a lot about Bradley that afternoon. He’s four years older than Tyler and, on account of having presented at the same age, has four more years of experience as a slave. He’s gotten himself in trouble for pretty much everything Tyler’s ever attempted and then some – even sports a few tattoos, though his current clothing covers them. Tyler also finds out that Bradley’s punishments for his disobedience not only rival Tyler’s from Massets Keep, but at times exceed them in severity.

Tyler hadn’t been lying earlier; he’s never met anyone with such a crazy record. He’s kind of jealous, truth be told. Bradley’s fun and charismatic and easy to talk to and he feels a connection with him, like they’re kindred spirits or something. Except, well, he doesn’t have those same ambitions anymore. He’s maybe gone soft. He kind of regrets letting this happen to him.

Bradley seems to think that’s a shame, as well. “Dude, there’s so much havoc to wreck here, so much chaos to dump on these stupid-ass alphas,” he says. “Don’t you want to give them shit?”

Tyler shrugs. “I kinda like to live,” he replies.

Bradley rolls his eyes. “Tyler, bro, I’m not saying get yourself killed,” he says. “But there’s nothing wrong with stirring up a little trouble. That’s the problem with the omegas in this place, don’t you see? They’ve all been trained to be so friendly and compliant. None of them realize that things don’t have to be like this. You and I are the only ones with outside experience. We’re the only ones that can show them how things can change, how things can be different.”

It’s a fair point, but it also brings up a lot more questions Tyler’s not sure he has the time to get the answers to.

“Seems pretty obvious you’ve seen more than me,” Tyler starts, choosing his words carefully. “I know life at Massets, and life here. I don’t really see anyone here picking the Massets lifestyle over this one.”

That elicits a chuckle from Bradley, but Tyler can see the way his eyes gleam, and he knows he’s hit the mark. He knows when Bradley speaks next, this is gonna be good.

That’s what he wants, after all. If Bradley’s gonna try to pump him for information, Tyler’s gonna pump him right back.

Bradley looks over both shoulders slowly, and Tyler does the same before leaning in. “I’m talking about life outside of slavery,” he says, voice so low it’s barely above a whisper. “That is the lifestyle omegas should choose.”

Tyler’s barely opened his mouth to respond when the dinner bell rings, startling him so hard he nearly trips over himself as he jumps to straighten out. There’s the bustle of sudden movement in the library, and shit, he can’t stay here. He shoves the book in his hand out of order on the shelf – fuck it, he’ll fix it later – and scurries over to his desk so he can quickly reorganize his things before going to dinner. He leaves without sparing Bradley a passing glance, despite wanting to. He knows the Knight-Lieutenants return to guide him out of the library, probably back to his cell in the dungeons, and he hopes maybe Bradley will be back tomorrow.

He isn’t. Tyler sleeps fitfully that night, rolling Bradley’s words over and over again in his head, and he’s practically buzzing with anticipation when he reports to the library the next day for work. But Bradley never shows up, and Tyler’s a bundle of nerves all day and unable to do anything about it, let alone explain why.

It shouldn’t be so easy to sneak down to the dungeons that night, but for whatever reason, Tyler makes it there without attracting a single knight’s attention. He gravitates deeper down the spiral staircase, like a compass needle drawn north.

He reaches the basement landing and peers through the little open window in the doorway. It leads into a hallway lined with cells, cold iron bars outlining each one. There’s a single knight sitting slumped in his chair at the end of the hall, where it turns a corner to somewhere Tyler can’t see, and his eyes are closed and he’s snoring softly, like he’s sleeping. Tyler takes a deep breath and opens the door. The knight doesn’t budge.

Quiet and deft, Tyler moves through the hallway, passes the knight and turns the corner to see another row of cells, all unoccupied save for the one at the very end.

Bradley’s sitting there, wrists and ankles cuffed and chained to a heavy metal ball on the cold stone floor, looking totally unsurprised to see Tyler there.

“Took you long enough,” Bradley says.

“Couldn’t wait to see me again, could you,” says Tyler.

Bradley grins. “Touché.”

Tyler says, “Tell me what it’s like to be free.”

Bradley stares for a minute, then ducks his head and chuckles quietly, his entire body quivering with it. “Dude. I should’ve known you weren’t here to see my pretty face.”

Tyler shrugs. “Your nose is too big.”

Bradley doesn’t even flinch, though his eyes do darken, and Tyler feels something spark in the pit of his stomach. “Wonder if you’d say the same about my dick.”

And okay, right now that sounds like –

“Tell me about it while I suck you off, then,” Tyler says.

Bradley inhales sharply. “Okay, yeah, we can do that.” It sounds like he’s struggling not to sound overeager, and damn if that isn’t doing things for Tyler right now.

“Can you budge up to the bars?” Tyler asks.

Bradley shoots him a filthy smirk that sends a thrill down Tyler’s spine, and then he shuffles on his knees over to the bars. Tyler reaches through to help him get his breeches down, pulls Bradley’s dick out, and – it’s not the biggest or thickest he’s ever seen, but it’s good, and Tyler’s mouth waters so he doesn’t wait, doesn’t waste any time before getting his mouth over as much as he can through the bars.

“Yeah,” Bradley breathes, slumping against the bars. “You’re good at this.”

Tyler pulls off for a moment to smirk and say, “I’ve had opportunities to practice,” before leaning back in to suck him all the way down.

“So,” Bradley pants, as Tyler works his tongue and lips up and down the shaft. “You wanna know what freedom’s like?”

Tyler hums his agreement, and Bradley’s breath hitches.

“Imagine not having to live in captivity.” Bradley’s voice comes out staggered and breathy. “There’s places, for omega refugees, hidden away in the wilderness where no one will find them. And if they do, they defend themselves. They fight for their freedom. They work together. No one’s a slave to anyone.”

Tyler swallows hard, and Bradley gasps.

“It’s better, right, so much better, no reason to – shit, I’m –” and then Bradley’s coming hot and sticky in Tyler’s mouth. Tyler works him through his orgasm, swallowing every last drop before he finally backs off, while Bradley catches his breath.

Tyler’s achingly hard himself now, and he’s not sure what’s got him the most aroused right now: the fact that he just gave a blowjob to a prisoner, with a sleeping knight right there; the fact that yeah, Bradley’s got a nice dick, and now his own wants with the program; or Bradley’s talk about freedom being so enticing. Probably a mix of them all.

Bradley gets his dick back in his breeches, then looks Tyler up and down, wagging his eyebrows. Tyler laughs and pulls down his own pants, stands up so that his dick is level with Bradley’s face, and guides it through the bars so Bradley can get his mouth on it.

The mixture of hot and wet and suction get him just right, and yeah, exchanging orgasms in Nassa Tower have always been fun, but there’s something about this one that’s a never-ending series of sparks in his belly, and he’s wound up so tight already it’s barely a minute before he’s spilling down Bradley’s throat.

Bradley looks unbearably smug when Tyler puts himself away. “Nice,” he says with a grin.

Tyler takes a few deep breaths to steady himself and ensure he’s got his wits back about him before he speaks again. “So these safe places,” he begins, and Bradley makes an inquisitive noise. “They really exist?”

“Swear on my life, seen them with my own two eyes,” Bradley promises.

