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They make it all the way to the river crossing at Dunfield, three miles from the border to Westchester before Shaw catches up to them.“Ororo,” he says, as the glow of the torches draws ever closer, a wall of light marching inexorably towards Charles and his ragged group of civilians and servants from the Keep, “take them across the bridge and then burn it behind you. Don’t stop until you get to Graymalkin.”The guards form a protective semi-circle around their liege, weapons at the ready as Shaw slowly comes into view, riding on horseback ahead of his men. There are a hundred of them against Charles and only a handful of his best fighters; it will be less a battle than a massacre.His second freezes at his command, and grips him by the arm. “No, Your Highness I can’t let you do this! His Majesty will—”“Captain,” he snaps, and Ororo releases him immediately to stand at attention. “Do as I say. Take them to Erik and tell him what’s happened. Do not stop until you reach him, do you understand? That’s an order.”Vastly outnumbered and running out of supplies, Charles’ only gambit is to delay Shaw as long as possible, to give the others the time needed to escape. And he knows that only his presence will provide a suitable enough distraction; Shaw would simply kill any others in his way without any regard or hesitation.Ororo’s eyes glisten as she pulls Charles into her arms and squeezes him tight. “What message would you have me give the King?” she whispers.“Tell him…” Charles closes his eyes and swallows, returning her embrace with equal feeling. “Tell him I love him with all my heart. Tell him I did what I had to do to save our people.” He pulls back and slowly unsheathes his daggers, eyes tracking Shaw as the man dismounts, his every action filled with pageantry yet no less dangerous for it. “Tell him to avenge me.” The last thing he sees is Shaw’s great sword slicing cleanly through Sean Cassidy’s stomach, spilling his guts onto the blood soaked ground. “Ah, you’re awake.”Charles opens his eyes before quickly closing them tight, his head throbbing mercilessly as he takes a deep breath. Every part of his body aches, sore from the vicious fight with Shaw and his men.A face comes into view right above him, staring down with a bemused grin as he struggles to sit upright. His armor has been stripped and his hands bound tight, leaving him in only his tunic and trousers on top of soft bedding. A quick survey of his surroundings finds him inside a large tent, decorated with the heraldry of House Shaw, awash with the soft glow of candlelight.He’s still alive then, which can only mean--“How are you feeling?” Shaw murmurs, reaching to stroke his bruised cheek with a gentle hand. Charles shrugs it away with a snarl, but it only serves to make the smug bastard laugh. “Still so defiant, my boy, after all these years? I knew Lehnsherr wasn’t alpha enough to rein you in…teach you how to behave like a proper omega.”He refuses the bait, uninterested in trading barbs with Shaw over antiquated arguments and old grievances. Instead he merely states with as much dignity as he can - weaponless as he is except for his words - “You’re getting soft in your old age Sebastian. Why else would I still be alive after killing so many of your men? You don’t honestly believe you can use me as leverage, do you? Erik won’t negotiate with a coward like you.”“Negotiate?” Shaw purrs, hands moving lightning fast to grip Charles by the chin, fingers digging into sensitive flesh and making him hiss. “Why would I need to negotiate with your darling husband? I’ve already taken everything I want from little Erik Lehnsherr; his kingdom, and now his beloved omega Consort.”He’s hauled bodily off the bed and then shoved towards the center of the tent, pain flaring as his myriad bruises bump against the large wooden desk. A map of the Five Realms is spread across the breadth of it, tiny metal figures marking the placement of troops across Genosha and Westchester. Pulling himself up takes no small effort, though Shaw is quick to grab his arm and drag him back against his breast-plate, wrapping his heavy leather gauntlet around Charles’ waist to hold him in place.“You won’t get away with this,” he gasps, as Shaw nuzzles the crook of his neck and inhales, breathing him in, nosing the faded scar from his bonding bite. Being touched there, by an alpha not his mate infuriates him, even as it sends a shiver of revulsion straight down his spine. “Don’t touch me! Erik is going to—”Shaw barks a laugh, and shoves him face down onto the map, his bound arms scattering figure pieces of the Genoshan army all over the ground. A flare of panic shoots through Charles when Shaw follows him down, his armored bulk pinning him immobile against the unforgiving surface.“Lehnsherr is a little busy at the moment, fighting a war against your stepbrother’s troops in Westchester,” Shaw breathes in his ear, and Charles can feel movement behind him, pieces of armor being unbuckled and then dropped carelessly to the ground. “And though your Captain Munroe will bring him news that his Capital has been razed and his Consort captured, there is nothing he can do about it right now. He can hardly afford to split his forces to mount a rescue, until he finishes dealing with Marko and his rebels. That gives me plenty of time to consolidate my hold over Genosha…” He pauses to press a kiss to the nape of Charles’ neck, chuckling when Charles tries to jerk away and adds, “…and plenty of time to take back what should have been mine in the first place.”“I was never yours, you bastard, no matter what my stepfather told you,” he snarls, straining against his bonds as Shaw runs a greedy hand down his flank, slipping under his tunic to brush against his skin. “Kill me, if you have even an ounce of decency left in you, Sebastian Shaw. I would rather die a thousand times than have you make a mockery of my marriage vows.”The bastard merely laughs, chuckling merrily as he strips Charles of his tunic and trousers, the sound of fabric being ripped overly loud in the enclosed space. “Kill you, my boy? You think I’d let you get away that easily? After waiting so very long for just this moment? No, Charles, I won’t be giving you the death you so crave. I intend to take you as my Consort, to warm my bed and bear my children.”Death, he thinks, would indeed have been the kinder fate, Charles' mind reeling from what he knows now to be inevitable – his violation at the hands of the man who’d murdered his friends and subjugated his people. He resolves not to give Shaw the satisfaction of a futile struggle though, knowing well that it would only serve to feed the man’s cruelty and fuel his lust.He can’t hold back the flinch when thick fingers brush his opening and then sinks in deep, wet with nothing but a little spit to ease the way. It’s clear that Shaw cares not at all for his comfort, as he spares no more than a few quick thrusts to ready him, eager as he is to stake his claim.And then Shaw is clutching his hips and slowly pushing in; short, staccato bursts that force Charles to grit his teeth against the searing pain. It only gets worse when Shaw stills and then shoves all the way in, bottoming out, groaning so loudly there can be no question what the King of Lyr is doing to his royal prisoner.He doesn’t know how long it goes on, bent over and his legs spread wide, the desk rocking precariously under the weight of Shaw’s harsh, ruthless pounding. The pain dulls once he begins to ooze with slick, triggered by his own body’s natural response to the mounting. His breath hitches with every brutal thrust of Shaw’s cock - in and then out, in again, then out; his heart beating too fast to the rhythmic creak of the wooden hinges; all of it in concert with the slap slap of skin against skin and the huff huff of the man's harsh panting. “What a delight you are,” Shaw murmurs, kissing Charles as he rapes him, caressing his nipples, his cock, every bit of bared flesh he can reach with rough, covetous hands. “No wonder Lehnsherr stole you away from me. But don’t worry…I intend to make up for all that lost time.”He stiffens at the mention of Erik, his face heating with unjustified shame. It’s not his fault that Shaw is a monster, and that he’s being taken against his will, and yet he can’t help but think of his mate’s reaction; his face once he receives news of Charles’ capture……and what will run through his mind when he understands the implication; of Shaw taking Charles for his own, fucking him and breeding him while he’s hundreds of miles away.There are more words from Shaw, whispers against his ear, endearments laced with poison as he hauls Charles tighter, moaning with giddy pleasure as he picks up the pace. It’s rough, bordering on vicious now as Shaw pistons his hips, his breathing going ever more ragged as he nears his completion. Charles’ own vision is starting to go dim and hazy, his legs threatening to give out from being brutalized for what feels like an eternity...Abruptly, Shaw lets out a curse as he shoves in deep, knot swelling hard and thick as his whole body stiffens. Charles gasps for breath at the sudden stretch, fingers digging into the wood at the feel of it; great spurts of hot seed filling him up, flooding his insides to overflowing. He's angry and humiliated and full of self loathing; doubly so when Shaw collapses on top of him in a boneless heap, lust sated and revenge complete.Shaw comes a second time long moments later, with Charles still bent over the desk as they both wait for the knot to subside. The map is stained with streaks of sweat and spend leaking from his body, yet more evidence of the violence he's endured at Shaw's hands. Exhaustion pulls at his senses, dragging him under, as does the creeping lethargy from being knotted, threatening to lull him to sleep.He jolts back to awareness when a voice calls out for Shaw, asking for permission to enter. “Come in.”Mortified at being seen like this - naked and spread over the desk like a common whore, still tied to his enemy – Charles scrambles to get up and cover himself, inadvertently clenching hard around a silent Shaw. He’s immediately shoved back in place by a hand wrapped around his neck, and Charles has no choice but to stop struggling, unwilling to make the scene worse by drawing more attention to his helpless state.Instead he closes his eyes and refuses to react, when Shaw groans and starts spurting a third time, hands kneading the exposed flesh of Charles’ arse cheeks.“Report.”“Your Majesty, there are six left alive from His Highness’ personal guard. We’ve treated their wounds as ordered.”Shaw hums softly in reply, patting his arse fondly like a rider with his prized mare. Charles swears he’s going to find a way – someday, somehow - to wrench the bastard’s black heart from his decapitated body. “Good. Anyone of note?”“Captain Howlett. Summers and MacTaggert. The other three are just rank and file soldiers stationed at the Keep.”“Thank you, my good man. Tell General Azazel to ready the troops. We’ll be heading back to Hammer Bay at first light.”“Yes, Your Majesty.”Once they’re alone again, and his knot finally shrinks, Shaw pulls out of him with a shuddering sigh. He runs a thumb along Charles’ opening, intimate and possessive, fingers dragging through the seed leaking steadily down his thighs. Then he hauls Charles up again and lifts him into his arms, the very picture of a doting lover as he carries Charles back over to the bed.“We return to the Keep tomorrow,” Shaw whispers, as he climbs in after him, wrapping his arms around Charles and pulling him close, draping a gold embossed quilt over their bodies with gentleness and great care. “And then we’ll be married, in a week’s time. Though I am rather anxious to see you rounded with child, sweet Charles, so we’ll be sure to make the most of our time here on the road.”“You cannot think that I will truly submit to you?” Charles answers, shuddering as Shaw nuzzles his bond mark again, squeezing his hip. “Erik will come for me—”“He will try, yes—”“—and if he cannot, then I would sooner slit my own throat than carry your child in my womb.”Instead of being angry, his words only seem to inflame his captor, as Shaw takes his mouth in a deep, bruising kiss that leaves them both a little winded.“You will not," Shaw answers, tone serene and unaffected, entirely at odds with the threat in his words, "or I will skin your guards alive, and feed their innards to the dogs. Every time you disobey me I will pluck out an eye or cut off a tongue, or lop off a finger from one of your loyal friends. You will be a good, obedient omega and do as I command, or I shall feed their flesh to you for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Do you understand, Charles?”He clenches his eyes closed, and takes a deep breath. “Yes.”“Good, good,” Shaw praises, kissing him once more, and Charles is too numb – and too horrified – to pull away from the unwanted affection. “Sleep and get some rest. You’ll feel better in the morning, my boy. Once you accept the way of things. Once you realize...”“Realize?” Charles breathes.Shaw chuckles, his words dripping with satisfaction as he cards a hand through Charles’ sweat matted hair. “That you’re mine. And I’m never going to let you go.”
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In the morning Charles wakes to Shaw sprawled on top of him, thumb brushing his cheek, thrusting leisurely into his body still wet and full with seed. Instinctively he arches, and Shaw groans, before capturing his lips unexpectedly in a soft, languid kiss. The tenderness jars and confuses him – so starkly different from his previous cruelty - enough to forget himself and yield readily to the alpha’s touch. His captor moans and hilts himself, pleased by the compliance, and presses more kisses to Charles’ exposed flesh, mouthing at the tender purple bruises left by his own rough handling. Both the horror and the shame returns full force, only after Charles is filled and knotted once more, with proof of his own climax smeared all over Shaw’s hand.“I hate you,” he says with every fiber of his being, when Shaw pulls out with a sigh, and replaces his prick with a large plug to seal in his spend. “I won’t rest until I kill you for what you’ve done.”“Oh my boy,” Shaw answers, as he rubs a soothing balm onto the rope burns all over Charles’ newly freed wrists. “Indeed I’d expect nothing less.”He’s forced to wear new clothing in Shaw’s colours, and to sit before the man on his horse as they begin their journey back towards the Capital. It’s a clear enough message for all who see them; that Charles belongs now to Sebastian Shaw, along with the rest of the fallen kingdom. They come upon many Genoshans on the road - all of them fearful and resigned – concerned for their Consort’s safety and their own uncertain futures.Charles can’t quite bring himself to look upon the faces of Logan and the other survivors, to see their horror and pity over his unspeakable fate.It takes six days for the troops to march back to Hammer Bay, and - true to his word – Shaw uses Charles as often as he can on the road. There’s no end to the alpha’s lust as he fucks Charles each morning, legs over his shoulders as he pushes in deep, driving moans and ragged breaths from his reluctant quarry. When they stop mid-day he’s shoved onto his hands and knees, Shaw pounding him mercilessly on the hard ground, unseen but not unheard by the soldiers taking their noon meal just a few feet away. At night Charles is treated to hours upon hours of unwanted attention - sometimes a gentle, slow exploration as Shaw maps his body, uncovering hidden secrets to his pleasure; other times a more obvious punishment, rough hands and teeth marking him black and blue, his defilement made plain for all to see.And all the while Shaw fills him with more seed, day after day and night after night, making Charles’ belly swell outwards as though he were already heavy with child. He is uncomfortably full and constantly stimulated, the sway of the horse rubbing rhythmically against the plug he must wear now at all times. More than once Shaw strokes him to a climax as they canter ahead, chuckling afterwards as he licks the spend off his persistent, questing fingers.He refuses, the first time Shaw tries to use his mouth, threatening to bite if the alpha persists with the indignity. Shaw smiles benignly and brushes his cheek, and then orders his men to fetch one of Charles’ remaining retinue. They bring Frederick – only seventeen, not much older than a boy - who can’t help but tremble in fear at the sight of their captor up close. The King does not speak to him, nor does he answer Charles’ queries; he merely draws his great sword and stabs Frederick in the gut, watching with cold eyes as the boy slowly bleeds to death all over the tent floor.That night Shaw lets his General watch as Charles is made to capitulate, shame burning him even as it turns his insides to ice. Azazel stands off to the side as he’s pushed to his knees, expression dispassionate though the man’s pupils widen at the sight. Those cunning eyes devour every inch of him, raking over his skin, as tangible as the slow drag of the King’s thumb against his pursed lips. He’s never felt filthier or more exposed, his naked body on display at Shaw’s will and Shaw’s command. “Look at me. Open your mouth.”He shudders, trying not to gag when Shaw slides his cock all the way in, hitting the back of Charles’ throat. No enthusiasm is expected of him at least and the barest of cooperation, for Shaw merely uses his mouth the way he’s been using Charles’ hole; fucking it brutally to sate his seemingly insatiable appetite. His eyes start to well almost immediately from the force of it, hands gripping his head to hold him still, the flesh in his mouth hot and hard and utterly relentless—A soft intake of breath reminds Charles of their audience; that Azazel is with them inside the tent, watching him gag around Shaw’s length, saliva pooling and dribbling from his mouth as he clutches involuntarily at the man’s thighs. That Shaw’s General is bearing witness to his debasement at his enemy’s hands, no doubt being painfully aroused by Charles’ abject humiliation.“Good,” Shaw murmurs, pulling away just a little so Charles can breathe again without choking. “I would feed you myself, dear boy, but my seed is needed elsewhere. Perhaps Azazel would be kind enough to assist with your lesson? There must be consequences after all, to your continued disobedience.” He’s lifted up and off his knees, his throat sore and eyes still wet, and dumped face down without warning onto the bed. Like a rebellious child in need of discipline, Shaw proceeds to spank him, until his buttocks are throbbing white hot from the sting. The loud slaps mask the whimpers he can’t quite stifle, while the shock of being so handled stuns him in place. He was a child of ten the last time he’d been in such an ignoble position, when his father had caught him sneaking alone off the castle’s grounds. It’s the most helpless he’s ever felt, so much worse than when his stepfather had first promised his hand in marriage to the King of Lyr.Charles shudders and closes his eyes, as Shaw hauls him roughly onto his hands and knees. He can feel Shaw’s unbridled glee as he slides the plug impatiently from Charles’ body; can practically see the smug curl of the alpha’s lips at the reveal, that he’s dripping wet and primed for mounting.And it rocks him to the core, how much it doesn’t hurt, or feel strange or unfamiliar any longer when Shaw buries himself all the way to the hilt.He moans, the intensity of being breached and splayed open driving a shudder of unwanted pleasure straight down his spine. It is far worse than the pain, being made to enjoy his own ruin, and yet Charles can’t help but arch back against every thrust as Shaw loudly and forcefully stakes his claim.“Azazel, take his mouth.”