Palingenesis

by SoundlessWhisper

Summary:

“He never wanted this. He was supposed to be an alpha. He trained like one. He dreamed like one. He was going to protect people, not end up like this—weak and needy and not himself. Yet no matter how hard he fought, his body betrayed him at his weakest moments, reminding him of the truth he despised.”

In a world where ones future is shaped by biology, Phainon presents as omega. A complete opposite of what he wanted to be.

Notes:

palingenesis (pælɪndʒəˈnɛtɪk); a new birth.

To clarify in case the tags are confusing: this is, in fact, a top Phainon x bottom Mydei 🙂‍↕️

Ever since the day he presented, Phainon knew something was wrong with him. He hated his body and the instincts his secondary gender came with. None of it was him.

None of it was what he wanted to be.

Phainon dreamed of being a hero ever since he learned how to walk.

His father even made him a small sword, carved from olive wood, dulled on one end where it had smacked too many rocks. He named it “Dawnmaker” and carried it everywhere, even into class, where the other kids rolled their eyes and told him it was childish to give a sword a name.

“You all are jealous because your dads didn’t make you one!” Phainon declared with a proud smirk.

Aedes Elysiae had always been a quiet village, tucked into the corner of Amphoreus, enclosed by time itself. Life there was calm and simple; during the entry hour the adults worked the endless wheat fields while the kids attended the small school. At descent hour – the kids played outside as the adults continued their work around the village. At this hour the smell of cooking started filling the air. And once parting hour took place, everyone retired to their homes to rest and prepare for the next day.

Phainon lived in the small house on the east side. His father, a kind alpha, helped him carve wooden figures when he wasn’t tending to the wheat fields. His mother, the omega of the house, cooked the best Suncakes in the village.

He was a sweet boy, everyone said so. Curious, rebellious even, especially on days he skipped classes to play in the fields, chasing his dog, Snowy. But still, endearing and kind.

Galba, the village hunter, gave him cured meat to take home on days he helped with hunting rabbits. The blacksmith always encouraged him to train hard and become as strong as his father. Even the village’s teacher, Pythias, shared stories about far lands with him once classes ended.

"Phainon! If you want to be the strongest warrior... you'd better start paying attention." She’d always scold him when his attention went back to the tales of mighty alpha warriors instead of focusing on learning math or how to spell properly.

And when Phainon announced, at the age of ten, that he wanted to travel outside the village and become a real warrior so one day he could protect everyone, the adults of the village laughed, but still entertained his antics.

“Better keep that sword sharp, little warrior,” One of the elderly omegas ruffled his hair.

“Who will slay the crows if not the great hero of Aedes Elysiae?” joked the apothecary.

But they let him dream, play pretend with Piso, Livia, and Cyrene. He was still young and naïve, there was no harm in dreaming about the future.

 

⟡

 

He was thirteen, running through the woods on the outskirts of the village with his trusted sword on his back – a real one this time, his dad had gifted it to him so he could help with the hunting and refine his skills.

Phainon’s dream never changed. He wanted to present as an alpha like the warriors in the tales he heard and become a hero. He had no interest in war; his only wish was to protect. To become someone younger boys would look up to and equals would be jealous of for being impossible to beat in a duel.

Aside from his parents, there was only one more person who took his dream as seriously as he did – his best friend, Cyrene.

She was sweet and outgoing just like him, her knees were always scraped from running around after him. She supported his ambitions while reading her oracle cards, wishing to become a seer of Oronyx one day and accompany Phainon on his travels.

They used to sneak into the woods and the Membrance maze – the one said only pure and innocent children can access, and with their combined charm they had befriended the fairies in no time, visiting whenever possible.

 

“Dawnmaker lets light the world ablaze!” Phainon shouted as he fought against a scarecrow, pretending that it was a soldier charging to attack.

“That’s awful,” Cyrene giggled beside him.

“You’re jealous you didn’t think of it first!”

His friendship with Cyrene was truly special.

She taught him how to read the oracle cards, laughing that he drew the ‘Deliverer’ one every single time.

He showed her the best spots to nap in the wheat fields without being found out. Unless it was snowy, the old dog always sniffed him out. What a traitor.

Together, they spent their days making up stories of kingdoms and heroes where even omegas could be kings if they proved their strength.

Back then “omega” was just a word. A mystery like “alphas” and “betas”. Their teacher taught them the basics of it – alphas were meant to protect, omegas were the child-bearers. But they didn’t understand any of the meanings behind the terms yet, it all felt so distant.

They were children. They had time to dream around.

 

Those dreams were shattered the moment his scent became prominent, barely a few days after turning fourteen. When he felt strangely feverish and off and his parents held him and his mother cried silently.

“You’re an omega sweetie,” his mother whispered, smoothing his sweaty hair away from his face. “You will have to be careful from now on.”

“Careful.” Phainon's feverish mind barely registered the words.

As if he was suddenly fragile. As if his worth had changed overnight.

 

Once the fever passed, his mother took him to the Sacrament courtyard to receive the blessing of Oronyx. Phainon was following behind her as he tried to adjust his sight to the sun after days indoors, but worse than the light was the smell. ‘Pheromones’ he remembered his father explaining to him in the past.

It was overwhelming. Spices and floral scents mixed together in one nauseating concoction, making everything reek. Phainon wasn’t sure which smell came from whom, all he knew was that the assault of all the different scents on his nose made him dizzy, especially the musky pheromones beneath all the lighter ones.

He didn’t know what was happening. His legs felt weak. His chest felt too tight. His body, traitorous and overheated, kept pulsing with strange warmth at the base of his spine. His ears rang. He couldn’t look anyone in the eye.

He hated it.

“I don’t like it” he whispered, clutching at his mother’s hand. “I feel sick.” His mother only held onto his hand tighter.

The priestess greeted them by the temple’s entrance, leaning closer and ruffling Phainon’s hair. “Your son has presented as a lovely omega Miss Audata!” At least her scent wasn’t as nauseating.

“I do not wish to be an omega” Phainon mumbled quietly. He was supposed to be an alpha, like the heroes in the stories.

“It’s natural to feel overwhelmed at first, dear. But fear not, the body knows before the mind does.” The older lady smiled at him, her palm came to rest gently on his shoulder in what was supposed to be reassurance. “You’ll understand it one day. When you’re ready to bear.”

Phainon jerked away like he had been burned by her touch. Ready to what?

 

⟡

 

In a small village like Aedes Elysiae, the word about a child presenting spread fast. And soon enough the same neighbors who once told him he’d grow into a fine swordsman now suggested he stay closer to his mom and learns how to cook.

The apothecary handed him a recipe book instead of berries after he helped her out.

The hunter, Piso’s father, told him that maybe it was time to help his mother indoors.

“Omegas are the child bearers of the society,” his teacher explained when he asked. Her scent was surprisingly calming to be around, barely there but warm enough for a beta. “In our little village, they can help out with the labor, but it is also expected of them to take care of the house first and foremost.”

“Take care?”

“Cooking. Cleaning. Perhaps knitting? More… Domestic hobbies.” Pythias explained.

Phainon stared at her like she’d grown horns.

Why would he want to knit?

The question burned through him. Humiliated him. He didn’t want to be held indoors bearing children and being “domestic”. He wasn’t even sure what that meant. All he wanted to be was powerful. Wanted to become the kind of person who could protect others…

Phainon still carried his sword around and trained whenever he could. He met with Cyrene regularly, the only person who still believed in him, and surprisingly, the only person whose scent he could stand for more than five minutes – A gentle mix of wheat and cinnamon.

“You will be a great alpha if that’s what you wish for. I know you will find a way!” She patted his head affectionately once after yet another villager disregarded his dream in order to play the role his secondary gender has set for him.

Phainon clung to those words. Cyrene always predicted the future somehow with her cards, and he hoped she was correct this time as well.

But unlike her, the rest of the villagers watched him now with thin-lipped disapproval.

The boys, Piso included, no longer challenged him to races. The elders frowned every time they saw him running around instead of staying indoors. Livia was no longer stuck to his hip, disappointed he turned out to be an omega like her. Even the old baker, who was always giving him extra bread so he would grow bigger and taller, shook his head when Phainon walked past, saying—

“There’s no need for all that fire. Someone else will protect you now.”

They still treated him kindly, he couldn’t say they weren’t. Yet, it felt as if the villagers saw his secondary gender before they saw him.

His resentment of being an omega only deepened.

⟡

 

Phainon could remember vividly the day the black tide took his village, together with a masked man he would never be able to forget.

They were playing with the mems in the maze. It was right after Phainon drew the ‘Deliverer’ card yet again. Relimem rushed to them, sounding panicked, the mem informed the village leader of fire and smoke – and despite the mem leader’s pleas to stay safe inside the maze, Phainon rushed out. If his destiny was to be the so called ‘Deliverer’ and not a scholar or a wanderer, he had to act like one.

All he could think of was as he ran outside the maze and toward the village the reason he learned to fight. The reason he trained hard every day despite the scrutiny of his neighbors. That reason was to protect them, protect his home.

In that moment, the boy stood at what felt like the end of existence itself.

“WHY? WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?” He screamed as he watched his friends, family, everyone he knew, turn into monsters he was forced to slay. And when the last monster was slain and the screeching ceased, when all that remained of his village was blood and ashes, he ran back with the last of his powers, to look for Cyrene.

Phainon found her sitting against the tree that hid the maze’s entrance, surrounded by a pool of gold gushing from the wound on her chest. A masked swordsman stood by her side. The man looked in his direction silently before vanishing into thin air, leaving nothing but a piece of fabric behind.

Everything burned. Everyone was gone.

He hugged Cyrene’s limp body as he cried and cried, wishing for the black tide to take him too.

 

After that day, Phainon stopped dreaming. There were no more swords with names. No more stories of heroes. It was only him, in the silence of calamity.

Vengeance and hatred boiled in his veins, both at the masked man and at himself.

Maybe… Maybe if he presented as an alpha he could protect everyone.

“They were right. You are weak.”

He wept silently as he dug a grave after grave, burying the bodies during the day, and tossing in pitiful rest at night. Phainon made the Sacrament courtyard his temporary home, hiding in the room Cyrene used to sneak into and pray, the only room that was left almost intact.

The shame of his inability to save the village prevented him from visiting the fairies again.

 

⟡

 

It started three days after the last body was buried.

First, there was a heat that surged through his body, which turned slowly into a fever. A gnawing ache between his thighs. He thought it was a sickness, from the fatigue or from eating only dry bread for days.

No one was left to tell him what was happening. Only the wind howling through the partially crumbling building, and the reek of his own scent growing sweeter by the hour.

It hurt. Titans, it hurt.

His body didn’t feel like his own, sticky and leaking a weird liquid. He used a cloth to wipe it away, but it only made him shudder and whimper at the contact. His hips rolled into the touch, searching for friction. Shame burned hotter than the heat itself.

He sobbed into the darkness as he rutted against his hand. Bit his knuckles so hard they bled when he tried to muffle his cries. His body jolted seconds later, heat seared through him as he came, followed by another gush of that nauseatingly sweet smelling substance.

The shivers stopped only temporarily.

Nothing silenced the pulse between his legs, the need to present, to have something inside him, to have an alpha.

He hated it. Hated it all. His secondary gender. The way his body betrayed him at his weakest moments. Humiliated him.

This wasn’t what Phainon wanted, he wasn’t meant to cry and submit and beg for a thing he didn’t even understand. He was supposed to stand beside Cyrene. Supposed to protect the village, see the world and become a hero as her cards told.

But she was gone. They were all gone. And what he had left was this. A trembling, desperate body, soaked in… Whatever that was leaking down his legs. Alone and unwanted.

The feeling lasted for three days. Three days of suffering and shame as his fingers touched places that felt too intimate, too wrong.

And once it was over and the feeling of need finally went away, Phainon curled up on the floor, knees pulled to his chest. He stared at the shattered statue of Oronyx and whispered into the darkness.

“Never again.”

 

⟡

 

Aglaea found him several weeks after the Black Tide wiped out the village. She arrived with a child, or three to be exact. They told him about the Flame chase. About his golden blood. About destiny, and a chance to become a hero for humanity – exactly like Cyrene predicted with the ‘Deliverer’ card he still carried on him.

One of the things Phainon noticed about both of them was the lack of any scent. Not even the faint one of a beta.

"A hero to bear a Titan's coreflame?" Phainon asked curiously. “Even if I’m…” He flinched, unable to finish the sentence. The memories of the villagers denying him the chance to become a hero surfaced in his consciousness.

“That is not important when it comes to the prophecy” One of the triplets answered proudly.

"So... the Chrysos Heirs were chosen by the heavens?" The boy steadied himself, gathering what courage he had left.

But the tall woman only shook her head, eyeing him with sightless eyes.

"No," she said. "It’s more like a long, grueling pilgrimage."

The trip to Okhema lasted for fifteen days. Phainon did not remember much of it, only the purple of the dormas they rode and the tall walls as they neared the city-state.

He didn’t know what to expect when he arrived in Okhema.