He takes a moment to think about it. It’s...a lot to take in. It’s not a kind of lifestyle he’d ever imagined was possible.

“There’s no guarantee, though,” he says slowly. “That they’d get out okay from here, make it to a place like that without getting caught.”

“Don’t you think it’s worth the risk?” Bradley asks. “Heck of a payoff if they do. Besides, if everyone works together, they can take down the alphas here, all escape together. It’s been done before.”

Tyler frowns, because something’s not making sense anymore. “How would you know all of this, if you’ve always been in Bosz?”

“Ah.” Bradley’s dark eyes flicker in recognition. “I might have danced around the truth a little, until I could be sure I could trust you with this information.” Tyler’s pulse quickens and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up without his permission. “I’m what they call a runner.”

Tyler inhales sharply, because he’s heard the stories before, never thought he would come face-to-face with a real runner one day. Runners are dangerous, probably more dangerous than any omega should ever have the right to be. It’s a wonder, to be honest, that Bradley’s actually alive and moderately healthy.

“I took part in four rebellions,” Bradley explains. “Delph, Navan, Faxal, and Montcon. The omegas rose up against the alphas in their establishments, fled into the wilderness, and were able to create their own safe haven. I stayed in each one for the first year, helping to make sure they could sustain themselves, before heading off somewhere else. I’d get myself captured and sent to a new establishment, where I’d work for a while, build the trust of the rest of the omegas there, and help them rebel and escape.”

“And they always wanted to?” Tyler asks incredulously.

Bradley shakes his head. “If a group was too hard to sway, I’d escape and try somewhere else. Except with Bosz. Actually, Bosz is probably going to rebel all on their own, even with me gone.”

“So what happened in Bosz?” Tyler asks next, because while things are slowly starting to make sense again, there are still pieces of the puzzle that are missing.

“I got cocky,” Bradley says simply. “I’d set myself up with a little band of accomplices, and we spread information around like wildfire. Someone tattled on us, and we were all separated, all sent away where we couldn’t stay in communication with each other. But honestly, it’s better this way. The seeds have already been planted in Bosz now, and my friends and I get to each help omegas achieve freedom elsewhere. They played right into our hand without even realizing it.”

Tyler exhales, long and slow. He doesn’t know what to say.

“Lots to think about, I know,” Bradley says, sounding surprisingly sympathetic. “Look, there’s gonna be a change of guard soon, so this one’ll get woken up. You should get back to your quarters so they don’t find out you’ve been talking to me. You can come back same time tomorrow, if you want.”

Oh. “Yeah, okay.” Tyler slowly pushes himself away from the bars, forces himself to turn away even though his feet are like lead.

“I hope I don’t regret talking to you tonight,” Bradley says behind him.

Tyler pauses. “You won’t,” he answers quietly. Then he tiptoes past the sleeping guard around the corner and out of the dungeons without turning back.

~o~

Going back to visit Bradley in the dungeons is a bad idea. Tyler does it anyway.

They exchange blowjobs and then lean against the bars and talk about life outside of slavery. It all sounds so wonderful, Tyler fears it’s too good to be true. It can’t be that impossible, though. People are resilient, after all. They fight back. It’s how humans managed to either slay or tame so many magical creatures, learn to work with magic, even battle each other – though thankfully there haven’t been any wars in all the years Tyler’s been alive, but he did study some history in his youth. So it doesn’t seem to be too much of a stretch to believe that a group of omegas could fight back and establish a life for themselves outside of civilization.

It even makes sense why he wouldn’t have ever heard of these rebellions. Of course the alphas would want to keep that shit under wraps, prevent omegas from getting any ideas. It makes Tyler wonder just how much goes on outside that he’s unaware of. The endless possibilities are both frightening and exciting all at once.

Bradley tries to nudge him, persuade him to start talking to other omegas in Nassa Tower who have his trust. Tyler instantly thinks of Anabel and shakes his head. She wouldn’t risk the comfortable life she has here for only a possibility of freedom, and a horrible punishment if that were to fail. In the end, there are too many omegas here who would be too complacent to take part in any sort of rebellion.

When Tyler reluctantly says so, Bradley makes a disgusted face.

“See, this is the problem with places like here,” he spits, dark eyes glaring, not at Tyler, but still full of distaste. “Captive’s syndrome takes over, forces everyone to believe they’re in the best hands possible and they can be satisfied with living in slavery as long as they’re treated with the tiniest shred of decency, as if not actually getting whipped or beaten is a sign of such nice alphas.”

“Best worst-case scenario, I guess,” Tyler says.

“Yeah, no,” Bradley snaps. “I feel worse for you people here than I do for the ones in Bosz. They got treated like fucking dirt there, but at least that motivated them to want out. You want out, don’t you?” He shoots Tyler a distrustful look.

Tyler bristles. “Of course I do,” he retorts. “Don’t lump me in with everyone else.”

“Then do something about it,” Bradley hisses. “Don’t bother coming back to me if you’re just gonna sit here like a good little alpha’s pet.”

“Can you fault me for wanting to learn more?” Tyler asks incredulously.

Bradley shrugs. “No, but I can if you take the information and do shit-all with it.”

“Look, I’m trying to –”

“Don’t waste your breath with excuses,” Bradley says. He nods over Tyler’s shoulder, where the guard sits sleeping in his chair. “He’s probably gonna be waking up soon. You’d better go.”

Tyler tries to keep his face impassive. “Yeah,” he says, slowly turning away.

He doesn’t return to visit Bradley again.

~o~

The rumors begin to spread a few days later. It’s nothing big, at first: just little murmurings here and there, whispers of stories of the supposed life outside captivity between omegas when the alphas aren’t around to hear them. Tyler gets wind of them when he, Anabel, and an omega learning to read named Ryan are gathered at the main desk in the library, and all the knights on patrol there are way at the other end of the hall.

“Hey, did you know that there are omegas that live on their own in the wild?” Ryan asks in a hushed voice, leaning over the table towards them after glancing left and right.

Anabel’s forehead wrinkles slightly, and Tyler freezes. “What do you mean?” Tyler asks carefully.

Ryan draws a breath. “I mean, omegas banded together and freed themselves, then set up their own home away from society where they could live without slavery,” he whispers, his eyes wide. “Is that really possible?”

Tyler opens his mouth and pauses there, torn between confirming and denying the claim. It’s Bradley’s work, it has to be, though Tyler’s got no clue how he’d been able to start spreading information if he was still locked in the dungeons. There’s also a spike of something eerily like jealousy festering beneath his ribs – at what? That Bradley’s telling other people? That it’s not Tyler’s secret to keep? It never was, never was supposed to be.

So he settles for, “It’s gotta be possible, I guess.” At Anabel’s look, he adds, “I mean, it’s a little hard to believe that every single omega in the world is currently living as a slave. There’s bound to be some who are free, somewhere.”

Anabel’s frown deepens. “That sounds...incredibly risky,” she says. She looks directly at Ryan. “You know the stories of what happens to omegas who are caught trying to escape, right?”

Ryan shrinks back in his chair a little. Tyler sighs. All of the Anabel-types in Nassa Tower are gonna defeat these ideas real fast.

Except a couple days later, it seems everyone has gotten wind of it, and it’s not dying down, and Tyler still hasn’t heard a single thing about Bradley.