“No!”He’s beyond horrified, blood running cold at the thought of being shared like a common whore with one of Shaw’s men. He tries to pull away even as Shaw clutches at his hips, barely holding back a scream when a rough hand yanks his head back by the roots of his hair. The vicious sting of sharp teeth, so close - too close - to his bonding mark makes Charles’ whole body tense, his cunt clenching inadvertently around Shaw’s hard prick. “Yes,” the man counters, heedless of Charles’ objection, his strokes harsh but steady as his captive struggles beneath him, “you belong to me now, not that pitiful boy king, and you will learn to obey my every command. I decide who gets to use you for pleasure; whether it's your mouth or your delightful cunt. You will learn this lesson well, Your Highness, or I shall peel the skin off your vaunted Captain Howlett, one piece at a time, or remove MacTaggert's sharp tongue and pretty brown eyes from her head.”Charles is beyond livid and too proud to cry, though his own helplessness weighs on him like an anchor, dragging him to the deepest depths of despair. He knows his friends would rather die than see Charles suffer at Shaw’s hands; would willingly endure torture out of loyalty and friendship to the Crown Prince they’ve followed since he was a boy in Westchester. For this, and for his own conscience he realizes he has no choice – and hasn’t since the very moment he was captured – but to do exactly as the King of Lyr demands.The bastard has the audacity to chuckle, the moment he feels Charles acquiesce, sagging on his hands and knees as he’s pummeled, splayed wide and vulnerable across the bed spread. There‘ll be no escape from this, tonight or any hereafter, so long as Shaw means to keep him alive and force his compliance by holding his loved ones hostage.Azazel approaches slowly, eyes darting between Charles’ face and his arse, to where Shaw’s hands have shifted from his hips to pull his cheeks further apart. The look on his face is full of trepidation yet filled with lust, and no small amount of worship as he moves to stand at the edge of the bed. It’s worse, Charles thinks, to be the object of such veneration; to feel any tenderness or awe from yet another who takes satisfaction without consent.He closes his eyes, though he can’t shut out the clank of armor being shifted, as Azazel pulls himself loose from his trousers; nor can he ignore the sound of Shaw’s pleasure, the huff of his breath and the slap slap of flesh against flesh. A hand caresses his cheek with tenderness, making him shiver, before the tip of another cock is pressing incessantly against his lips.Charles opens his mouth and takes Azazel in.They fuck him together, one on each end, Shaw on the bed with him while Azazel stands with his feet planted on the ground. What would it look like to see him thus? If the men just beyond the thin walls of the tent could witness the scene? An omega on his hands and knees, mouth and cunt full as he’s jostled back and forth between two alphas? What would Erik think? To know what had befallen Charles? His Consort reduced to such degradation by a man he once called mentor and friend?He cries out when it happens, when the knot catches and swells and ties him to Shaw, filling and warming Charles’ insides with his spend. There is so much of it, and Charles is already overfull, forced to carry days’ worth of Shaw’s seed to facilitate conception. But even that is preferable to what happens next, when Azazel groans and comes in his mouth, spurting his own release down Charles’ throat.“Swallow it,” Shaw orders, “every drop. Or I shall bring in another, to continue the lesson.”Not for the first time does Charles wish it with his whole heart; that he had been the one to die at Shaw’s hand instead of Sean Cassidy, mere nights ago at the river crossing.Azazel pulls out once Charles forces it all down, trying not to gag at the bitter taste that stays coating his tongue. Unwittingly, he looks up at Azazel and recoils at the expression on his face; the General’s eyes are glazed over with reverence and gratitude, looking seconds away from throwing himself prostrate at Charles’ feet.“Thank you, Your Highness,” he says, with utter sincerity, thanking Charles for the privilege of violating him at Shaw’s command. “And Your Majesty, for this great honor.”“A boon well deserved for my trusted General,” Shaw answers, reaching down to cup Charles’ half hard prick in his hand. “You may give him his release now if you wish, to show your appreciation.”And so Charles is denied even this smallest of choices, as Azazel takes him gently if firmly in hand, and strokes him to the rhythm of Shaw’s pulsing knot. He comes moments later with a gasp, spilling all over Azazel’s hand, as Shaw rocks his hips and shoots another load into his sore and aching body. Shaw stays in position until Azazel leaves, even as his knot subsides, and the seed starts leaking freely down Charles’ thighs. The plug is replaced as soon as Shaw pulls out, and then he’s laid gently down on his side, and made to suffer the tender administrations of his captor as he’s wiped clean and then tucked into bed.“Do you truly hate me so much,” he asks, unable to endure in silence any longer, “that you would humiliate me so? Is it not bad enough that you force yourself on me against my will, that you would also let others use me thus? I know it was a great insult to your pride, that I eloped with Erik when I’d been promised to you, but Sebastian…how could you claim you ever truly cared for me, and then reduce us – reduce me to this?”For a moment Charles thinks he sees a glimmer of something in Shaw’s eyes; not remorse no, but perhaps some small sorrow over the bonds that once existed between them all. But it's there and gone again in a flash, and Shaw pulls Charles against him, wrapping an arm possessively around his waist.“I’m a man of my word,” Shaw answers, ignoring Charles’ enquiries, or the mention of old ties sundered by betrayal. “I promised then, that I would marry you and keep you, and nothing - and no one - will take you away again.”
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The door to the Throne Room is barely closed behind them before Erik draws his sword and levels it at Munroe’s throat.“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand, Captain,” he breathes, his entire body shaking from fury and unadulterated fear. “How dare you come before me without the man you swore to protect? How dare you come here, alive and whole, and tell me that my Consort might be dead?”Frost takes a hesitant step forward, but doesn’t intervene. “Your Majesty. The Captain—”“Silence!”To her credit, Munroe doesn’t flinch or shy away, expression blank as she takes in the full force of Erik’s ire. “I should be dead, Your Majesty, for failing to protect the Consort. My last duty was to follow his orders and safely deliver our people to Westchester. And now that I’ve fulfilled it…I shall ask for no mercy. I can only tell you that I’m sorry, and I would gladly give my life a hundred times over if it meant His Highness’ safe return.”It would be so easy, to remove her head from her shoulders with a sweep of his sword; a fitting punishment for abandoning Charles to an ignoble fate. There is no doubt in Erik’s mind that his Consort is still alive, no matter the circumstances that led to the standoff at Dunfield; Shaw’s pride would never allow Charles the dignity of a clean death.Nor would he give up the opportunity to destroy Erik - utterly and completely - by taking his heart away.He lowers his sword and Munroe kneels promptly at his feet, her eyes welling with unshed tears. Erik knows they are borne of sorrow and not fear; knows Charles well enough to deduce what had transpired that night, and the impossible situation he’d put his Captain in by ordering her away. It does not move him enough to forgive her - for none of the lives saved can ever compare to his Consort’s wellbeing - but her death serves no purpose now beyond giving Erik a way to vent his helpless anger.“You will die, Captain,” he says, “but not today. You will bring Charles home or you will die in the trying. You will live and you will fight and you will sacrifice everything to save him or so help me, Ororo Munroe, you’ll regret that I didn’t give you the death you asked of me today.”He does not wait for a reply, and turns his attention now to the others in the room; his General, Emma Frost, silent and unflappable in the face of Erik’s white hot rage, and Charles’ sister, Raven Xavier, Regent of Westchester in Charles’ place.“Half of the troops will stay here under Emma’s command while I march back to the Capital and deal with Shaw. It will mean a longer war with Marko yes but I don’t think that’ll be—”“No, Erik,” Raven interrupts, reaching to take him by the hand and dragging him to the nearest chair. “I know you’re angry, and you’re afraid for Charles but you can’t just go running off without a solid plan.”He shrugs her hand off with a snarl. “I do have a plan! I’m going to retake Hammer Bay and the rest of Genosha and kill that bastard Shaw with my bare hands! And I won’t rest until my Consort – your brother – is safe in my arms again!”“Yes he’s my brother and I love him too,” Raven snaps, “but we are in the middle of a war here! You cannot split your troops in half and expect to win! Against Cain Marko or Sebastian Shaw! As soon as you’re distracted, Cain will rally his men and try to retake Graymalkin, and if he succeeds you will find yourself trapped between two enemies! We must gather information and organize—”“And leave Charles to deal with Shaw on his own? Are you mad? Do you have any idea what he’s going to do to him? What he’s already doing…”He can’t finish the sentence, his throat catching at the words, the pain almost visceral as his mind conjures the images; his beloved at Shaw’s mercy, being stripped and violated while Erik discusses strategies and tactics half a continent away.“He’ll be expecting you,” Emma says, and her voice - devoid of the frustration that threatens to cloud both Erik’s and Raven’s arguments - manages to corral his temper just a little. “He knows how much Charles means to you. He’s counting on you to drop everything here in Westchester to get him back. Hammer Bay will be stationed now with the bulk of Shaw’s men, and those like Essex and Trask who helped him mastermind the attack. It’s likely that Marko’s rebellion here was instigated by Shaw or his allies in the first place, to divert you from Genosha while he marched his armies into your lands. If you go now you will walk into a trap and you will lose, and Genosha, and Westchester, will be Shaw’s for the taking.”“I can’t just do nothing. I can’t! Don’t you understand what will happen to Charles if we just leave him with Shaw? He…he’s going to…”This time he allows it, when Raven gently takes his hand. “He’ll survive, and he’ll come back to us. To you. Whatever happens…Charles is strong, Erik. And he needs us to be strong too.”“And we won’t be doing nothing,” Emma adds, as she too rests an armored glove on his shoulder in an uncharacteristic show of feeling. “I’ve already sent Lieutenant Pryde to gather information on the battle at Dunfield and the status of the Consort and any survivors. Once we have her report we can determine how to engage with Shaw; whether we send someone with an offer to negotiate for the Consort’s safe return. In the meantime, we shall quash Marko’s forces once and for all, so we can bring the full weight of Genosha’s might upon our enemy’s head.”It’s not in Erik’s nature to choose patient plotting over action, and it does not sit well with him now, to wait while every moment that passes is another moment of suffering for his Consort. But Charles would be the first to counsel caution and prioritizing the welfare of their people, and he cannot rightly toss aside his responsibilities as King even if his entire being is telling him to fight through fire and brimstone to get to his mate.“Captain,” he says, and Munroe jumps instantly to attention, hungry for a chance at redemption. “Go with Summers to the front line. I want you to bring me Cain Marko’s head.”“Yes, Your Majesty,” she answers, bowing deep before turning briskly to follow orders. Erik appreciates the lack of any grand promise of success; he knows she will complete the task or die in the attempt.“Come then, let us retire to my quarters,” he says, once the three of them are alone, and the anger has burned away to an ache that threatens to swallow him whole. “We need ale and lots of it…and a plan to bury Sebastian Shaw, once and for all.”
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Their return to the Capital is a grand affair, with many Genoshans – most rounded up on Shaw’s orders, while others come on their own to gawk - lining the streets as they parade slowly towards Lehnsherr Keep. Shaw smiles and waves from the top of his horse, one arm wrapped securely around Charles’ waist, while his men rain great handfuls of gold coins into the crowd. It’s galling, when so much of the city still lays in ruin, damage wrought by Shaw’s army as Charles’ own forces were overrun.He never expected to return like this to own home, being led like chattel into the Grand Hall, where he and Erik sat together only months ago as they held Court. The space is filled now with Shaw’s people, along with the traitors who turned against their own; Lords Trask and Essex, tasked by Erik to protect Genosha and his Consort while he went off to war. Though Trask’s betrayal came as a surprise, Essex’s did not, the man’s presence now a stinging reminder of how Charles’ inaction led to his own downfall.“Your Majesty,” Essex says, and the two bow low to Shaw, stirring the smoking embers of Charles’ anger into a fiery blaze. “Welcome back. And I see congratulations are in order, as you’ve managed to bring His Highness home where he belongs.”“Oh yes,” Shaw answers with a laugh, his hand curled around Charles’ bicep like a vice. “It took rather a lot of convincing, to get Charles to come home, though I do believe that we’ve come to an understanding at last.”Pretty words that clearly belie the pitiful picture he paints, with bruises dotting his skin and his belly rounded from Shaw’s seed. At least Trask has the decency to look uncomfortable, faced with the physical signs of his violation; Essex merely leers at him with glee, seeming to revel in his humiliation.The dagger in Shaw’s belt – easily within his reach – calls out to him, demanding blood and retribution.Charles clenches his hands into his tunic, and takes a deep breath.“Yes,” Essex agrees, his eyes glued to the ring of bruises around Charles’ neck, “it’s obvious that His Highness has been well convinced.” He takes a step closer, smirking as he whispers, “And I’ll bet you enjoyed it too, didn’t you? Being convinced.”Charles smiles at him in reply. “No, but this, I will quite enjoy.”It happens all at once; Charles rips the dagger from its sheath – someone screams – and then Essex is blinking in shock as streaks of red spurt from the sudden gash that appears at his throat. He gurgles a little before toppling over with a dull thud, eyes wide in disbelief as he collapses lifeless at Shaw’s feet.Only then does Charles let the stolen blade fall to the floor with a clatter.For long moments there is only stunned silence, all eyes – and weapons – pointed at Charles in confusion and muted fear, before Shaw’s laughter cuts through the thick tension, the sound echoing like thunder through the quiet hall.“Brilliant,” Shaw says, his voice full of honest pride as he presses a kiss to Charles’ hand, “I have never seen such precise knife work, and at such lightning speed! Woe to any who underestimate you, dear boy, lest they suffer the same fate.”The words would be mocking, if the man wasn’t so painfully sincere; a frank acknowledgement of Charles’ formidable skills owed ironically in part to Shaw’s teachings from long ago. It’s also clear that Shaw fears not at all for his own life, confident in his martial prowess and his complete hold over his prisoner. They both know that Charles lives only because Shaw wills it so, his life weighed against Essex’s and deemed the more valuable.Neither Charles nor Shaw spare a second look at the prone body on the ground, continuing their way through the Keep towards their destination; to his own quarters which would now serve as his prison. It hurts to walk the familiar steps that he and Erik have taken so many times before, into a place that was their private sanctuary from the rigors of court.They barely make it through the door before Shaw kisses him roughly, shoving him onto his own marriage bed with an impatient growl.“I’ve dreamed of doing this for days,” Shaw whispers, careless as he tugs the clothing off Charles’ body, heedless of the servants still bustling out of the room and the guards watching from their position at the door. “Taking you here, in Lehnsherr’s bed…what poetic justice for the indignities I’ve suffered from you both.”It doesn’t hurt when Shaw slams in, not anymore, not with the frequency in which Charles is being used, his body slowly acclimating to the touch of an alpha not his husband. He hates that he gets slick as soon as Shaw lays his hands on his naked skin, and the moan that he can’t bite back when Shaw’s cock burrows in deep, thrusting and rubbing and splaying him open. It doesn’t even matter that the guards can see everything from the still open door; the way Charles arches against his captor as he’s fucked, legs wrapping around Shaw’s waist as he’s pounded ruthlessly against the soft bedding.He shudders when Shaw’s knot slots into place, his mind supplying the image of Erik above him on their wedding night, whispering sweet endearments to Charles as his insides are filled with another man’s come. “Have you sated your lust for revenge now?” he asks, after Shaw spurts twice more, bitter wretchedness choking his every word. “Now that you’ve raped me in my husband’s bed…has your pride been assuaged, Sebastian? Will you let me go, now that I have reaped the consequences of my flight from our wedding day?”He feels Shaw’s arms tighten around him, and then lips nuzzling indulgently against his neck, sending a shiver down his spine when Shaw brushes a kiss over his bonding scar. “Things will only be made right once we are properly married, dear Charles. You were promised to me, and I intend to hold you to that promise, no matter that it took years to make it happen. Our wedding will be in three days time—”“You’re mad! I’m already married! You can’t just—”“—and then I will consider your debt paid, though a child of our blood will do much to make amends for your betrayal.”“I will not bear a child for you,” he snarls, even as his stomach sinks at the likelihood that he is already pregnant. Twelve days ago he’d fled the Capital with his people and nothing but a sword in hand, and none of the herbs he’s been taking to prevent conception. How ironic that his decision with Erik to put off starting a family would garner such an unforeseen result; that Charles’ first would most definitely be Shaw’s, bred and borne against his will. “I would sooner throw myself from the top of the tower than carry your demon spawn.”Expecting a strike or vicious backhand, he’s startled instead by Shaw’s barking laugh, unbearably gentle as he pulls his knot loose, the sticky spend marking him indelibly as it oozes down his thigh. “You’re right. I shouldn’t underestimate you should I, Charles? Neither your iron will, or the viciousness with which you fight back. Remember that you brought this on yourself, dear boy, and do not think that I’m being cruel to you merely out of spite.”With that Shaw leaves him alone, naked and spent, locking the doors behind him as he exits the room. The threat of those parting words linger in his mind, even as Charles drags himself upright, and makes his way slowly through his quarters. He grows more distraught as realization dawns, with every chest and every shelf found emptied of all their things; of Charles’ and Erik’s life stripped bare from existence.As though their marriage itself is - and has ever been - no more than a dream.But it is not until the next morning that he fully understands Shaw’s meaning; of the lengths he will go to keep Charles from attempting an escape, or to harm himself in the process—All of Charles’ clothing has been taken and stowed away, as well as any blankets he might have used to cover his nudity. And on his ankle is a golden cuff, tied to a length of golden chain, keeping him naked and tethered - like a pet, like a broodmare - to the bed.He lets the tears fall then, praying desperately for Erik; for his husband to come and find him and take him from this nightmare.It is a prayer Charles knows will go unheard and unanswered.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The next three days are the worst of Charles’ life, as he waits for the impending ‘wedding’ with mounting dread, akin to a prisoner nearing his date of execution. Humiliation springs anew each time a servant comes in at Shaw’s behest, bearing sumptuous meals or drawing luxurious bathes in a great wooden tub brought in especially for Charles. And though well pampered by a slew of obliging servants, he is still perpetually nude and chained to the bed, with guards standing constant vigil outside his door. More than once Charles contemplates wrapping the hefty chain around his own neck, with only his faith in Erik and unwillingness to abandon his friends keeping him from ending his torment.He discovers the exact length of his restraints on the first day, not long after Shaw’s departure, dragging the golden links away from the bed and towards the locked doors. There’s enough of it for Charles to get within a foot of the exit, and he can even reach the handle with his outstretched arm. But it also gets him near enough to hear the guards speaking outside his room, discerning at least three, if not four distinct voices in conversation.It’s sufficient to crush all hopes of getting away, for even if Charles could somehow free himself and ignore his nude state, he cannot possibly overpower all four guards without alerting any others – or Shaw – to his attempted escape.And truthfully, he cannot abide more alphas in his presence, after the banter he overhears from the ones outside his door.