The city-state was huge. Stretching far beyond anything he imagined from the stories Cyrene used to read aloud under the shade of the maple trees. Stone towers, huge bathhouses, and Kephale’s statue – holding the dawn device. The Marmoreal market was the most populated part of the city, full of vendors and food he had never seen in his life before. They even had an antique shop that piqued his interest immediately.  

But what struck him more than the sheer size of the city was the way omegas were treated.

Respected, but only if they were mated. Only if there was an alpha beside them or a mating bite adorned their necks. Otherwise, they were fair game. Unbonded omegas walking alone were constantly stared at, propositioned, and cornered by strangers who mistook civility for availability.

Phainon noticed it immediately. The way eyes lingered on him too long. How alphas passing in the street would sniff, not even subtly, and then look at him like they were assessing meat at a market stall. Like his scent was an invitation. Someone even tried scenting him, which repulsed him to the point of punching the alpha and bolting away, cursing himself for feeling the wetness gather between his thighs despite wanting nothing to do with that man.

He started walking faster after that day. Never linger around. Hands curled into fists to hide the tremble. The reek of so many alphas approaching him on a daily basis was leaving him constantly nauseated.

“Careful, sweetheart. You keep walking around alone like that, someone’s gonna think you want to be claimed.”

“Tch. What’s an omega doing with a sword? You should be learning how to kneel and please not fight.”

“You smell ripe. If you don’t have someone to help with your next heat, I’d be happy to step in.”

Phainon wanted to be sick.

He didn’t want to react to them, to any of them. But his body tensed whenever an alpha came too close. His cheeks flushed. His scent got stronger, just a little, and he could feel them noticing. Eyes narrowed and nostrils flared.

It all felt so wrong. It wasn’t his body, this is not how he should react.

His scent soured at the thought. It was nothing like his days with Cyrene at the village market. Even after he presented, the villagers were kind enough not to make moves on him.

 

Aglaea, true to her word, had put him through a hard training. His instructor, a young beta who served the Chrysos heirs, made sure his progress was as smooth as possible, but even as his skill grew, Phainon was still not allowed to train with the others.

He woke before entry-hour every day, blade in hand before the day had officially begun, and practiced until his arms shook with exhaustion. He memorized every form and pushed his body until he could barely move. But no matter how hard he worked, he remained unwelcome.

“The other soldiers won’t take kindly to an unclaimed omega swinging a sword” his instructor explained with a sigh.

And he was right. The other trainees, all alphas and betas, mocked him whenever he tried sneaking into the training grounds, scents flaring at the sight of the young omega. Once, a boy younger than him threw a towel at his chest and muttered, “You should be playing house instead.”

“Keep your stance solid and your head cool, little warrior.” His father's voice, light and loving, echoed in his head.

Phainon gritted his teeth in restraint. He picked up the towel and threw it back, harder. But the resentment grew. Every rejection felt like a wound. His designation marked him before his skill ever could. He hated the fact that no matter how strong he was, the world would always see him as a fragile thing.

 

⟡

 

Five months after he arrived in Okhema, during the month of Freedom, his heat returned.

It started the same way as it had happened in the ruins of Aedes Elysiae. He was mid-training when the ache started. Low at first, a pulse in his spine that spread like fire under his skin. Every step dragged heat throughout his body, made his scent glands prickle as if begging to be touched. It got worse with every passing minute. By the end of the second hour, he could barely stand with how dizzy he felt.

His instructor cut the training short soon after, signaling to Phainon that it was enough. “Your smell is getting sweeter, you might be entering a heat.”

“Heat?” Phainon questioned. He never heard of the term before or the meaning of it, but it did describe the feeling in his body accurately – an intense heat that spread lower and lower.

“I apologize for overstepping my boundaries, lord Phainon,” his instructor said “but to say it simply, your body wants to reproduce. It’s looking to mate.”

No.

No…

Phainon ran back to his room and locked himself in. In the quietness of it he let himself sob with frustration, nails clawing at his skin. Why did his body need to act like this? As if the social status of being an omega wasn’t enough.

He didn’t want any of that.

By nightfall, he was curled in bed, twitching under the sheets, breathing shallowly. The room felt both too hot and too cold all at once. His skin felt like it didn’t fit right. Like it wasn’t his own body anymore, but he was stuck in someone else’s. Limbs too heavy, sheets wet beneath him, an itch to have something inside, preferably an alpha. He recoiled at the thought.

Phainon couldn’t stand it.

A quiet knock distracted him momentarily from his ever-increasing pain. One of the Tribios, Tribbie, as he recalled by her look was standing by the door.

“Your instructor let us know about your incoming heat,” she said, giving the air a sniff. “And it seems they were correct.”

Phainon turned around in bed with a groan of affirmation. He hated how exposed he felt — his hips rutted into the mattress, searching for friction on his aching length, while his hole leaked the same sweet slick as back then. Each twitch of muscle there sent a traitorous jolt up his spine, a reminder that his body was preparing for something he refused to give it.

Tribbie didn’t mention the state he was in, she moved quietly around the room, filling up a bowl with cool water, fetching cloths and placing a small vial of a herbal looking concoction down by his bed.

“We brought you some things” Tribbie returned to stand by the side of the bed. “The herbs in the vial should help with the pain if it gets too much, and if there is anything else you need, we can help gather it.” The child-looking demigod smiled.

Phainon didn’t respond at first. His jaw was clenched. He stared at the ceiling for a while, his eyes shining with unshed tears of both arousal and frustration.

Finally, he exhaled. “I don’t know” he admitted, voice cracking. “It’s… I feel like I’m burning alive. And... it won’t stop. I barely even know what is happening.”

Tribbie sat at the edge of his bed, her tiny hand sweeping through Phainon's sweaty hair with motherly care. “That’s your body going into heat. It’s a cycle that happens every third month normally.”

“And the weird wetness?”

“It’s slick.” Tribbie was lost in thoughts for a moment. “It’s the way your body prepares for… having a mate.” She explained as vaguely as possible.

Phainon closed his eyes. “It feels wrong.”

“Wrong?” the red-haired demigod questioned.

“Like it’s not my body anymore. Like it’s trying to make me into something I’m not.”

Tribbie pondered his words before speaking again. “It’s not about who you are, Snowy” she reassured. “It’s just biology. Your body is seeking to reproduce which is natural.”

Phainon’s hands curled in the sheets. “It still feels off.” His voice cracked, unable to hold the lump in his throat any longer.

The tears started falling moments after.

“I never wanted this!” he choked, squeezing his eyes shut. “I was supposed to be an alpha. I trained like one. I dreamed like one. I—” His breath hitched.

“I was going to protect people. Not… not end up like this. Weak and needy and not myself!” Phainon dragged his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his arms, shoulders shaking.

Tribbie didn’t speak. She reached out to him instead, resuming to brush his hair in gentle strokes, like petting a frightened animal.

“You’re not weak, snowy,” she murmured.

Phainon wept for what felt like hours. For the village he couldn’t save. For the sword he wasn’t allowed to swing. For the body that had betrayed him.

 

He wasn’t sure how long ago Tribbie left, or how many hours passed. All he could feel was the unbearable heat between his legs. He needed to get the edge off.

Phainon growled low in his throat, biting on his knuckles as his hips twitched on their own accord. His fingers ghosted down his stomach, trembling.

No.

He refused to give his body what it begged for, that sickening emptiness, that disgusting desire to be filled, taken, knotted. He grabbed his cock instead, hard and throbbing for attention, and started rutting into his palm. Like an alpha. Like his father explained to him around the time he was twelve and started showing signs of puberty.

Precum dribbled steadily from the tip and slicked his fingers. He gritted his teeth and pumped faster, trying to wring the pressure out of his system, force his body to calm down. He came with a grunt, back arched, failing to bite back on a moan.

The relief was only temporary.

His scent was still thick, sweet and cloying, an omega scent. His body was still leaking slick, his hole clenching uselessly on nothing. He lay there panting, muscles tense, fighting against his biology. He wouldn't give in to what he refused to be.

And as the heat dragged on, as the fever spiked and his body writhed with need, Phainon refused to curl his fingers inside and seek proper relief.

Not now, not ever.

 

⟡

 

It was a week after his heat that he learned something life-changing.  

“You’re not taking suppressants? No wonder your scent is so strong!” Hegesia, a friend he made in those months in the city, raised an eyebrow in question.

“Suppressants?”

She leaned in. “There are pills, or scent gland patches. You can block your scent with those almost completely, and they make your heats less intense. It’s really hard to get your hands on them, but if you find someone who sells those? Its life changing.”

Phainon stared. “That’s... possible?” It felt like this girl was his life savior.

Hegesia nodded. “I’ve been on them for a few months. Bet you thought I was a beta!” Phainon gawked at her, he did. He was sure she was a beta until barely a second ago.

She smirked, getting herself another portion of honeycakes. “Ask your parents about them! If they need help finding someone who sells them, I’m sure my mom would be happy to share the info!”

 

Later that day, after his training was over, Phainon asked Aglaea about them, or begged, to be exact. The demigod was as stoic as always, but he could tell she wasn’t pleased with the request. Still, as promised, she made the arrangements the next day and a bottle of pills—the scent-blocking kind—was waiting for him outside his room when he returned from his daily training.

“When I grow up, I’ll be the strongest alpha this village has ever seen!”

His hand shook around the pack of pills.

Phainon started taking them daily, skipping the placebo ones, making sure he would never have to go through the torture of a heat again.

The pills were almost like magic. His scent almost disappeared, the assault of pheromones on his sensitive nose was more tolerable, and the most important part – he didn’t feel himself dripping with slick every time an alpha’s touch lingered on him.

 

In the following years, Phainon trained hard to become the deliverer who could stand up to the title, polished his swordsmanship, and even bought himself a proper bath attire since he could attend the public baths now with no worry.

People smelled nothing that would give in his secondary gender if they tried to sniff the air around him, there was only a gentle sea breeze scent that passed easily as cologne or a beta’s scent, as if the part of him that made him prey to alphas had been scrubbed away. It left him lightheaded with relief. No one assumed or degraded him anymore for his secondary gender.

This was exactly what he wanted. He finally regained the confidence he once had, and he was happy, like the days back in his village when he ran around without any worries.

He was Phainon, just Phainon of Aedes Elysiae as he would introduce himself.

The citizens of Okhema didn’t question him, no one suspected he was an omega. Not when he was growing as big and strong as an alpha. And every time he looked in the mirror, he saw the kind of person Cyrene would have been proud of – the cheerful and confident hero he aspired to be.

Phainon ignored Tribbie’s warning about skipping heats. He kept taking the pills consecutively even when Aglaea sent him, together with Castorice, a fellow heir with the scent of endless flower fields despite not having a secondary gender, to study at the Grove of Epiphany.

 

⟡

 

It was Hyacine, the healer of the twilight courtyard, who noticed that something was off barely a month into his arrival at the grove. He was abnormally pale and fell asleep even during Professor Anaxagoras’ lectures, much to the horror of everyone else in class. Even his lack of appetite was concerning.

Being a healer and an omega herself, she knew the symptoms too well.

“You’re on suppressants” she stated one day, once their classes were over.

Phainon stiffened immediately. His spine straightened by instinct, and his lips pressed into a thin, hard line. “So what if I am?”

“When was the last time you had a heat?” Hyacine inquired, her petting on Ica getting rougher for a moment before relaxing.

“Long. Years.” he replied with a scoff, folding his arms tightly over his chest like a shield. “And I’d like to keep it like that.”

“It’s dangerous” she stated without missing a beat, her soft eyes lighting with the same way she did when facing a challenge.

“I’m fine.”

But she didn’t back down. “You aren’t. Your body needs to go through at least one heat a year, or you risk long-term damage. Hormonal imbalances. Immune system collapses. Organ strain. Infertility—”

“Better than being an omega,” he spat, grimacing in disgust at even saying the word out loud.

He didn’t mean to say it so harshly, as he knew Hyacine was a fellow omega. Luckily Hyacine didn’t flinch or show any change of emotion, even her scent remained the natural mix of lavender and rain, and didn’t change at his words.

“Phainon,” she stepped closer, eyes burning with the determination of someone who would not take no for an answer. “You may not like what your body is, but if you keep denying it like this, your current condition will worsen to the point of becoming bedridden.”

"No matter. My existence is of little consequence." He muttered.

“Then I’ll make sure Ica eats your suppressants. He’s good at sniffing those out.” Phainon knew that she meant it. She would do it if he pushed her far enough.

“Fine, once the current batch of pills runs out,” His shoulders slumped in defeat, glaring daggers at the innocent Pegasus in the healer’s arms. Ica trilled back at him in confusion.

“Come see me after it for a checkup,” She beamed at him, victorious.

Phainon left that conversation fuming at himself, at the fact that his body had limits, and even the solution he had wasn’t permanent enough. There were parts of himself he couldn’t overwrite with willpower or medicine.

 

He continued his days normally after that, doing his best to study and win debates with his sharp wit, at least during the times he wasn’t too fatigued. Yet, with every day that passed, Hyacine’s warning echoed in his head. Letting his body go into heat at least once per year was necessary, she said, or the long-term damage would stack.