He’s seriously contemplating going down to the dungeons to figure out exactly what the fuck is going on, but then Jordie enters the library and claims that he’s been told to escort Tyler to Ser Jamie’s office.

“What,” Tyler says flatly. “Why?”

Jordie shrugs. “No clue, but he probably wants to go over one of your reports in private.” Jordie gives Tyler a weird look. “You doing okay these days?”

Tyler feels a pang of guilt in his chest; it’s been a while since he’s left any notes in the plants. “I’m fine,” he says. “Lots going on, you know.”

Jordie grins. “Must be slacking, if even you can’t keep ahead of the work,” he chirps.

Tyler snorts, shoots back with, “So, has your combat record improved lately?” and Jordie glowers but good-naturedly concedes defeat.

They keep up a steady stream of friendly mundane chatter up the spiral staircase to Ser Jamie’s office, and it’s nice, nicer than Tyler remembered. He’s been so caught up with Bradley and his shtick on omega rights and the unfairness of living in Nassa Tower that he’d forgotten about the actual people.

Knights. Alphas. Still alphas, no matter the conditions.

That’s a thought that’s been growing harder and harder to shake, these days, and Tyler almost hates Bradley for reminding him of the truth, wishes he could have just kept on living in blissful ignorance.

Except that makes him exactly the type of person Bradley despises, the type of person Tyler’s never wanted to be.

He didn’t get those tattoos for nothing.

Jordie leaves him in Ser Jamie’s office with a cheery wave, and then Tyler’s standing before the Knight-Captain’s desk for the first time.

Ser Jamie’s eyes are round as ever, possibly even more concerned than Tyler’s ever seen, so he tries for something casual to diffuse it. “’Sup, Captain?”

Ser Jamie chews on his lip and huffs out a breath. “Not much, you?”

Tyler frowns, the hairs prickling on the back on his neck. “Whoa, what’s going on? Am I in trouble?”

Ser Jamie blinks, visibly startled. “What? No.”

“So wanna tell me what’s got you all worked up, then?”

That earns him another sigh. “Look, I don’t want to do this,” he starts. Then he closes his mouth and shakes his head. “No one’s in trouble.”

“Glad we’ve cleared that much up.”

“You’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you.”

Tyler freezes. It’s not a question. And there’s literally no point in lying, because Ser Jamie knows things anyways, and maybe Tyler can too if he plays his cards right.

“What about them?” he counters.

Ser Jamie’s face goes shockingly red. “You didn’t say anything.”

Tyler opens and closes his mouth, feeling like he just got slapped in the face with a jumble of emotions he can’t even begin to interpret. There’s annoyance in there, though, that much he can recognize, so he focuses on that. “It’s not hurting anyone,” he says.

“It could, though,” Ser Jamie says, “if it escalates.”

“You don’t want you or your alpha knights to be casualties, is what you’re saying.”

Ser Jamie looks a mixture of hurt and offended. “I don’t want anyone to be a casualty,” he corrects. When Tyler starts to scoff, he says, “I’m serious. You know I’ve never tried to hurt anybody here, no matter their status.”

“But you still think omegas are pieces of shit who don’t deserve freedom.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Set us free.”

“That’s impossible,” Ser Jamie sputters. “It’s too dangerous out there. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Maybe it’s not as dangerous out there as you seem to think,” Tyler returns.

Ser Jamie’s face closes off, serious and resolute. “You don’t know that,” he says quietly. “You don’t have a clue.”

“I could, if you let me out.”

Something pained flashes across Ser Jamie’s face, and then it’s gone. “You should get back to the library for now,” he says with a sigh. “I told Ser Petr I needed to see you to talk about a report. I’m trying my best not to let him get wind of this, but – just be careful.”

It takes a moment for Tyler’s brain to get with the program and send the proper signals to his body to move, because he’s stuck on Ser Jamie’s final words. It’s so – he’s all mixed messages and confused signals, and Tyler has trouble figuring him out. There weren’t any orders in that whole conversation, just – just. It makes Tyler feel like he’s disappointing Ser Jamie with his defiance, and yet he won’t actually make a move to stop him. Tyler doesn’t know what that means. He also doesn’t know if he wants to, torn between caring and not. Ugh, why.

The best course of action, Tyler decides, is not to think about it for the time being, and to just get through the rest of the day instead. He mostly succeeds at that, getting back to the library and plowing through some readings, but all of his hopes for a peaceful ending to the afternoon are shattered moments before the dinner bell rings, because of course they are.

He should have known.

He really, really should have.

It’s scrawny little Ryan again who comes with the information, wide-eyed and shaking like he’s just been told he’s up for execution. Tyler’s never seen anyone look so terrified in all his time here.

“Hey, dude, what’s wrong?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

Ryan looks around once before squeezing his eyes shut and whispering, “The Knight-Captain’s a murderer.”

And everything stops, for a moment.

When Tyler remembers how to think, and speak, he says, “What? You mean like with dragons and other creatures?” Okay, he doesn’t believe that Ser Jamie could kill a dragon, but there’s no reason he couldn’t take down a war hound or a gryphon or something.

Ryan shakes his head violently. “No, with omegas.”

Again, there’s that moment, but Tyler quickly shakes himself out of it. “There’s no way,” he says firmly. “That’s taking things a little too far now with the stories, bud.” He’s seen how Ser Jamie behaves around omegas every day, has heard the sincerity in his words when he talks about safety. He’s a slaver, sure, Tyler will admit that readily. But Ser Jamie as a murderer just doesn’t compute.

“I’m not making this up,” Ryan says firmly. “Remember that mission they went on, to get rid of the dragon?” Tyler nods. “They brought an omega with them. That omega never came back.”

Tyler frowns, thinking hard, back to that day he stared out the window and watched Ser Jamie and his knights return from their expedition. He can’t remember for the life of him if the omega they left with came back, or what they looked like. He doesn’t think he ever even knew who that omega was. His mind’s coming up completely blank.

“Do you know who it was?” Tyler asks curiously.

Ryan shakes his head. “Someone from the stables, I assume, but I never worked there and I haven’t asked around yet. It’s been kept completely under wraps, though, and that’s what’s weird, don’t you see? Like, there wasn’t a single ounce of gossip once the knights came back. No one asking where they went.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Tyler mutters, rubbing his temple. “At least someone would be talking about it. Are they under orders not to?”

“No one can remember,” Ryan insists. “What if all our drinks were spiked with potion the night they came back, to make us all forget?"

Tyler remembers that sweet and unusual drink, very nearly falls out of his chair, and his entire body goes numb.

“No,” he breathes, cold blooming from his chest outwards.

Ryan nods solemnly. “It can only mean one of two things: the omega safely escaped, or got themselves killed. Either by the alphas themselves, or by the dragon. Like, what if they used the omega as bait to get to the dragon?”

Tyler’s standing bolt upright from his chair before he even realizes he’s moved. “You need to stop,” he says, very seriously. “Stay here. Do your readings. Don’t repeat those words to anyone.”

“Where are you –”

“Not now.”

He’s striding briskly out of the library, ignoring Anabel calling after him in surprise, ignoring the, “Hey!” directed his way by a Knight-Lieutenant. His body’s not – he’s shaking, all over, quaking with something akin to fury, but everything’s off, everything’s spinning, because this can’t be happening. If Ser Jamie’s been deceiving him this whole time –

He’s up the spiral staircase and pushing the door open to Ser Jamie’s office before anyone can think to stop him.

