Chapter Text
Born an Alpha, Phainon is used to getting into unnecessary bouts with other alphas. In particular, with Mydeimos. Their arguments often turn into full on spars with the both of them wrecking whatever surroundings they occupy sans the people, fortunately. Which meant constant berating from Aglaea and cleaning up after their messes. Offering their sincerest apologies to nearby citizens, which Phainon mostly did alone considering the position he held in Okhema.
“Deliverer,” the musky scent of an Alpha suddenly invaded his nose, the earthy almost coffee-like smell that he was accustomed to. Mydei unceremoniously says, “Titankin, far east, Lady Aglaea’s urging us to be quick.”
Phainon bristled from the commanding ire in his tone, his alpha wanting to fight back. But concedes nonetheless. He can’t have Aglaea find out that he’s going against her explicit orders. His own scent soured into a distinctly ashy flavor as they headed over to the titankin infested location. When they arrived, taking in the carnage—they turned to glance at each other, “Whoever kills the most wins?”
Mydei grunted, “Let’s take it a step up. Whoever wins gets a favor from the other.”
“Deal.” Phainon replied, a triumphant gleam in his eyes, reassured of his win. Thus, the race began.
They tended to stay out of each other’s line of sight, targeting as many titankin they could to beat the other person. Sometimes, going even as far as to defeat one that the other person had their eye on. Growling at each other with an animalistic ferocity. Almost entirely forgoing proprietary.
It usually gets worse whenever they are nearing their ruts, and unfortunately nowadays their ruts happen at around the same time. Perfect for an all-out wrestling match in the streets of the marmoreal marketplace. Scaring the people around them. A part of Phainon—though he would never admit it—enjoys those moments immensely. As the foretold deliverer, he cannot be seen indulging himself, because he is not a person but a prophecy. He will fulfill the wishes of everybody. If that means forgetting himself, then so be it.
He strikes down another titankin, hostility raging in his veins. Baring his teeth in a deep growl as he goes on to attack another one, drawing up his greatsword. Swinging it with a note of finality that spells the end for those fighting against him. He feels himself gradually slipping, his alpha coming out. Ready to give into his secondary gender when he’s pulled back by a hand holding onto his choker. A calming scent permeated the air around him, and he felt himself relax. His tensed shoulders slacken and the slight tremble in his body subside.
His eyes flicker as he is brought to full levels of consciousness, devastatingly aware of the hand now holding onto the back of his neck—too close to his scent gland. “...Mydei?”
The hand let go, “At ease, Deliverer. You almost went too far.” He said it was his duty to stop him. Phainon would normally bite back at this, would find the scent spreading to appease him a nuisance. Yet, for some reason, it was working.
Not wanting to deviate from their usual routine, Phainon spat out, “I was fine, I could’ve handled it.”
“Right.” The Alpha in front of him rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, “What would Lady Aglaea say when she found out? I, for one, do not want to be subject to another lecture after yesterday.”
For once Phainon agrees with him, so he magnanimously lets it go. Mydei, however, doesn’t. Asking him, “You okay?”
Phainon makes a confused sound, “yeah,” he stopped - watching Mydei watch him, a hint of concern in his posture - a frown now etched into his face, “It’s fine, stop worrying.”
Mydei stares at him blankly before ripping the head off the nearest titankin, the creature crumbling to ashes. “You can leave the rest to me.” He announces, heading off to kill the few that are left. Phainon lets out an indignant yelp, chasing after him, “I’m not about to let you win!”
He can hear the smirk in Mydei’s voice as he says, “No need, I’ve already won.”
“Ha!” Phainon laughed, slashing down another titankin, “It’s just like you to be so arrogant.”
“You’re pronouncing confident wrong,” Mydei stated like it was a fact, smashing two titankin into each other, “Arrogance is when you cannot back your own claims with evidence, unlike me.”
“Wow, sounding like a true scholar there, Mydei,” Phainon said with a teasing lilt in his voice, one hand on his hip. Then he states, “...110.”
Mydei smiled, and it was the kind of smile that should—and would—inspire fear in the hearts of all his enemies, “115.”