When he took the first white pill, it felt like swallowing defeat.

The heat hit him harder than he remembered, it had been several years after all.

It started with a chill that bloomed into a fever. His entire body ached. His lower back throbbed. His thoughts scattered too easily. Everywhere he turned he could smell the mix of Seabreeze and maple, his own scent, hanging thickly in the air.

He tried to keep his regular schedule on the first day, toughing through the uncomfortable heat building in his body. Phainon didn’t even make it past his morning training before he doubled over, panting. The ache inside him was too much. He clenched his jaw and forced himself upright.

No.

He was stronger than this.

But his body had other plans. By parting hour, the heat was in full swing. His thighs were damp. His cock throbbed, and his rim fluttered with a humiliating kind of emptiness he refused to acknowledge.

“You are not an omega,” he growled aloud, low and furious, as if he could reforge reality by voice alone. “You’re not that thing. You’re not—”

Phainon stripped his clothes off and collapsed onto the cool sheets of his room, sweat-soaked and seething. His hips moved on their own, searching for friction. He slicked his palm and gripped his cock, stroking it hard and fast, the only way of relief he allowed himself. His body spasmed with each stroke, his hole clenched around nothing, eager and begging to be filled, but he refused to touch it out of sheer spite at himself.

He came after a few strokes, too pent up for his own good, panting into his forearm, but it barely took the edge off. The ache returned ten minutes later.

“Yeah, this is definitely what I trained for. To be shaking like a leaf in my slick.”

Phainon wanted to scream.

He fought the instincts with sheer will throughout the heat, refusing to yield to his biology, which he despised. And by the time it was over, when he showed up at Hyacine’s little clinic, his symptoms were improving, but his hatred toward himself only increased further.

 

⟡

 

Mandatory heat once a year aside, Phainon spent every waking moment meticulously reshaping himself into what he believed an alpha should be – unyielding, precise, caring. He greeted the world with humor and ease, while fighting fearlessly against titankins and black tide monsters alike.

By the time he returned to Okhema from the Grove, Aglaea and Tribbie introduced him to the city as a fellow Chrysos heir. Phainon of Aedes Elysiae — the Deliverer of Amphoreus. No one suspected he was anything but an alpha. The way he always wished for it to be.

The people admired him; he was kind and eager to lend a helping hand to anyone who asked. Children tried mimicking his fighting stance, vendors offered him fruit and snacks on the house whenever he passed by, and his hobby for streaming antique appraisals gained popularity, even if not necessarily for the antique appraisal part.

Phainon also learned the art of debating under Prof. Anaxagoras during his studies at the Grove of Epiphany. Learning what to say and when with the kind of sincerity that swayed the crowds. He was truly the outgoing young man he was years ago, before the black tide took his home, often thinking about whether his parents would be proud of who he had become if they were still alive.

“I just want to fulfil everyone’s wishes.” Phainon would always smile when one of the Tribios asked him why he did so much for the city, sometimes without even being asked to.

 

It was the month of Strife, barely a year after he returned to Okhema, when the Kremnoan detachment arrived at the city-state gates.

His carefully built façade shattered when he met Mydeimos.

All the composure, the self control, the illusion of stability… Everything began to unravel the second he caught the scent of the man. Fire and something metallic – like a freshly forged iron. Masculine and perfectly fitting the alpha who claimed to be a king.

It was also the first time he found an alpha’s scent not repulsive but rather… Appealing.

They fought for ten days and ten nights, a brutal, unforgiving fight that left golden blood on the land and fury in its wake. Mydei was his equal in power. But unlike Phainon, who relied on his knowledge, Mydei moved with the kind of primal, effortless dominance that was saved only for real alphas.

Phainon’s secondary gender screamed through every fiber of his being for the entire time they spent fighting each other. His body ached to submit, to bare his throat, to let that Kremnoan prince pin him down and take what it had always been denied. The idea alone made Phainon sick with rage.

He won the fight, not because he defeated Mydeimos, but because, aside from the crown prince, there was no one left standing on Kremnos’ side by the tenth day.

 

A month later Mydeimos joined the flame chase as he promised, not as a guest, but as one of them, bearing the same golden blood that flowed through Phainon's veins.

That was when the envy began to consume him.

Mydei was everything Phainon had wanted to be since he was a boy: respected, powerful, revered. The crown prince didn’t hide what he was. He wore his scent proudly — like it was armor, or lack of it in the man’s case. His outfit was Scandalous and shameless, a fit he would never allow himself to wear publicly.

And Phainon, watching the alpha as he himself relied on medicine to be considered a part of society, hated him for it.

He tried his best not to stare daggers at Mydei during missions, or say underlying mean things with a smile just to get under the man’s skin and break his annoying composure. And he definitely didn’t try using cheap tricks to win against him when they sparred, trying to make him taste shame and defeat.

It was infuriating. He had spent years of hard work to become the confident person he was today, to earn the city’s respect, to be perceived as an alpha. But now there was someone in his life who did the same so naturally, so effortlessly, it left him seething inside.

He hated the Kremnoan.

Almost as much as he was slowly becoming interested in the man.

His feelings shifted the longer they worked together and he found some... Rather adorable things about Mydeimos. For example, the alpha had the biggest sweet tooth, which Phainon wouldn’t have believed if he hadn’t seen him drown his honeycakes in syrup one day. Or when he learned that Mydei loved playing house with the kids who always followed him around the market like ducklings. Then came the night at the tavern, when a kremnoan soldier whispered around the table in secret, clearly drunk on ambrosia, that the crown prince adds milk to his pomegranate juice. Cute.

All those things were traits Phainon normally associated with omegas, betas at most. But Mydei didn’t care. He was confident. He never demanded attention and was calm and calculated. The opposite of every alpha Phainon had ever known in Okhema.

His hatred morphed over time into curiosity, admiration even.

Phainon didn’t want to fight Mydei anymore. Instead, he wanted to be like him. Learn from him. And beneath all of the admiration, quiet and growing, was the ache of something unexpected – attraction.

He couldn’t remember when the touches started feeling different. When Mydei’s hand was on his shoulder after sparring made heat crawl up his neck. When his scent, that stupid, addicting scent of fire and molten iron started making him weak in the knees.

There were nights he returned to his room too worked up, undressed too quickly, wrapping a shaky hand around his hard length, stroking himself to the thoughts of the prince’s absurd body. And when he came, grimacing at the gush of slick between his thighs, he reminded himself bitterly –

No amount of pretending could change what he was, an omega. And Mydei would stop seeing him as an equal if he knew. Just like everyone in his village did.

 

⟡

 

The hero’s baths were always quiet at parting hour.

Steam curled along the marble floors, water shimmering gold with Phagousa’s blessing. The sound of the people below at the communal baths echoed through the place, joined only by the distant clink of armor being set aside and the rustle of fabric.

“Do you ever shut up?” Mydei muttered, half-grumbling, half-yawning, as he sank into the golden waters.

“No” Phainon replied sweetly, tilting his head. “Why would I? I know you secretly enjoy my stories.”

Mydei huffed, leaning against the edge of the bath, his hair was pulled into a small bun that exposed the scent gland at the back of his neck, the steam around them amplifying his Pheromones. Fire and metal, but heavier now, joined with a sweet undertone that reminded him of the pomegranates Mydei liked so much.

Phainon forced himself to ignore the heat forming in his lower body, the sight of the mostly-naked Kremnoan together with the alpha’s scent affected his exhausted body more than it should. He tried to stay casual, letting his knee touch Mydei’s under the water in search for any sort of contact as his mind was becoming hazy.

The prince cracked one eye open in warning. “What are you doing, Deliverer?”

“You stink,” Phainon leaned even closer, to the point where he was almost pressed to Mydei’s side. “Your scent is all over the place.”

“Too tired to bother, it’s only us here anyway.” The alpha dismissed him, about to close his eyes again.

But Phainon didn’t move back. The steam made the air heavy around them with Mydei’s pheromones and he longer he breathed it in, the slower his thoughts became.

“I didn’t say it was a bad stench” he murmured. “It’s quite… nice.”

That earned him a sharper look, the other eye opening. Questioning him. “Did a titankin hit your head too hard?”

Phainon’s fingers curled against the fabric of his bath attire. He let his gaze fall to the slope of Mydei’s neck, to where his scent gland was, and before he realized, he was sliding closer, water rippling around their chests. His thigh brushed Mydei’s hip, then his weight shifted again until he was halfway in the other man’s lap. Phainon buried his face in the side of the Kremnoan neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent.

He could feel Mydei’s surprised reaction without needing to see the man’s face, but he couldn’t care less about it at the moment – if the Kremnoan hated it he could easily push him away, which he didn’t.

His own scent flared slightly, weak thanks to the suppressants, but unmistakably there. Seabreeze mixed with the sweetness of Maple. He normally knew how to control it. But tonight, the bath was too hot and Mydei was too close.

“Can I scent you?”

Mydei blinked at him. “The hell for?”

“I just—” Phainon wasn’t sure what was even the reason, aside from the urge in his body, an urge he for once, didn’t mind indulging in.

“Fine. You shameless bastard.” Mydei sighed and rubbed his temples, clearly unamused. But he didn’t deny his request.

Phainon buried his face deeper into the alpha’s neck, reaching his wrist to rub their scent glands together. He could tell every undertone of the heady scent like that - Fire and metal, sharp enough to catch in his throat, laced with a spice he couldn’t recognize and the sweetness of pomegranates that clung to the back of his tongue. Breathing it felt like swallowing the heat from a forge. Heavy, addictive, impossible to clear from his lungs.

And it all mingled with his pheromones now, a combination so strong he could feel himself throb with arousal.

He pulled back slightly, cheeks flushed and eyes blown wide. “Can you…?” His voice grew quieter, almost shy. “…Scent me, too?”

Phainon expected a scoff. A flat refusal. A punch to the shoulder, maybe.

Instead, Mydei looked back at him, just as flushed and wide-eyed. Slowly, deliberately, he reached Phainon’s neck and rubbed his wrist on his scent gland, shivering at the contact.

A shiver ran straight down Phainon’s spine. His free hand had found Mydei’s waist under the water, fingers curling in a possessive grip. They were pressed together in the bath, almost chest to chest, scents mixing together, and the hard, unmistakable shape of Mydei’s hardness against his thigh made his breath hitch.

It was too intimate, too much for what they were, his heartbeat hammered in his chest so loudly he was sure Mydei could hear it.

“Shit—Deliverer.”

Phainon snapped from the trance he was in.

“I—suddenly forgot something!” He stammered, bolting out of the alpha's lap, ignoring Mydei’s puzzled look and the very confused attendant outside the door as he ran away from the baths.

He slammed the door shut behind him as he entered his chambers, chest heaving as he leaned against it. Their tangled scents clung together in the air around him. Phainon tossed his bathing attire to the floor, feeling too suffocated all of a sudden, but the air was still thick with it, curling under his nose, making his pulse pound in his ears. His knees almost buckled. His cock was hard, painfully so, flushed and begging for attention.

“Fuck” he rasped, but his fingers were already wrapping at the base.

He didn’t want to think about what happened minutes ago, the heat of Mydei’s body under his hands, the slow drag of his scent gland over his own skin, the smell of arousal coming from both of them. Kephale, the way the alpha’s cock throbbed against his thigh…

Phainon’s grip tightened, stroking himself faster. Precome dribbled steadily from the slit and over his fingers, making the glide of his hand easier and smoother. His other hand moved to thumb at the tip, rubbing the sensitive head as he thrust harder into his fist, chasing the relief he needed so badly.

With one last stroke he came, so hard his body arched, head hitting the door, making him groan loudly at both pain and pleasure. Thick spurts coating his fingers. And then he felt it — the slow, humiliating trickle of slick between his thighs, proof of what his body craved.

Phainon grimaced in disgust. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to go back and beg the alpha to take him, to feel Mydei stretch him, knot him, fill him with pups.

He gagged at the thought.

“I don’t want him like that…” Phainon clenched his fists, blinking the tears of anger away. “…Not inside me.”

He dragged himself to the bed, not bothering to dress up, and buried his face in his pillow, trying to muffle the sob rising in his throat.

 

⟡

 

Phainon woke up earlier than usual.

His uniform was immaculate, as expected from Aglaea’s craftsmanship, and his scent was back to being barely existent. He looked every bit the Deliverer; confident, composed, totally not affected by last night’s slip-up. Except one small detail he might’ve forgotten — He still smelled like the crown prince.

When he met Mydei in the training ground, he wore his usual, cheerful smile, opting to ignore the way Mydei’s eyes dilated momentarily or the way he took a sharp breath at the recognition of his own scent on him. “Did you sleep well, your highness?” He teased instead. “You looked half-dead when I left you in the baths.”

Mydei snorted. “You ran like a startled deer.”

“I forgot to take care of something urgent.” Phainon shrugged, too easily. “Not that you’d understand with all the attendants you have.”

He said it casually. Like they didn’t scent each other only a few quints ago, like he couldn’t smell his pheromones still clinging to Mydei the same way the alpha’s clung to him.