When he steps inside, he barely has time to register the shocked look on Ser Jamie’s face, or the fact that fucking Ser Petr is standing over his shoulder reading a document, before he’s already shouting, “Did you fucking drug us?”

Distantly, there’s the clattering sound of knights in armor racing down the hallway. They reach the doorway behind Tyler and grab him, one taking each arm. Tyler twists and shouts in their grip, and one of them kicks the back of his leg to force him on his knees.

What. The. Fuck.

“What the fuck is this?” he grits through clenched teeth, chest heaving. He’s not fighting them anymore, but holy shit, he wants to. But this isn’t right, the alphas here don’t – Ser Jamie’s bound to stop this.

At least, Tyler thinks he will if he can stop looking so damn alarmed, ugh, fuck him.

Ser Jamie does calm down, face resuming its usual business neutrality, and he says, “Let go of him, Knight-Lieutenants. You may leave the room and close the door behind you. I’ll deal with this myself.” He glances sideways. “Ser Petr, if you wouldn’t mind stepping out as well. You don’t need to see this, and I apologize for the disturbance.”

But Ser Petr’s eyes are fixed on Tyler, and an ugly smirk has formed on his face. “No, it’s quite all right,” he says smoothly. “I think I’d like to stay and see what this is about.”

Ser Jamie’s jaw ticks as the Knight-Lieutenants release Tyler and pause at the door. Tyler can see him struggling not to object. “Very well,” he says tersely, and the Knight-Lieutenants close the door, leaving Tyler alone in the office, on his knees, in front of a Knight-Captain and a Knight-Commander.

“Shirking one’s duties and interrupting a meeting is a grave disobedience and disrespect,” Ser Petr says, drawing back, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against a wall, an unmistakeable dare. “I assume you think you have a justifiable reason, though I’ll let you in on a little secret: there’s no such thing.”

Tyler picks himself up to his feet and glowers. “This isn’t about you,” he seethes, and then he turns to Ser Jamie. “You had all our drinks spiked with potion, didn’t you? The day you got back from that mission to drive the dragon away.”

Ser Jamie blanches.

The dread is threatening to swallow Tyler whole now, because how could he have been so stupid, how could he have believed things were okay here, when all along Ser Jamie was just a fucking skilled liar. How could he have fallen for that?

“There was an omega with you when you left, and they never came back,” Tyler states, not bothering to phrase it like a question. He knows now, he knows, he knows, and Ser Jamie isn’t denying anything, just staring up at him with those huge cow eyes, round and pleading and full of guilt, and Tyler despises everything about them.

“Tyler –”

“You made us all forget because they died, didn’t they?” Tyler continues, not wanting to hear Ser Jamie try to defend himself. He doesn’t think he’d be able to stand it if he did. “You killed them.” Ser Jamie’s eyes go even wider, if that’s possible, and Tyler sees the hurt in them, sees how genuine it looks, but no, he can’t believe a single thing about Ser Jamie anymore. “You’re a murderer, just as bad as the ones you love to claim you’re better than.”

Ser Petr cuts in with a snarl, “You omegas need to learn your place by any means necessary. You’re not worthy enough of being considered victims of murder.”

Tyler flinches and opens his mouth, ready to spit out a retort, but Ser Jamie finally speaks: “No.”

Ser Petr tilts his head, raises a casual eyebrow. Ser Jamie’s looking straight at Tyler, though. “I will tell you what happened, because I have no doubt you’ll figure the rest out soon enough at this point, and I’d rather you hear it from me directly. Do you recall, in your report that you prepared for me prior to this mission, what previous research had suggested regarding omegas and taming dragons?”

Tyler doesn’t want to dignify that with an answer, but his mind is already working, sifting through the memories. He remembers the words on the pages, remembers the paragraph that speculated the soothing power of an omega’s purr –

His eyes widen and Ser Jamie nods, and Tyler hates himself for being so expressive that he gives himself away, hates that he let Ser Jamie get close enough to him to figure him out.

“We took a risk, tried to get an omega to purr for the dragon, see if that would help,” Ser Jamie says solemnly. “We tried it alone, and in combination with alpha growls. As I’m sure you’ve now realized, it didn’t work.” He pauses, takes a breath, and looks Tyler dead in the eyes. “I take responsibility as Knight-Captain. It is because of me that the omega died at the dragon’s hands. I killed him.”

Different parts of Tyler’s brain are lighting up all over, and somehow it’s shrouded in an eerie calm. The letdown hit him so forcefully that now he feels practically nothing, nothing but a dull, quivering sense of rage and betrayal and regret.

“You’re despicable,” he spits. “Got an omega killed, and then tried to wash your hands of the deed by drugging us all into forgetting, so we could go on thinking you’re this perfect, humble Knight-Captain who can do no wrong.”

Ser Jamie lowers his gaze, no longer looking at Tyler’s face, and instead at his chest. “I didn’t want to cause you pain or fear,” he says. “I did what I thought was for the best of this establishment.”

“Fucking disgusting.”

“That’s a matter of opinion, isn’t it?” Ser Petr interjects smoothly, stepping forward. “And fortunately for us alphas, yours doesn’t matter.” He looks past Tyler, at the closed door behind him. “Knight-Lieutenants!” he calls loudly.

The door opens seconds later, and the two alphas from before burst through the door. “Yes, Ser?”

“As retribution for his insubordination, take this omega to the dungeons for confinement. Make sure he is not in an adjacent cell to the other one.”

“Yes, Ser!”

They grab a hold of his arms once more, and Tyler doesn’t even have the strength to fight them. He’s drained to the core, left completely empty now that the truth has sunk in, now that he knows life at Nassa Tower was too good to be true, was all just one elaborate hoax to fuck with him. Now he understands why coming here was supposed to be such an awful punishment.

The physical abuse had always been tolerable. Try as they might, Tyler was strong, so they could not break him. He’d never expected his emotions to be so easily shattered.

Ser Petr steps up to him, cups Tyler’s chin with one hand in a crushing grip, forcing their eyes to meet. Tyler barely has enough energy to muster a glare, but he tries.

“Maybe this will teach you that you have no place here,” he says softly, voice dripping with venom all the same. “You’re expendable. All of you omegas are. Learn your place, kid, or your worthless, disgraceful life is only going to get more miserable.”

The guards tug him away, and the last thing Tyler sees is Ser Jamie’s face, open and full of shame and regret, before he’s dragged out of the office and down the hall towards the dungeons.

~o~

“I did warn you,” Bradley says, though not unkindly.

The guards have just left after putting Tyler in a cell, just two over from Bradley’s. He’d barely resisted when they cuffed his wrists together and then done the same with his ankles, chaining him to a heavy ball that he didn’t have a prayer in moving from the center of the floor. Now, he sits cross-legged on the cold hard ground, head hanging, while Bradley leans on the bars of his cell, close as he can get to Tyler.

“Yeah,” Tyler sighs. “You did. I’m an idiot.”

Bradley shrugs. “Eh, I see it more like you just really wished for something better.”

“I was deluding myself.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean all hope is lost, or some bullshit.”

In spite of himself, Tyler feels the corners of his mouth twitch upwards. “I guess not, huh?”

“Nope,” Bradley says, popping the ‘p’. “No doubt the word has spread by now. More of these omegas are ready to rebel than you think.”

“How did you know?” Tyler asks suddenly. “About that dead omega. How in the world did you find out?”

Bradley shoots him a sneaky grin. “Alphas are dumb,” he states. “They tied me and gagged me and blindfolded me for the whole journey here, but wouldn’t you know that they didn’t think to block my ears.”

“No way,” Tyler says, looking up, and giggling without meaning to.

“Yes way,” Bradley says with a nod and a chuckle. “It was kind of hilarious. I heard all sorts of shit when they thought I was sleeping, or not paying attention, or something.”

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” Tyler says incredulously.

Bradley nods proudly. “You bet I am,” he says, “and admit it, you kind of like that.”

“Definitely,” Tyler says. He gives Bradley a filthy grin. “Right now, I might even go as far as to say it’s turning me on.” Their cells aren’t adjacent, so they can’t get each other off through the bars, but they’ve got enough reach to handle themselves, so they do, jerking off while looking at each other and spewing dirt from their mouths until they’re both sated.

“So,” Tyler says once they’ve tucked themselves back into their breeches, “what comes next?” There’s no afterglow, in these kinds of illicit activities, and they’re still enjoyable while they last, but Tyler’s mind is already on other things.

Bradley shrugs, relaxing back against the bars. “We wait a bit,” he says. “See if we hear any news when the guards change, or when one of us gets let out. Shouldn’t be too much longer, though. They’re almost ready.”

“Ready for what?” Tyler asks.

Bradley grins conspiratorially. “I’m gonna show everyone just how toxic and monstrous the alphas really are,” he says, “while showing the omegas how things can be so much better.”

Tyler stares, overwhelmed with curiosity. “And how are you gonna manage that?”

The grin changes into something almost sinister, with a gleam in Bradley’s beady black eyes to match. “Just wait and see.”

~o~

It takes a few days for Tyler to catch the full extent of Bradley’s plan, but even once he does, he doesn’t expect things to unfold the way they do.

It’s all little baby steps, things that take time to really work around, and there’s nothing to do for it in the meantime but wait. They talk, except when the guards are awake and annoyed enough to yell at them to shut up, and Tyler honestly doesn’t even care. They jerk off together, staring at each other through the bars of the cell that separates them, without a care in the world that their clothing gets messier each time. They talk about life outside.

The anticipation is building, now, and Tyler wants nothing more than to be free of this wretched place and see it for himself.

Unexpectedly, it’s Ser Jamie who comes to deliver them their meals, three times a day. The first time, in the morning, Tyler doesn’t even look at him, refuses to acknowledge the Knight-Captain even steps foot into the dungeons.

“Hey, you still need to eat,” Ser Jamie says softly, and ugh, Tyler hates that he sounds like he cares. He doesn’t budge from where he’s leaning against the wall on his cot, doesn’t spare so much as a glance in Ser Jamie’s direction. Ser Jamie sighs heavily. “Okay, I’m gonna leave your food here for you. Eat it if you get hungry.” Then the door to his cell closes, locks, and Ser Jamie moves to bring Bradley his breakfast.

Tyler waits until Ser Jamie has completely left the dungeon before crawling forward and shoveling a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth. Bradley snorts, and Tyler throws him a vicious glare before he continues eating.

“No, really, that was hilarious,” Bradley says. “You should have seen the look on his face! That was priceless, wow. I’ve never seen an alpha look like such a wimp in my life!”

That, at least, makes Tyler smile. “He deserves it,” he says, then stops himself. “No, he deserves way worse.”

“And he’ll get it,” Bradley assures him. “For now, this is a good start.” He’s grinning, smug, like he’s just gotten away with something.

“What?”

“Nothing yet,” Bradley says, “but I can tell this is gonna be good.”

~o~

It happens when Ser Jamie comes to bring them their lunch. Tyler once again gives him the silent treatment, his meal is left on its tray on the ground, Ser Jamie delivers Bradley his food, and Tyler only moves to eat once Ser Jamie is gone. Bradley laughs again, harder this time, and Tyler can’t help but wonder if he’s missing something.

Bradley catches on, and he flashes him a grin. “Next step complete,” he says triumphantly. He glances towards the guard, who’s not looking their way. “Here, catch –”

A small object flies through the air, perfectly aimed through the bars, and Tyler’s barely able to catch it in his chest. Fumbling for it, with bound wrists, Tyler holds it in front of his face and realizes Bradley’s given him a key. He stares at the key, then at the lock on his door, then at Bradley.

Bradley nods. “It’s exactly what you think it is,” he says. “Keep it for when things get messy.”

Tyler stares questioningly at him, but manages to slip the key into his pocket. “What comes next?” he asks.

Bradley’s grin only widens. He slips an object from his pocket on his tray, and overturns his soup bowl to cover it. Then he sits back and leans into the cot, evidently pleased with himself.

Tyler frowns; he’d been unable to catch what Bradley was holding, so of course now he’s fucking curious. “Seriously, what?”

Bradley’s eyes narrow. “Let’s just say I’ve never cared much for charms.” Tyler’s confusion must show on his face, because Bradley snickers and adds in a low voice, “and omega heats are fun.”

Oh, shit.

Another alpha comes back for their trays later. Tyler pretends to ignore them, too, but he’s jittery and on edge the whole time. But the alpha leaves and nothing clatters or spills, and Bradley’s heat suppressant amulet stays hidden.

When the alpha’s gone, Tyler lets out a long breath. “Think they’ll figure it out?” he asks, voice low in case the knight on guard duty is listening.

“Nah,” Bradley says. “If it’s going to the kitchens, it’ll be too late to trace it.”

“That fast?” Tyler asks. “How do you know? Have you – oh.”

Of course Bradley would have done this before. Tyler wonders how familiar the omega is with going into heat, how many times he’s attempted this little trick, what will become of it, what it’s even like to experience. He remembers, briefly, seeing that scrawl in a passage of a text he’d been reading, remembers the detail so vivid and filthy that even he was embarrassed by it. Tyler has no idea what seeing an omega in heat up close and personal will be like.

He’s prevented from asking, however, because the alpha on guard duty is looking at them, and this is definitely not a topic of conversation Tyler’s willing to have with anyone else at risk of listening in.

Bradley can tell, because of course he can, and he winks at Tyler and mouths the word, “later.” Tyler shifts to get into a comfortable seated position on his cot and looks up at the stone wall above him, resigning himself to his thoughts for the meantime.

Ser Jamie brings them supper, and he tries to talk once more. Tyler ignores him as he’s done, and Bradley laughs again once he’s left. He makes such a racket that the knight guarding them comes over, right to the bars, to order Bradley to be silent; Bradley presses as close to the bars as possible and sneers in his face. The knight threatens to have Bradley’s punishment increased, but nothing more comes of it, and he eventually turns back to his seat.

This time, Tyler’s ready for it, and he sees Bradley’s hands in action, sees the fist curl up around something once there’s distance between him and the knight. He opens his hand at such an angle so as to hide it from the knight but make it visible to Tyler, and sure enough, it’s a talisman – the ones alphas wear to make themselves immune to omegas’ purrs.