Phainon’s scent immediately sours turning acidic, tasting like smoke. Mydei doesn’t react to the change in his scent, his own pouring out like a waterfall—prideful. “Okay, what do you want then?”
Mydei feigns a contemplative look and it only serves to piss him off even more, “Hmm. I’ll save it for now.”
Phainon’s right eye twitches. How irritating. He sees Mydei’s positively evil grin widen and Phainon knows he needs to get out of there, lest they begin fighting each other again. Without saying a word, he leaves, his scent no doubt putting others on edge seeing how they avoid walking in his path. He offers them a facsimile of a bright smile as he goes on his way, but his scent is giving him away and he has no scent blockers on him. If it were not for who he is, he would have gone ape shit. Still could, he thinks, a little unhinged.
He slammed his door shut, rummaging through a hidden box beneath his bed. All that pent up energy comes back at full force. He takes out a pink dildo, one that’s admittedly on the bigger side—though without a knot, so it’s never as fulfilling—and grabs the oil. It takes him even less time than usual to finger himself open, something he completely dismisses due to the urgency in his movements. Hastily shoving it inside, mouth falling open in a silent moan. He imagines a muscled arm grabbing ahold of his waist. Another hand keeping his leg open with a hard grip on his thigh, pressing him down onto the mattress.
As he frantically grinds the dildo inside, aiming it to hit his prostrate as best as he can, he conjures up images of a certain alpha pounding him to oblivion.
Mydei.
Phainon comes, gasping. Eyes falling shut, body sluggish despite the urge to clean up the mess, Phainon gives in, falling unconscious.
He’s in pre-rut. Scratch that, he should be in pre-rut except for the fact that he wakes up to slicked thighs. He’s positively dripping.
Like an omega.
An omega in pre-heat.
He sighed–anxious, gathering himself up to clean his place as fast as he could. Feverish heat slowing him down immensely. Ridding himself of the scent of desperation and longing. A sickly sweet smell permeated his home. One that made him want to puke.
Against all odds, Phainon rushed to the twilight courtyard—foregoing scentblockers—in search of Hyacine. As the resident healer and Alpha, she would know what’s going on, he reasons. He absentmindedly scratches at the unbearable itch on his scent gland. Nails raking against the sensitive skin.
“Phainon,” Hyacine called out when she locked onto his presence, “What can I do for you?”
“I—” Phainon stalled, hands grasping at nothing as he fumbled through his explanation, “My–my rut–it’s… I don’t know what’s going on, but I woke up and my–thighs! They–there was,” he froze, unsure of how to continue. His shoulders tensed, practically hitched up to his ears, “Wet?”
Hyacine nodded with a blank look on her face. Professional as always; Phainon envied her. She gestured to the cot, and Phainon reluctantly sat down, gaze unsteady. As she went forth with the usual physical check up, Phainon drifted into the corner of his mind. Unbeknownst to him, his scent grew stronger, drawing Hyacine’s narrowed gaze to his wrist.
Phainon paused. “Lord Phainon… Can—may I scent you?”
Nobody moved for a minute, the question hung in the air. He nodded, offering his right hand. She rubbed their wrists together as customary for those not in the same pack, inhaling his scent when she drew back her hand. “Sweet.”
Phainon startled, but before he could question her, she spoke slowly as if talking to a child, “Lord Phainon, have…” she sighed, eyes closing for a minute, “Lord Mydei, you two are close, yes?”
“I… guess? We’re usually at odds with each other, so I don’t–we’re not–we’re just friends.” He tacked on uselessly.
Hyacine locked eyes with him, a knowing glint in them, “Okay,” she said placatingly, “But are there any, say, friendlier feelings that you might have towards him?”
“No!” Phainon blurted hastily. Hands clenched on his lap, “It’s not like that.”
Seeing his intense refusal to name their bond as anything more than comradery, Hyacine bit her lip, lost in thought. “Right, Phainon, I’ll just say it to you straight,” she held her breath, to see if he would protest, continuing when he dared not to say a word, “Your body has undergone secondary gender reclassification. As a result of your… feelings, regarding a certain someone, your body has made the necessary hormonal adjustments so that you could… mate with an alpha.”