“If you ask me, no omega is worth this much trouble! Going to war, all the men we’ve lost..for what? I just don’t get it.”
“Maybe his cunt is magic, Collins. I mean, it certainly sounds like it. His Majesty’s been fucking the bitch non-stop since we caught him.”
“And he’s been begging for it like a silver-penny whore, moaning every time he gets a cock in him—"
“Bullshit! How would you even know something like that?"
“He’s a slut. And all sluts just want to get fucked all the time. Shoulda heard him on the road…didn’t matter that it was the King, and not his own husband doing the fucking.”
“Bet he likes it rough and dirty—”
“Bet he likes being tied up and forced—"
“You think the King’ll let us have a go at him too? Once he gets bored?”
“Can you imagine? I’d love to get that pretty bitch on his knees; fuck both ends of him and make him squeal like a pig.”
It’s enough to keep Charles firmly away from the vultures circling at his door. The dreaded event comes upon him in the mere blink of an eye, with Charles being escorted to the banquet by a beaming Shaw, flanked on all sides by the Lyrian Royal Guard. The red silk of his newly crafted robes cling like a second skin, revealing to all eyes the lack of small clothes he wears underneath. Bathed and perfumed and unsullied for the first time in a fortnight, Charles can almost be mistaken for the young virgin he’d been more than seven years ago, when he’d run from Westchester and his betrothed on the eve of their wedding.And now, Shaw means to marry him in these halls, in the same place where he and Erik made vows of love and fidelity and bonds everlasting.The Grand Hall is packed with members of Shaw’s Court, and those of his own forced to surrender after Charles’ humiliating defeat and capture. The Lehnsherr colours have been stripped from the walls and various pillars, and replaced everywhere by Shaw’s heraldry of reds and golds. Nobles sit before tables groaning with an overabundance of food; great platters of beef and boar and roast pheasant stolen from Genoshan citizens to feed their oppressors. Charles can scarcely eat a bite of it as he’s forced to look on from the raised dais, seated on his throne next to a preening Shaw.Largely ignored for much of the evening – for which Charles is almost grateful, given the circumstances – he downs more ale than is probably wise, keen to make things more tolerable with his mind a little muddied with drink. And Shaw is only too happy to help him along, refilling his mug personally with an indulgent smile, only occasionally putting his hand on Charles’ knee or pressing a kiss to the bare skin at his collar. For someone like Shaw it’s almost an understated affair, given the man’s propensity for theatrics, and how he loves to give his audience a good show.Of course he’s proven wrong immediately after, when Shaw beckons the room for silence, and drags Charles up with him onto his feet.“A great wrong has been righted today,” Shaw begins, slinging a possessive arm around Charles’ waist in the parody of a loving embrace. “My omega, stolen from me years ago has finally returned to my side, so that we can be united in marriage as it was always meant to be.” He beams at the raucous shouts and cheers of his nobles, the lot of them stamping their feet and shouting obscenities about the Genoshans and their absent king. He raises a hand again, and with great solemnity adds, “I ask all of you to bear witness with me this night, as I Sebastian Shaw, rightfully claim Charles of Westchester as my lawful mate, in our kingdom’s most sacred tradition.”“Sebastian, what—”The cheers are almost deafening this time, as Shaw pulls him into a ferocious kiss, stealing the breath from his lungs with an almost shocking intensity. In all the time he’s been captive, Charles has never truly been afraid of Shaw, even knowing what kind of man he is, and suffering indignities on a daily basis at his hands. And yet the way he’s looking at Charles now, eyes gleaming like a mad man, as though he would set the world aflame without worry and without thought—In the next instant, Charles finds himself face down on the table with Shaw’s weight on his back, and the collar of his robe being torn clean from his shoulder. He’s stunned, the horror and the inevitability almost too much to wrap his head around; that Shaw means to claim him here, publicly in front of his Court, and strip Charles of every last shred of his pride and his dignity.“No, no!” he shouts, though his protest goes unheard and unheeded by the animated crowd. There is no sympathy to be found in the sea of faces before him, and no one who looks offended on his behalf; only the leering grins of the drunken Lyrians as they shout encouragement for their king. ‘Fuck him,’ he hears, and cries of ‘Genoshan whore’ abound, as Shaw rips his robes to the side and mounts him, his cock prodding against his entrance.Then he grabs Charles roughly by the hair, baring his neck, and sinks his teeth into his bonding mark with a triumphant growl.He screams, furious and appalled as Shaw slams into him, driving the entire length of his shaft into Charles and fucking him open. The bonding mark throbs as he tries desperately to wrench himself free, as Shaw draws blood from the scarred flesh on his shoulder. This can’t really be happening, he thinks, though a part of him had known it was inescapable; that Shaw would sever his mating bond with Erik this way and claim Charles as his own. “You’re mine,” Shaw growls, and Charles can’t deny that it’s true, his blood surging and his skin growing hot, building into a heat that will cement their ripening bond. His body is already primed and gushing with slick, coating Shaw and leaking down his thighs, arousal ramping as their connection intensifies. Each fervent stroke drags him closer to the abyss; every hard thrust of Shaw’s cock pushing him closer to the brink of ruin.When he comes it’s to a chorus of approval from the crowd, to cheers and applause as Shaw knots him, spurting hot and sticky into Charles with a satisfied grunt. The pleasure is intense to the point of overwhelming; he can think of nothing but Shaw’s cock, and Shaw’s knot, and Shaw’s seed filling his cunt.He scarcely notices when Shaw pulls out and then moves to wrap his cloak around a half-naked Charles, before carrying him back to his quarters.And he doesn’t care that it’s Shaw touching him, or clutching his hips; that it’s Shaw he’s taking inside of him, as he bounces up and down his shaft. There’s nothing but heat, and pleasure as he’s fucked and bred; as Shaw takes him again and again, on his knees and on his back, knotting him and filling him and making him scream. Days later when the heat finally dissipates, Shaw reaches to kiss him, and Charles kisses him back.Two months later, Charles gets confirmation of his pregnancy, just as word arrives from Shaw’s scouts at the border –The forces of Genosha are marshalling for war, intent on reclaiming their lands and their beloved Consort.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When scouts report of a wedding in the Capital, between the enemy and his beloved mate, Erik barricades himself in his quarters for two days, unable to bear the whispers and the pitying glances. He cannot face them - his friends or his subjects - after so dismally failing the man he loves, stuck in Westchester battling Marko’s rebel force. Weeks it’s been since Charles had fallen into Shaw’s vile hands; weeks of his husband being violated in the name of lust and revenge.It’s a thousand times worse when two months later, news arrives of Charles’ pregnancy, his womb sheltering their enemy’s first born.Erik drinks and cries and vomits all over himself, then drinks again until he passes out on the cold stone floor.That night he dreams of a pregnant Charles, his belly large with Shaw’s bastard spawn. Erik kisses him, and hugs him tightly to his chest, and cannot fathom why his mate is frantically pushing him away. Charles’ eyes are wide and his face wet with tears, arms wrapped around his abdomen to try and hide his swell. He doesn’t understand until his dream-self unsheathes his longsword, and carves the squalling babe from a screaming Charles’ body.He wakes horrified, entirely sober and wide-eyed, and leads the troops into battle for the first time in days. Dozens, hundreds fall before his blade, until even Erik’s beard is stained dark with blood. Two more days of fighting and they catch up to Marko, who has been moving from camp to camp to evade his men. It’s Munroe who finally drags him into Erik’s tent, kicking and shouting obscenities even with a broken arm and one eye swollen shut.Cain spits on the ground at Erik’s feet, and then starts laughing like a man gone mad. “Ah, Your Majesty, I suppose congratulations are in order!”“It’s a good day, for your capture ends this pointless coup,” he answers, doing his best to keep his temper in check. If not for Cain Marko, Erik would never have left Genosha and his Consort unprotected. Marko will rue the day he turned on his stepsiblings, and tried to steal Westchester’s throne. “You have wasted enough of my time, Marko, and too many lives for naught but your vanity.”Marko cackles, smirking up at him with a gleam in his good eye. “Yes, so much time indeed! Time enough for Shaw to catch his wayward omega! Time for Shaw to finally take back what you stole from him, and breed my pretty stepbrother day and night!”“Shut your vile mouth,” Munroe cries, punching Marko square in the face. “How dare you speak of His Highness that way!”Marko ignores her, though he does not bother to right himself from where he’s fallen onto his side. He and Erik both know that he will not leave this tent alive, so it is pointless to try and beg for mercy. “Do you know, Lehnsherr? What has happened to precious Charles these past few months? Shaw has kept me up to date with regular missives, you know, and made me aware that I’m to be an uncle soon!”Gritting his teeth, Erik snarls, “So, it’s true that you’ve been in league with him this entire time? And that he was the instigator of your pathetic little attempt for the throne?”“Have you not figured it out yet, Your Majesty?” Cain says with a derisive laugh. “He sent me troops and supplies to draw out our war. He promised to give me Westchester once he’d taken Genosha. I only needed to keep you busy, so he could claim sweet Charles and put a babe in his womb.”“You monster—"“Stop.”He waves an enraged Munroe away and takes a step towards Marko. Unsheathing his sword, Erik presses it against the traitor’s neck and draws enough blood to make him hiss. “Give me something useful about Shaw, and I shall grant you a clean death.”Cain chuckles. “Shaw fucked your husband over the table at their wedding feast, and he came for the crowd like a silver-penny whore.”In the next instant, Marko’s head lands three feet from his body, as blinding rage consumes Erik and threatens to overwhelm him. He struggles not to lash out as Munroe and his guards look on, stunned and horrified by Marko’s poisonous words.He wants to kill every single person in the vicinity, to ensure that Marko’s lies don’t spread and sully Charles’ good name.Instead, he dismisses them all from his presence, watching dispassionately as they drag Marko’s headless corpse from his view.“Captain.” He turns to Ororo once they’re alone, and he’s regained some semblance of control over his emotions. With Marko gone and the rebellion crushed, it’s finally time to deal with Shaw once and for all. “Interrogate his men and find out how they’ve been communicating with Shaw. I want a way to get a message to Charles…I don’t care what we have to do; bribe or threaten if you must. Just make it happen.”“Yes, Your Majesty.”“Oh, and Captain?” he adds, grabbing the pitcher of ale on his desk and downing half of it in one go. “I will have you, and everyone that was in here drawn and quartered, if I hear even one word of Marko’s filth spoken beyond these four walls.”Munroe nods. “Understood, Your Majesty.”He takes another long drink, and thinks of Shaw, and Charles, and the baby that should have been his.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Charles is waiting patiently in the castle’s secluded Rose Garden, where he’s agreed to meet with the visiting Genoshan Crown Prince. His heart beats wildly and his skin flushes hot, so eager is he to see Erik again. They have shared too little time together since his arrival in Westchester, with only a few stolen moments away from prying eyes. And Erik has only kissed him once since his birthday and coming of age, insisting that he would do nothing to damage Charles’ reputation until the two could be wed.
“Ah, Your Highness, there you are.”
He jumps, not expecting anyone but Erik to find him in their meeting place. Recognizing the intruder as Sebastian Shaw only makes it worse, as the King of Lyr’s age and reputation has Charles feeling like an awkward child in comparison.
“Your Majesty,” he says with a slight bow. “Were you looking for me?”
The King smiles, his grin wide and affable, as though he’s pleased indeed to be speaking to Charles. “Yes. Your stepfather said you would be here, enjoying the roses in bloom. I see now that he did not lead me astray.”
Inwardly he panics, thinking that Kurt has somehow discovered his plans to see Erik, though he does his best not to let his dismay appear obvious to Shaw. “Indeed…is there something you wanted, Your Majesty?”
If anything, his question prompts an even wider smile from the King. “There is indeed something,” he says, offering Charles a velvet box with a flourish. “We have only just come to the agreement, your stepfather and I, but I wanted to tell you the happy news myself.”
Inside the box is a sparkling gold ring, with a beautiful blue gem the color of the sky. It is stunning, and very likely a priceless heirloom, and Charles is horrified by the implication and what it might mean for his future--
“You…what…?”
“This belonged to my mother,” Shaw says, beaming as he slips the ring onto Charles’ finger. “What luck that it should match the color of your eyes! You, who is to become my Consort and rule at my side?”
“But I don’t love you,” he blurts, too stunned to mind his words or his manners. He’s barely able to refrain from yanking his hand away and ripping the ring off his finger. Instead, he forces himself to stay still and let the King slowly stroke his hand, knowing already that he’s too late to stop Kurt’s machinations. “Do you not want to marry someone you love, who will love you in turn?”
Shaw merely laughs, and presses a fervent kiss to his trembling fingers. “Love is rarely required for a good marriage,” he says, “but you needn’t worry about us. You have my heart in your grasp already, fair prince, and you’ll come to feel the same way about me, soon enough.”