“You fiend,” Tyler breathes in awe.

Bradley grins. “Watch and learn,” he says, and a then his eyes grow focused.

It starts softly at first, so quiet Tyler’s not even sure he’s actually hearing it and all and it’s not just part of his dumb imagination. It relaxes him though, just ever so slightly, and Tyler knows this isn’t just some figment of his imagination, knows that Bradley is legitimately purring right now.

The alpha on guard duty never lets on that he’s hearing it. Tyler realizes, with a jolt, that it’s because Bradley’s purr is so quiet that he may not even realize he’s hearing anything different. Even as the rumbling builds, it’s so slow and gradual that Tyler can barely register it’s changing at all, and he’s even aware it’s coming. That knight has no freaking clue. There’s no way he can prepare for it.

Sure enough, the purr begins to take an effect. The alpha lets out a smothered yawn at first, and then a huge one, unable to stop himself. He slumps in his chair, blinking slowly, all residual tension leaking out of his limbs. He heaves a sigh, his eyes close, and he begins to snore.

Bradley keeps it up for a few minutes longer, but eventually the purr dies down until it fades completely. Once that’s over, he clears his throat and offers Tyler a triumphant smirk. “And that is how it’s done, my friend.”

“How long will he be out for?” Tyler asks incredulously.

That earns him a shrug. “Eh, an hour or two, maybe? Depends on how tired he was before the purring got to him, too. In any case, we’ll be good to talk for a while without him hearing us.”

Tyler can’t help the grin spreading across his face. “I need to learn how to do that.”

“Do you self-soothe?”

For a moment, Tyler hesitates. There would be nothing wrong with admitting this to Bradley. Heck, he says it so casually, like it’s a thing omegas do all the time, like it’s not weak and shameful. So he nods. “Not often, but sometimes.”

Bradley nods understandingly, and relief bubbles through Tyler’s chest. “That’s the best way to practice it. Helps make yourself feel better, and you’re working towards an awesome trick. Double edged sword.”

It’s a neat point. Tyler resolves to practice the next chance he gets. But now, he’s got questions, and he’s sure Bradley will have answers.

“Tell me about your heats.”

“Oh man,” Bradley says, smiling dreamily. “They’re loads of fun.”

“They’re not scary or painful? You don’t lose control or hurt yourself?”

Bradley barks out a short laugh. “Is that what they teach these days? Eugh, no wonder omegas are always so reluctant to take their amulets off even when they’ve achieved their freedom. No way, Ty, heats are fucking awesome and everyone should get the chance to have theirs. You can get off, like, half a dozen times, maybe more, before it breaks, so it’s just a pleasure train the whole way through.”

Tyler remembers that text again, remembers catching an eyeful of dirty words and instantly slamming the book shut before he’d had a chance to really register what exactly it was all about.

“That’s it?” he asks.

“Nah,” Bradley says. “It’ll break eventually, on its own, but while you’re in heat your ass is gonna get crazy wet, so it’s the perfect time to get fucked.” He shoots Tyler a sly grin. “Ever tried that outside of heat?”

Tyler nods, his throat suddenly thick. He’d let a lot of omegas fuck him at Massets Keep, but that was a long time ago, and it had served a purpose he prefers not to think about now. And, well, he’s done it a few times since coming here, too, but it wasn’t...

“Okay, well, in heat, it’s loads better,” Bradley insists. “Hands down, best thing to do.”

Tyler forces a closed-lipped smile. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “So, how many heats have you had?”

Bradley shrugs. “A bunch of ’em. It’s easy to lose track. Besides, every time I let myself get captured they slap a suppressant amulet back on me, so I don’t know how long is too long normally to go without a heat. And it’s tough to know what normal is when all the researchers are either alphas or betas who don’t give a shit about omega biology, and refuse to let us find out.”

Tyler wonders if that’s a thing, somewhere, if someone keeps a bunch of omegas captive solely to study their heats, just like one would imprison a specimen of beast for study or breeding. It’s not a pleasant thought.

“So what’s going to happen?” he asks instead.

“The alphas are going to smell it,” Bradley explains. “Well, not all of them, but whatever poor sap is on guard will, for sure, and I’m not exactly certain how far it’ll travel. He’ll probably react badly and fetch his commanding officers, so the Knight-Captain and Knight-Commander will end up down here, and shit’s gonna go down. They won’t just be able to slap a new charm on me; it won’t work again until the heat’s run its course.”

Tyler frowns, brain working to figure this out. “But what’s that gonna do? What’ll it mean for the rest of us?”

“You’re gonna get out of your cell while everyone’s distracted,” Bradley says. “Trust me, alphas can’t function properly under the smell of an omega in heat. It’ll be the perfect opportunity for you to rally everyone else, knock out some alphas along the way, and escape.”

It hits him, then, and Tyler opens and closes his mouth in understanding. “You’re gonna be a diversion.”

“More or less.”

“But then how will you get out?”

“I have my methods.” At Tyler’s skeptic frown, he adds, “Really. Don’t worry. I’ve done this before.” He twists around, pulls his pant leg up, revealing a dagger strapped to his calf. “It’s easy to get an alpha when they’re vulnerable, you know. Offing the Knight-Commander and the Knight-Captain at once is gonna be a real treat.”

Emotions flash hot and cold through Tyler all at once. Alphas are going to die. Bradley’s going to kill them. Not only that, but if those deaths create chaos in Nassa Tower, it’ll be enough for the omegas to get out. Sure, they might have to fight their way through some alphas, but that’s a fair cost for freedom, isn’t it?

The alphas deserve to die for what they’ve done. A year ago, Tyler would have believed that with every fibre of his being. Now, he wonders if truly all of them deserve that fate.

Ser Petr fucking deserves it, no doubt about that.

Jordie...if he wasn’t an alpha, he seems like he could be a genuinely good person. Jordie is kind of like everyone’s big brother, almost, in the way he speaks to them and looks after them. Tyler thinks that he and Jordie could have been best friends if not for their statuses.

Ser Jamie –

“Don’t flake on me now, kid,” Bradley says, and Tyler startles.

“I’m not,” he promises. “Just. Everything’s going to happen fast, right?” Bradley nods. “It’s a lot. I need to be ready.”

Ready means convincing himself of all the reasons Ser Jamie needs to die. Tyler’s stomach churns unpleasantly and he’s suddenly not sure his meal will stay down.

That comment seems to placate Bradley, at least, and they lapse into a peaceful silence. Tyler suspects Bradley isn’t speaking more because he’s recognized that Tyler needs space to brood, and Tyler’s grateful, really, because he couldn’t have been expected to keep up a conversation at this point anyways.

So Tyler spends the rest of the night thinking about Ser Jamie, and tries to convince himself he deserves death.

He’d seemed so kind, until recently. He truly seemed like he wanted to make Nassa Tower a good place for omegas, safer than any other establishment, and protected from the dangers of the outdoors. He’d been fair with everyone, Tyler thought, even gave omegas the chance to be literate if they desired it. He never let his officers touch an omega without proper permission. He freaking decommissioned anyone who tried, fuck. Everything he did went against what Tyler’d assumed all alphas were like.

In the end, though, Ser Jamie was just like the other alphas, wasn’t he? He’d used an omega and gotten them killed. He spiked everyone’s drinks with potion so they’d forget that omega even existed. All so no one would know that he was a murderer.