Phainon blinked. Hyacine gave him a pitying look, “You’re now an omega, L—Phainon.”
Phainon took in a deep, harrowing breath, unable to hold back the pathetic choked out sound his mouth makes when his mind finally realizes the implications in her words. “You’re joking,” his smile wobbled under the pressure of his thoughts, “no, this can’t–tell me you’re joking, Hyacine, please.”
Hyacine pursed her lips, shaking her head solemnly. “There’s more…”
Phainon abruptly stood up, “I’m,” his voice cracked, “I have to go. Thank you for seeing me.”
His posture was stilted, too rigid. Hyacine raised her hands, arms held out as if to comfort him but Phainon wasn’t having it. He backed up, swiftly pushing past her before she could do anything to stop him and rushed out of the courtyard. Head held down, Phainon wasn’t paying attention to the path as he speed-walked, bumping into a passerby. “Fu—sorry,” he apologized, eyes unseeing as he glanced up.
Mydei frowned at him, “Deliverer, what are you—”
Phainon shook his head, trying to will away his headache, “—I have to go, great seeing you, bye.”
“Wait—” A hand grabbed his arm before he could truly leave, dragging him to the side. “You’re burning up, what is up with y—” Mydei goes still, face grim, “why do you smell like that?”
Phainon sucked in a breath, dazed and utterly confused. “Huh.”
“Deliverer,” Mydei growled, leaning into his space, crowding at his neck, his enticing scent causing Phainon to let out a barely stifled whine. The sound so mortifying that both of them immediately tensed up, wide eyed stares locked onto each other. Drowsiness about to overtake him, Phainon shoved Mydei away, teeth bared, “Get away from me.”
As he stumbled away, he heard the telltale sounds of the Kremnoan Alpha following him. Opting to disregard him, Phainon increased his speed, the footsteps behind him similarly increasing. He held back a sigh, desperate to get back home. Just as he was about to open the door to his place, Mydeimos tugged on his wrist, turning him around before slamming his back onto the door. An arm placed on both sides of his head.
“What’re you…” Phainon mumbled, eyes seeking out contact through the blurry view. Mydei didn’t respond right away, eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Who was it?”
Phainon, now ticked off, hissed at him, “Who was what?”
Mydei leaned his nose to sniff at his scent gland, to which Phainon snarled at him. “You smell of an Omega,” Mydei’s scent worsened, anger imbibed in its very essence, “Who did you sleep with?”
“No. One.” Phainon placed his hands on Mydei’s shoulders, and pushed but his strength wasn’t at his fullest considering he was about to enter his first ever heat soon. “Can you just–ngh–leave already,” he grunted out.
Mydei stared, eyes wide. “You’re…?” His scent burned Phainon’s nose, causing him to scrunch his face in distaste, “Who? Who was it? Who the fuck reclassified you?”
“I swear to—” Phainon couldn’t take it anymore and reached for his door handle, opening his door and effectively cutting Mydei off mid-sentence. He walked inside, heading for his bed, uncaring of whether or not Mydei followed him inside. Unfathomable pain erupted in his head as he laid down.
“Can you stop ignoring me,” Mydei said with an indignified tone, “Phainon.”
Phainon moaned out, delirious, “It hurts.”
Mydei huffed out an irritated breath, not moving. Phainon shut his eyes tight, arm covering his stomach. He felt Mydei drape something over him, the floorboards creaking as he eventually exited his house. Phainon sighed. Mydei’s scent still lingering in the air.
Phainon bit back a pathetic whine, wanting nothing but to seek out the Alpha once more as his scent failed to leave. He groaned, opening his eyes to a stark red cloth—Mydei’s cloak, he realized. Heat pooled in his stomach. He clutched the offending cape in his hand, and inhaled deeply. His body instantly relaxed, eyes rolled back from the delicious scent, mouthing at the cape like a hungry kitten. Before he knew it, he fell into a deep slumber; Mydei’s scent enveloping him.
Phainon was woken up to the sound of obnoxious and insistent knocking on his door. As far as he was aware, he didn’t even lock it before falling asleep so why—He grumbled to himself as he staggered to the door. He fought to keep his eyes peeled open, pulling the door open, “Who—Miss Castorice?”
She smiled at him bashfully, bundles of clothes in her arms, “I heard about your… predicament, uh, here.” She held out her arms, giving him whatever she was holding, careful to not touch him. “The others wanted to help with your–your nest.”
Phainon gaped, “My… nest?”
Castorice tilted her head, “For your heat?”
“Right,” Phainon swallowed, “Thank–thank you. Uh, I’m going to…”
“Right!” Castorice nodded, “I’ll see you la—after, Lord Phainon.”
Phainon waved at her as she left, still processing. He sniffed at the clothes in his hand—a scarf from Castorice, blanket from Hyacine, a dromas plush from… Professor Anaxa (figures), and lastly some form of a shirt courtesy of both Tribbie and Lady Aglaea—a deep rumble settling in his chest.
He took hold of his phone, quickly thanking the rest of the heirs in the group chat before hurrying off to make his nest. Due to it being his first time, it took him way longer than expected. Every time he set something up a certain way, his omega would feel dissatisfied and honestly, he agreed with the assessment. Pulling it apart and restarting all over, again and again and again and againandagainandagain.
Until finally, Phainon was–at best–somewhat satisfied with the end result. “Can’t expect better for a first timer,” Phainon lamented, rubbing his head against his makeshift nest. Scent growing sweeter.
In spite of the comfort, Phainon couldn’t fall asleep, plagued by abdominal pain eating at his insides. His mind worked overtime, anxious about what it meant to be going through his very first heat. As an omega. Because he was reclassified. Because he was stupid enough to fall in love.
He anticipated the pain–it wasn’t too different from his ruts–but not the scalding heat building in his stomach. He supposes that’s why it's called as such, but it makes wearing his clothes absolutely unbearable. He was already sweating through it anyway. Just as Phainon considered ripping his shirt off, there was a knock at the door. Internally sighing, he stumbled to get up, the knocking getting louder.
When he opened the door to see Mydeimos across from him, all he could do was emphatically roll his eyes and move out of the way before the alpha barrelled into him to get inside. “Mydei—”
“We need to talk.”
Phainon, misjudging their distance, tripped over Mydei's foot. As he was about to faceplant into the floor, he braced for impact only to be caught by Mydei, one arm curved around his waist as he gradually pulled him up. The tips of his fingers resting on the small of his back. He lets go after doing a quick once-over. Flustered, Phainon tumbles away, falling flat on his ass. A stunned look on his face.
Mydei huffed, “Phainon,” he tried, watching warily as Phainon stood up unsteadily, “This isn’t something you can ignore, clearly.”
His tone soured at the end, causing Phainon to bristle in response, “But you can!”
“Despite what you may think, Deliverer, this isn’t just something I can brush off like a—”
“It doesn’t concern you,” Phainon hissed, hands on his hips.
“Yes, it does!” Mydei bares his teeth, eyes blown wide. With neither of them backing down, the air in the room was intense. Heart pumping, Phainon charges at Mydei, who seems to anticipate his response. The two of them roll around on the floor as they push and pull at each other in a fight for dominance, all the while, growling and snapping at each other. Things come to a standstill when Phainon manages to hold Mydei down, thighs entrapping his waist and hands on either shoulder.
Mydei smirked up at him, “Are you done?”
“Why are you here,” Phainon glared at him, hands coming to rest at his sides. His face was shadowed by the gloom in his eyes, “If you’re here to make fun of me…”
“I’m not,” Mydei gave him an unimpressed look, “Get off me.”
Phainon sighed, sitting on the floor beside him. Mydei glanced at Phainon’s bedroom, a question in his eyes. Phainon, however, averted his gaze, biting his lip.
“...You’re heat is soon, right.” It’s said as a statement, and Phainon knows he knows, but he nodded regardless. “I’m cashing in that favor. Let me spend your first heat with you.”