Then, without warning or Charles’ consent, the King sweeps him into a kiss that threatens to drown him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Charles wakes to the press of a warm body, familiar lips brushing a soft kiss against the shell of his ear. The room is dark and the hour late, though he is used to being woken at all hours to service his mate.“Yes, good my love, now spread your legs.”His belly is big enough that Shaw can no longer mount him from above, but not yet awkward enough that he must lay only on his side. Shaw likes it most when Charles sits on his lap, bucking up and down his thick length with the man’s hands on his hips. His own preference is to be taken from behind on his hands and knees, speared by alpha cock until he shudders and comes. It’s easier to pretend, when Charles can’t see a face; easier to imagine Erik’s hands and Erik’s mouth and Erik’s prick fucking him open.Tonight though, Shaw is keen to pleasure him with his mouth, and Charles can’t help but moan when a hot tongue starts licking his hole.“Oh…oh.”The need has become insatiable since his fourth month of pregnancy, and Charles has stopped trying to escape Shaw’s constant advances. Now he leans into the kisses and moans at his touch, and willingly clenches around the length of his prick. Between the new bond mark and the child that he carries, Charles has little control over his libido or his growing body.It matters not how much his mind rebels at the mere thought of wanting Shaw - he craves only the alpha’s presence at his side, and his distinctive scent clinging to every last inch of his body.Every day he becomes more and more entangled in Sebastian’s web, his life impossibly tied to the King of Lyr.And he has long stopped hoping for a rescue, or believing that his relationship with Erik hasn’t been irrevocably changed.“You taste like heaven,” Shaw murmurs, as Charles shudders and clenches around his tongue and his fingers. “Fragrant as the first nectar of spring.”Sweet words have not made Charles forget the cruelty he inflicted; of the weeks and months where he suffered indignities at his captor’s hands. How it felt to be humiliated and raped repeatedly by Sebastian, and chained like an animal to his bed. Though he will acknowledge that things have changed for the better since Shaw cemented his claim, and that he treats Charles now with a modicum of dignity befitting a proper mate.He wonders, how he can be so doting and affectionate on one hand, and yet be the same man who forced him to service his General, and ravage him publicly on their ‘wedding’ day?“How are you feeling, my sweet?” Shaw asks, holding him tight as Charles gasps and comes on his fingers. He kisses Charles with his mouth dripping with slick, erection rubbing enticingly between the cleft of his ass cheeks. “Will that satisfy you until morning?”“No, I—” He stops, and flushes when Shaw smirks and plants soft kisses on his belly, already helping Charles turn over and settle on his hands and knees. His pride will not allow him to ask Shaw for sex, though his arousal is clear enough without need for words. It’s useless, trying to hide the way Shaw’s touch affects him and makes him weak, and impossible not to feel ashamed when the smell of his tormentor brings comfort instead of rage and disgust.He can’t bite back the moan when Sebastian slides in, driving his cock inside Charles with a satisfied hum. Every stroke makes him shiver, the pleasure racing up his spine, making his toes curl and his fingers dig into the sheets. And he finds himself rocking back against every hard thrust, desperate to take in every bit of Sebastian’s length inside his aching body.He cannot sleep, until Sebastian knots him twice and fills him with seed.In the morning he wakes to more kisses and gentle touch, with Sebastian’s hand curled protectively around the curve of his belly. The alpha is thrusting leisurely, in and out of Charles’ cunt, in no hurry to chase his own release. They rock together slowly, enjoying the sensations, until Charles climbs onto Sebastian’s lap and rides him to completion.Afterwards, Sebastian helps him into his Consort’s robes, eschewing the servants’ aid, and the two share a sumptuous breakfast before he leaves to meet with his General. Charles knows little of what’s happening with the war, or anything beyond the Keep’s walls; only that the Genoshan forces are moving inexorably from Westchester towards Hammer Bay. Though he’s no longer confined to their quarters or physically constrained, Charles remains very much a prisoner in his own home. At least Sebastian no longer deems it necessary to station four guards outside his door, and has instead, assigned one trusted captain to act as his bodyguard and jailer.That the man is Victor Creed rankles; a former member of Trask’s traitorous household, and now firmly entrenched as one of Sebastian’s favored underlings.For the most part at least, the man maintains his distance, trailing after Charles like a hulking shadow wherever he goes within the Keep proper. He doesn’t speak to Charles, nor does he taunt him with mocking words, which is a marked improvement over the vile musings of his previous jailers. But there is a barely veiled malice there that sets him on edge, as though the man is capable of great violence at the slightest provocation.And he doesn’t trust the way Creed’s eyes linger, whenever Charles moves, pinning him like a butterfly that’s been mounted for display. Today however, Creed doesn’t wait for Charles to leave his rooms, and comes to him not long after Sebastian’s departure. He knocks briefly, and enters before Charles can answer, which immediately makes him wary of the man’s purpose and intentions.“I did not say to come in.”“No, you didn’t,” Creed says with a smirk, taking slow, deliberate steps towards Charles until he’s towering over him with his bulk. The man is all muscle, and at least ten inches taller, and Charles has to force himself to stay still and not outwardly show his unease. “But I don’t think you’ll mind just this once. I come bearing a gift of great worth, Your Highness.”Charles snorts. “What gift would Sebastian have you bring that he wouldn’t give me himself?”Pulling an envelope from his inside his breastplate, Creed chuckles, the sound wicked and amused, and sets it on the table. “It’s not from His Majesty, the King. Rather…it is not from Shaw, but from your former mate, Erik Lehnsherr.”“From— Truly?” he gasps, grabbing the envelope from the table and tearing it open. Inside is indeed a letter stamped with Erik’s royal seal, and a message written irrefutably by his beloved’s hand.
My Dearest Love,
My heart aches painfully every minute of every day, knowing that you suffer greatly behind enemy lines. I swear that I am coming for you, Charles, and nothing and no one will stand in my way. I only pray that you can forgive me for taking so long, and know that I will fight with all that I am until I have you in my arms again.
I beg of you – have faith in our bond and our everlasting love, and know that I’ll be there soon, and then…always.
Your Servant,
Erik
His hands tremble as he devours the words, reading and then re-reading Erik’s message and searing them into his brain. Too long he’s lived without even a glimmer of hope, and yet he feels foolish now for having ever doubted his husband. Erik is coming, and will find him no matter how long it takes, and they will renew the bond between them that should never have been broken.He looks up at a smug Creed, and wipes the happy tears from his cheeks. “Why would you agree to deliver this? Are you not loyal to Shaw?”Creed shrugs, and rudely, impudently takes a seat at the table. “I am loyal to gold, Your Highness, not to nations and kings. Lehnsherr paid handsomely for a messenger, and I was only too happy to oblige.”Trying, and failing to maintain any semblance of calm, Charles cries desperately, “Then you will deliver a letter from me in reply, yes? I can guarantee that my husband will pay you most handsomely for the service.”Snickering, Creed pours himself a glass of goat’s milk and downs it with one gulp. “I’ve already risked enough, just delivering this one letter. Why would I take more and greater risk by smuggling a letter from you to Lehnsherr? If Shaw found out he would skin me alive.”“Please.” Clutching the letter to his chest, Charles forces himself to close the distance and place a placating hand on the man’s shoulder. “Please, there must be something that can convince you? Amnesty perhaps, from persecution for your role in Trask’s rebellion? A place in Erik’s army, or a title and land?”Creed laughs, shaking his head, though he pauses after a few moments and peers intently into Charles’ eyes. “Perhaps…”The look makes him shudder, though Charles can’t help but prompt, “Perhaps…?”Leaning close – too close – Creed cards his rough fingers through Charles’ hair and says, “I shall deliver your letter, Your Highness, but not for any reward from your husband. I will do it for you…if you service me with your pretty red mouth.”In response, Charles delivers Creed a stinging slap, though it does nothing but make the monster laugh even harder as he yanks his arm away.“How dare you—”“Have I offended your sensibilities, Your Highness? Only, I know that you’ve sucked plenty of cock these past few months! His Majesty’s of course, day and night, but I know you’ve gone down on your knees for the General as well! What’s one more prick if it gets you what you want? It’s not as though you have any modesty left to protect.” Pushing back from the table he adds, “Think on my offer, and let me know your answer.”Creed stands then, stretching languorously for effect, and tips his head to Charles as he heads to the door. “Oh, and I wouldn’t take too long to decide,” he teases. “I might change my mind and decide it’s much too risky after all.”His mind swirling, and his head and heart still overwhelmed by the thought of Erik after all these horrifying months, Charles turns his back to Creed and tells him, “Come back in an hour, and you will have my answer.”
My Darling Husband,
I trust you and believe in you, my love, and will wait an eternity to be in your arms again.
Never doubt that my heart belongs to you and none other.
All My Love,
Charles
He folds and seals the letter carefully, before handing it to Creed, who grins at him roguishly as he tucks it inside his armor. Then he gets down on his knees and undoes the ties to Creed’s trousers, and tugs the man loose with both hands.Charles closes his eyes, and wraps his lips around Creed’s swollen prick.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Though Creed had made it seem like a one-time occurrence, another letter soon arrives at his doorstep, doing much to boost his spirits and soothe his battered ego. He had second-guessed his decision endlessly in the days after the deed; whether it was worth his dignity to give in to Creed’s lascivious demands. It was vexing, given the man’s cavalier and mercenary attitude, as Charles had no reason to trust that he would actually deliver the letter. Only when Erik writes and pleads to hear from him again, does Charles console himself that he’s made the right decision.Still, he cannot bring himself to write back until five days later.As before, Creed demands to be serviced on his knees, as payment for delivering Charles’ reply to his secret Genoshan contact. It’s an easier choice this time, no matter how vile and demeaning it feels, when he opens his mouth to suckle at Creed’s prick. The letters are a literal lifeline between Charles and the man he loves, that link more precious than clinging to what little pride remains. The act is hardly worse than what he’s suffered ten-fold at Sebastian’s hands, his body’s autonomy long co-opted for the pleasure and purpose of others.Sebastian, Creed – even the baby in his womb – all readily take what they want or need from him, with or without Charles’ consent.It’s becomes increasingly easy to distance his mind from his body, losing himself in Erik’s words and the promise of their coming reunion. He reads and re-reads each letter until he’s memorized every sentence, imagining his husband’s face reciting those same vows of love and devotion. It becomes the first thing he does upon waking, and the last thing he does before sleep, and what he shares with his unborn child as he or she grows daily in size. He stops trying to take Shaw’s ring off his finger, and even willingly spreads his legs, in the hopes that his compliance will keep the man suitably distracted. Charles can’t risk their correspondence or Creed’s involvement coming to light, as the letters are the only thing keeping his sanity intact.It hardly comes as a surprise then, when Creed comes to him a few weeks later, demanding more for his payment.And he surprises himself with how quickly he acquiesces, so intent on preserving that tenuous connection with Erik and keeping it secure.“Undress for me, Your Highness. I want to see you all of you,” Creed says.He barely hesitates, so used to being objectified and coveted, stripping out of his robes until he stands naked before yet another demanding alpha. What difference is there truly, he thinks, if he must service one or two or ten others with his body, when his marriage bond – and his virtue – have long been viciously sundered? “Sublime,” Creed murmurs, raking his eyes slowly over Charles’ nude form, ravishing him with nothing but hungry intensity. He’s surprisingly gentle when he tugs Charles close, running rough, calloused hands along his flank and over his belly. Creed touches everywhere, exploring every curve and crevice with his massive hands, before rolling Charles’ nipples ever so lightly with his fingertips.“What are you—”“Come here.” Creed nudges him over to the bed, taking a seat at the edge and positioning Charles between his legs. He cups Charles’ breasts in the palms of his hands, and starts kneading them rhythmically with his meaty fingers. Then he swipes his tongue over each nipple in turn, worrying them with his teeth until they stand hard and aching. Charles can’t believe how good it feels, having such attention lavished on his chest, and soon enough he’s dripping slick between his thighs, arms clinging tightly around Creed’s neck for support.“Why…why are you doing this?” he stammers, as pressure builds ever so slowly in his chest, with Creed sucking greedily at his nipples. There’s so much pleasure mounting, and no pending release, and Charles is going out of his mind from Creed’s incessant teasing.Creed chuckles. “Just trying to stimulate your milk, Your Highness. You’re almost three months away from delivery, and close enough now to start producing it.”Charles scowls and tries to shove him away, though moving Creed is like pushing a mountain and equally futile. “I’m not a goat to me milked, you brute! And it doesn’t seem to be working, so you can take your hands off me this instant.”Shrugging, Creed wraps his arms around Charles’ waist and nuzzles his face against his chest. “Maybe not today, no. But your milk is coming soon, so I’ll taste it eventually, either way.”Creed lets go and doesn’t reach for him again, though he does stroke himself off, splattering hot and sticky come all over Charles’ belly.That night, Charles asks Sebastian to take him on his hands and knees, unwilling to expose his breasts to further stimulation. And Sebastian is only too happy to do as he’s bidden, gripping Charles’ hips and fucking him vigorously on the bed. He doesn’t question how quickly Charles peaks or why he’s so insatiable for more, believing perhaps that his Consort is finally at peace with the circumstances of their new life.Charles closes his eyes, and imagines that it’s Erik’s cock thrusting inside of him.He falls asleep to Sebastian cooing sweet endearments against his skin, and to the baby moving under the warm hand on his belly.There is no new letter from Erik for the next two weeks.Charles grows increasingly worried as each day passes, wondering why Erik hasn’t written to him and what might be causing the delay. Has he been injured in battle, or perhaps their correspondence discovered? Though the latter seems unlikely given Sebastian’s indulgent mood. Or maybe Erik has somehow found out about Charles’ dealings with Creed, and is angry and mortified at how low his Consort has fallen? Has he given up on Charles or deemed him unfit and unworthy, and decided he wasn’t worth rescuing after all?There are no answers to be had in the ongoing silence, and Charles despairs that he’ll ever see Erik again.By the time a letter arrives again, Charles is almost mad with desperation and worry, and what he reads does little to assuage his fears. Erik gives no reason at all for the long delay, and makes no mention of the war with Shaw’s forces. Nor does he make his usual plea to Charles for patience, sending only the same words of love and devotion. Charles wonders if this new letter might be a forgery commissioned by Shaw; if he’s using it as an opportunity to taunt and torment him. “Why didn’t I get this sooner?” he snaps, the accusation clear as tosses the letter at Creed. A hundred possibilities abound in his head, of betrayals and lies and being manipulated for unseen ends. “Have you been withholding my letters? Is this some sort of sick game you’re playing with me?”Creed frowns. “I deliver the letters when I get them, Your Highness. Lehnsherr pays me to get them into your hands. In no way does it benefit me to keep them sitting in my pocket.”“Maybe Shaw is paying you to deceive me! Maybe this letter and all the others were fakes, and you’ve been playing me for a fool all along!”Shaking his head, Creed sets the crumpled letter gingerly on the desk. “Seems to me, Shaw’s not the type of man who would allow love letters between his omega and his sworn enemy. But you don’t have to believe me, Your Highness, nor do I need you to believe me. Read them or throw them in the fire; I don’t care. Though might I suggest that this paranoia of yours isn’t exactly healthy for your baby.”Charles slaps him hard, and shoves him towards the door. “Get out. I don’t need false sympathy from a piece of filth like you.”Creed smiles, eyes hard and glinting as he answers, “As you wish, Your Highness. Do call for me when you need my services again.”“I hate you,” Charles says. “And I don't need your kind of help anymore.”He means it, with every fiber of his being; he won’t debase himself again, or allow anyone to manipulate him for their own gain.His resolve lasts for a week, then another, and another after that…Until Erik writes again, desperate and pleading for a reply.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
This time his milk lets down, the moment Creed’s mouth closes around his aching breast.He shudders, and Creed groans as he sucks, latching onto Charles’ right nipple as the milk quickly floods his mouth. There’s so much that it leaks a little even as Creed swallows the first mouthful, dribbling and soaking into his beard. The man drinks greedily, a broad hand kneading at Charles’ breast, while the other peels the silk robe from his body.He scarcely notices when it falls and pools at this feet.Desire sings as Creed laps at his breasts, drawing from one then the other and swallowing every drop. It makes Charles’ gut warm and his heated skin tingle, a heady mix of bliss and relief as he’s methodically emptied. He’s lost in a delirious haze of want and need, only too willing to submit to the pleasure wracking his body.When Creed slips three fingers up his cunt and starts fucking him, Charles merely braces himself steady, and wraps his arms around the man’s neck. That night his milk comes again as soon as Sebastian touches him, nuzzling his neck, his sleeping gown instantly soaking through to reveal his engorged breasts. Sebastian is delighted, and quickly peels away the paper-thin layer, and latches his mouth onto Charles’ left nipple with a greedy hum. He drinks from one side and then the other and back again, until Charles in gasping and writhing in his arms.Charles comes, with Sebastian’s mouth on his breast and his fingers up his cunt, just as he had for Creed earlier in the same place and position.The thought falls from his mind only a few moments later, when Sebastian pulls Charles onto his lap and slides his cock in.Sebastian is rougher, more possessive than he’s been in months, fucking Charles as though he’s trying to put a second child in his womb. He’s absolutely ravenous it seems, with the omega his feast, his ardor as great as it was in their earliest days after Charles’ defeat. Sebastian fucks him for hours, even after he falls asleep from exhaustion, only to be woken by the alpha’s knot stretching him open. Charles is wrecked, every inch of him aching and utterly sore before dawn finally comes and he’s permitted to rest.In hindsight, the intensity of their night together makes sense when Charles wakes to the entire Keep in an uproar two days later.“What’s happening?” He eases himself slowly from the bed, as servants bustle frantically about, upending drawers and stuffing his clothing into chests. “What’s going on?”“Creed is escorting you home,” Sebastian says, stepping into the room with Creed at his back, waving the harried servants off to cart his belongings out the door. “I’m sending you to Glaenarm, my dearest Consort. So you can give birth to our child in his homeland of Lyr.”“Sending me?” Charles murmurs, eyes darting back and forth between the two alphas. Something is definitely amiss, with the way Sebastian is smiling at him, tension obvious though he tries to masquerade it with a jovial tone. “You’re not coming?”Creed’s back stiffens ever so slightly, and Charles narrows his eyes at them both. “I’ll only be a few days behind you.” Sebastian promises, wrapping an arm around Charles and tugging him close. “I have a few things to attend to here before I can leave Azazel in charge. Don’t worry, I’ll be by your side again well before the baby is born.”The realization strikes him like a bolt of lightning; why Sebastian is so eager to send him from Hammer Bay. Hope crests almost violently in his chest at the thought of Erik’s imminent arrival, the only reason Sebastian would willingly part from his heavily pregnant mate.He scoffs, and flings Sebastian’s arm away with a sneer. “Do you think me stupid, Sebastian? I know the war must be nearly upon your doorstep, Your Majesty, and I can hardly leave now, can I? Knowing my husband will come for me once he’s taken your head?”Sebastian slaps him hard across the face, knocking him into Creed’s arms, vicious and cruel in a way he hasn’t been since they realized Charles was pregnant. Dropping all semblance of pretence, he grabs Charles by the back of his head, yanking him by the hair as he drags him over to the bed. “He can try,” Sebastian snarls, as he shoves a kicking, struggling Charles onto his hands and knees. “And whether he succeeds or I drive my great sword through Lehnsherr’s heart, know this – you are mine, Charles of Lyr, and he will never take you away from me, alive or dead.”And just like that first night, Sebastian tears his robes open and sinks in with a grunt, thrusting his cock in until he’s lodged deep in his cunt. He takes his time methodically fucking Charles loose, thoroughly using him for his pleasure while ignoring his outrage. Every ounce of tenderness that’s ever existed evaporates like illusory mist, as Sebastian takes him in front of Creed until they’re coming together as one.Then, while Charles is still panting and spent, Sebastian binds his ankles and wrists together and ties a silk gag about his head.“Take him,” he says, wrapping his outer cloak around a wriggling Charles before lifting him into Creed’s waiting arms. “Take the carriage and get him out of Hammer Bay as quickly and quietly as you can. Do not stop until you cross the border into Lyr…I have men waiting for you there.” Turning to Charles he adds, “Rest, my love, and I’ll join you as soon as I can.”Brushing a light kiss to his forehead, Sebastian grins, before abruptly leaving him at the mercy of the traitorous Creed.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Charles wakes to the sound of clattering wheels and trotting hooves, sunlight streaming in through the window of the royal carriage. His head is pillowed on someone’s lap, and he’s still wrapped in Sebastian’s cloak, though he no longer seems to be gagged or bound. Groaning softly, he attempts to heave himself upright with little success, until strong arms wrap around his shoulders and guide him upright.He recoils, the second he realizes it’s Creed touching him, and awkwardly scrambles to the opposite bench.“Where are we?”