It wasn’t a crush. It wasn’t.

He was tired. Strung out. He admired Mydei, that was all. Sure, he was attracted, but who in their right mind wouldn’t be after seeing the man? Right?

Mydeimos didn’t bring it up after that, nor acted any differently. And Phainon thanked the titans for it.

 

They remained close. Between daily sparrings, joined missions, and Phainon dragging Mydei to the baths twice a day, they were closer than any other heirs. They bickered like rivals, laughed like friends, and watched each other a little too long when the other wasn’t looking, never admitting it if caught.

There were also quiet moments, brief flashes of mutual attraction. When Mydei stood too close behind him. When their fingers brushed and didn’t move away. When Phainon wrapped an arm around Mydei’s shoulder and, totally on purpose, rubbed his scent gland on the alpha’s neck.

But neither of them tried taking it further.

Phainon told himself he was content like that, that it was better to be just friends than lose Mydei completely if he found he was an omega.

He didn’t wish for their friendship to end the same way it ended with the kids in his village once he presented.

“As long as I don't ask for too much...” he reminded himself.

And yet... when his heat arrived, Phainon could only think of him.

The first day was always the worst. He was lying in his bed, a sheen of sweat covered his body as he stroked his cock to the thoughts of a certain alpha. He wondered if Mydei also thought about him during his ruts; Did the prince grit his teeth through them like Phainon did through his heats, refusing to give in to his instincts? Or did he take what he needed from someone? Someone pliant and willing, an omega who welcomed him without hesitation.

It was shameful of him to even think about this. But Phainon couldn’t help himself. He was past the point of denying his feelings.

The thought of Mydei like that, flushed, scent heavy with want, conjured a vivid image in his mind, betraying him.

“What would it feel like to be filled by him? To be knotted?”

The surge of heat was immediate and violent, so intense that it made him come even though he barely touched himself. Back arching off the bed as thick milky ropes of come shot across his abdomen.

His mind cleared enough post-orgasm to make him realize what happened.

Phainon recoiled instantly, rolling onto his side and gagging, bile burning the back of his throat. He came from thinking of being knotted. Knotting. The word alone made his gut twist.

He didn’t want it. It was a byproduct of his broken biology. A glitch in his system. It had to be.

Phainon hated it. Hated the traitorous way his thighs trembled at the thought. Hated the slick that pooled between his legs. Hated the way his mind kept replaying the image of Mydei above him, heavy and warm and claiming him in a way he didn’t want.

“I am an alpha.” He cried, curling into himself. “I’m not—"

But his body didn’t care.

So he lay there, sobbing quietly, as the ache pulled tighter and tighter through him. His thoughts drifted back to Mydei.

Even if by some impossible chance the Kremnoan would want him one day, it would never be like that. Mydei was an alpha, and he… he was an alpha trapped in the wrong body. And being with the Crown Prince would mean giving in to what his secondary gender wants.

He couldn’t do that. 

Not for Mydei. Not for anyone.

 

Phainon has emerged from his chambers after four grueling days. His body still hurt from the strain of not yielding to his desires. His throat was raw from crying and screaming. He a way too long shower after his heat ended, scrubbing the slick from his skin until his thighs chaffed. And still, the shame of thinking about Mydei like that didn't go away.

The visit to Hyacine didn’t help either. The pink haired healer only gave him a worried look, muttering about concerning vitals and the need to stop denying his biology, which he had no plans of doing.

Luckily, Castorice was at the Hall of Respite as usual. Sitting at the veranda and watching the eternally bright sky. She glanced up when he came closer to her, a small smile on her lips.

“Lord Phainon,” she greeted.

Phainon smiled back at her. “Can I ask you something?” He sank into the stone bench across from her posture slouched in a way he wouldn’t allow anywhere else.

“Hypothetically, if you were interested in a fellow alpha, would it be weird to think about them during your he…” He coughed “Rut.”

Castorice eyed him for a while without answering.

“So you were thinking about lord Mydei during your last heat?” she asked finally.

“How—”

“I apologize for the bluntness, lord Phainon, but while you might be able to fool the people around the city, I’ve spent enough time with you at the Grove to notice.”

Phainon rubbed the back of his neck nervously, minding not to scratch his scent gland by accident.

“As for your question, it's natural.” She added. “You like him. It’s normal to think of the person you want during more… vulnerable moments. It’s not even a matter of biology.”

He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Biology is exactly the problem here. He deserves better.”

Castorice tilted her head. “From the little I know about Lord Mydei, he doesn’t strike me as the type to measure someone’s worth by their secondary gender.”

“You don’t know him like I do!” Phainon jumped defensively.

“I don’t,” she laughed gently “But maybe you don’t know him as well either.”

He was about to retort when Castorice spoke again “Friendship, attraction… the bond you two have between you won’t be swayed because of your secondary gender. If he’s worth it, he’ll accept you the way you are.”

Her words hit the exact sore spot he was worried about. And somehow, hearing it from an outside perspective made things a little better.

 

⟡

 

The rest of the year passed in the same slow rhythm - they sparred, fought, and laughed together. Too close to be called friends, yet not enough to be called lovers.

But things changed, a little by little throughout the months.  

Longing stares, lingering touches, even some slip-ups; almost kissing, almost rutting against each other, almost... The only thing that stopped being ‘almost’ was the scenting. It happened daily, unconscious slides of wrists, always followed by flushed cheeks, even if Phainon’s Pheromones were barely noticeable under the suppressants.

It happened on a sunny afternoon, around the second quint of action hour, when Phainon found himself resting by one of the tees in the Garden of Life. The heat of the day and the exhaustion from the meeting with the council of elders finally caught up with him, and before he could resist it, he dozed off in the shade.

He drifted into a dreamless haze, the world slipping away until he felt a weight settle softly on his shoulder, warm and alluring. Slowly, Phainon opened his eyes. There, leaning against him, was Mydei. His usual scowl has softened, he smelled calm, content even. The kind of scent he rarely caught on the man.

Phainon leaned closer, nuzzling more comfortably against Mydei, and before he realized, a quiet purr escaped from his throat. The sound surprised him, making him jump away like a startled chimera and close his mouth, utterly mortified.

Mydei stirred awake next to him, blinking at Phainon with an unreadable mix of curiosity and possessiveness, making Phainon’s face burn redder than a ripe pomegranate. “I want to die” he muttered, hiding his face in his hands.

“There is no need to hide or be embarrassed,” Mydei said with his usual scowl. “I know you’re an omega.”

Phainon froze.

Mydei went on, unfazed. “It wasn’t hard to connect the dots, Deliverer. You’ve been scenting me for months. You aren’t as subtle as you think.” his scent didn’t change. He didn’t sneer or mock him. Mydei said it like he was stating that the sky was blue.

“But—” Phainon started, then stopped. His mouth felt too dry. “You don’t… care?”

Shifting slightly, the alpha brushed his armor-clad fingers along Phainon’s arm, grounding him. “Your biology doesn’t define you, for what ever reason you’re hiding from it. What matters is your strength.”

Phainon stared at him. His pulse rang in his ears.

“You are a strong warrior” Mydei continued, saying it as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s the only thing that I see when I look at you.” His gaze softened. “It doesn’t matter if you’re an omega or a beta. You’re still the same deliverer.”

Phainon swallowed hard, he couldn’t speak. The words were stuck in his throat, mixed with years of shame, of discipline, of desperate survival. He wanted to believe it, Titans, he wanted to believe it so badly, but how could he? How could one man’s kindness fix everything he hated about himself?

“That’s not how things work here” he said eventually, looking away.

“Then maybe ‘here’ needs to change.”

Phainon laughed, a dry, bitter sound.

“Yeah, as if changing years of cultural structure was that easy…”

His thought was cut off when he felt Mydei’s palm rise to his cheek, guiding Phainon to look at him before he could retort or say anything further. Phainon turned his eyes, cerulean orbs meting amber once, and the sincerity in the alpha’s eyes left him mesmerized.

With the faintest of smiles, Mydei closed his eyes and leaned in.

The first contact was feather-light, a brush of lips, gentle but deliberate. Then the pressure deepened, lips parting to claim his in a slow, consuming kiss. Phainon’s senses exploded. Mydei’s lips tasted like the pomegranate juice the prince loved drinking, mixed with something sweeter like sugar. His tongue flicked out, slipping into Phainon’s mouth with a boldness that made his pulse spike.

Phainon responded instinctively, opening to him, tongue curling around Mydei’s in a battle of dominance, showing him how much he wanted him too. His skin prickled where the Kremnoans' fingers traced sharply down his jaw, to his neck, along his exposed collarbones, and Phainon traced his hands almost Mydei’s body as well, feeling the hard muscle beneath the surprisingly soft skin. The scent in the air thickened with mutual desire the longer their lips stayed connected, the underlying sweetness of Mydei’s scent overtaking the usual fire and iron, wrapping around Phainon’s senses until he was drowning in it, basking in it.

When Mydei finally pulled back, enough to rest his forehead against Phainon’s, his eyes glinted with amusement, triumph even.

“If I knew this would make you stop talking for a good minute, I would’ve done it months ago,” he smirked at him, getting up and walking away, as if nothing happened, as if he didn’t short-circuit Phainon’s brain.

Still dazed from the kiss, Phainon blinked in shock as he watched Mydei’s retreating figure. His face was flushed, his lips were as red as the markings on the alpha's body and kiss swollen. He swallowed hard, his mind was spinning. He felt surprised, stunned, and very much aroused.

Phainon let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and somewhere beneath the haze, he felt a flicker of hope. Maybe Mydei could accept him. Maybe this could be different.

It did not mean coming to terms with his biology. No. It meant that there was someone out there who saw how defective he was and still wanted him.

“I wish Cyrene could meet him” He reminisced, knowing well that his long-gone friend would’ve liked Mydei for sure. For a moment he swore he could hear her laugh and smell the wheat fields he missed so much.

His mind was still hazy, Phainon concluded.

 

That day in the garden changed the dynamics between them.

They exchanged touches more often now, armor-clad fingertips trailing along his arm, a casual nudge here and there, shameless hand holding initiated by Phainon that Mydei didn’t push away. The teasing in his voice grew sharper, lighter, taunting the crown prince constantly as an excuse to spend more time together.

Mydei, for his part, didn’t pull away. Instead, he met Phainon’s touches with steady hands. A hand on a shoulder, a quiet squeeze at his hips. He leaned in when Phainon teased, bantered back when he was challenged, and sometimes even initiated the scenting himself.

Although the best part of the change was the kisses. They became frequent, from small pecks when nobody noticed, to more heated and passionate ones when they were alone, be it in the baths, their chambers, or even on missions. Phainon blesses his suppressants for not making the wrong parts of his body react every single time their kisses lingered and hands roamed.

 

They were lounging by the Marmoreal palace, Mydei’s head resting on Phainon’s lap, when Castorice approached them with a light flush on her cheeks.

“Lord Mydei, Lord Phainon, are congratulations due?” she asked bluntly, making Phainon’s cheeks heat with realization of what she was referring to. “Are you two officially mated now?”

Phainon blinked, tongue stumbling over a laugh that quickly turned into a nervous cough. “I—uh, we aren’t!”

“Forgive me for assuming!” She clasped her hands on her mouth, flushing deeper red in embarrassment.

Mydei only grunted in response, “With how much this Deliverer scents me, the whole city must be thinking the same. Easier for me that way.” The alpha resumed scrolling through his teleslate, but the almost possessive squeeze he gave Phainon’s waist did not go unnoticed.

“I should leave you both alone now.” Castorice mumbled, bowing to both of them in apology before running off, the tips of her pointy ears still red.

And if in the following days there was suddenly a spike of rumors about the two alphas, much to Phainon’s mortification, she swore it had nothing to do with her.

 

The spike of rumors, unfortunately, brought the opposite effect for Phainon. Instead of basking in the thought of the whole city thinking they are mates, a doubt rose in his heart.

“What if Mydei sees me as an omega and nothing else?”

“What if he’s interested just because of my secondary gender?”

Two alphas’ bonding wasn’t uncommon, especially since omegas, unmated ones at least, weren’t seen outside very frequently. They either stayed indoors, safe from the harassment of brutish alphas who never heard of the word ‘respect’, or hid their identity with suppressants, the same way he did .

So what if…

Phainon wanted to believe Mydei’s acceptance was real and lasting. But years of rejection, of masking who he was, didn’t vanish overnight. There was also a deeper fear gnawing at him—if they grew even closer, if their bond tightened, what would that mean?

Mydei was an alpha. Strong, fierce, protective.

While he was… none of those, at least not beneath the surface.

Would Mydei agree to be vulnerable in return? To be the one taken care of, the one to surrender and let Phainon take him? It felt impossible to even imagine the alpha yielding and taking a cock up his ass. Phainon clenched his fists, swallowing the lump of fear that tightened his throat. He couldn’t stop wondering if what he wanted was even possible.

 

It was the month of cultivation, the busiest month of the year.

Taking a well-deserved break from helping around the city, Phainon slipped into the garden of life, escaping any chances to be found by more citizens who needed his help. He was enjoying the quietness and serenity, ready to lie on the grass and take a short nap under the eternal sun when he noticed a familiar pink head in front of him. Hyacine.

“Ah, lord Phainon, I was about to look for you!” She approached him, little Ica floating next to her.

“Let me guess…” Phainon drifted off, mood darkening. If his scent was not blocked by the suppressants, it would be as foul as his mood now.

“Yes. Your heat is approaching, and last time your vitals were,” she paused “Concerning to say the least.”

“I’m fine.”

“You weren’t.”

“I’ll take double the suppressant this week” Phainon muttered. “It should do the job.”

“You know that’s not how the body works. Denying yourself for over a decade... You’re at your limits” Hyacine’s calming lavender scent was gone, replaced with a smell akin to wilted flowers. Why did she even care so much? Phainon could not understand.

“You’re not my body.” He still couldn’t bring himself to think about the only possible solution, the one he refused for years.

“No” she agreed. “But I am a healer.”

She paused. Watched the tension coil tighter in his shoulders. Little Ica trilled worryingly next to her in an attempt to reassure Phainon.

“You’re not invincible,” she added, the concern in her eyes made him flinch. “Even if you want to be.”

Phainon folded his arms over his chest defensively. His words were full of venom and disgust. “Let me guess. You want me to spread my legs for the first alpha who will volunteer.”

Hyacine blinked in confusion. “Aquila in the skies, no. You would tear your own throat out before you’ll allow this to happen.”

His mouth opened. Closed. He looked away again.

She approached closer, her scent returning to her regular one, petting Ica until the little Pegasus calmed down and trilled happily in her arms. “I’m saying… You don’t have to do this alone. Maybe a heat partner that you trust would help.”

Phainon laughed bitterly. “A heat partner?”

“You and lord Mydei are quite close—”

“No.”

“Think about it” she smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Please.”

Phainon didn’t answer, he turned around and stomped out of the garden. So much for wanting a break.

 

⟡

 

There were two days left until his upcoming heat, and Phainon could feel the pre-heat creeping up his body. The fatigue, the clamminess of his skin even when it wasn’t warm outside, the there-but-not-really fever. The more he tried to ignore it the more the conversation with Hyacine resurfaced, irritating, impossible to shake off.

“You and lord Mydei are quite close—”

That was the problem. Mydei was… An alpha.

What a great recipe for disaster.

Yet, he still dared to hope. Alpha or not, Mydei was different than the rest, and the possibility of him agreeing… While slim, it was not a zero.

Determined, he left his chambers to look for the crown prince.

He found Mydei at his usual spot on the roofs of the city, overlooking the market as merchants closed down their stalls and retired for the day. As expected of the Kremnoan, he turned around at the sound of footsteps, giving Phainon a grunt of acknowledgement.

“Mydei.” The name left his mouth softer than he intended.

“Deliverer.”

The sound of his nickname made warmth spread down his spine. He had to do this quickly, before he lost his nerve and ended up saying something stupid.

“My heat starts in two days.” It was almost funny, the way Mydei’s expression didn’t change. No flicker of surprise, no discomfort. Only quiet attention, the way one might give a comrade who was about to give a battlefield report.

“And?”

Phainon hesitated for a second. “And I want you to spend it with me.”

Now, that got him a reaction— Mydei’s gaze sharpened with focus, as though weighing something heavy in his mind. “Is that your way to confess your feelings?”

“It’s…” Phainon swallowed, clenching his fists before he looked the man in the eyes. “It’s me finally saying what we both know already.” He broke off, taking a deep breath. “I like you, Mydei. More than a friend or a fellow Chrysos heir, probably.”

“And you think I don’t?”

Mydei looked at him with that infuriating composure that made it impossible to read what he was thinking. “You think I would’ve entertained you all this time if I wasn’t interested?”

A faint, bitter smile tugged at Phainon’s lips. “Then I guess I’m worse at reading you than I thought.”

“Says the guy who boasts to the whole city he knows me best!” Mydei held back on a laugh, composing himself back into his calm and stoic self.

“Tell me, Deliverer. What exactly do you need from me?”

“I need you.” The admission hung between them, making Phainon feel exposed and vulnerable. “Not only your company. I need all of you. And I know what that would mean. I know what it would ask of you. If that’s not a thing you can even imagine, then…” He forced himself to meet Mydei’s eyes. “Please say it. Before I start wanting things that will never happen.”

Silence stretched between them.

Neither man spoke for a long minute. Phainon was quiet with anticipation, while Mydei was deep in thought. When the Kremnoan finally stepped closer, it was slow enough for Phainon to back away if he wanted to.

He didn’t.

“I understand.” Mydei’s voice was low and steady, but still unreadable.

Phainon’s pulse roared in his ears. “Do you really, Mydeimos?” He had to make sure. “You’re an alpha. And alphas don’t—”

“Don’t what?” Mydei’s tone cut through, low and sharp.

“Don’t yield to an omega like me.”

For a moment, all Mydei did was look at him. Then, in a deliberate motion, he removed one of his gauntlets, the sound of the leather straps echoing through the quietness around them. Thank Kephale he chose to have this conversation toward the end of parting hour, when most of the marketplace below them was empty of people.

When his bare hand came to rest against Phainon’s jaw, it was warm, the same way Mydei always was, a little warmer to the touch than everyone else. “You don’t ask me to yield, you’re asking me to be yours, willingly. Nothing more, nothing less.” Mydei’s scent spiked around them, warm and calming, and conveying the same emotions his words did.

Something in Phainon’s façade cracked. He hated how much it affected him, how much he wanted to believe it. “You don’t understand” he whispered.

“I understand more than you think.” Mydei’s thumb brushed his cheek. “So, do you want me there when your heat comes, or not?”

The answer was burning in his chest, impossible to deny. “Yes.”

Mydei’s hand slid away, but his eyes stayed locked on his. “Then stop trying to push me away before I’ve even had the chance to decide for myself.”

Phainon stood frozen long after Mydei walked past him, his scent lingering like a promise in the air. His hands were shaking with the terrifying possibility that Mydei might grant him what he had wanted his whole life.

To feel like a real alpha.

 

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

 

In Kremnos, they did not bow to instinct.

Secondary gender was a footnote, not a fate. They were terms of biology recorded on scrolls for the midwives and healers, but never spoken aloud in the arena, never used to excuse weakness or explain away failure. You were judged by your form, your footwork, your strength. Not by what your body wanted.

A failed warrior was a failed warrior. A strong one survived.

Mydei had never thought much of it, not until he arrived at Okhema and met the other golden-blooded heir whose voice never trembled but whose hands sometimes did.

Phainon.

The first time Mydei saw him, it was on a battlefield. The man was as big and tall as himself, an alpha like him. At least that's what he thought until he noticed his scent was barely existent.

“Must be a beta then.” He remembered himself thinking during the ten-day-long fight. But there was something beneath it, something he couldn’t point his finger at. They fought with all they had, neither man willing to yield.  Phainon fought like someone trying to burn out of his own body. Reckless and with little regard for himself, an action the crown prince was too familiar with thanks to his immortality. The white-haired warrior on the other hand? Was too reckless for a mortal.

Mydei told himself it was the fact Phainon could keep up with him that caught his attention, that made him watch the way his mouth tightened when he was thinking, the way his stance shifted when he was seconds away from striking.  

But that wasn’t it. Mydei could feel an unexplainable pull toward the man.

Phainon’s personality was impossible to ignore. Sharp-tongued, outgoing, too clever for his own good. But beneath that kindness and cheer was fragility, as if he was holding back more than he ever let show. Mydei saw it in the way he flinched when someone lingered around for too long, or in the stiffness in his shoulders when another alpha touched him. Almost like he wasn’t comfortable in his skin.

So, he made it a habit to stand between Phainon and others in crowded places. Subtly, to not startle him. He let out more of his scent when Phainon’s faint one soured, calming the man down until the tension in his jaw eased.

Mydei never said a word about it. He doubted Phainon even noticed, not that he wanted him to.

Because somewhere in those long months, somewhere between battles and long missions spent outside of the safety of Okhema, Mydei had started watching the white-haired deliverer for reasons that had nothing to do with strategy.

It wasn’t the way he looked. Though, Titans, the man was attractive. It wasn’t his scent either, at least Mydei thought it wasn’t. He caught a weak whiff of sea breeze around Phainon, and while it was pleasant, the pheromones were too weak to affect him in any way.

What drew him in was the way Phainon held grief in his shoulders like armor. The way he never slept deeply, always alert. Too alert. Or the way he never asked for help, putting himself last. Never once did he hear Phainon prioritize himself. And that reminded Mydei of himself. Maybe they were kindred spirits as Hyacine mentioned once when both men avoided getting treatment after a difficult mission.

Over time Mydei realized he was getting attracted to the white-haired man. It was easy enough to ignore in the beginning. He had no time for this, there was too much on his plate between his men settling in Okhema and the flame-chase. He told himself that it was fine the way it was, their rivalry-turned-friendship was enough.

But Phainon didn’t make it easy.

He had a way of brushing against Mydei in passing, of leaning close and sharing an inside joke that made Mydei smirk despite himself. He waved at him all across from the other side of the market, all smile and confidence, and Mydei’s heart would beat faster for a second, before he forced it to calm down with a “There is no place for romance in here.”

Yet, as calculated as he was, Mydei was not above making his own moves. When Phainon pressed his wrist to Mydei’s scent gland, he returned the gesture. When their shoulders bumped during a mission briefing, he didn’t move away. And once, when they were alone in the baths and Phainon begged to be scented, Mydei indulged his request. Even if it left him hard and aching afterwards, his mind hazy with the enticing scent of salt and maple and something warm like the sun.

At least that confirmed what he suspected for a while – The man was an omega, no matter how much he tried hiding it.

“You should be happy with what you have with him right now.” He kept telling himself. Especially during his ruts.

“Shame” was not a word in the Kremnoan dictionary, but so was “thinking about your friend as you fuck into your hand during a rut.”  Oddly specific, yes, yet Mydei did exactly that – hand wrapped around his cock, knot swelling painfully between his fingers as he imagined how it would feel inside Phainon, how wet and tight he would feel around him, how he would write underneath him, breathless and wanting. 

Even better, his fantasy drifted, to have his knot swell in his palm as Phainon fucked into him instead. Playing the role of the alpha he insisted he was.

His inner alpha growled at the humiliating idea, but Mydei couldn’t help it, his mind drifted to the countless times they sparred, where Phainon managed to pin him to the ground with his teasing smile.

How would those eyes look in the throes of pleasure? Would they stay as bright, or would they darken with arousal until only a thin ring of blue was visible?

Mydei slid his free hand behind him, slick fingers teasing at his rim, imagining it was Phainon’s as he bucked into his fist, hard and ready to go again. He pushed two inside, gasping at the intrusion.

“Wanting your omega friend to fuck you” was definitely not in the Kremnoan dictionary. But he couldn’t shake the fantasy away.  

 

During the busy month of cultivation, they barely had time to see each other, so when he saw Phainon snapping peacefully by one of the trees in the garden of life, Mydei decided to join him. The omega enjoyed his company after all, if all the time they spent together was any indication.

Sitting by the man and leaning against his shoulder, Mydei let his eyes rest for a little bit.

The purring sounds that came almost immediately didn’t go unnoticed by him. He opened his eyes to see Phainon sitting frozen in place, mortified and flushed. Many different words ran through his head, but none of them seemed right. He ended up saying the bluntest thing.

“I know you’re an omega.”

It wasn’t a lie. He had noticed a long time ago. Phainon hid it well, especially with what he assumed were suppressants, but Mydei was too observant to miss what Phainon worked so hard to hide. And he didn’t care. Why should he? Strength was strength.

Once he told him that, in the hope of reassuring the omega, the look in Phainon’s eyes was… complicated. Cerulean orbs gleamed with a mix of hope and disbelief, like he wanted to believe but didn’t dare to. So, he kissed him instead, pouring the emotions he wasn’t able to convey with words into the kiss, hoping it would make his attraction clear enough and show Phainon that secondary gender doesn’t matter.

Their dynamic changed after that day. There were no official labels to their relationship, but they grew closer and more intimate. Quick pecks in empty hallways, lingering kisses in the privacy of their chambers. A hand on the back of Phainon’s neck, a thumb tracing his jaw. His scent tangled with Mydei’s more and more often, enough that Mydei found himself craving to smell the real thing, not the muted version the omegas' suppressants provided.

Still, there were lines Mydei didn’t cross. He told himself it was because there was no time, because the prophecy came first, because whatever this was, it was bound to be doomed, no matter how much he wanted it.

When Phainon approached him on the rooftop, Mydei thought it would be another one of his attempts to rope him into a pointless competition. But the man's words left him surprised.  

“My heat starts in two days” he said, voice steady but carrying a weight Mydei recognized immediately. Fear.

He asked for clarification, almost doubting that Phainon, as much as he liked him, wanted to be claimed by an alpha. It didn’t seem to fit the behavior of the man he came to know.

He was correct.

