Chapter Text
Welcome to your life
There's no turning back
Even while we sleep
We will find you acting on your best behavior
Turn your back on mother nature
Everybody wants to rule the world
The door into the throne room creaked.
Soren swore he had told them to fix it at least a dozen times and yet he still heard it every day, all day. A small squeak was inevitably one of his little sons just barely opening it to shuffle in; they were smart enough to know that they could crawl into their mother's lap and get a kiss any time so long as they didn't disturb his work. A slow opening was low and agonizing, someone important that the guards wanted to bow down before and keep happy. That was usually one of his generals or one of the council with bad news, and his young sovereignty had seen its share of bad news.
The door flung open, barely had enough time to make a sound at all, and Soren didn't bother to look up -- fast was someone unimportant, the speed of the door opening a hint as to how long they should take disturbing the Queen of Daein. Heavy footsteps slowed halfway down the long hall as if the person was unsure of the darkness they were walking into like a fog. (Many did this, some had even asked if they were short on oil for the lights, but it was advantageous to him; keep the braziers lit on the far side only so he could see enemy, friend, whomever approaching but they had to squint to see him.)
Soren flipped to the next page in his stack of papers and sighed. "Make it quick. I have much to do today."
"How much time can you spare for an old friend?"
Soren nearly jumped, sat back in his chair. He felt the smile creeping up on his face before he really meant it to be there. "Ike," he said through a breath, and jumped to his feet. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here as an emissary of Crimea," Ike said with a shrug; he seemed as puzzled as Soren was.
Emissary. Emissaries only came to him with pretty words and sly questions, wanting money and aid and all sorts of things he could not provide -- had Ike really changed that much in a few years? As always the Queen masked his curiosity, confusion, in calm. Like the surface of a pond. "I never took you for someone interested in politics."
Ike cracked a smile, "Oh believe me, I'm not. I'm still a mercenary, probably always will be. I think they just chose me because someone said I've spent some time in the palace before."
"Did you tell them it was only as a breeding stud?" The Queen tried not to laugh.
They might never have consummated anything but Ike, for all the growth he'd worked so hard for, still felt every bit the awkward teenager in the presence of Soren. The thirty some-odd letters they'd exchanged in five years probably wouldn't ever change that. "No, I -- never managed to mention that to Queen Elincia."
A rock landed in the pond. Soren frowned. "Ah, yes. She is Queen now, isn't she? After her parents…"
"Yeah, that's why she hired us in the first place. She thought she might be the next target for assassination."
There was a pause. "Assassination? I was told their carriage lost control and careened off a cliff."
"Yeah, but we found out later the carriage was rigged to lose two of its wheels." Ike leaned against the wall and stretched his arms out to his sides with a yawn. "No idea who did it though. Everyone thinks it was probably the same people who killed your father -- trying to start unrest among the nations or something."
Soren tried not to scoff. "That is doubtful."
"Why? Three monarchs dead in four years, and now we aren't even sure if Lord Renning's death was truly from spotted fever."
Soren considered this for a moment, slipped the great grand robe off his shoulders to leave only a black tunic on underneath. "Come walk with me."
The side door did not creak, at least, and so there was no warning at all for the two unsuspecting guards who looked nearly asleep when Soren tiptoed to their sides and whispered "Boo."
They jumped to attention and saluted so hard they probably hurt their hands on their helmets. Ike snickered at the ringing thud that came after; the Queen, too, had a hard time not smiling.
"Pay attention when I'm in there, boys. Let's not have a repeat from a few years ago."
"Yes, your majesty."
The mood suddenly became somber as Soren crossed the courtyard and Ike followed, fingering the letter bearing the seal of the Crimean royal family on it that hung heavy in his pocket.
Maybe that was why the guards at the palace gates were so cautious, checking and double-checking his paperwork. Maybe that was why everyone in the palace aside from Soren himself seemed ready to jump him any moment -- he was a stranger in the palace strutting around with a sword, after all.
The walked past flower beds that still burst with color in spite of the dusting of snow. The fountains somehow continued bubbling forth without concern for turning to ice. Soren walked past them, unimpressed as he always seemed to be.
"You know, Soren."
"Mm?"
"You never even told me about the assassination attempt. I heard about it from some noble we were working for at the time."
Soren looked over his shoulder with a sour smile. "You sound offended."
"I know all about your sons, and your peach trees, and the expansion to your library. Why wouldn't you mention that?"
"What is there to say? There was an attempt on my life. You risk your life nearly every day."
"Yeah, but that's… planned. Routine. I can sleep at night. I can go to the market and not worried I'll get jumped." Soren pursed his lips at this. "Why would someone even attack you?"
"An omega leader is an affront to the Goddess," The Queen stopped and looked out over the snow, back to the oasis he'd built in the courtyard; the rows of fruit trees that bore every Summer, the bright blossoms that would pop up out of even the deepest snow to catch rays of sunshine. "Or so some zealots say."
--
His eldest son had been just a newborn -- barely old enough to hold up his own head. Soren remembered how incredibly difficult it was to leave him in the care of someone else even for a week, only to make a diplomatic trip to the far reaches of the kingdom.
They'd been paraded around supposedly for the benefit of the people; on the way to a conference with the local governor he and Zelgius rode horseback through the streets, cheered and booed in equal measure.
(It wasn't until he'd taken the throne and Zelgius, by his own insistence, was made prince consort, that Soren realized Daein had never had a Queen who wasn't also submissive to a King.
The people had realized it however. And they weren't all pleased.)
Acknowledge your nature.
Long live the Queen!
You'll ruin us all.
It was all a raging cacophony of nonsense.
Silence inside. Stare dead ahead. Watch the backs of the marching soldiers at the head of their string of diplomats and try not to look at anyone's face.
Perhaps that was his mistake.
Before he could realize that the things on him, grabbing him, were hands, he was tumbling to the ground, on his back, the wind knocked out of his lungs.
Later he was told that the would-be assassin had leapt on him so quickly he startled his horse, who then reared and sent the two of them clinging to each other off her back.
Hands around his neck. Soren knew his spells by heart, felt his hand on thick leather in his coat but. If he could not speak, the spirits could not hear him. They would not come. He clawed at those arms for what felt like minutes -- what's happening why -- he thought of his son's face, round, sweet green eyes, the perfect image of his father --
His attacker flew and rolled on his side when a kick to the gut hit him hard enough to make a sound. Zelgius, in all his heavy armor, was on the would-be assassin like a cat on a mouse.
Soren lay dazed in the street, still gasping and welcoming no air into his lungs.
In spite of it all and his guards' best efforts, people flooded into the street. Unfamiliar, teary-eyed faces surrounded him, grasped him, asked --
"Your majesty, are you alright?"
"Can you breathe well?"
"Here, have some water."
Soren let out an aching gasp, watched his breath float away in the cold northern air as proof that he was alive. Somehow. Slowly he sat up, let his head turn to the side to see the two --
The omega who was his attacker couldn't have been older than twenty-five. The only weapon he'd even raised against the Queen, his hands, he again held up with open palms as his only defense; he seemed less sure of his attack once Zelgius was upon him.
And the noble, gentle alpha that had been nervous to hold his own child ("He's so small,") was gone -- the alpha that stood there was not a soldier but a beast, all composure lost, all control abandoned for pure fury in his eyes and bared teeth. "You should not have done that."
"He is the one who defies the Goddess' design! I - I was trying to --"
"You, who would try to leave my son motherless without a second thought, you have the gall to speak to me of the Goddess?"
"It's unnatural --"
"I will make you beg for death, you fool."
"Zelgius."
A pause. Green eyes turning to look at him, and instantly becoming soft. The guards, previously too terrified to step between the General and his prey, finally closed in on the assassin once Zelgius abandoned him to rush to Soren's side.
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine."
"I'll order for a healer."
"I'm fine." Hearing the dry rasp in his voice Soren rubbed a hand over his throat and grimaced. "I may just have to speak softly for a few days."
An omega woman from the crowd pat his back. "I have just the thing for a sore throat your majesty, let me get it for you."
Zelgius had never held him that tightly before, or since. Soren realized then that he'd never seen his hands shake like they were.
"General," A guard appeared in the corner of his consciousness, and after a moment Zelgius lifted his head.
"Yes."
"What should we do with the prisoner?"
"Kill him."
Soren shifted in place until his mate finally released his grip on him and allowed him to shakily get to his feet. "No. Let him stand trial."
Zelgius stood as well wearing an expression of pure bewilderment.
"We are no longer a nation of barbarians where prisoners are killed without reason. He'll stand trial." The guard bowed out.
The omega woman from before had reappeared with her poultice in hand and stared at the Queen frozen and wide-eyed as she handed it to him.
--
Zelgius had never been a clingy mate, but by the end of that week Soren wondered if he'd have to swat him away like a fly to get a moment's peace. They only retired to bed after Soren had to be observed undressing, getting into his nightclothes, combing his hair, brushing his teeth --
"You may relax your hold on me at any time."
"... Is it too tight?"
"Yes."
"Ah. I apologize." Supposedly he'd eased his grip, but Soren couldn't tell at all.
He opened his mouth, thought better -- then finally changed his mind back once more. "I was too soft on that omega."
"You are not your father -- kindness is within you. That isn't a bad thing."
"Many called him a Mad King, but now they all seem to wish him back."
"They are only uncertain about change." A squeeze, "Now go to sleep. I get the feeling Caspian is so grateful for our return he'll allow us a full night's rest."
--
The next morning saw him running uncharacteristically late to a meeting with the council -- specifically because Caspian had failed to wake him up overnight as per usual. This left the baby strangely fussy by the time morning came, and with Zelgius already departed to the barracks Soren made the swift decision to slide the little one into a sling and take him along to the meeting.
He had his hand on the door when he gave pause to the voices on the far side --
Omegas are natural nurturers, not killers, of course he wants to spare the man.
It isn't his fault, simply his nature. They're submissive creatures.
For shame. Perhaps in a few years when the young prince is older we can...
This door creaked too -- just enough, loud and deep, to announce his arrival like an entire band of army trumpets.
The table of alphas, all ancient remnants of a time before his father's rule dictated might over blood, suddenly seemed all smiles and cheer.
Soren inhaled -- the depth of whatever words he might say were dampened by Caspian's gurgling. "Whichever of you who are so desperate to think treasonous thoughts and speak treasonous words in my palace may rejoin my late father in the ground. I can send you there myself, if need be."
"Treason? Why, don't be ridiculous, your majesty --"
"I've heard it for myself, Count Seldica. Do you wish my father was here in my stead? The Mad King himself?"
"Th-there are many reasons he was called that, none of them --"
"There was but one. He was mad." Soren strode for the far end of the table, grateful for his son's newfound quiet, and took his seat. "So I suppose I'm going to be forced to make a statement and have this prisoner executed publicly in Nevassa. Or am I too submissive to make these decisions by myself?"