“Three hours outside of Hammer Bay,” Creed answers, reaching under the seat and pulling up a large sack. He reaches in for a water skin and hands it to Charles, along with a loaf of bread and a wedge of Genoshan cheese. “We’ll take a couple of rest breaks in the next few hours before we stop for the night.”“Stop the carriage,” Charles says, his hand gripping tightly on the door handle. “Let me out, Creed. There’s no way I’m going to let you drag me to Glaenarm.”Creed takes a bite of his own loaf and swallows. “Sorry, Your Highness. I have my orders.”“Damn your orders!” Charles cries. “I won’t be ferried away to Lyr and kept prisoner in a gilded cage! Stop this instant or I’ll…I’ll throw myself from the carriage to get away!”Snorting into his own water skin, Creed merely waves imperiously at Charles with a teasing smirk. “Be my guest, Your Highness. While it might be possible that you’ll survive the fall, I shudder at how your unborn child would fare from the impact. But that’s hardly my concern, is it? I was instructed to get you across the border, and whether your babe lives or dies makes little difference to me.”Wrapping his arms around his bump, Charles turns away from Creed to look out the carriage window. The horses are moving at a brisk trot rather than a full gallop, and Charles might indeed have risked taking the jump if not for the child in his womb. He cannot risk their safety, no matter how desperate he is to get away; he’ll have to find another way to escape or to find a way to convince Creed to release him.
Still—“You think Sebastian won’t kill you, if our child dies under your watch?”Creed bares his teeth at him with a menacing grin. “You’re right. Perhaps I should tie you up again like a sack of potatoes? So you don’t do anything stupid and get us both into trouble?”Charles doesn’t answer, taking a long drink from his water skin with a disgruntled sigh.They stop periodically for short breaks on the road, for the horses to rest and their contingent of six Lyrian guards to stretch their legs. Creed escorts Charles out of the carriage each time so he can relieve his bladder and get some fresh air, sticking closely to his charge like a persistent, looming shadow. He glares threateningly at the soldiers for leering at Charles, which is entirely laughable given the extent of his lewd demands. His proximity and constant vigilance offer no opportunities to try and slip away, and Charles knows he can’t possibly fight off seven men and evade recapture in his current condition.His only choice is to try and change Creed’s mind somehow, and convince him to escort Charles to Erik instead of Sebastian’s people in Lyr.“My husband will give you more riches than you need in one lifetime,” Charles says, as the sun begins to set upon the horizon. He’s fast running out of time to convince Creed to help, as they will soon stop somewhere to camp for the night. In the morning, there’s only a half day’s journey until they reach the border, where it will be nigh on impossible for Erik to reach him once he’s deep within Sebastian’s territory. “Surely, it doesn’t matter who pays you, whether it’s my husband or Shaw? I can assure you that Erik will pay you anything you want for my safe return.”“Money’s not the only thing I want, Your Highness, as you well know,” he purrs, eyes raking brazenly over Charles’ bundled form, seeming to see through the layers of his clothing to sear his naked flesh beneath. “It so happens that I value my life above all else. Sebastian Shaw is not a man to be trifled with.”Charles scoffs. “He is no match for Erik, even at his most cunning and vile. You will have all of Genosha’s protection and gratitude if you take me home…you needn’t be afraid of Sebastian and what he might do.”Shaking his head, Creed chuckles. “You really believe that, don’t you? Even after everything that’s happened; what he’s done to you—you still don’t understand the man you’re married to--“I didn’t marry him,” Charles hisses. “He raped me, and forced a bond between us against my will.”“Then you know the lengths he’ll go to keep you,” Creed says. “Lehnsherr couldn’t keep his own Consort safe. Why would I trust him to protect me from Shaw?”Charles closes his eyes and grits his teeth, frustration like a growing weight upon his chest. It’s clear that Creed can’t be swayed simply by the promise of gold, and is choosing to ignore the fact that Charles let himself be captured to save the lives of his subjects. It’s hardly Erik’s fault that he fell into Sebastian’s hands; Charles had willingly walked into the hungry wolf’s path, knowing well what would happen if – when – he was caught in its jaws.“I never took you for a coward,” Charles huffs.Creed laughs. “Cowards live to see another day, Your Highness.”They stop at a wooden cottage in the woods, too luxurious and well-stocked to be anything but a small hunting camp for one of Erik’s nobles. Charles doesn’t recognize it, nor does he have any idea where they are, no matter that he’s lived over seven years now in Genosha. Much of his time has been spent ruling at Erik’s side in the capital, with rather little opportunity to explore the wider country beyond Hammer Bay.It's not a particularly cold evening, but Creed starts a fire anyway, helping Charles into an armchair before heading outside to speak to the guards. He can hear their answering voices, though not what’s being said, and only Creed returns with provisions that he turns into a passable stew. It’s warm and hearty and helps to settle Charles’ stomach, which has been churning from both the discomfort of travel and a slow, mounting dread.“I still don’t understand why you agreed to deliver our letters,” Charles prompts, setting his empty bowl aside once he’s finished his meal. There’s not much he can do except probe Creed with more questions, and try to uncover something that might motivate a change of heart. “If you’re so afraid of Sebastian? Surely, you didn’t risk your life just to— So you could touch me?”Creed grins unabashedly, wiping a bit of stew from his lips with the back of his hand. “Is that really so surprising? You are very desirable, Your Highness, as Shaw and Lehnsherr have both made abundantly clear. Though…” He gives Charles a considering look before he adds, “I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you the truth, all things considered.”“What truth?”“You accused me once of bringing you fake letters from Lehnsherr—”Charles bristles. “You didn’t—”“No, they were real, every single one,” Creed shares, “but Shaw knew all about it. He allowed it to happen, thinking Lehnsherr might share privileged information with you about his military campaign.”“He…” Charles’ head spins at the implication, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. “He read my letters?”Somehow, it feels even worse than having his body violated by Sebastian, knowing Erik’s personal and private words to Charles have been combed through for potential gain. He wants to be sick, thinking about Sebastian’s smug satisfaction, and how his lifeline to Erik served only to endanger them both.“Just Lehnsherr’s,” Creed says, as Charles stares at him with glassy eyes. “Shaw didn’t care to read yours. You and I made our own deal, Your Highness. And since you kept your end of it, so did I.”He doesn’t know how to deal with this new revelation, and turns to stare unseeing into the fireplace. Charles can hardly be grateful to Creed for making the deliveries, and yet he is infinitely glad that some small part of him was kept secret and safe from Sebastian’s prying eyes. He wants to rail at Creed for being despicable, and taking advantage of his desperation, though it’s likely to have little impact on a man with seemingly no scruples or conscience.Still, he asks, “Are you not afraid of what Sebastian will do? If I tell him the true nature of our ‘deal’?”Creed laughs, and Charles wants nothing more than to shut him up with a fist to his smug face. “You plan to tell him? And admit to letting another alpha touch you behind his back? Surely, I’m not the only one who would suffer from his wrath? Aren’t you afraid he’ll punish you? Or worse, take the baby from you once it's born?” Charles shudders. He can’t deny the possibility that it could happen; Sebastian has already shown what he’s willing to do to avenge a perceived betrayal. “You’re a vile, loathsome creature,” he says, wrapping the cloak tighter around his body as he slowly crosses the length of the room. He lays down on the only bed in the cottage, ignoring Creed’s watchful eye as he tries and fails to get comfortable. Charles is suddenly too heartsick and exhausted to battle wits with Creed, knowing he’s fought and lost the quest for his freedom.He doesn’t even flinch when Creed comes to stand over him by the bed, fighting back tears as a blanket is pulled over him and a cushion tucked between his legs. Charles does freeze momentarily when thick fingers card through his hair, though he relaxes when Creed pulls away without a word, and makes his way to his bed of furs by the fire.Charles sleeps, and dreams of holding his newborn babe in his arms, poised on the precipice above a sea of churning waves. When he stirs hours later, the candles are out and the fire burnt low, Creed a shadowed lump snoring away on his makeshift bed. Chancing a peek outside, he finds three guards circling the perimeter of the cottage, while the other three sleeping bundled together around their own campfire. It appears that Creed is taking no chances when it comes to Charles, putting more men than is necessary on alert so he won’t try to slip away.He has only one card left to play, and very little time to make a last desperate gamble.Rising carefully from the bed, he makes his way slowly towards the fireplace, not taking particular care to keep quiet as he stokes the glowing embers. He can tell when Creed wakes from the change in his breathing, though he says nothing, and puts a few logs in the fireplace to feed the sputtering flames. He does not acknowledge Creed until the fire is hot and burning bright, chasing the chill in the air from the lateness of the hour.This time, it’s Charles that comes to stand over Creed, his knuckles white as he clutches the clasp of the cloak at his collar. “Take me to Erik,” he says, fingers shaking as he lets the heavy satin fall from his shoulders. “Swear that you will take me to my husband, Victor Creed, and I will give myself to you…all of me, willingly, to do with as you please.”He lets his robe follow the cloak to pool at his feet, standing stark naked in the firelight before a stunned Creed. It is the only thing Charles has to offer that might prove sufficiently tempting, and he’s almost relieved when Creed’s nostrils flare and his pupils turn midnight black, the sudden surge of lust so powerful he can smell the alpha's arousal in the air.Then he lowers himself slowly onto Creed’s lap, and rubs himself enticingly along his thick and swelling prick.“Swear it,” he says, grinding his hips, making Creed’s eyes almost bulge from its sockets. He lets Creed touch him freely, rough palms cupping his breasts, doing his best to arch seductively even with his heavy bump in the way. “And I will take your knot, Victor. I will suck your cock and swallow your seed and let you fuck me as many times as you want.”Creed exhales roughly, then quickly nods his head. “Yes,” he breathes, already panting with barely restrained lust, hands moving from Charles’ breasts to wander over his stomach and then to his buttocks. “I swear on my life, and every last copper penny I own and will ever own that I’ll take you to Lehnsherr, and see you safely back with your people.” His victory is bittersweet and tinted with shame, but Charles can’t let himself think of anything but finally going home. He lets Creed kiss him fervently and drink from his breasts, and allows himself to be lifted and carried back to the bed. There Creed settles Charles onto his hands and his knees, and spears his cunt with tongue and fingers until he’s moaning and sopping wet. Then he makes Charles come while riding his shaft, driving high, shuddering cries from his bitten red lips. His knot is so huge that Charles feels split in two, making him keen and whine when Creed spurts and fills him with seed. The man is insatiable, leaving no part of Charles unused or untouched, intent on wringing every ounce of pleasure possible from a lone night of debauchery.He takes Charles next on his hands and knees, and yet again with Charles facing outwards on his lap, legs spread wide as Creed thrusts into him like a well-oiled piston. And Creed makes him come too, over and over, until Charles is crying tears from overstimulation. It’s hours upon hours of the most intense sexual gratification, before Creed is sated and satisfied, and Charles is finally – finally – permitted to rest. He clings to nothing but the thinnest hope, that the new day will bring the salvation he's been promised.He wakes to the sunlight of late morning streaming onto his bed, and the unmistakeable voice of Captain Munroe calling his name.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The door to the cottage opens with a bang, and a familiar face rushes in through the door, one he hasn’t seen since all those long months ago at their desperate last stand. Charles can scarcely believe his eyes as Captain Munroe approaches the bed, until she’s kneeling before him and tightly grasping his hand.“Your Highness,” she whispers, as though Charles is the apparition, and might suddenly disappear if she blinked a second too long. “We’re here now and you’re safe. We’ve come to take you home.”“Ororo.” He can’t believe this is really happening; that Creed actually held up his end of the bargain. “Ororo, is it really you?”“Yes, it’s really me,” she says, as the tears well in her eyes. They’ve been friends since Charles was a child and Ororo only two years older, and close as siblings in all but name. “Charles, I’m so sorry it’s taken us so long.”Charles squeezes her hand, too overwhelmed to speak as the reality hits him. No more will he be brutalized and humiliated by Sebastian Shaw, or fear what depravities might be inflicted upon him next. “Where’s Erik?”“Leading the troops to retake the Capital,” the captain answers. “Our forces near Hammer Bay as we speak, and His Majesty rode out to meet Shaw and his General at dawn.”Of course, Erik would be on the front line leading the charge, his duty to Genosha every bit as important as his bond with his Consort. Charles is only slightly disappointed by his absence now, knowing that he’ll be in Erik’s arms soon – likely before the day is over. He will not let himself worry over Erik’s safety with their reunion so close, counting on the ferocious General Frost to keep his husband from harm. “Yes…and what happens now?”“The carriage is still outside,” Ororo says, tilting her head towards the window and beyond. “We’ll take it and get you to our forward camp. His Majesty will meet us there as soon as he can.” Then she looks keenly at Charles still bundled under his blanket, hesitating a little before she adds, “Would you like some help getting up, Your Highness?”It’s only then that Charles realizes how he must look to the captain, his hair disheveled and lips chapped from his night with Victor Creed. When he shifts, he can feel wet seed leaking down his thighs, and the phantom ache of the man’s cock still inside his body. He flushes, and shrinks involuntarily against the bed, mortified by his nakedness under the woolen blanket.“No. I should like a moment alone, Captain, if you would. I’ll join you shortly.”“Yes, Your Highness.” She gives him one last concerned look before heading out the door, leaving Charles shaken and winded and utterly ashamed.He doesn’t know what he’ll do when he sees Creed outside, or whether he can truly trust in the man’s discretion.Shakily, he climbs out of the bed, and reaches for the robes that lay discarded by the furs. More seed leaks from his cunt and drips down his thighs, a reminder of just how many times he’d coupled with Creed only mere hours ago. He does his best to wipe himself clean before pulling on his robe, and tosses the soiled blanket into the fireplace with a grimace.He debates pulling the heavy cloak over his shoulders, torn between the desire to get rid of all things related to Sebastian, and the need to cover his swell. His baby is not a secret he can hide from anyone at this late stage, and yet he has no wish to draw anyone’s curious or judgmental gaze. In the end he chooses to wrap himself in the cloak and Sebastian’s lingering scent, and – after taming his hair and slipping on his shoes – takes a deep breath to calm his nerves.When he steps outside, he finds the captain waiting a respectable distance away from the door; far enough to give Charles privacy and yet close enough should he call for help. The others that came with her – a half dozen soldiers he doesn’t recognize – all bow respectfully to Charles, acknowledging his role still as Erik’s Consort, making some of the tension in his shoulders dissipate from a concern he didn’t even realize he harbored.“Ready, Your Highness?”“Yes, let’s go so we can make it---” Abruptly, he stops, gaze sweeping over the assembled group and demands, “Where’s Victor?”One of the soldiers steps forward to answer, a young beta he recognizes now as the very capable Lieutenant Pryde. “Gone, Your Highness. We gave him the reward he was promised for your safe return, along with the letter of amnesty from His Majesty. He left while the captain was inside the cottage with you.”Why would Erik have written him a letter already, when Creed changed his mind only after the deal they struck last night? And how did he get word to Captain Munroe so quickly, when they’re an entire day’s travel from Hammer Bay? Doubt begins to creep in as he takes a more detailed look around, noting the dead Lyrian soldiers tossed to the side. “Who killed these men?”“Creed must have done it, Your Highness,” Munroe says, as Charles makes his way over to examine their bodies. There are no signs of struggle on any of the men, their deaths clearly from having their throats cut in an ambush. Creed must have killed them after Charles finally fell asleep, and he must have done so to ensure there were no witnesses to report his betrayal to Shaw. Still, something is nagging at Charles about Creed’s actions, a slow, horrifying dread creeping up on him as he replays their conversations in his head.“Lieutenant,” he says, trying and failing to keep his voice steady, as the implications of Creed’s plans and motives become increasingly clear. “When did Creed tell you that you would find me here?”Munroe and Pryde share a quick look before she answers, “He delivered a message to me right before your departure from the Capital, Your Highness. It took us longer to get here as we had to skirt Shaw’s forces, but this is definitely the location he gave as the meeting spot for your safe transfer.”Charles clenches his fist and closes his eyes. “So, he’s been working with you all along? You planned my rescue together? He knew you were coming, yes? And he never had any intention of delivering me across the border to Lyr?”The Lieutenant looks puzzled, though she simply nods her head. “Yes, Your Highness. We’ve known for a week that Shaw was likely to move you. It was Creed’s suggestion that we intercept once he got you safely out of Hammer Bay.”He’d known – Creed had even told him directly – that the man was an opportunist that was not to be trusted. And yet he still believed Creed’s cruel taunts and fell for his bluster, and delivered himself on a silver platter like a complete and utter fool!How Creed must be laughing at him now, having tricked Charles willingly into his arms, and sated his lust without an ounce of guilt for his lies and his treachery.Ororo takes a step closer and grabs his arm, steadying him on his feet, concern writ large on her face as she takes in his stricken expression. Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, she guides him to the carriage, and gently helps him up and into the seat. “Do you want me to go after him,” she says, low enough that only Charles can hear her inquiry. “Whatever he’s done; I promise he won’t get away with it, Your Highness.”Charles laughs hysterically, because Creed has gotten away with everything – gold, freedom and so much sex – by playing all sides to his benefit. He would admire the man’s wiliness if he weren’t the victim, or feel anything but embarrassment for being so thoroughly duped. “He already has, Ororo. Let him go…I have no desire to delay my journey home for the likes of Victor Creed.”His Captain is both skeptical and concerned for Charles, though she does not argue when he waves her off, hopping down from the carriage to order the others on their way. He hears them mount their horses, and then his own carriage roll, and finally, after so much uncertainty and fear and heartache - he’s on his way back to his husband’s side.The ride is more taxing today than it was yesterday, his back aching fiercely as the day wears on. Ororo stops them often, to give Charles time to stretch and to rest, and eat small meals more frequently to keep up his strength. But Charles pushes them to keep moving, heedless of his tired muscles, unwilling to wait with how close he is to the warmth of Erik’s embrace.Still, the Captain calls for a stop at dinner time, as their party approaches a small camp of Genoshan forces. A tent has been erected for Charles to spend the night, along with fresh horses for their continued journey in the morning. Charles’ legs nearly give out as he climbs down from the carriage, though he is quickly and carefully swept up into the arms of his oldest and most loyal protector.“Logan?”“Your Highness,” the man says gruffly, holding him as tightly as Charles is clinging to him in turn. Logan has guarded Charles since he was a mere child of five, personally assigned to his retinue by his late father Brian. There is no one in the world he trusts more than Logan - with the exception of his husband of course - and Charles is relieved and overjoyed that he too has escaped Sebastian’s imprisonment.“Oh my god it’s really you! Where are the others? Where’s Moira and Alex? Are they safe?”Logan pulls away, though he does not let go of Charles, perhaps noting the way he’s listing dangerously on his feet. “Come and sit and I’ll tell you everything while you eat.”He scarcely sees the other soldiers bowing low, clutching tightly to Logan’s hand as they make their way towards the tent. It takes a few moments for Charles to notice that he’s limping; the way Logan’s right foot drags slightly behind him, as though his leg had been broken and not properly reset. No doubt an injury sustained during his time in the Keep’s dungeons, and Charles shudders to think of what’s befallen the others at the Lyrians’ hands.“Don’t look like that, Your Highness. I barely notice it, and I assure you I can fight just as well even with a bum leg.”Charles swallows from the water skin Logan hands him, and catalogues the changes that have been wrought on his friend. There are more scars on his arms in addition to the limp, and marks on this chest that peek through his tunic. He looks older, and more weather worn than Charles remembers, making his heart clench over the hardship he’s undoubtedly suffered. “I know that Logan. I’ve never met a better fighter than you.”Lieutenant Pryde interrupts their reunion then to bring them their meal, though she is quick to excuse herself and leave them alone. Charles picks at his meal of roasted rabbit and stewed greens, and tries not to squirm under Logan’s careful scrutiny.“Tell me about the others,” he says, because Logan is going to ask and Charles doesn’t want to answer. The way Logan sniffs the air and grimaces tells him all he needs to know; that he can smell the scent of alpha – more than one – all over Charles’ skin. “How did you escape?”Logan glares at him, but allows him to change the subject, inhaling his rabbit and prodding Charles to eat his meal. “Someone on the inside let us out of the dungeons, and ferried us out of the Keep while Shaw’s forces were busy fortifying against His Majesty’s approach. They took us out through a secret passage that only the Genoshans knew existed.”“They got all of you out safely?”“Yeah.” Logan sighs, and shakes his head. “Me, Moira, Alex and Franklin. We all got out in mostly one piece. Louis never made it out though…he died from his wounds not long after we got back to the Capital.”And of course, there was poor Frederick that Sebastian murdered in cold blood, only days after their capture to show Charles the consequences of his disobedience.“The others…I don’t see them here?”“They’ve gone straight to the forward camp,” Logan explains, setting his meal aside to take up Charles’ hand. “I asked to be brought here to meet you. I promised your father on his death bed I would protect you with my life, and I’ve no intention of failing you quite so dismally ever again.”He lets the tears fall then, leaning against Logan who wraps a comforting arm around his shoulders. “Oh Logan, it wasn’t your fault; it was mine. You were all hurt because of me and my decision to confront Sebastian at Dunfield.”“It’s that bastard’s fault any of this happened, and no one else’s,” he growls, “and no one has been hurt more than you, Charles.” Gently, he places Charles’ own hand on his belly, the outline of it huge and unmistakeable with the way he’s seated, even while most of him remains hidden under his cloak. “Do you want to tell me who it was? The alpha besides Shaw that touched you?”“No.”“Did they ra—”“No!” He has no interest in rehashing what happened with Creed, eager to put the whole sordid mess behind him. “He didn’t…it wasn’t like that. I don’t want to talk about it.”“Charles,” Logan says gently, “was it Victor Creed?”He jerks away, his face going pale, but purses his lips and shakes his head.“It’s not my place to push if you don’t want to talk about it, but Erik is going to—”Charles jumps to his feet, teetering wildly off balance and almost falling over if not for Logan’s quick reflexes. “You can’t tell Erik! I don’t want anyone to know, alright? It’s bad enough that Sebastian…that I’m… He can’t ever find out, Logan! Promise you won’t say anything to him about there being another!”“Oh Charles.” Logan helps him back down into his chair, and grunts as he kneels before his charge. “He’s not going to blame you for what’s happened; he loves you. But I swear I won’t say anything to His Majesty. My loyalty is to you, first and foremost and I’ll never betray your trust for as long as I live.”He manages a watery smile, but can’t muster the same confidence as Logan after everything that’s happened. Charles just wants to forget; he sees no reason to burden Erik with the mistakes he’s made during their long absence from each other’s lives.“Help me lay down, Logan,” he says, pointing to the low cot that had been set up for his arrival. “I think I want to close my eyes for a bit and rest.”“Of course.” Logan helps him settle against the cushions, and covers him with a warm quilt. “I’ll just be right outside.” Then he adds, before ducking out of the tent, “No one’s going to get by me, Your Highness. Sleep well.”Charles closes his eyes, and dreams.The torches appear in the near distance, a wall of light slowing approaching their ragtag group of survivors. Charles is weaponless and unarmored, scrambling over bushes and behind trees as he tries to outrun his pursuers. The others in his party are cut down around him one by one, their cries of anguish ringing in his ears, berating him with their last breath for leading them to their deaths. An arm wrenches him back against an armored chest, and suddenly he’s there, his arm wrapped around Charles’ torso and nuzzling his neck.His clothes are torn from his body by grasping hands, and then he’s on the ground looking up at Sebastian above him, as the alpha pushes in and in and in---
Charles screams.
“Charles! Charles, wake up! It’s alright; you’re safe.”It’s Logan – not Sebastian, not him – calling his name, standing over him and gently shaking him by the shoulder. Charles takes a deep breath and exhales, relaxing into the cot and forcing the muscles in his body to unclench. He’s not being chased and he’s not alone and he’s on his way back to his husband who loves him more than anything…“Help me up please,” he says, and Logan instantly obeys, wrapping his arm around Charles’ shoulder and easing him upright. “Is it morning yet?”“It’s quite late; still hours before dawn,” Logan shares. “Go back to sleep.”“I can’t.” He swings his legs off the cot and slips on his shoes, tossing the quilt away and wrapping his cloak around his middle. “I want to ride on to the forward camp.”“Now?”“Yes, right now.” He doesn’t want to wait another hour – another moment – more than he has to before seeing Erik again. “I don’t care that it’s the middle of the night. I don’t care if it’s just you driving with me in the carriage. Logan, please…I want to see him before I go mad.”Logan sighs. “Alright. Stay put and I’ll go speak with Captain Munroe.”Charles waits, hearing voices just beyond the tent where Ororo is likely already waiting, having heard his loud cries. There are a few long moments of silence as they move further away, and then the unmistakeable bark of orders being given. Soon enough, a small contingent of a dozen soldiers is ready to depart, with the captain personally at its helm.Logan helps him into the carriage, and settles himself into the opposite seat. As though sensing Charles’ excitement, the baby starts kicking, driving an unexpected oomph from his lips. He smiles and rubs his hands soothingly over his belly. “I know, little one. We’ll be there very soon, I promise.”Indeed, the sun is just peeking over the horizon when their party spies the Genoshan front, and the sea of tents that make up the bulk of their forces. There are loud cheers as the soldiers spot their approach, and the wooden blockades being pushed out of the way to permit their advance. The carriage takes Charles past rows and rows of shouts and beaming faces, until it stops at last before the King’s war tent.Charles can’t remember how he got out of the carriage, or what Logan says as he yanks his arm loose, barreling towards that familiar and beloved face. And Erik is rushing the same way, dropping his sword from his side, and dashing uncaring across the mud until he’s folding a weeping Charles tightly into his arms.“Charles, my Charles,” Erik breathes, peppering his lips, his cheeks and even his nose with kisses, brushing the hair gently from his forehead. “I love you so much.”“I love you,” Charles says, trying hard not to tremble, still unbelieving that he’s here, and he’s safe with the man he loves more than anything. “I’m here and I’m never leaving you again.”Finally, they’re together again, after his nine months with Sebastian and a year since they saw each other last. He can almost forget every terrible thing that’s happened to him in the interim, so elated is he to see the joy and relief on Erik’s tear-stained face.He doesn’t get the chance to say so however, before his limbs give way and the world goes dark around him.
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Elation turns to panic when Charles crumples without a sound, body falling limp and still in Erik’s arms. Blind fear makes him snarl as multiple hands reach forward to help, the world narrowing to a pinpoint focus around Charles Charles Charles—“Get McCoy. Now!”He dashes across the field with Charles in his arms, heading straight towards his tent where servants are already bustling about, clearing space for Erik to lay his husband on the bed. McCoy sweeps in only a few moments after him, guiding Erik out of the way so he can check Charles’ pulse. He’s careful and respectful as he tugs the cloak away, his face impassive as his hands roam gently over the large bump hidden underneath. It’s Erik that can’t quite school his expression, when confronted with evidence of the vile lechery Shaw inflicted upon his Consort.(And he can’t help but shudder with anger and revulsion, when he inhales the pungent scent of not one but two alphas still clinging to Charles’ skin.)He swallows the bile in his throat and asks, “How is he?”“I believe it’s simply the exhaustion that’s caught up to him, and the sudden release of the stress he’s been under as the cause of his collapse. I’d like to check him thoroughly of course but I believe that rest and calm is what His Highness needs at the moment.”“And the baby?” he says, still unable to take his eyes off the great swell of Charles’ belly. His beloved is carrying the first-born child of his greatest enemy, and he is caught between great pity and burning rage over its troubled existence.McCoy sighs. “The babe’s movements are strong and the size is as it should be. I expect His Highness is due to give birth in no more than a month’s time.”So little time before their lives will once again be upended, for it is not only Erik the husband who must contend with his or her arrival. Perhaps in time, he could love them as his own for the sake of his Consort, as he expects Charles already feels deeply for the child in his womb. But Erik the King will not have the same freedom to do as he pleases, beholden as he is to his people and the legacy of his own blood line. His Court will never permit Shaw’s child to become Erik’s heir to the throne, and so their eldest – should he adopt him or her as his own – would forever be shamed and ostracized by the simple truth of their unwanted conception.And how might it affect the child’s psyche to know that their alpha parent was a rapist despised by the omega who bore them?McCoy clears his throat subtly, drawing Erik back to the present. “Perhaps you would like to wait outside, Your Majesty? I need to remove His Highness’ robes now to check for any wounds.”Erik balks at the idea of leaving Charles alone, even with the beta they’ve trusted for years as their Royal Physician. He does not believe that McCoy will do anything untoward to someone he greatly admires; rather he still can’t quite believe Charles is really here, and not locked away where Erik can’t reach him. But he also knows that McCoy is aware of what he’ll find, and what Erik’s reaction will be to see it with his own eyes. There will be marks, and other indications of Shaw all over Charles’ body; more physical confirmation of Erik’s failure to keep his husband safe and unmolested.“No. I will stay.”To his credit, McCoy doesn’t push the point, and merely gets to work peeling the dirty robe from a sleeping Charles’ body. He is quick and clinical as he makes his inspection, occasionally rubbing an ointment into his husband’s pallid skin. And he makes no comment over the way Erik growls at the litany of bruises revealed; teeth marks and imprints of thick fingers and rough hands, inflicted in the name of passion and an unjust claim. (He nearly gags when McCoy wipes the stale seed from between Charles’ thighs, and he has to turn away as incandescent rage threatens to consume him.)“There are no wounds,” McCoy says, purposely turning his head to give Erik a semblance of privacy. He keeps his voice neutral, knowing pity would be reviled and comfort unwelcome, his demeanor helping a little to keep Erik from going over the edge. “I will have the servants draw hot water for a sponge bath, and I will tend to His Highness myself and see to his comfort.”“Thank you,” he says as McCoy sketches a quick bow, leaving Erik and Charles alone for the first time in over a year. He pulls the warmest blanket from his trunk and covers Charles from head to toe, brushing his cheek and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. There is nothing in the world more beautiful than his cherished mate, and yet Erik can barely stand to look at him, guilt and anger burning him inside out at the thought of Shaw touching, putting his hands and his mouth and his cock—“I’m so sorry, my love,” he murmurs into Charles’ hair, threading their fingers together and gently caressing his matted locks. “I will not be so weak and full of bitterness when you wake up, I promise. Having you back in my arms is the only thing that matters. I love you, always and forever, and I will do everything in my power to show you how much.”And he will kill Sebastian Shaw, no matter the cost, even if it takes the rest of Erik’s life to exact his well-justified vengeance.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When Charles opens his eyes he's back inside the little cottage in the woods, enveloped in darkness except for the low light of a few sputtering candles. Victor is there, silhouetted by the fireplace, feeding it with logs until the flames crackle and flare bright.
He wraps the blanket around himself and climbs gingerly out of bed, making his way slowly towards the towering Creed. The man is completely nude – as Charles is under his sheet – every inch of him covered in thick hair and corded muscle. He goes willingly when Victor turns and wraps Charles in his arms, and tilts his head up so his mouth can be thoroughly plundered. “Your Highness,” Victor says, and Charles moans against his lips, straddling his waist as he’s lifted onto the wooden table. Victor’s hands are warm and huge as they map his soft curves, his calloused fingers leaving goosebumps as they trail over heated skin. Charles is wet with anticipation and pent-up desire, remembering the feel of Victor’s fingers deep inside his cunt. He wants – to be used and marked and utterly despoiled; to let Victor take so he can mask his appalling lust for an alpha not his mate.Victor presses him onto his back and proceeds to consume him, kissing both breasts and along the sensitive skin of his toned and flat belly. Already he's gushing slick as Victor fucks him with fingers and tongue, writhing like a cat in heat as the man devours his wet cunt. He doesn't stop even after Charles arches and comes all over his stomach, until Charles is crying and moaning and pleading for his knot. “You want this,” Victor asks , and Charles answers ‘ yes, yes’, and Charles is suddenly laying on the bed with his legs in the air. He lets them fall open as Victor looms over his body , wanton and shameless as he bares himself to the man who tormented him. It’s what he wants – what he was born for as a royal omega – to be coveted and fucked endlessly by those who would breed him.He keens, arching up and bucking his hips, desperate to take every last inch as Victor pushes in and in and in.“You’re insatiable,” he says, as he fucks Charles raw, harsh and deep as Charles pants and gasps and writhes against him. “Will you tell your husband how eager you were for my hands and my mouth? How much you want my cock in you, even now, after everything that’s happened? How you came to me and seduced me and begged to be my whore?”