“I need you. I need all of you. And I know what that would mean. I know what it would ask of you. You’re an alpha, and alphas don’t …”

No one spoke of an alpha yielding like that, letting an omega take control. It was unthinkable, almost humiliating by the standards of the city, but he had no interest in being the kind of alpha the world expected. Mydei, despite being a king and a Chrysos heir, never cared for titles or roles. And if what Phainon needed was this, if enduring a little absurdity meant being what Phainon needed him to be, then so be it.

“I understand more than you think” he said eventually. Offering his help.

It should have been absurd. It should have been against every instinct in him. But all Mydei could think was that he trusted Phainon with his life — in battle, in the prophecy, and in this too. If the rest of the world thought it strange, they didn’t need to know. This was between them.

Besides, the arrangement fed the fantasy he had been having for the past few ruts.

 

⟡

 

Mydei arrived at Phainon's chambers two days later as agreed upon. He thought it would be easy to keep his composure, he had helped other omegas with their heats before, but nothing had prepared him for the most alluring scent he had ever smelled.

It wasn’t the faint, masked scent Phainon carried every day. This was raw, unshielded, thrumming with need. Salt and sweetness mixed with heat. Titans, it wrapped around Mydei, thick enough to taste, gnawing at every alpha instinct he had.

His instincts surged all at once, snarling beneath his ribs like a tide. His inner alpha bristled. Demanded. His pupils flared. His canines grew sharper inside his mouth.

Phainon was pacing around the room in anticipation for his arrival. The white-haired man’s skin was flushed down all the way to his neck, a sheen of sweat was already forming on his exposed collarbones. He looked too enticing.

Before Mydei could stop himself, his body moved. He breathed deeply, Phainon's scent filling his lungs until he felt lightheaded with desire. A growl left his throat, low and rough.

Phainon turned to look at him, cerulean eyes wide with shock.

Mydei lunged at him, grabbing Phainon's shoulders in a painful grip. He shoved the omega into the wall so hard it cracked. Phainon didn't give in, he pushed him back, driving an elbow into Mydei’s ribs with enough force to make him gasp in surprise as he stumbled backward, his grip leaving Phainon momentarily. The refusal to yield was in every line of the omega’s body - the braced stance, the squared shoulders, the alpha-sharp glare that dared him to try again.

He did.

They collided again, hands grabbing each other for leverage, fingers digging into skin hard enough to bruise as they knocked each other against every possible furniture inside the room. Mydei caught his wrist, tried twisting it behind his back while pushing the omega against a wardrobe, but Phainon broke the hold with a quick movement before he had a chance to restrain him, coming back at him with a fist aimed for his jaw. Mydei ducked, catching him around the waist and throwing him onto the bed hard enough to rattle the frame.

Phainon’s scent spiked — sharper now, mixed with the metallic tang of adrenaline, and Mydei’s grip tightened without meaning to, somehow more excited by the scent. The omega trashed against him, knee sliding between Mydei’s legs, the sudden press against his bulge caught him off guard, sending a pulse of heat up his spine.

A snarl ripped from his chest, raw and guttural, vibrating through his body. He pressed harder, pinning Phainon to the further into the soft mattress. Mydei could feel the heat rolling off him, could see the damp strands of hair clinging to his temple.

The urge to claim him was too strong to resist.

Phainon’s nails raked across his arms in a desperate attempt to break free, drawing golden blood where they broke the skin. Mydei hissed, forcing the man’s wrists above his head to restrain him even further.

They were breathing heavily, ragged and uneven. Phainon fought even with his arms restrained. The man’s legs braced to throw Mydei off of him, his hips twisting in an attempt to break free. He refused to give up, too proud to yield and present.

“Stop. Resisting.” Mydei shifted his weight, knees pressing into the outside of Phainon’s thighs, forcing him still. His scent was maddening, ripe, intoxicating, meant to draw an alpha in until instinct burned away any rational thought.

And Mydei was burning.

Every fiber in his body screamed at him to lower his mouth, to sink his teeth into the scent gland pulsing under the skin at Phainon’s neck. To mark. To claim. His jaw ached with the want of it, salivating at the phantom feeling of burying his teeth in that pale skin.

But before he could lean forward and claim the man for himself, a sound cut through the roar in his head.

A quiet, unsteady sob.

Phainon was glaring at him through watery eyes. His hands stopped shaking in Mydei’s grip. And slowly, he bared his neck, surrendering. Mydei could see the betrayal in the omega’s expression before those eyes closed shut, could smell the fear in his scent, souring the intoxicating sweetness completely.

Mydei stopped, suddenly aware of what he was about to do.

“Was I really about to…” Mydei whispered between them, blinking. The fog in his mind cleared enough for him to see the state of the man pinned under him - the stiff line of Phainon’s jaw, the fury in his eyes, the tears rolling down his face.

He was the one who caused this.

The regret settled in immediately.

Mydei’s grip loosened instantly like the contact burned him. He moved back, releasing Phainon’s wrists, shifting his weight off him. He sat back on his heels, chest still heaving, the echo of the fight pounding in his veins.

“…I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I scared you.”

Phainon didn’t answer him.

“I should’ve controlled myself better.” Mydei apologized again. The fear or rejection twisted in his stomach, ashamed at himself for his lack of restraint. This wasn’t like him, he never let his instincts take over, and when it mattered the most, he failed.

“It’s better if I leave now.”

“No.” Phainon shook his head, reaching to grab at his arm desperately. “Stay. Please.”

Mydei let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, shoulders relaxing a little. He was still wanted. Slowly, gently, he took off his gauntlets, tossing them to the floor, and cupped Phainon's face. When he didn’t flinch at the contact, Mydei took it as permission to lean closer, giving the omega a light kiss.

“Are you sure, Deliverer?”

“Yes. I still need you.” Phainon nodded. The sweetness of his scent returned, alluring and inviting. Fuck. Mydei almost forgot Phainon was in heat, and he attacked him. At his most vulnerable time. He was such an idiot. But Phainon wanted him to stay and he will not repeat the same mistake.

With a deep breath he shoved the screams of his inner alpha to the back of his mind, refusing to yield to his secondary gender again.

“Then take me, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae. Take what you need from me.” Mydei said the last part with more tenderness than he normally allowed himself.

“I submit. Only for you.”

Submit — the word would have been unthinkable to any other alpha. Absurd even. But to Mydei, it was simple. The only thing that mattered was that Phainon knew he was safe.

Instincts be damned.

 

━━━━━━━ ⟡ ━━━━━━━

 

He lost. Mydei overpowered him and he couldn’t blame anything but his weakness. At the end of the day, it was obvious that Mydei was an alpha, a strong one, while he was nothing but a body to be claimed, no matter how much he despised the idea.  There was no energy left in his heat-clad body to fight back; nothing he could do to change the outcome. Phainon’s only choice was to surrender and hope that by the time Mydei is done with him, he would be able to live with the shame of being claimed one-sidedly, even if it was by the person he liked. 

He bared his neck.

Let the tears run down his face.

Clenched his eyes tightly, bracing for the inevitable.

And waited.

Instead of feeling Mydei’s teeth on him, Phainon felt the crushing grip on his wrists easing. Felt Mydei moving away, almost like the contact burned him all of a sudden. He opened his eyes to see the alpha staring back at him, wide-eyed with confusion, even horror, as if he suddenly woke up from a state of trance.

“…I’m sorry. I scared you.”

Phainon stared up at him, still panting, his pride and instinct mixed together in confusion. He wasn’t sure what to feel, relieved? Hurt?  

“I should’ve controlled myself better. It’s better if I leave now.”

No. No, no, no.

“Don’t leave me.”

Phainon wanted to scream. The thought of being rejected and left alone during the heat hurt even more than Mydei’s unconscious actions.

“Stay. Please.” He found himself begging as he reached to hold Mydei’s arm in a desperate attempt to keep him there.

The alpha hesitated, searching his face for something, permission maybe, before a soft hand cupped his cheek, gentle where moments ago it had been unyielding, and when Phainon didn’t pull away, Mydei leaned in and kissed him.

“Are you sure, Deliverer?”

“Yes,” he answered, surprised at himself with how steady it sounded. “I still need you.”

“Then take me, Phainon of Aedes Elysiae. Take what you need from me.”  Mydei looked at him with nothing but tenderness and something else Phainon had never seen before in those mesmerizing amber orbs – Love.

“I submit. Only for you.”

Phainon didn’t answer with words. He reached forward, curled his fingers into the alpha’s belt, and tugged at the fabric.

The belt came loose easily. The rest of the layers followed right after— Boots, straps, pauldron, the covering-absolutely-nothing piece of fabric Mydei called a shirt. Phainon worked in silence, stripping him bare piece by piece, watching the way Mydei’s chest rose and fell with every touch of Phainon’s hands on his bare skin.

By the time he pushed the trousers down, Mydei’s cock was heavy and flushed against his thigh, already hard from the fight or the scent of an omega in heat that filled the room — probably both. A surge of arousal passed through Phainon’s body at the sight, he wasn’t small himself by any means, but Mydei was… absurd like the rest of his body. His hole clenched in anticipation, leaking more slick than he normally would. With a frown, he shoved the thought away. This was not on the table tonight, nor ever.

He guided Mydei to lie on his back while he grabbed the oil from the nightstand, surprised that the vial miraculously survived their earlier fighting without falling to the floor, and slicked his fingers, moving to sit more comfortably between the alpha’s legs.

“Have you ever touched your chest like this…” Phainon trailed off, rubbing some of the oil across Mydei’s nipples, teasing them into hardness.

“No. I’m an alpha. Why would I— Ha!” A groan tore from the alpha’s throat as he tugged at the hardened bud. Mydei was surprisingly responsive even when he tried to look unaffected, and if not for the delirious need thrumming through his veins, Phainon knew he would’ve spent hours testing how sensitive that immortal body was. For research purposes.

Taking mental note to explore Mydei’s body some more once his heat is over, he moved his hand lower, across the taut abs, and down between his thighs. He curled his fingers around the alpha’s heavy length first, feeling the weight of it in his palm.

Mydei’s breath hitched, his hips bucking instinctively into the hand, and all Phainon could do was stare in awe. The alpha looked so good like that, flushed and needy and hard for him. He couldn’t wait to be inside the man.

Even if his body demanded it to be the other way around.

Phainon forced himself to ignore that need. He will not let his hatred for his secondary gender frustrate him this time. Not when he was finally, finally, getting what he wanted for so long.

“You’re more sensitive than I thought” he murmured in Mydei’s ear, thumb dragging over the head, spreading the bead of precum down the shaft.

A low growl rumbled from Mydei’s throat. “Shut up.”

Phainon’s lips curved into a small smile even when the heat in his gut tightened further at the alpha’s attempt to stay composed. It was too cute. “Can’t do. If I stop talking, I won’t get to hear your voice either.”

He released Mydei’s cock after giving it a few pumps and slid his fingers lower, cupping the balls briefly before pressing a slick finger to his rim. Mydei tensed momentarily, then relaxed with a slow exhale, his legs spreading wider in an invitation.

Phainon pushed in the first finger, the tight heat around the digit sending shivers through him. Mydei’s lips parted in a soft groan. Fuck. He couldn’t wait to feel this heat around his length.

“What about here? Have you touched yourself like this?” Phainon asked, voice thick with need.

Mydei’s face flushed darker “…Yes.” He admitted quietly.

“Kephale above! Mydei. You’re going to be the death of me.” Was Mydei thinking of him when he fingered himself? Phainon’s cock throbbed against the fabric of his trousers, begging to be released and touched. He palmed himself, whimpering at the contact, then curled his finger inside Mydei, feeling the alpha loosening around it slowly.

He added a second finger, watched Mydei’s stomach tighten, hands clenching the sheets to anchor himself.

“Fuck. You’re so tight” Phainon adjusted his position. He leaned over Mydei and buried his face in the crook of the alpha's neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent of the man, moaning quietly as he mouthed at the inked skin.

“Of course I’ll be—shit— tight.” Mydei’s voice was rough and full of need in a way that matched his scent. “Now stop talking and move faster.”

Demanding. Phainon liked that.

Swallowing hard, Phainon straightened back into sitting position and moved his fingers faster the way Mydei asked, scissoring and stretching, drawing soft grunts from Mydei with every press. His hips jerked against the alpha’s thigh in sync, cock aching against its confinements, if not the heat, Phainon would’ve been embarrassed at how close to coming he was without even touching himself.

“Right there!” Mydei hissed, head falling back to the pillows when Phainon’s fingers curled just right. “Fuck—”

Phainon curled his fingers the same way again, adding a third one, feeling Mydei’s thighs twitch around him, his back arching off the bed. The alpha groaned with every precise movement, rolling his hips, meeting the movement, fucking himself back on Phainon’s hand.

The image seared into Phainon’s mind. He stared, mesmerized at how responsive the alpha was to his touch, how close to coming he looked from being stretched on his fingers. Phainon took a steadying breath and wrapped his free hand around the heavy length between Mydei’s legs.

The sound Mydei made, half a growl, half a choked gasp, shot straight to his cock.