It was betrayal, and fuck, that hurt like shit.

Tyler wishes so badly for that to never have happened. It would almost be too easy, to believe Ser Jamie when he’d said that he did it to protect the others, to keep them from being frightened. It would be so easy to look into Ser Jamie’s eyes and find them open and genuine, without a shred of dishonesty there.

That’s precisely why Tyler can’t let himself dwell on this too long. It’s all too simple. How could Tyler have allowed himself to be so easily fooled? If he lets himself believe Ser Jamie any moment longer, that’s it, he’s a goner. He’ll never be free. There’s no reason for him to be satisfied and content with a lifestyle of slavery, even if it is peaceful.

Tyler’s always thrived on being defiant ever since he presented. Wouldn’t freedom be the biggest, most blatant show of defiance he could muster?

Isn’t that all he’s ever wanted?

He’s actually not sure, sometimes, if that’s his be-all, end-all, if freedom is all he wants. Tyler’s always wanted so much, so it’s hard sometimes to sift through all his passing desires and figure them all out, rank them on a mental list. Freedom is definitely up there, though.

Thing is, freedom isn’t possible without sacrifice. Tyler knows that. And if that sacrifice is the lives of some alphas, alphas who have always oppressed him, abused him and other omegas, heck, murdered other omegas… It’s only fair, a life for a life. Besides, the lives of a few alphas could never amount to the magnitude of omega lives lost. They’re all lost, anyways, in slavery – never able to live life the way they deserve.

Tyler deserves his life and his freedom. If it comes at the expense of some alphas, then so be it.

~o~

Their next day in the cells is almost like a twisted form of torture. Tyler fucking hates waiting.

Ser Jamie brings them breakfast; he brings them lunch; he brings them dinner. Tyler still doesn’t look at him – it’s even harder now to meet the eyes of the person Tyler’s decided must die – and Ser Jamie always leaves looking sad, eugh. Bradley continues to laugh about it, but Tyler just feels sick.

In between meals, nothing happens. Tyler’s skin itches constantly; it’s rather like the sensation of insects crawling underneath, but he can’t help it. He’s just so on edge with the knowledge that soon, anytime now, Bradley’s heat will begin and set all his plans in motion. Except the day goes by, and still no change.

When Ser Jamie comes to bring them dinner, he stops in front of Bradley’s cell, frowning, nostrils flaring slightly. Tyler watches it happen from his cot in the corner, ready to avert his gaze should Ser Jamie’s eyes flicker towards him.

“Are...are you feeling okay?” Ser Jamie asks uncertainly.

Bradley gives a warm, slow smile. “Just peachy,” he replies smoothly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He’s asking on purpose, and Ser Jamie doesn’t even realize, shifting weight uncomfortably from one leg to another and fidgeting while he works at the lock.

“You, uh, smell a little off,” Ser Jamie finally says, voice so low Tyler almost doesn’t hear him. “Just wanted to make sure you’re not getting sick.”

“Doesn’t feel like I am,” Bradley says conversationally, still smiling sweetly. “I feel pretty energetic, though. Probably restless from being cooped up in here all the time.”

Ser Jamie ducks his head. “I’ll, um, there haven’t been any issues the past few days, so I’ll see if Ser Petr will accept a new trial period outside of the cell. Perhaps a few hours in the library again, as an initial test, and we’ll take things from there.”

“Thank you, Ser, that’d be great,” Bradley says. He’s sneering now, and Tyler bets Ser Jamie doesn’t even realize it.

Then it’s Tyler’s turn to receive his meal. Tyler tries not to stare while Ser Jamie rubs at his nose with one hand and unlocks the cell door with the other, but even he has his limits. Just as long as he doesn’t look into Ser Jamie’s eyes.

“Here’s your dinner,” Ser Jamie says softly, same as always as he lays the tray down on the ground for Tyler to get once he’s left.

“Thanks,” Tyler says hoarsely.

Ser Jamie jumps, a little, and Tyler’s eyes jerk to his without permission. There’s something raw in Ser Jamie’s expression, something – Tyler doesn’t know how to place it, only knows that it makes his gut clench up and his ribs tighten. Tyler instantly decides that he hates it, hates that he’s even having a reaction to it at all.

“You’ll be out of here tomorrow,” Ser Jamie says quietly, still keeping his eyes trained on Tyler, and shit, Tyler’s got no hope of ignoring him now. “Just one more night, and I’ll let you out at breakfast.”

Tyler wonders if he’ll even be around for breakfast at this point, wonders if by then he’ll be long gone, wonders how many miles away he’ll be.

“Cool,” he settles for.

Ser Jamie’s eyes glance over to Bradley, who’s absentmindedly eating off his tray with his back towards them. If Tyler didn’t know better, he’d say Bradley was offering them some privacy. He’s starting to catch a whiff of something sweet, and he wonders if this is the last chance he’ll get to speak to Ser Jamie.

“You have to know,” Ser Jamie says, so softly Tyler has to strain to hear him. “If I could do it again, if I could do that mission differently, I would. I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

And damn him, because this is – Tyler just knows, deep down, that there’s no way Ser Jamie’s lying to him.

“I believe you,” he whispers, not trusting himself to raise his voice any more than that, but also because these words are for Ser Jamie only, and he doesn’t want Bradley to hear this.

Relief washes over Ser Jamie’s face, and his shoulders droop as though a weight has been lifted from them, like the validation from an omega actually means something to him, can actually have a profound effect. “Thank you,” he murmurs. Then he straightens, closes the door and locks it, and leaves the dungeons, still rubbing at his nose, but visibly more relaxed.

“No wussing out yet, eh?” Bradley calls from his cell, words muffled by a mouthful of food.

“No worries,” Tyler calls back, looking down at his meat and potatoes. He tells himself that if Ser Jamie is truly a good person despite being an alpha, he’ll handle things properly during Bradley’s heat, make sure that the matter gets resolved without anyone getting hurt. And while he’s doing that, Tyler will leave, taking with him whoever is willing. It’s a huge gamble, and Tyler almost wishes he’d done something to warn Ser Jamie of the plan, so that he could be sure he’d be careful, but he won’t betray Bradley, not now when his heat is finally creeping up on them. They’ve come this far.

He busies himself with his food, focusing on ensuring that whatever happens next, he’ll have his strength with him. Anticipation is fighting with his hunger, though, makes his throat thick and difficult to swallow. Still, he forces as much food down as he can, stopping only when his entire body finally protests too much.

“How much longer?” he asks, toeing his tray off to a corner of the cell.

When Bradley answers, his voice is oddly breathy. “Soon,” he answers. “Yeah, here it comes.”

He groans and lies back on the cot, struggling to get his bound wrists in a position where he can stick a hand in his breeches. Tyler can tell the exact instant he succeeds, though he can’t really see from his angle, because Bradley lets loose an unabashed moan, and then Tyler’s senses are engulfed by his scent.

“What the f–” cries the alpha on guard, bringing both hands to his nose and jerking bolt upright from his chair. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Can’t help it,” Bradley gasps as he writhes on the cot.

Tyler’s got to admit, watching this, combined with that powerful sweet smell, makes for a pretty hot sight. It’s making him hard too; his hands drift down to palm at his dick over his breeches for a moment, before he jerks them away and blinks himself alert. He can’t get distracted now. It’s almost time.