Victor disappears before Charles can answer, replaced by a smirking Sebastian between his spread thighs.
“You’re a liar,” Sebastian says, tugging him roughly by the hair, viciously slamming his entire length into a desperate, moaning Charles. “You say you don’t want this and that I forced you into bed. But look how much you’re enjoying my cock now inside your filthy wet cunt.”“You let them touch you,” Erik says, eyes dark and accusing as he watches Charles splayed out like a feast. There are others too – dozens, hundreds watching Sebastian fuck him, jerking themselves and splattering seed all over his face, his hair; every inch of his nude body. “You betrayed our marriage vows, with Shaw and with Creed. How could I possibly still love you, Charles, when your disloyalty and shamelessness have been made plain to see?”“Please, Erik, please,” he begs, but his husband turns away, refusing to listen to Charles’ pleas and his pathetic justifications —His heart is pounding in his chest when he jolts awake with a cry, managing to badly startle the person seated at his side. It takes a moment for Charles to recognize McCoy the Royal Physician, who is doing a poor job of masking the concern he feels for his pitiful charge. He ignores it, taking a deep breath to calm his beating heart, willing himself to remember that he’s safe and back at Erik’s side.With a pang, he realizes that he and McCoy are the only ones in the tent, and a million thoughts race through his mind over the marked absence of his husband.“Easy, Your Highness,” McCoy says, propping him up into a more comfortable position. Noting the wild look in his eyes, he quickly adds for Charles’ benefit, “His Majesty was here all morning, not wanting to leave you alone, but the General called him away for a strategy session with the other commanders. They left not long afterwards to engage the Lyrian forces outside Hammer Bay, and he asked me to relay that he’ll return as soon as he’s able.”Charles nods, relieved that Erik isn’t actively choosing to avoid him. He knows that his husband’s place is at the front lines leading his troops, and that Erik would not shirk his duty no matter how much it pained him to leave so soon after their reunion. Yet a tiny part of him must have feared Erik’s reaction after their initial elation; of what he might think or feel having finally seen a pregnant Charles with his own eyes. Will he treat Charles differently now, after their lengthy time apart, and will he ever look upon him without seeing Shaw – his hands, his mouth, his cock – touching every part of his mate?He wouldn’t blame Erik if he never wanted him again, since Charles doubts he’ll ever forget what Sebastian did, or ever stop feeling the man’s phantom touch ghosting over every inch of his body.“How is the baby, Henry?” he asks, choosing to focus on his child’s welfare instead of misgivings over his marriage. Charles is aware that there are risks for pregnant omegas separated from their alpha mates, and - though he’s loath to acknowledge it even within his own mind – he is still technically bonded to Sebastian Shaw. “Is he alright?”McCoy smiles and gently squeezes his hand. “Your baby is fine, Your Highness. The heartbeat is strong and healthy. By all accounts, you will see their arrival within the next three to four weeks.”Charles exhales roughly and gives Henry a faint smile. “That’s good. Very good. I was worried, so close to the end and with us being away from his alpha parent.”He doesn’t like the way McCoy’s expression falters, even if the good physician is quick to smooth it over with a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. I’ll be monitoring you closely until the delivery, Your Highness, and will do everything in my power to ensure that you are both safe and well.”“Henry,” he says, “don’t lie to me.”McCoy sighs wearily, and hands him a goblet of water to drink. “There is a chance – a small one – that you might develop the bonding sickness due to your physical separation from Shaw. If that happens…”“What?” Charles pushes, because he has to know the risks to his unborn child. “Tell me.”“If it’s a bad case and you get very sick…then you and the baby could both die, likely during the delivery.”Charles shudders, and grips the goblet tighter between his fingers. “Can Erik—”“No.” McCoy doesn’t even need to hear the rest of his question, already knowing what Charles will ask. “Being intimate with another alpha would make the sickness worse not better. I’m afraid His Majesty would need to maintain his distance if you start showing any symptoms.”He had known that Erik couldn’t renew his bonding mark until after the baby’s birth, as a newly claimed omega’s body would abort any children they were carrying from a previous alpha. But now it seems they might be denied even the simple joy of a proper reunion, forced to keep themselves apart when all Charles wants is to be with his husband in all ways – in every way – and pretend the last nine months never happened.Then a thought comes unbidden, like a knife to the heart—Would Erik ask to him to give up the child and end its existence? And insist on reclaiming him straight away to wipe any trace of Shaw from their lives?(Worse, would Erik expect him to want the same thing, and be disappointed when he finds out that Charles intends to keep the child of his rapist?)“Don’t worry, Your Highness,” McCoy says, perhaps mistaking Charles’ silence for worry over his own safety. “You have not exhibited any symptoms so far. And we’ll monitor for any signs and deal with them straight away. I promise you’re in very good hands.”Charles nods and gives him a watery smile. “Thank you. I know I can count on you to look after our best interests; mine and the baby’s.”“You can. Now get some more rest. I’m sure His Majesty will be back as soon as he can.”“I’m sure he will,” he agrees, and McCoy gives a final hum of approval as he takes his leave. Then it’s just Charles and his bump – his only constant companion – surrounded by nothing but white walls and the bustle of activity outside, wondering if he’ll ever feel anything but utterly alone.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The day passes slowly for a restless Charles, as he spends much of it in bed as instructed by an insistent McCoy. He writes a letter to Raven, who might only now be getting news of his rescue, having stayed behind in Westchester to handle the aftermath of Cain Marko’s rebellion. Besides Erik, there is no one he wants to see more than his beloved sister, and Charles can’t help but lament her glaring absence when he’s feeling so terribly lost and alone.Having Logan’s steady presence close by does help a little, and he’s even convinced to take a short – if closely guarded – walk outside. The fresh air does wonders for his mood as does the opportunity to stretch his limbs, even if walking too quickly or too long leaves him both tired and winded. What he does not enjoy is being blatantly stared at everywhere he goes, or hearing hushed whispers behind his back as he tries to carry himself with grace and dignity he doesn’t feel.(He knows, he knows they’re all thinking of the months he spent as Shaw’s prisoner, and that they’re imagining in exquisite detail what was done to him - did he fight back, or did he willingly spread his legs for the enemy - over and over and over again—)His reunion with Moira at least, is a happy and emotional affair, with tears and words of affection from both sides. As with Logan, she bears a slew of new scars from her imprisonment, with none more prominent than the one that runs cleanly down her left cheek. It’s striking, and makes her inherent fierceness more readily visible to others, an outcome that she laments only for how much harder it is now to do her job.“How can I be a good spy master if I can’t fade into the woodwork?” she says, grinning wickedly at Charles and giving him an exaggerated wink. “Though I suppose it could have been much worse – I could have lost an eye! Imagine trying to be inconspicuous wearing a giant eye patch!”“Oh Moira,” Charles says, guilt immediately bubbling to the surface. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t—"“We would all be dead, if not for you,” she interrupts with great feeling. “None of this is your fault. You bear just as many scars – more even – than the rest of us and we’ve all come through it stronger than before. I have never regretted following you, Your Highness, and I never will.”Charles exhales roughly and shakes his head. “I’m not strong, Moira; I’m weak and I’m selfish. If I had even an ounce of courage, I would have slit my own throat long ago, instead of degrading myself by being Shaw’s whore—”“Charles—"“I let him use me and humiliate me because I was desperate to live; because getting back to Erik was more important than my virtue or my pride.”Moira gently wipes away the lone tear trailing down his cheek, before pressing their foreheads together with a barely discernible sigh. “There’s no shame in surviving, or in wanting to live. I’m sure His Majesty would rather have a wounded husband to care for than a dead one to mourn.”“And if these wounds can’t be healed, what then?” he asks, though he doesn’t expect Moira – or anyone else for that matter – to have any real answers. “What if this hollow shell is all that I am now and will ever be? How can I be Erik’s mate and rule as his Consort again when the shame I feel is so complete and overwhelming?”It would be much better, Charles thinks, if Moira didn’t look at him with such kindness and understanding, or be so quick to absolve him of his part in this whole travesty with Shaw. And would she or Erik still think so kindly of him if they knew about Creed, and all the times Charles used his body as currency to get what he wanted?“You must give yourself time to rest and recuperate,” Moira insists, “and time for His Majesty to show you how his feelings for you haven’t changed. Things will be better yet once we reclaim the capital and rout Shaw’s forces, and we can all go back home where we belong.”He nods and lets Moira’s words of comfort wash over him with a smile, even as the thought of returning to Lehnsherr Keep – to the bedroom he’d shared with Erik for years, and where Sebastian had kept him naked and chained – fills him with nothing but utter dread.How can he possibly restart his life with Erik there, without seeing Sebastian’s face or feeling his touch at every turn? And how could he ever step foot in the Great Hall again at Erik’s side, when he’d been raped in front of a throng of onlookers there, all laughing and cheering his public defilement?More and more, Charles despairs that he’ll ever be able to move on and reclaim his old life, when the specter of Sebastian Shaw still looms large over every aspect of his being.He does not see Erik until late in the evening, hours after Moira’s visit and a quiet dinner in Logan’s company. Propped up in a sea of pillows, he’s midway through the Genoshan battle plans he’s reviewing when he hears Erik outside, speaking with Logan in a low murmur. A moment later he’s poking his head through the tent flap and giving Charles a relieved smile, his whole countenance brightening at the mere sight of him awake and no longer in danger.“Charles,” Erik breathes, the words like an oath from his lips, and the sound makes the knot in his chest instantly loosen its hold. He returns that smile with open arms, pulling his husband close and hugging him tightly as Erik goes down on his knees beside the bed. “You’re awake. I was so worried.”“I’m alright, my love,” he says, tears welling in his eyes at the genuine relief he feels, being in Erik’s warm embrace once more. “I missed you so much. I can’t believe that this is real, Erik. I dreamed of this so many times, finding my way back to you.”“Not a day – a moment – went by that I didn’t think of you,” Erik answers, pressing his lips to Charles’ temple with a relieved sigh. “I’m so sorry it’s taken this long to rescue you from that…monster.”Even the mere allusion to Shaw makes Charles’ face burn with shame, and he clings even tighter as Erik runs his hands soothingly up and down his back. “No, I’m sorry,” he says, choking back tears, so desperate for his husband’s forgiveness even if it’s undeserved. “I let myself get caught, even knowing what might happen, and then…these months I…I let him…he made me—”Erik pulls back abruptly, cupping Charles’ face tenderly even as his voice trembles with barely suppressed emotion. “No! You didn’t do anything wrong! You are the best and bravest person I’ve ever met, Charles Xavier. You saved so many of our people because of your courage and your sacrifice. And what happened to you…he took you prisoner and assaulted you. You have nothing to be sorry for, especially for heinous crimes done to you against your will.”“And yet I am still ruined,” he cries, months of shame and guilt and anger pouring out of him like a river un-dammed. “How can you ever look at me; ever touch me again, knowing what he did—”“I love you. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you—”“Shaw turned me into his personal bed slave! He fucked me, hundreds of times and in all manner of depravity! He forced me to feel pleasure at his hands and to plead for his knot, because it wasn’t enough for him to simply hurt me in the taking. And he succeeded in putting a child in my womb, so that for the rest of our lives we will never forget what he’s done to me – to our lives and our marriage – even if we cleave his vile head clean off his shoulders.”Erik’s grip on him never loosens, even as Charles trembles in his arms. Nothing his husband says or does can fix what’s been broken, even if he were truly able to look beyond the ways Charles has been irrevocably tainted. How much better would everything be if he’d died that night at Dunfield, or on any day since? For Erik to mourn his loss as a proud fighter instead of returned as a bird with broken wings?Expression full of anguish and heartbreak, Erik pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and gently wipes the tears from Charles’ face. “I would do anything – give anything – to change what’s happened these past months, Charles. But though I cannot, I swear to you; my love for you is constant and unending. We will make it through these trials together, and I will never leave your side, or fail to protect you from harm again for the rest of our lives.”“I want to believe that our love will be enough, Erik—”“It will be. It is,” Erik says, voice breaking as he draws Charles close, brushing a tender kiss to his husband’s lips. There is none of the possessive fire he’s been subjected to under Shaw’s lascivious attention; only the warm regard and genuine affection borne of their decade long friendship and love. “I promise, as long as we’re together we can weather anything.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Charles spends the next two weeks mostly in bed, resting and attempting to regain his strength as the baby’s arrival draws ever closer. Erik comes to him as frequently as he can, whenever the demands of the ongoing war allow him to retreat from the front lines, where he continues to push his advance towards the Capital. By now, Sebastian is aware of Creed’s betrayal, and his rage over losing Charles has resulted in renewed vigour against Erik’s troops. The battles are bloodier than ever, as though Shaw can’t rest until he’s thrown every last of his soldiers into the fray.Not for Charles does he do this, and not even for his own flesh and blood; he fights for his ego and his pride, to recover property that was stolen – twice now – from his clutches.He does not get this information from Erik when he comes each night to sit at Charles’ side. They share meals together and Erik catches him up on the status of Westchester and Cain’s rebellion, and with messages of love and support from his sister. They do not speak about Shaw, neither Charles’ experiences as his captive or details of Erik’s ongoing war, even as the man’s shadow looms over their every interaction. Even at night, with Erik’s arms around him and his warm breath in his ear, sleep – and peace – continue to elude him. Charles can’t stop thinking about Sebastian’s promise; that he’ll never stop coming for him. Will never let him go.(Charles dreams about golden chains, and a lifetime of Sebastian in his bed, above him, inside him, alive or dead…)He ventures outside once a day, always with a calm but vigilant Logan at his side. Exercise is good for both Charles and the baby, McCoy insists, and so he takes short walks around the encampment, never straying far from the King’s tent. More than anything he wishes he could hide from the sea of prying eyes; to stay out of sight of the dozens of soldiers in the field, fanned around him in every direction. Even now they can’t help but gawk at their wayward Consort, tracking his gravid form as he lumbers around gracelessly on Logan’s arm. Their gaze hangs over him with palpable weight, making him feel surrounded and trapped even under the wide open sky.His fears are further compounded by Moira’s daily reports, as she keeps Charles apprised of the rumors and the general mood circulating amongst the troops. They are buoyed by their closeness to Hammer Bay and eager to retake the Capital, their resolve bolstered by Erik’s joy over Charles’ return. But there are other darker, uglier murmurings too; questions as to why their King has yet to reclaim his Consort and rid him of Shaw’s filthy seed.Some whisper that their King no longer desires his Consort, believing him ruined by the enemy. Others think that Charles’ loyalties may have been turned during his captivity, and that Erik – and the Genoshans – should no longer trust him. Absolutely no one can fathom Charles actually wanting the baby, with its existence a clear affront to the Consort’s bond with their King. And the rumors only grow with each passing day, a simmering discontent over the presence of the enemy – Sebastian Shaw’s first born and heir – in their midst.“Is my child in danger here?” Charles asks as he picks at his stew. His appetite has been waning in the past couple of days, his body tiring more and more easily even with almost constant bedrest. “No.” Moira does not hesitate to reach out and take his hand, squeezing it in reassurance as she continues, “they would never dare it, even if you weren’t so beloved. Everyone knows how His Majesty feels about you.”“Yes, but Erik’s love and protection doesn’t extend to my baby, does it, Moira? Can I trust that no assassin will harm my child once they’re born? A deed done for love of the King and the good of Genosha?”Moira’s pinched lips give him all the answer he needs, though she does try valiantly to soften the blow. “His Majesty will see to the baby’s safety, I’m sure of it. He loves you, Charles. He would never allow anyone to hurt you or the baby.”“I know,” Charles says, even as his heart sinks to the pit of his stomach. The baby gives him a sharp kick as though in answer and he is suddenly, painfully aware of just how much he loves his child, and the extent of the danger that awaits them.The next day, Charles wakes with a fever.He knows, even before McCoy’s diagnosis that the bonding sickness has taken its hold. What little food he manages to eat comes right back up again, forcing McCoy to put him on a diet of broth and thin gruel. Chills rack his body even as he burns red hot, and he does not need to see the man’s face to understand the severity of his condition. The baby will likely die - and Charles too - if the sickness progresses at its current pace.And he can’t even count on Erik’s presence to soothe him, as McCoy quickly bans him from sharing Charles’ bed.Fate is cruel and terrible indeed, to make Charles’ jailer his would-be saviour; to make Charles’ body require the touch of the man who so cruelly violated him.“What can I do?” he hears Erik ask, upon waking late one night to heated whispers just outside their tent. “McCoy…please, I can’t lose him.”The physician sighs, and he does not think that he is mishearing the hopelessness in the man’s voice as he replies, “Your Majesty, there’s nothing to be done. Not so long as His Highness insists on having the baby.”Silence hangs in the late night air, taut with desperation and fraught with anger. “Will he live,” Erik says, “if the baby…what if he doesn’t have the baby, Henry? Will Charles live?”“Your Majesty…”“Answer me!”“If you reclaim your bond with His Highness, he will abort the child, and there is every reason to believe that he’ll make a full recovery. But the opportunity to do so rapidly dwindles; once His Highness goes into labour, there is nothing more to be done but pray for a miracle.”More silence, before his husband asks wretchedly, “And if I do not, what are the chances they’ll both survive the delivery?”He hears no reply…which is answer enough.The next morning, a wild-eyed Erik comes to Charles’ bed side and clutches his hands to his chest. There are tears running freely down his cheeks, and Charles’ heart breaks utterly over the pain and fear his mate is too distraught to hide.“Charles, Charles, please…I cannot lose you,” Erik sobs, knowing what he must ask of Charles, and already knowing what Charles will say in turn. “The baby…there is no hope for him, I’m sorry. Truly sorry. But there is for you, my love. Please, you must let me reclaim our bond.”“Oh darling,” Charles says, which only makes Erik cry harder, and throw himself prone across his blanket covered legs. “I couldn’t live with myself, knowing I sacrificed my child’s life for my own.”“But you’ll die! The baby will die!”“I must try, Erik, even if the chance is miniscule at best.”Erik lets out a frustrated growl, and pushes to his feet. “You would leave me alone to grieve you? After all our time apart, and all that you’ve already been through! You would ask me to just watch you die and do nothing? Do I matter so little to you, Charles? Our love? Our future? The children you and I always wanted together?”He does not blame Erik for his accusations – the baby is but an idea to him still, and not yet a flesh and blood child he can hold in his arms and love. It’s existence is an impediment to their happiness and a danger to Charles’ life, and Erik would do anything – risk anything – to ensure Charles’ safety and wellbeing...…even if it meant ending the life of Charles’ baby. Even if it meant bearing Charles’ hurt and resentment for the rest of their lives.“You cannot understand,” he says, and he is so sorry, and so tired, and so mired in guilt and grief. “I love you more than my life, and I love my child just as much, Erik. Please don’t ask me to choose between the two of you.”“I am asking you to choose yourself,” Erik yells, his heartbreak mutated to anger, his desperation to spite. “You let Shaw catch you, to save our people and you will let yourself perish for your child! When will you stop being a martyr, Charles? Can you not be selfish for love of me? Do I not deserve some of your generosity too? Your pity?”“You deserve the world, my love. And yet, you ask for the impossible. The baby…I love him. He is part of me, and the me you know and love would die to lose him.”How can he possibly explain it to his husband, how losing the baby would surely break him? How the guilt he carries is suffocating enough, and that the death of his innocent child would destroy what’s left of his sanity? How many hours – weeks, months – he suffered with no one but the babe in his womb to provide any comfort? To bring him hope and joy in times when Charles had felt wholly and utterly ruined?Clenching his fists and refusing to meet his eyes, Erik asserts, “I could just do it, Charles, without your blessing. I could do it, even knowing you’d hate me. Losing you, probably forever – it’s a price I’m willing to pay to save you.”Softly, he counters, “And how would that make you any different from Shaw, Erik? To force your decision upon me against my wishes? I would sooner die, than have our love fall to such ruin and blame.”Erik does not answer him, though his whole countenance radiates frustration and fury. Long has he given Charles succour and his life meaning, and yet they stand now at a complete impasse, unable to bridge the grand divide of Shaw’s making. Charles mourns what they were and what they can never be again, and hopes that Erik will eventually forgive him his failings as husband and mate.Eventually, after many long moments of silence, Erik exhales roughly and scrubs at his face, the rage bleeding away as the tension slowly drains from his body. He gives Charles a wan smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and says, “You should get some rest. I’ll send McCoy to check on you.”Then he turns and steps briskly from the tent, leaving Charles to stare dully at his swollen belly.Erik does not come to see him over the next two days.On the third day, Charles wakes from a vivid dream about Sebastian and knows what he has to do. He calls Logan and Moira to his side and bares his soul, and refuses to be dissuaded by their pleas to include Erik in his burgeoning plan. His mate would never allow it – would sooner keep Charles under lock and key – but he’s tired of letting others dictate his every action. For too long, he’s lived on Sebastian’s terms and allowed himself to be puppeted by Creed; Charles will decide what happens next, both to himself and to his baby.He pens the letter, sealing his signet ring inside – the gift from Sebastian on their ‘wedding’ day – and hands it to Moira to deliver.“Tell Sebastian I want to see him,” Charles says. “Tell him...I need his help.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
A message comes the very next day, smuggled in by Charles’ spymaster, her expression grim as he takes the note with a trembling hand. Inside the envelope is a single line written in Sebastian’s elegant script, his response to Charles as direct and uncompromising as the man himself.
