IF WISHES WERE HORSES

Isn't it just splendid? A love story for the ages. An Alpha Prince, destined for greatness, fated to an Omega… a male Omega no less! And the best part? Said Omega is a servant, a nobody, a "bastard" as some might whisper. Cue the trumpets, folks, because this fairytale is about to crash and burn in spectacular fashion.

The morning dawned with a sickly sweetness, the kind that clings to the air after a storm, promising sunshine but delivering only a heavier humidity. Alaric woke to a throbbing headache and a sticky discomfort he couldn't immediately place. Then, memory slammed into him like a physical blow. The rut. The consort. Kael.

His eyes snapped open. He was naked. Beside him, tangled in the royal blue sheets, lay the omega consort, equally unclothed, her features slack in sleep. Disgust coiled in his gut, a potent mix of self-loathing and a desperate need to erase the last few hours.

He scrambled out of bed, the cold air raising goosebumps on his skin. The abrupt movement startled the consort, her eyelids fluttering open. She blinked, a dazed smile touching her lips as she attempted to reach for him.

"Get out," Alaric bit out, his voice tight with barely suppressed rage.

The smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of confusion. "Your Highness?"

"Leave. Now." He didn't bother to soften his tone. Every second she lingered was another nail in the coffin of his self-respect.

She attempted to rise, but her legs seemed to betray her, buckling beneath her weight. A whimper escaped her lips as she clutched at the sheets for support.

"Just… just give me a moment," she mumbled, her face flushed.

Alaric’s patience, already stretched thin, snapped. "I haven't got a moment to spare! Get out of my sight before I lose what little control I have left."

He turned his back on her, stalking towards his walk-in closet. He could hear her clumsy attempts to dress, the rustle of fabric, a stifled sob. He ignored it, the shame a bitter taste on his tongue. He yanked on a robe, not caring about the wrinkles, and practically sprinted out of the room, leaving the consort to fend for herself.

He burst into the next room, where he remembered Kael was, his heart hammering against his ribs. The scent hit him like a wall – raw, untamed omega, laced with pain and desperation. It was a thousand times stronger than it had been the previous day, almost unbearable. He could hear Kael’s whimpers, soft cries that tore at his soul.

"Alpha…" The sound was barely audible, a fragmented plea lost in the thick, suffocating scent.

He took a step, then another, his hand outstretched, wanting to gather Kael into his arms, to soothe him, to take away the pain that was so clearly etched into his every breath.

But before he could get himself to do that, a figure burst into the room, quickly kneeling beside the bed, his back to Alaric. Sunlight streaming through the window illuminated the stranger's golden hair, making it glow like a halo.

Aaron.

A growl erupted from Alaric's chest, a primal sound born of possessiveness and fury. "Get away from him!"

Aaron didn't even acknowledge him. He reached out, his hand gently brushing against Kael's forehead. "You're burning up," he murmured, his voice laced with concern.

Alaric's fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to rip Aaron away, to throw him out of the palace, out of the kingdom, out of Kael's life. But he was rooted to the spot, paralyzed by his own guilt.

Without a word, Aaron reached down and ripped open the front of Kael's already disheveled shirt, exposing his chest. Alaric gasped, the sight of Kael's flushed skin, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, sending a fresh wave of agony through him.

Aaron settled himself on the edge of the bed, carefully pulling Kael up until he was resting against his chest. Kael, lost in the throes of his heat, instinctively clung to him, burying his face in Aaron's neck.

"It's alright," Aaron soothed, stroking Kael's hair. "I'm here."

Alaric felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He wanted to scream, to rage, to tear the two of them apart. But he couldn't. He had forfeited that right.

Kael managed a weak, broken sentence, his voice thick with tears. "Aaron… hurts…"

Aaron’s expression hardened, his eyes flashing with anger as he finally glanced at Alaric. "I came to see you this morning," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Your mother said she hadn't seen you since yesterday so I came looking for you here, the intensity of the scent in the air, and, I found someone leaving this chamber in disarray. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on."

Kael whimpered again, his grip on Aaron tightening.

"Kael…" Alaric whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

But Kael didn't look at him. He remained plastered to Aaron, seeking comfort in his presence.

Alaric watched, his heart shattering into a million pieces, as the warmth of Aaron's embrace seemed to offer Kael the solace he had so cruelly denied him. He turned and fled, slamming the door shut behind him, unable to bear the sight any longer.

He was not fit to be a king, less so a mate.

Aaron held Kael close, his heart aching with a mixture of pity and something far more dangerous, something that whispered of possibility. He could feel the heat radiating from Kael's body, the tremors that wracked his frame.

"Easy now," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against Kael's ear. "You're safe."

Kael burrowed deeper, his body trembling uncontrollably. "Want to… get out…" he managed to choke out between sobs.

Aaron's decision was immediate. He couldn't leave Kael here, not in this state, not in this place. He gently dislodged Kael from his embrace, his eyes searching his face. "Alright," he said softly. "We'll go. Anywhere you want."

He stood up, shedding his own flowing outer garment. Without hesitation, he wrapped it around Kael, concealing him from the world. Then, he carefully scooped Kael into his arms, cradling him against his chest.

Kael was surprisingly light, his body fragile and feverish. Aaron held him close, shielding him as best he could from prying eyes as he made his way out of Alaric's chambers and towards the suite prepared for him.

The palace guards, accustomed to the privileges afforded to visiting royalty, offered no resistance. Their averted gazes spoke volumes.

He carried Kael straight into the opulent bathing chamber. Without a word, he laid him gently on the cool marble floor and began to undress them both.

The water was already running, steaming hot and infused with calming herbs. He tested the temperature with his hand, then carefully lifted Kael into the tub, easing him into the soothing warmth.

Kael clung to him like a lifeline, his sobs subsiding into quiet shudders. Aaron sat behind him, his arms wrapped around his waist, his chin resting on his shoulder.

"Just breathe," he whispered, his voice a calming balm against Kael's skin. "Just breathe."

They stayed like that for a long time, the silence broken only by the gentle splash of water and Kael's ragged breaths. Slowly, the tension began to seep out of Kael's body, his muscles relaxing against Aaron's.

Finally, Kael stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked up at Aaron, his gaze clouded with confusion and a lingering hint of pain.

"Aaron?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

"I'm here," Aaron replied, squeezing him gently. "I'm not going anywhere."

He helped Kael wash, his touch gentle and respectful, then carefully lifted him out of the tub, wrapping him in a thick, fluffy towel. He dried them both, then carried Kael into the bedroom, laying him gently on the soft, plush mattress.

He pulled back the covers and slid into bed beside him, drawing Kael close against his chest. Kael snuggled into him, his body seeking warmth and comfort. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and he drifted into a deep, exhausted sleep.

Aaron lay awake, watching him, his heart filled with a complex mix of emotions. He stroked Kael's hair, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of his cheek. He inhaled the faint, lingering scent of omega, a heady, intoxicating fragrance that filled his senses.

He knew he shouldn't. He knew it was wrong. Kael was fated to Alaric. But looking at him now, so vulnerable, so broken, he couldn't help but feel a fierce protectiveness, a burning desire to keep him safe, to cherish him, to love him in a way that Alaric clearly couldn't.

He bent his head, pressing a soft kiss to Kael's forehead. "I wish you were mine," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride... If wishing could make things happen, everyone would have what they want.