Bradley’s grunts and moans increase in volume as his scent fills the dungeon air, so thick it’s almost stifling. The knight on guard cries out, rushes for the door, calling for reinforcements. Tyler remains very still in his cell, equal parts fascinated and confused and terrified of what’s going to happen next.

It’s not long. A small gang of alphas burst into the dungeons, all of them immediately bringing hands to their faces to block out the scent. They themselves are putting off smells, a little bit confused but mostly smelling interested, like they’re getting plenty of ideas of what they could do with an omega like Bradley vulnerable in front of them. It makes Tyler’s blood boil.

“What is going on here?”

Ser Petr’s careless voice echoes through the dungeons, and the alphas part in the hallway to make way for him to step through. He freezes as he stares at Bradley in his cell, inhaling sharply, and his eyes darken.

“All of you, get out,” he orders. “Now!”

The knights scatter, some smelling relieved to be fleeing from the smell, others disappointed. Tyler hates all of them.

Slowly, deliberately, Set Petr steps right up to the bars of the cell, surveying as Bradley’s breaths come in short, ragged gasps, muffled in the itchy fabric of the cot. “Ser Jamie honestly thought your behaviour was improving, but I knew better,” he says coolly. “I knew you were up to something.” As he speaks, he slowly brings his hands to the lock, one of them containing the key. “And now look at you.”

It dawns on Tyler, then, that this is the distraction Bradley’d been counting on. Not wanting to waste this opportunity, Tyler reaches for his key and fumbles to unshackle his ankles.

As he works, quietly and turning away so that Ser Petr doesn’t notice, he hears the alpha continue to speak.

“Now you’re trapped in heat, trying to relieve yourself, and you won’t be able to just like that. You’re just fucking asking for it now, aren’t you?”

There’s a violent thump, and a sharp cry escapes Bradley’s lips. Tyler swings his neck around just in time to see Ser Petr pinning Bradley to the cot. He can’t see clearly from his cell, but there’s frantic movement, struggling, and –

Oh, no. Not again.

Bradley cries out, pleasure turning into pain, and Tyler works furiously to get his wrists unshackled. He drops the key four times before he finally manages to find a way to grasp it between his feet and sink the cuffs down onto it, twisting until the lock finally clicks and he wrenches his arms apart.

There’s more struggle, followed by a clattering sound. Tyler glances over his shoulder just enough to see Bradley’s dagger sliding across the stone floor, coming to a stop near the cell door.

“Tsk, tsk. Did you forget one of the effects of an omega’s heat?” Ser Petr’s asking. “Did you forget about how it makes you weak, too weak to fight back? And here you thought you could draw me in and kill me? No, I’m going to show you your filthy place once and for all, show you that you are nothing except mine to command, mine to use however I please.”

And Tyler, Tyler’s mind is blank – he can barely register what’s happening, even as he stands and unlocks himself out of his cell and steps out into the hallway. It’s like his veins are on fire and the smells in the air are overwhelming and awful and this is supposed to be his opportunity to get away but he can’t, can’t do this and leave Bradley at Ser Petr’s mercy.

His body makes the decision for him, moving like it’s on autopilot, and suddenly he’s grabbing the dagger off the floor and lunging for Ser Petr with enough force to knock them both off the cot, leaving Bradley naked and shaking and bleeding – bleeding, fuck, so much blood, why – on the bed, still twisting on the sheet and struggling to catch his breath, from what, Tyler doesn’t know. All he knows is that he’s screaming unintelligibly, tumbling, grappling with Ser Petr and thrashing around, flailing the dagger but unable to land a hit, because Ser Petr’s hands are clutching his wrists and outmuscling him even though he’s trying so hard, swinging with all his might, and –

“Despicable bastard!” Ser Petr growls, and the dagger flies out of Tyler’s hand, and he’s frozen, pinned to the ground with Ser Petr on top of him, baring his teeth, fury in his eyes, and growling so ferociously that all of the strength is zapped from Tyler’s body in an instant. “You actually think you can overpower me? You are weak. Learn your fucking place, scum!”

Everything’s shaking, trembling with the effort to just move, but Tyler can’t, trapped and depleted of all his energy, and he’s helpless to break free.

He spits in Ser Petr’s face instead.

Ser Petr backhands him with an armored glove, and Tyler sees stars.

The next few moments are a blur. Tyler hears footsteps, heavy but quick, a sound similar to a blade being unsheathed, a new growling voice to accompany the first, cries of rage and pain, struggle, collapse. Feels hands grip his shoulders, pull him into a seated position. Blinks, sees large brown eyes looking at him intently, so close to his face, he might be cross-eyed.

“Tyler,” says Ser Jamie.

“Captain,” Tyler chokes out.

Ser Jamie shakes his head. “You need to stand. Come on, I’ll help you. We have to go.”

“Wha...” But Ser Jamie’s already pulling Tyler to his feet, and then something’s being pressed into his right hand, closing his fist around it. Tyler looks down blearily. It’s the dagger, blood glistening on its edge.

“Just in case,” Ser Jamie says. “Hopefully you won’t have to use it.” He’s holding a greatsword in one hand, Tyler realizes. He dimly registers that Ser Jamie’s free hand has closed around his, tugging slightly, urging him out of the cell. His ears are ringing. There’s a body on the ground and another on the cot, both motionless, red staining around them both, and the smells are still everywhere but also fading.

Tyler’s gut roils and his head spins, but he lets Ser Jamie drag him away, through dark tunnels until they’re outside, in the pitch black night with only the light of the moon illuminating the outlines of the tower and the stables and the gate and the nearby trees.

They run. Tyler can’t think, can’t focus on anything, but he runs. His grip is slack, but somehow he manages to keep hold of the dagger, and Jamie’s hand is strong on his. They make a break for the woods, and keep running.

Eventually, Tyler stumbles. His feet get stuck on a root or something, he doesn’t even know, and suddenly he’s crying out, falling, throwing his arms out to catch himself, and his face hits dirt.

“Tyler!” Ser Jamie’s at his side instantly, placing a broad hand between his shoulder blades. “Are you okay? Did you break something?”

Tyler hears his questions, but he can’t open his mouth to respond. Everything’s spinning out of control around him, and suddenly the world fades out.

The last thing Tyler’s aware of is that pressure on his back, light and warm and steady, before darkness takes him and he knows no more.

~o~

There’s movement around them. Or maybe Tyler’s moving. There are arms around his thighs, lifting him, but he can feel the footsteps as if they’re his own. He’s draped across something, a body.

Is he being carried?

“What is –” he starts, but his voice cracks, weak.

“Shh.”

Tyler can’t bring himself to open his eyes, but he’s gained enough awareness to realize Ser Jamie’s carrying him on his back.

“Captain –”

“Not a captain anymore,” Ser Jamie says, soft but firm.

That doesn’t make any sense in Tyler’s hazy state of mind. “Then what?”

“I’m just Jamie. Like I used to be. Like I always was.”

“Just Jamie?”

“Yeah. Just like you’re Tyler.”

There’s something soothing in those words, something that sounds an awful lot like a promise, but Tyler’s too far gone to dwell on it. He slips back into unconsciousness.