Yes, if you come back to me.
“What does it say?” Moira asks.Charles folds the note in half and slips it inside his robes with a relieved sigh. “He says he’ll do it.”Moira arches a brow. “That’s all?”It’s no surprise to Charles that Sebastian would say yes to his request; to agree to anything to have the omega back in his grasp. And once he does, any promises made will most certainly fall to the wayside, and Charles will find himself stranded once more away from everyone and everything he loves.(But his child will live, and nothing matters more to him than saving his baby.) “Yes.”It takes another day to make all the preparations, after securing the help of his closest confidants. There’s Moira and Logan of course, who came with him from Westchester when he married Erik, along with Alex and Captain Munroe. Their loyalty to Charles remains unwavering and without question, and they follow him now, even back into the lion’s den and against their own better judgement.It’s McCoy that surprises him once he figures out Charles’ plan.“Let me come with you, Your Highness,” he says, startling Charles with his earnest plea. “Even with Shaw at your side, your bonding sickness might not recede quickly enough to ensure a safe delivery. I need to be there if anything goes wrong.”Charles offers him a grateful smile, knowing what a risk McCoy is taking, just speaking of this behind Erik’s back. Not only would he be stripped of his title as Royal Physician, but Erik is likely to execute him if he plays an active role in Charles defection. “You’ve already done so much for me, Henry. I won’t ask you to risk your life and reputation over my mad plan. Sebastian will have healers at the ready, I’m sure.”“Please,” McCoy says, and Charles can see how deeply his condition has affected the man’s peace of mind, from his waxy skin to the dark circles under his eyes. “I want to be able to tell His Majesty that I did everything in my power to help you and the baby.”Once Charles realizes that McCoy can’t be swayed, he readily accepts the man’s offer and brings him in on the plan. They will wait for Erik to leave for the front lines and then proceed to move Charles, with the explanation that the Consort is retreating to a smaller Genoshan camp to prepare for the baby’s birth. No one will question the claim by the Royal Physician and the Consort’s trusted guards, as no one would ever suspect that the Consort might leave without the King’s knowledge or permission. From the camp, they will make their way to the far side of Hammer Bay and commandeer one of the smaller galleons making supply runs to and from Westchester, then take it to the middle of the bay for their rendezvous with Shaw.Their plan works flawlessly, and by mid-afternoon the next day, Charles and his retinue are sailing to their destination. But their trip is not without its difficulties, as he’s queasy and running a low fever, unwieldy and unsteady on his feet. Logan doesn’t leave his side for even a second, and McCoy spends the entire journey fussing over him, dabbing his feverish skin with a cool cloth and trying to soothe his nausea with water and herbal concoctions.By the time the ship arrives at their destination, Charles is near delirious and wracked with exhaustion.They drop anchor next to the Lyrian frigate awaiting them; not the largest of Sebastian’s fleet but still almost double the length of their own galleon. It’s clear that they’re both outmatched and outgunned, with no hope of outrunning the frigate should Sebastian attempt a takeover. But that’s a problem for after the baby’s birth, and Charles can only hope that saving their lives – his and the baby’s – is enough to temporarily stay Sebastian’s hand.He's drifting in and out of awareness when he hears Sebastian’s voice, speaking with McCoy just outside the cabin door. There are other raised voices too – Logan’s, and Captain Munroe’s along with another he doesn’t recognize, arguing over what happens next. But then the door swings open and Sebastian swoops in with a flourish, Logan and McCoy hot on his heels, expression full of annoyance at being kept from Charles’ side.He stops abruptly when he catches sight of the pale and feverish omega on the bed, his face a sudden rictus of emotion. Charles had expected fury and harsh words and maybe even rough handling; instead, there is only genuine fear and concern all over Sebastian’s face. “Leave us,” he orders, and surprisingly, both McCoy and Logan retreat without argument, though not before the physician shows Sebastian how to use the cloth and basin to cool Charles’ skin. Sebastian nods but never once takes his eyes off of Charles, and promptly strips out of his shiny armor as soon as they’re alone. He climbs on the bed and slips in carefully behind him, wrapping his arms around Charles’ swell and pressing soft kisses to his temple. Many nights they’ve slept this way over the course of the pregnancy, and the sensation is both calming and achingly familiar. He can’t summon any of the anger or hurt that he carries wherever he goes; can’t feel anything but contentment in Sebastian’s warm embrace. With every minute the tightness in his chest eases and his dizziness abates, and Charles quickly falls asleep in the alpha’s arms, enveloped in his rich and pleasing scent.It’s dark out when he wakes again, a single ray of moonlight streaming through the small cabin window. There’s nothing but the sound of gentle waves lapping the hull, except for the occasional cough or clank of armor on deck. Nothing but the slow rocking of the ship and the feel of skin on skin, and Sebastian’s body curled around him in slumber. He’s been stripped nude from his head to his toes, with nothing but a light sheet and the alpha’s naked form for cover. Surprisingly, Sebastian’s cock lays flaccid against his buttocks, and the hands grasping Charles’ light instead of bruising.He would not have been surprised – expected it, actually – to wake with a cock buried inside of him, the alpha once again staking his claim. Instead, it’s his own reaction to Sebastian that disturbs him, his body turned towards the alpha like a flower to the sun, a steady drip of wet slick leaking down his thighs. His cunt aches to be filled by Sebastian’s prick, to have every part of him marked and relished by his mate. There is no point denying that he belongs wholly to Shaw, not with his symptoms beginning to lessen after a mere few hours at his side.“Don’t try and get up,” Sebastian murmurs, and Charles’ whole body jolts in alarm. He freezes in terror, anticipating anger and harsh words, but Sebastian only pulls him close and nuzzles his hair, before pushing himself up and off the bed. He helps Charles into a sitting position, propping him with a sea of pillows, and then hands him a mug that smells of McCoy’s herbal concoctions. “Here, drink this. You need to keep your strength up.”Feeling thirsty, and not wanting to vomit for the first time in days, Charles takes the mug and drains it without protest. Once he’s finished, Sebastian brings the chamber pot to bed so he can void his bladder, an act for a servant and certainly not in the purview of the King. But Sebastian does not hesitate to clean him up with a washcloth and settle him against the pillows, before sitting beside Charles and taking his hand.“I…did not expect to you to write,” he says, expression grim but not angry or vengeful as expected. “I thought…I remember well, what you said once about bearing my offspring. That you would sooner slit your own throat than carry my seed in your womb. Imagine my surprise then to find that Lehnsherr had not already aborted our child, and that you were seeking help from me to ensure the safe delivery of our baby.”“Erik is no murderer,” Charles answers, pushing the memory of his husband’s words I could just do it, Charles – it’s a price I’m willing to pay to save you down deep, refusing to examine it or to give Sebastian any ammunition. “And he would never force me to do something against my will.”Even unspoken, Unlike you rings clear as a bell, though yet again, Sebastian surprises him by doing little more than sigh. There had been moments like this during his captivity, when Sebastian had treated him with a careful tenderness, as though he were truly an equal and not a prisoner. It made Charles wonder if this is what their marriage could have been had he not broken their engagement and eloped with Erik; if they could have learned to love each other without threat and violence, their child the result of a joyous union instead of rape. But those are idle thoughts for an addled mind, Charles muses, with how little it matters the how or why they came to their current predicament.Sebastian reaches to cradle his swell with both hands, slowly brushing his palms down Charles’ flank. They’re both naked in the dark, with naught but a thin sheet between their bodies, a state familiar to them both from the previous nine months. And yet there’s something about Sebastian tonight that puzzles Charles deeply; a strange intimacy to their interaction that makes him hesitate to break the tenuous accord.“Much has happened while you slept,” Sebastian continues, unwilling to acknowledge Charles’ assertion about Erik’s good character. “Lehnsherr and I have agreed to a temporary cease in hostilities until the baby’s birth.”“Really? Erik agreed…he’s not…”“Angry? I imagine he’s very angry that his Consort fled from his protection back into the arms of his sworn enemy—”“I did not flee from Erik, nor did I come back to you—”“And yet here you are,” Sebastian counters, though his words lack the usual disdain and cruelty. “It is a betrayal, nonetheless. Does he truly believe that you will leave the child with me and return to his side?”It’s what Charles told him in the letter he left behind, hoping his promise to come back would be enough to stop Erik from coming after him and putting an immediate end to his plan. “He does.”“Then he’s a fool in love, not to know that you are blatantly lying to him,” Sebastian says, raising his hand to cut off Charles’ half-hearted spluttering, unable to defend what he’s yet to acknowledge even to himself. “You know me well enough to know I would never let you get away for a third time,” he says gravely. “And yet you risked everything to come here, which tells me how much you truly love our child and how far you’d go to keep him safe. I do not believe you would willingly part from him, Charles, nor can you take him back to Lehnsherr even if I allowed it. You know very well what kind of life he’ll have in Genosha; how they’ll treat him and what danger he’ll always be in as my heir. You do not mean to go back, dear heart, though you have yet to realize it.”It's painful to hear it laid out so plainly, and Charles can’t stop the tears from falling; Erik had trusted in their love and fought desperately for his return, only to be lied to and betrayed by his own mate. He would not blame Erik for hating him, and for not being able to fathom his actions regarding the baby and Shaw.(How could he expect Erik to understand? That he was choosing the baby and not Sebastian when the end result was the same?)“You must be ecstatic,” he weeps, the anger he has for himself and for Shaw burning him inside out. “I am once again at your mercy, for you to abuse and torment as you wish. You win. You have well and truly torn us asunder and exacted your revenge.”“Yes,” Sebastian agrees, reaching to wipe the tears streaming down his cheek. “I am not a man of regrets – and I will never regret making you mine, Charles – but our relationship is not as I wish.”“What else could you possibly want from me?” he scoffs, “I have nothing more to give you.”Closing the distance - and with more tenderness than he thought possible - Sebastian presses their lips together in a leisurely kiss. “I would offer you this – come willingly to be my Consort, as I’ve wanted from the day we met. Choose me, and I will afford you every right and courtesy as befitting my mate. No more locks and chains or further ploys to hurt and humiliate you. We will rule the kingdom together as it was always meant to be, Charles. You will be honored in my Court and our child – our children – will know the love of both parents and the adoration of our people.”Charles laughs incredulously, the sound bitter and cutting as he shakes his head. “You think a few handsome words can erase everything that’s happened between us? How can I possibly trust you, after you so callously used me time and again? Allowed your General to use me and then stake your claim on me publicly in a hall full of guests?”Sebastian frowns. “I cannot change the past, no, but I’m a man of my word.”The sheer arrogance of the man, Charles thinks, to believe that his word means anything to him at all. And yet there’s little he can do but humour Sebastian for now, to buy him some time to think and to ensure his continued cooperation. “If you truly mean it—”“I do.”“---then I would have more than just your word, Sebastian. Bring your General here and have him swear true allegiance to me as your Consort, and bear witness to your promise.”Agreeing readily, Sebastian gives Charles a radiant smile. “Consider it done. I will send for Azazel first thing in the morning,” he says, before climbing back into bed. “Now sleep, Charles; you need to rest. Your physician McCoy tells me that your sickness is quite severe, and you and the babe are still very much in danger.”Charles shivers, knowing full well how precariously their lives yet hang in the balance. He allows Sebastian to mold them together again, skin to skin, quieting his misgivings and giving in to his body’s demands. “Is there nothing more we can do to lessen the risk?”Sebastian hums softly and kisses his cheek. “It would be prudent to consummate our physical bond again, and McCoy agreed as much. But I will not push. If you desire…well you must choose it yourself.”How ironic that he should be so considerate now when his selfishness would better serve their purpose? And how much easier would it be if Sebastian would just take instead of pushing Charles to beg for what he’s so loath to give? Charles closes his eyes, biting back the bile in his throat as he spreads his thighs wide.“Do it,” he whispers, desire from Sebastian’s touch spreading like wildfire, terrible and addictive as Charles’ body welcomes him home.