Shimmering things

Marius thought he knew what bad dreams were till he saw a blade as thin as ice cut through his mother's head. It was swift. Sure, her body fought as blood poured from where her decapitated head was supposed to be.

Marius stomach twisted and turned as his father was taken next to face the guillotine.

"Your Grace," the King's Hand referred to his father, "do you have any last words before you join your deceitful wife?"

He watched his father straighten. There was a flicker of his old man's pride shining through. "I knew what she was," he said, voice steady despite his pale features. "And I loved her all the same. I regret nothing."

The executioner wasted no time. His head was forced down and the blade cut it clean.

There was no time to grieve for Marius. Perhaps he had even desensitized himself to the pain, knowing he was next.

Still, when was bundled forward to where he would be stripped of his life, he cried.

The King's Hand approached Marius, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "And what of you, little lordling? What do you have to say about the tainted blood that runs through your veins?"

Marius remained silent, his heart pounding in his chest. Tears stained his cheeks, but he forced himself to stand tall. The weight of his family's shame pressed down upon him, suffocating any words he might have spoken in his defense.

He knew there was nothing to say. No plea for mercy would save him now. The taint in his blood, the supposed crime of his lineage, had sealed his fate long before this moment.

With a deep breath, Marius stepped forward. The cold metal of the guillotine sent a shiver down his spine as he placed his head upon it. He could hear the collective gasp of the crowd, their shock at his willingness to accept his fate.

The King's Hand's voice reached his ears, tinged with unexpected respect. "Brave and noble, little one. May the River of Glass guide you home."

Marius closed his eyes, trying to find peace in these final moments. He thought of his family, of the life he'd never get to live. While the blade hung above his throat, he made a silent prayer before opening his eyes to face the crowd who came to see a spectacle and another killing. He wanted to imprint his face in all their minds. He hoped they would remember him and he prayed he would hunt their dreams and nightmares.

As his eyes swept across the sea of onlookers, they locked with those of a young man adorned in royal regalia. In that instant, the world around Marius seemed to fade away, replaced by an inexplicable sensation—a shimmer. It was as if an invisible thread had suddenly connected them, vibrating with an energy he couldn't explain but instinctively recognized.

Marius's breath caught in his throat. He knew this feeling, had heard tales of it from his parents. The rare, unbreakable bond that could form between two souls. But as quickly as hope flickered to life within him, it was extinguished by the cold reality of his situation.

The young man was Prince Kylian Lemaitre. Marius's eyes widened in recognition, his mind reeling. He was a condemned criminal, tainted by the very blood that flowed through his veins. The royal family would sooner see him dead than acknowledge any connection between them.

"Off with his head," the King's Hand whispered to the executioner, his voice barely audible over the pounding in Marius's ears.

Marius squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the blade's descent. The air grew thick with anticipation, the crowd's collective breath held in suspense.

"STOP!"

The command rang out across the square, sharp and authoritative. Marius's eyes snapped open to find Prince Kylian on his feet, arm outstretched. The executioner's blade hovered mere inches from Marius's exposed neck, frozen in mid-swing.

King Edward Lemaitre turned to his son, his brow furrowed in confusion and irritation. "Crown Prince Kylian, what is the meaning of this?"

Kylian tore his gaze from Marius, bowing deeply to his father. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I do not mean to defy your decree, but I cannot stand idly by and watch an innocent be murdered."

The Queen's voice cut through the tension. "The boy is not innocent. He is a product of sin."

Kylian met his mother's stern gaze. "Nobody chooses to be born, Mother. This boy was deceived by his own parents, unaware of his heritage. Had he known, would he have presented himself for the exams? Would he have risked discovery?" He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "His parents have paid for their deception. But it would not be justice to put this innocent to death."

King Edward Lemaitre stroked his beard thoughtfully, considering his son's words. "What would you suggest, then?"

Kylian straightened, his voice steady. "Seizing his family's estate and title is punishment enough. He is an Omega, after all. Let him live as one." A hint of hesitation crept into his tone. "Does he not look fair and young enough to be one of the Bednis?"

Marius's eyes widened at the mention of Bednis, the euphemism for palace concubines—glorified sex slaves. He shook his head frantically, willing his voice to work, to refuse this fate. But fear had stolen his words, leaving him mute and trembling.

The King's gaze fell upon Marius, who felt his bladder release in terror. A puddle formed at his feet, soaking into his already stained clothing. The King's lips curled into a smile as he nodded, seemingly amused by the boy's obvious fear.

Turning back to his son, King Edward Lemaitre's expression softened. "You were always the best part of me, Kylian." He rose from his throne, addressing the crowd with arms spread wide. "People of Onalith, I have had a change of heart regarding this boy. I hope you will see the wisdom in my decision."

The crowd murmured, a mix of confusion and understanding rippling through their ranks.

"Onalith has laws that must not be broken," the King continued. "But Onalith is also merciful. This boy shall be a beneficiary of that mercy." He gestured towards Marius, still trembling on the guillotine. "Thank the Glass River, Omega. You will live."

The crowd's murmur swelled into a cacophony of voices, a mixture of confusion and dawning comprehension spreading through the masses.