Phainon stroked him in time with his thrusts, twisting and curling the fingers to graze the bundle of nerves that made Mydei jerk, fully intending to make him come before he proceeded any further, even if that meant coming in his trousers as well.

“Deliverer—” The way his name was gasped was all the warning he got before hot release spilled over his hand, Mydei’s body clenching hard around his fingers.

Phainon kept fucking him on his fingers through the aftershocks until the groans of pleasure became quite whimpers of overstimulation. Only then did he pull his hand away and looked at the man below him, admiring his handiwork.

Mydei’s chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, body flushed, ropes of milky come painted the flat planes of his stomach. He looked so fucked out already.

But something else caught Phainon’s attention – the lack of a knot.

“You didn’t knot?” he asked curiously. There were many things he didn’t know about alphas, not that he had anyone to ask, at least until now.

“Happens only in a rut.” Mydei answered between shallow breaths, still calming down from his release.

He was about to ask another question when Mydei glared at him, “Stop asking questions and fuck me. You’re the one in heat here.”

Right.

Phainon was too busy admiring Mydei that for a second, he forgot about his own needs.

Not waiting any further, Phainon all but tore at his clothes, yanking them open, shoving them down, almost snarling at the stubborn fabric. Aglaea might kill him for that, but right now he couldn’t care less.  His cock sprang free, flushed and throbbing, followed by the feeling of the wetness between his ass. Right.

His jaw tightened.

Even now, at what should’ve been a happy moment for him, he was about to make Mydei his—his body had to remind him of what he was. An omega, dripping and ready, whether he wanted it or not. It darkened his scent instantly, the sweetness of maple overpowered by the smell of ashes.

Mydei seemed to notice the change in the air. He sat up and brought one hand in front of Phainon’s, flicking at his forehead “Don’t think too much, HKS. I want you in me, not the other way around.” He said, voice low but firm, soothing the uneasiness away.

“Right. Right.” He laughed lightly, forcing the thought away, pushing it down until it was nothing but a dull ache in the back of his mind. This was about him and Mydei, here and now.

Phainon crawled back between the alpha’s legs. He oiled his palm again and gave his cock a few pumps, hissing as the cool oil touched his heated length, before guiding it to Mydei’s rim. The first brush of his tip against the tight entrance sent a shiver down his spine, scattering every other thought until there was only heat and desire. His scent followed – returning to the sweet notes of maple and the freshness of sea breeze.

He pressed in just enough to feel the give of muscle around the head, his vision swimming as Mydei’s body welcomed him inside. His breath stuttered, half from restraint, half from sheer need as he pushed deeper, groaning at the wet heat that enveloped his cock.

Mydei grunted below him, his hands gripping the sheets so hard he was tearing the fabric.

Phainon felt the muscle contract and relax around him, squeezing him so perfectly that he had to pause momentarily so he didn't come on the spot.

“Kephale above. You’re so tight, feel so good, so hot, Mydei… Mydei.” He rumbled like prayer, he wasn’t sure if he was begging, praising, or mumbling incoherently. Everything felt too hot and too good to even think properly.

“That’s because you’re the only one—” Mydei's words cut off, turning into a loud groan.

Phainon's hips bucked accidentally, feeling a sudden surge of possessiveness at the alpha’s words.

“Only one…” Fuck, how did he get this lucky?

With a quiet hiss he pressed deeper, inch by agonizing inch, until he was fully inside. He let Mydei adjust for a second, and leaned closer, giving the alpha a soft kiss, wiping the wetness from his lashes.

“I’m going to move now, ok?”

Mydei nodded, wrapping his legs around Phainon’s waist.

Phainon drew back, savoring every drag before slamming forward, harder this time, setting a quick pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room, loud and obscene, each thrust feeding the unending desire in his stomach. This felt so good, too good. Phainon was becoming delirious from the combination of his heat and the tightness of Mydei’s body around him.

Every move felt like a claim, like proof that the alpha was his now. He imagined this so many times before—the sound of Mydei’s voice breaking, the sight of him flushed and open around his cock, taking it so beautifully—that being here, feeling it, almost didn’t feel real.

He gripped Mydei’s hips, callused fingers pressing into the sweaty skin to anchor himself, to make sure he didn’t lose his mind completely. The alpha’s scent was everywhere, flooding Phainon’s senses, pushing him closer to the edge with every breath he took.

“Fuck— I’m close!” Mydei groaned, moving one of his hands to wrap around himself, but Phainons was having none of that. He swatted the alpha’s hand away, making the man look at him with a confused pout.

“Adorable.”

“Let me…” Phainon’s hand wrapped around the neglected length instead, hard and leaking between them, and started stroking him in fast pulls that matched the desperate rhythm of his thrusts. It didn’t take much, the way Mydei shuddered below him told Phainon that he was about to tip over the edge any moment.

With one last tug and a press of his thumb against the slit, the alpha’s body stilled, mouth open in a silent moan, back arching as hot spurts spilled between them, coating Phainon’s hand and their chests for the second time.

Seeing Mydei coming undone sent Phainon over the edge moments later, his own release crashing through him with a loud groan as he came deep inside the alpha with shallow thrusts. It felt so good that for a brief moment he almost forgot he was an omega, letting himself believe he was an alpha, that he was claiming Mydei the way he wished to do ever since he realized his feelings.

A new trickle of slick down his inner thighs reminded him of the reality, a painful realization washing over him like freezing water, harder than a blow from a titankin.

He was an omega, and omegas couldn’t knot.

He couldn’t breed Mydei properly. Couldn’t lock them together in post orgasmic bliss. It was his defective body, filling Mydei in a hollow, incomplete way, already feeling his cum leaking out of the alpha. It was so frustrating that Phainon wanted to cry.

His hips stilled as the bitter truth settled over him. The warmth surrounding him suddenly felt empty. The relief from the heat was only temporary and not enough, just like it has always been.

Nothing changed, even with Mydei by his side.

His scent turned sour immediately.

Phainon gripped the alpha's hips harder, not paying attention to the painful protests from the man under him as he tried to bite back the lump forming in his throat. He could feel the wetness forming in his eyes, blurring his vision. “I can’t...” he choked out.

Mydei reached for his arm, squeezing it in an attempt to reassure him. “It doesn’t matter.”

It did. It mattered to him.

It hurt Phainon more than he wished to admit. Tears filled his eyes, rolling down his face as irritation and grief tangled in his chest. He started rutting into Mydei again, not caring that he was still soft, or that both were still oversensitive from their orgasms.

“Why— why does it have to be like this?” He gritted, voice cracking with anger. “Why can’t I be like you? A proper alpha!”

Mydei’s body tensed beneath him, but when he spoke, his voice was gentle and steady despite the rough pace Phainon was trying to thrust into him. “You’re more than enough. Your secondary gender doesn’t define you, Deliverer.”

Phainon shook his head, biting down on the alpha’s shoulder painfully as his hips stuttered, frustration and fury burning hot beneath his skin. “It’s not fair. I hate this body... this… I never wanted to be an omega.”

Mydei’s wrist reached Phainon’s neck, rubbing their scent glands together soothingly, trying to calm him down. “Omega or not, you’re the strongest man I know. To me, that’s all that matters.”

Phainon whimpered at the sincerity of Mydei’s words, the affirmation felt soothing but hard to accept at the same time. After all, he lost his hopes of having his single wish granted at fourteen years old when he presented back in his little village. To think that someone like Mydeimos, an alpha, the epitome of manliness in his eyes, accepted him as he is, flawed and broken. It almost overwhelmed him with emotion.

He kept thrusting into the alpha, cock twitching back to hardness inside him, driven by a storm of need and anger and a fragment of hope, desperate to claim something, anything, as his.

“Can I mark you?” He snaked an arm between Mydei and the pillow, pushing the hair away as he rubbed his wrist on the scent gland there, scenting him back. “Please...”

Mydei stilled for a moment, surprised by the sudden request “It—” He said between grunts “It won’t catch.”

“I don’t care!” Phainon begged “I need it. I need to feel like myself. Like I can make you mine, even if it’s only for a second.”

The silence stretched between them for a long moment. Mydei’s face remained unreadable, deep in thought before finally agreeing with an “Ok. Don’t get disappointed when it disappears.”

Phainon pulled out immediately and flipped Mydei onto all fours with a surprising ease, leaning over him and letting his teeth sink into the scent gland on the alpha's neck. The combination of blood and pheromones flooded his senses, making his body shudder with the sudden surge of heat and… Pain?

That surely wasn't supposed to happen. Was it?

He collapsed onto the mattress, curling into himself as the as mind-numbing pain seared through him, making every muscle spasm violently. It hurt so much he felt like his body was burning from the inside out, worse than any blow he had taken in battle before. His jaw clenched tightly, sending a sharp ache up his head.

Phainon felt like he was about to die. He could barely breathe. He saw Mydei looming over him with a worried expression as his consciousness faded out. He thought he heard the alpha say something as well, but he couldn’t comprehend the words.

The last thing he remembered before darkness engulfed him was the worried smell of his mate.

 

⟡

 

When Phainon opened his eyes, the pain wasn't as bad anymore, it felt like a bearable ache instead. He wasn’t sure for how long he was passed out, but the lack of the alpha's scent in the room sent a rush of dread down his spine. He sat up too fast, feeling dizzy at the sudden movement and looked around the room frantically in search for Mydei, who was gone.

“He’s gone. He realized how defective I am.”

“I messed it up. He doesn't want me anymore.”

His heart beat too fast, like he was seconds away from having a panic attack, leaving his throat burning and tears gathering stubbornly behind his eyes.

“Where are you?” A quiet cry tore out of him into the quiet room. Phainon brought his knees to his chest, hiding his face as he cried silently.

Mydei deserved better, he should be happy the alpha even indulged him, even for a little, but no matter how much he tried convincing himself, the abandonment hurt even more than the remnants of pain still coursing through his body.

The door slid open quietly, cutting through his line of thought, and Mydei stepped inside, followed closely by Hyacine and her little Pegasus.

Relief hit him hard, wrapping around him like a blanket—the alpha didn’t abandon him after all. Phainon felt embarrassed at himself for looking so pathetic, for crying over the thought of Mydei leaving him.

He blamed it on the heat for making him so emotional.

Mydei’s gaze met his teary-eyed one, sharp amber eyes staring at him with confusion.  “Your smell is… different, Deliverer” he said with a confused tilt to his head.

“It is.” Hyacine agreed while crouching beside him, her touch warm and steady as she guided him through what she was about to do. She took his wrist, her thumb brushed over the swollen scent glands there, checking the sensitivity and any possible changes. Then without a word, she tilted his chin up, her cool fingers resting beneath his jaw as she coaxed his mouth open to check his teeth. Her expression changed for a moment before she continued checking his vitals. 

“I’m not sure what is happening exactly” she explained once she finished recording his pulse. “But your scent changed. You smell more like an alpha now. Your canines sharpened slightly as well.”

Phainon turned to look at Mydei in disbelief.

Alpha.

The word echoed again and again like a broken record, spreading joy through his entire body.

He had dreamed of this, craved it, begged the titans every time his body felt wrong and not like his own. His lips parted, voice trembling, as he repeated the word to make sure he heard her correctly.

“Alpha?”

Hyacine smiled at him knowingly. “Yes. You’re showing signs of change lord Phainon. There are no records of anything like this in the twilight courtyard, so it’s impossible to tell if it's temporary or permanent.”

Ica trilled happily next to her, floating closer to Phainon, unaware of the heaviness of the conversation.

“Come see me after your heat is over. I will see if I can find anything about this in the meantime.” With that, Hyacine stood up and turned to leave the room, the little Pegasus trailing behind her.

“Oh, and lord Mydei?”

The man in question looked at her.

“The mating bite on your nape is hasn’t faded yet, congratulations.”

Mydei’s face flushed bright red as she closed the door behind her, laughing quietly to herself.

Phainon groaned, sinking back against the pillows as a tremor of elation ran through his body, pain completely forgotten by now. He could almost feel it when he closed his eyes—something in him was changing for sure, and it made him feel more like himself than he ever felt.

Mydei sat down next to him, amber eyes searching Phainon’s face with a rare flash of gentleness. “Are you ok?” he asked softly.

Swallowing hard under the intense gaze of the alpha Phainon nodded. The way Mydei looked at him, tender but with hunger simmering underneath it, made him twitch. Now that Hyacine was gone, he was suddenly very aware of his heat again, pheromones spiking into the room in a deeper mix than he was used to smell on himself. His scent did change a little.

Mydei seemed to notice the change in the air between them. Without another word he began stripping, peeling off the layers covering him too slowly for Phainon’s liking, making the omega growl.

“Eager, aren’t you?” Mydei smirked, tossing the last piece of fabric to the floor. The alpha leaned down, lips brushing sweetly against Phainon’s forehead, tracing a path to his nose, then finally settling on his mouth, kissing with hunger, making Phainon’s heart race as he returned the kiss with equal passion, lips parting, tongue teasing at Mydei’s bottom lip.

Mydei’s hand cupped the back of Phainon’s head, scenting the omega as he deepened the kiss. “Titans, you smell even better now” Mydei murmured against his mouth.

Phainon’s hands tangled in the alpha’s hair, pulling him closer by the braid, needing more — more warmth, more touch, more of that fierce, undeniable heat between them. He pulled Mydei flush against him. The heaviness of the alpha’s hardness pressed against his own, making them both gasp into the kiss.

“Fuck, Mydei. I need you.”

Mydei grabbed him by his choker, pulling his face so close their lips were almost touching and whispered in a low and taunting voice.

“Then what are you waiting for? Phainon.”

Hearing his name, his actual name, being said by Mydei made him throb. He was painfully hard already, needy and aching under the flimsy sheet that separated him from his mate. He kicked the fabric aside and guided the alpha to sit in his lap as he positioned himself at his entrance.

This time, the heat that greeted him was different, it felt almost electrifying, like his body was recognizing something new, something right.

The slick friction, the sound of skin slapping against skin, the quiet grunts of pleasure leaving Mydei’s lips at a well-angled thrust— it all felt even more addicting than before. He grabbed at the alpha’s ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he picked up the pace, bouncing the man on his cock hard and fast while his mouth licked and nipped at every bit of skin it could reach.

He was embarrassingly close after just a few minutes, the tight coil of his stomach ready to snap any moment, and that was when he felt it.

A swelling at the base of his cock, small but unmistakable.

A knot.

Phainon’s throat tightened as his eyes blurred with wetness, followed by a single hot tear trailing down his face. Intense relief filled his senses, like his body was finally falling into place after so many years of feeling broken and incomplete.

“Mydei… Mydei— I— There is a knot! I can knot you!” He exclaimed happily, almost too happily, much to the Kremnoan’s mortification. Mydei shuddered in his lap, muscles tensing instinctively as Phainon pressed in a little harder, trying to force the knot in.

“Deliverer. I’m an alpha. I can’t possibly take—”

His protests were cut off as Phainon’s hips snapped forward, forcing the knot past the tight rim. A choked, startled cry tore from Mydei’s throat at the sudden stretch, his body seizing around Phainon.

The alpha’s walls clenched down hard, milking his cock in desperate flutters as Mydei reached for his own neglected length, giving it a few pumps before he was coming with a choked moan, spilling between them in thick spurts.

The omega whimpered in awe, following Mydei with one last shallow thrust before he came inside him, breeding the alpha properly this time – without the chance of any of his cum leaking out.

“See, you did it, you took me so perfectly!”

Phainon held him through it, pressed Mydei’s face against the crook of his neck and rubbed soothing circles on the alpha’s back, murmuring praises as he mentally braced himself for the gnawing ache of needing to be filled that followed every time he came during his heats. To his surprise, it was weaker and muted this time. Even the slick he hated so much was barely a drop compared to the usually disgusting trickle that left him uncomfortably wet and sticky.

For the first time, Phainon didn’t feel hated towards himself and his body. The emptiness that always clawed at him was gone, leaving him full and content. He held Mydei close, breathing him in.

 

Neither of them moved for a while, each basking in their own post orgasmic bliss as the small knot kept them locked together.

Eventually, Phainon was the first to move. He slipped out of the tightness of Mydei’s body once the knot deflated, easing the alpha to roll to his side, moving to face him as he mouthed at his jaw, slowly trailing down to the base of his neck.

With a sudden need to claim he bit down on the skin there, hard enough to draw blood. Phainon heard the alpha growl at him in discomfort but the urge to have Mydei’s mating bite on his neck and become proper mates burned so impossibly hot inside him that he couldn’t stop himself.

“Bite my scent gland,” Phainon pleaded, lapping at the droplets of golden blood apologetically, soothing the wound he created. “I want you to mark me back, make us proper mates.”

Mydei froze, his eyes darkened momentarily into an unreadable expression. He pulled back enough to meet Phainon’s pleading gaze, searching for doubt perhaps, but Phainon was sure of it.

“Are you certain about this?” Mydei asked him, the usual rough edge softened. “Sure it’s not your heat talking?”

Phainon’s answer came without hesitation, every inch of him certain. “I don’t want anyone else, Mydeimos. I believe I made it clear enough.” He huffed.

With a nod Mydei sat up, encouraging Phainon to do the same and turn over. He leaned in and bit down on Phainon’s scent gland with deliberate strength. The pain flared immediately, sharp like the ache he felt when he marked Mydei, but underneath it he could feel the warmth blooming, his connection to the alpha he came to admire over the years sealed and complete.

Turning around once the bonding mark took shape, Phainon tackled Mydei back into lying on his back, resting his face between the alpha’s chest and giggled breathlessly. “Can’t believe you’re really mine now.”

Mydei huffed. “Don’t get too used to that.”

“Oh, I already am” Phainon murmured, grinning despite himself. “And I plan on reminding you every day.”

“You’re insufferable.” Mydei’s lips twitched, but the way his ears turned completely red told Phainon a whole different story.

“You love me anyway” Phainon murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Mydei’s chest, followed by a not-so-soft grind of his hardening cock against the alpha’s thigh, eager and ready for another round with his now mate.

“Insufferable and unsatiable,” Mydei rolled his eyes in response, but he did nothing to stop the white-haired man from rutting against him.

Phainon grinned, absurdly pleased with himself. “And you love it.” His mouth latched to a sensitive nipple, sucking on it. Mydei’s sharp intake of breath sent a thrill through him. “Admit it” Phainon whispered as he moved to the other one, giving it a gentle bite “you love me.”

“HKS! I wouldn’t be bonded to you if I didn’t” Mydei swore under his breath, tugging at Phainon’s hair, trying to pull him away from his nipples—but Phainon rolled them smoothly onto their sides, lifting Mydei’s leg and pressing back into the welcoming heat of his mate.

“Not done with you yet, your majesty.” Phainon smirked, hands finding the man’s chest again, kneading and pinching until Mydei’s groans of protest turned into quiet moans.

“Bet you would look even better with your tits full of milk and belly full of pups.”

“Do you have a death wish, Deliverer!?”

Phainon laughed in response, leaning in to kiss Mydei’s scowl away. “In fact…” He trailed off.

“You’re hopeless” Mydei muttered, but it sounded almost like a defeated sigh.

Phainon pressed his forehead to Mydei’s shoulder, chest flush against the alpha, breathing in their interlaced scents, all the shame and the self-loathing he carried for years were melting away layer by layer, slowly but surely.

He shifted, changing the angle of his thrusts to reach deeper, and felt the alpha shiver under him. Mydei’s fingers tangled in his hair, tugging half-heartedly.

Now that they were bonded, everything felt even more electrifying. The friction, the swell of his newly acquired knot pressing against the alpha’s rim, the way Mydei’s body took him so perfectly—it was enough to make him come again, embarrassingly fast this time.

Phainon grabbed Mydei’s length, pumping it with determination to get his mate off as well, and when the alpha did, it was with a knot, much bigger than his, forming at the base. A true seal of their bonding.

Holding the alpha like that; sweaty, trembling, pressed close as both men came down from their high made Phainon’s chest feel lighter than it had in years. He glanced at Mydei and grinned, still breathless and ridiculous. “See?” he whispered. “I told you… You’re mine.”

The rest of the heat blurred into a haze of pheromones, sweat-slick bodies, and the deep, grounding presence of Mydei by his side.

 

⟡

 

Two days later the fever in Phainon’s skin had ebbed to something warm instead of scalding. He woke up with Mydei still beside him, his arm heavy and warm across Phainon’s waist. It was grounding. Comforting. The kind of domestic touch he had subconsciously longed for ever since he was left alone in the ruins of Aedes Elysiae.

As promised, he went to see Hyacine during lucid hour. Entering her small clinic little Ica greeted him, trilling curiously.

“Lord Phainon! I assume the heat went well?” Hyacine emerged from a back room, her eyes swept over the omega with the practiced sharpness of someone who knew how to diagnose a person by their appearance alone— but today, there was a spark there.

“Sit,” she instructed. “I want to take a proper look at you.”

Hyacine worked in silence for a while—checking his temperature, pulse, scent glands. Then she stepped back, grabbed a thick scroll from the table and read over it. Phainon could hear her mutter quietly as her eyes scanned through the texts.

“There’s no doubt. Canines are growing, scent is shifting…” She paused, looking at him “It says here a knot should start forming at some point… Has that… happened yet?”

Phainon’s ears burned. He rubbed the back of his neck with embarrassment. “…It has” he admitted softly, voice almost a whisper, cheeks hot. “During the heat.”

Hyacine’s lips twitched with a hint of an amused smirk. “It’s rare to see you so flushed lord Phainon,” she teased. “Didn’t take you for one to know the meaning of shame.”

“What does that supposed to mean?” He muttered. Surely he wasn’t that shameless.

Hyacine chuckled, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, all I needed was the yes or no from you.” She kept reading further. “That’s good. Means your body’s responding as described.”

“Described?”

“It was tested a long time ago,” she started explaining. “A scholar discovered that exposing an omega to an alpha’s blood and pheromones over time could, over time, cause a shift in their secondary gender.”

Phainon’s stomach fluttered. “So it happened to someone before?”

Hyacine nodded, continuing. “It happened once. The research was deemed too unethical by the Grove and was officially forbidden as it is a complicated process and requires a complete submission from the alpha, which can affect the alpha badly if forced upon.” She paused, done elaborating on the complications.

“But, Professor Anaxa kept the records and lent me this scroll once I told him it’s for your situation.”

“I’m glad he doesn’t hate me!” Phainon laughed nervously, remembering all the times he fell asleep in the Professor’s classes, or the one time he submitted an empty essay, rendering the teal-haired professor speechless and not amused at all.  

Phainon took a deep breath, returning to the present. “So, I’m really becoming an alpha?” He needed the confirmation.

“Yes,” She gave him a small, approving nod. “I must say, it’s impressive. Your body is responding exactly as written. If this continues, by next year… you might even enter a rut”

Phainon’s chest swelled with relief, disbelief, and a thrill of pride. “A rut” he whispered, letting the word roll around in his mouth.

Hyacine reached out and ruffled his hair lightly, a rare, affectionate gesture. “Yes, as long as lord Mydei keeps you by his side.” She chuckled. “Just… remember that it takes time, the change is slow and not immediate.”

Phainon’s grin broke across his face, light and unrestrained. “I did it. I actually did it!” he breathed, almost laughing. Ica trilled happily next to him in agreement.

“I will let lord Mydei know what is needed from him, but for now, a visit to the baths might be needed. You’re reeking with post-heat. It will take me the rest of the day to clear your scent out—”

Phainon didn’t even wait for her to finish. He practically ran out of Hyacine’s clinic. The first thing he did was find Mydei. The alpha stood at his usual spot on the market’s roof, overlooking the stalls and the citizens. “Mydeimos!” he exclaimed, breathless from the climbing, eyes shining with glee.

“I did it!”

Mydei’s head turned to look at him, brows rising, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “Did what?” he asked, voice calm and controlled, as if he already knew the answer.

Phainon pressed himself against him, clutching at Mydei’s waist. “I’m—I’m changing! Hyacine confirmed it! I won’t be an omega for much longer!” He was practically bouncing with excitement.

Mydei’s hand landed on Phainon’s shoulder, steadying him. “You’re even more insufferable when you’re happy,” he groaned, a trace of amusement in his tone.

“I’m more than happy,” Phainon exclaimed. “I’m, I don’t know… victorious? I finally—finally beat my biology, the one thing I always wished to change!”

Before Mydei could respond, Phainon leaned up and kissed him fiercely, ignoring that the entire of Okhema could see them if they only looked up. Mydei froze at first, startled, then pressed back, arms wrapping around Phainon.

Pulling back slightly, Phainon rested his forehead against Mydei’s “No more feeling disgusted with myself, no more needing to hide. It’s thanks to you that it’s possible, and that's why I am truly grateful to you.”

Mydei’s lips curved into a small, satisfied smirk. “Hmph, you've finally picked up some manners.” He teased. “Better late than never.”

Phainon laughed, a short, delighted bark, and pressed another kiss to Mydei’s lips. Holding the man tightly in his arms.

 

“You will be an alpha if that’s what you wish for. I know you will.”

Cyrene’s encouraging voice rang in his head.

Her prophecy came true at last.

 

For a moment he was fourteen again, back in Aedes Elysiae, presenting not as an omega but as an alpha. The way he always dreamed about.

He could hear his mother’s tears of joy this time, his father’s quiet congratulations, the villagers patting his head and supporting his journey to become the hero he is.

“As long as I don’t ask for too much…” he remembered himself saying many times throughout the years, focusing on the wishes of others rather than his own.

“As long as I don’t ask for too much…Everything will unfold as desired.”

 

Notes:

Thank you for everyone who made it this far!
A whole character study later - I hope you all enjoyed it 🫶

Btw, two weeks ago this was supposed to be a short pwp. That ended well...
IM NOT WRITING PLOTS FOR A WHOLE MONTHS NOW!

Come yap with me on twt as usual.

p.s - If I forgot an important tag- let me know in the comments!