"Onalith has laws that must not be broken," the King continued, his voice carrying over the din. "But Onalith is also merciful. This boy shall be a beneficiary of that mercy." He gestured towards Marius, who remained frozen on the guillotine, his body wracked with tremors. "Thank the Glass River, Omega. You will live."

But Marius felt no gratitude. Terror coursed through his veins, causing his limbs to shake uncontrollably. His wide eyes darted frantically from face to face as guards approached the platform, their heavy footsteps echoing in his ears.

The crowd, oblivious to Marius's distress, began to cheer and chant. "Long live the merciful King!" they cried. "Praise the kindness of the Crown!" Their voices swelled, a tide of adoration washing over the square.

Marius's gaze locked onto the approaching guards, their faces impassive as they reached for him. Panic clawed at his throat, and suddenly, his voice returned.

"No," he croaked, the word barely audible above the crowd's jubilation.

The guards grasped his arms, lifting him from the guillotine. As they began to drag him away from the platform, Marius's terror found its full voice.

"No!" he cried again, louder this time. "Please, no!"

His protests grew in volume and desperation as the reality of his situation sank in. "NO! STOP! PLEASE!" he screamed, his voice cracking with fear and anguish.

But his pleas were drowned out by the crowd's continued praise of the King's mercy. They cheered and applauded, blind to the terror etched on Marius's face as he was forcibly removed from the square.

Marius twisted in the guards' grip, his eyes wild with fear. "LET ME GO!" he shrieked, his voice hoarse and breaking. "I DON'T WANT THIS! PLEASE! LET ME JUST DIE!"

His cries echoed off the stone walls as he was dragged away, a stark contrast to the celebratory atmosphere that had engulfed the square. The "mercy" granted to him felt more like a sentence, and Marius's desperate pleas faded into the distance as he was taken to face his new, uncertain future.

***

Marius continued to thrash in the guards' grip, his eyes wide and frantic as he struggled against their hold. "Let me go!" he screamed again and again, his voice cracking with desperation. "I don't want this! Please! Let me just die!"

The air grew warmer and more fragrant as they led him through the arched doorway into a brightly colored chamber, a stark contrast to the drab stones of the outside world. Vibrant silks draped from the ceiling, and the walls were painted in swirling patterns of gold and crimson.

The guards shoved Marius forward, sending him sprawling onto the cold stone floor. He landed hard, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. For a moment, he lay there dazed, struggling to regain his senses. As he finally lifted his head, he found himself surrounded by a circle of curious onlookers.

Men and women, scantily clad in vibrant silks and gossamer fabrics, peered down at him with a mixture of interest and sympathy. Among them, one figure stood out - an older woman with sharp, hawk-like features and an air of authority. She stepped forward, her movements graceful yet purposeful.

Crouching before Marius, she reached out, her slender fingers cool against his skin as she grasped his chin. She turned his face from side to side, examining him with a critical eye. "Male Bednis are rare," she mused, her voice low and knowing. "Whose eye did this one catch?"

One of the guards answered, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm, "The kindness of the royal family. Clean him up and make him worthy of the royal house."

The woman inclined her head in a slight bow, her gaze never leaving Marius as the guards' footsteps echoed away. Once they were gone, she straightened, fixing Marius with an unwavering stare. "Stand," she commanded.

Marius hesitated, his mind reeling from the rapid turn of events. Slowly, he pushed himself up, his limbs trembling with exhaustion and fear. As he stood before the woman and the other Bednis, a flicker of his earlier defiance resurfaced.

"Please," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "could I have some privacy? A room, perhaps, to... to change?"

The plea hung in the air.

The woman's gaze sharpened as she regarded him. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Marius," he replied, only to feel the sharp sting of her slap across his cheek.

"Who are you?" she demanded again, her voice cold.

He swallowed hard, the words she had spoken ringing in his ears. "Mar—"

"Wrong!" She retorted. "A Bedni has no name. Here, you are but boy. A slave or a toy. Nothing more. Nothing less."

The woman gave it a minute for her words to settle before chuckling. "Say it. Who are you?"

"I'm a boy. A slave. A toy." Marius whispered, desensitized.

"Nothing more," she corrected, her eyes narrowing, "and nothing less."

Marius held his stinging cheek, nodding numbly. "Nothing more. Nothing less."

The woman motioned for the others to bring water and a basin before facing him again.

"I thought I already told you to strip," she spoke.

"I'm fine," Marius insisted, trying to hold onto some shred of dignity.

She closed the distance between them in an instant, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, "Are you a virgin?"

He refused to meet her gaze, but his silence was answer enough.

"Perhaps you need some loosening up," she said with a cruel smile. "Bednis are typically reserved for the Crown and its guests, but stubborn ones like you need to be broken in. Some of those guards haven't had time to their wives, considering they work round the clock. They will take any tight hole we give them and I have to tell you, those guards are beasts when it comes to defiling the likes of you."

Her words made Marius's stomach churn, and he doubled over, retching onto the floor. He began undoing his shirt, his fingers trembling as he complied.

The woman watched with satisfaction. "Smart boy," she murmured, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips.