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Jason inhales, deep and slow, through his nose. He exhales through his mouth, breathes out until just before his lungs begin to strain for air. He inhales once more.
"What the fuck!" he shouts.
Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Jason, please try to comport yourself as the crown princess of Gotham ought."
"Comport myself? Comport myself? Oh, I'm sorry, Bruce, am I supposed to just curtsey and bow my head and say 'yes sire, of course sire' when you tell me that you're fucking up my whole life? I must have fucking skipped that deportment lesson somehow."
"Jay-"
"Did you even attempt to remove that condition from the treaty? Or were you so damned eager-"
"Of course I did!" Bruce roars.
Jason steps back and immediately a wave of self loathing washes over him. He shouldn't flinch from any alpha–usually he doesn't, a fact that he prides himself on. But it seems that, no matter how many years it's been, something within him will always cower from the anger of his sire alpha parent.
Bruce catches the movement–of fucking course he does, he's too clever and too observant by half, enough that he hides the true depths of his analytical mind from the Court for fear that his nobles would revolt if they knew that they could not and could never run the rings around him that they think they can. Bruce sighs, again, and Jason refuses to be moved by the dark shadows beneath his eyes that speak of too many sleepless nights.
"Of course I did," he repeats, softer this time. He reaches across the desk as though to take Jason's hand, but Jason isn't in a mood to be mollified, and tucks his hands behind his back. "Your future, your happiness is of utmost importance to me. However-"
"You swore that I would be able to join the keepers of the Grand Library when I reached my majority. You promised!" Jason's voice cracks on the final word, and he turns to hide his face from Bruce, roughly swipes at the few tears that have managed to escape.
"Jay..."
Jason knows that he sounds whiny, knows that every word that spills from his mouth makes his position weaker–he should be arguing the political angle, should be talking about the ramifications, but it's so hard to focus on cool logic when his future crumbles before him. "I'm the second son-"
"You're my eldest omega," Bruce interrupts. There is a depth of pain in his voice that Jason cannot recognise, not right now. "I know, Jay, I know what I said, and I didn't lie. I wanted to send you there, I know how happy you would be there. But you have responsibilities that you cannot flee from, not when you're the crown princess."
"I'm not the blood omega," Jason hisses, spinning around to pin Bruce with his glare, anger surging so that he no longer cares if Bruce watches him cry. "I know what royal omegas are used for–are you seriously saying that Luthor wants to muddy up his bloodline with my gutter trash?"
"Jason, do not refer to yourself that way."
"It's true! Everyone knows that Luthor's obsessed-"
"Jason."
Jason's jaw snaps shut so quickly that it's a minor miracle that his teeth miss his tongue. Maybe he should have bit it, he might as well get some practice in. Gods know that he's going to be biting his tongue a lot if he's seriously to go and live in fucking Metropolis. At least in Gotham, Bruce and the Guard Commander are trying to root out the systematic corruption. Luthor fucking encourages it.
"Jay, don't think of it as a marriage, and, well." Bruce clears his throat. "It's an unprecedented opportunity to enact fundamental change upon a kingdom. Lex is a mortal man; when he dies, Conner is going to ascend to the throne, and you'll be the uncontested queen. You'll be the second most influential person in the entire kingdom. Here, you would be Dick's heir, yes, but only until he has children. You will be able to make a change, Jay. If anyone can root out a bunch of corrupt nobles and replace them with ones who will understand the responsibilities they owe to the people, it's you."
Jason crosses his arms, glares at the floor and refuses to feel even the smallest amount of flattery. It's all sweet, meaningless noise. Jason should know by now that alphas will say whatever they need to in order to get their way. He can't believe that he was actually stupid enough to think that Bruce was different. "That's easy for you to say," he mutters. Jason's very aware of the role of royal omegas; he'll be too busy bearing children and trying not to die in childbirth to actually enact any meaningful change. He's not the type of omega that could just hand a child over to nannies and wet nurses to be raised (not when he's seen with his own eyes how that's affected his younger siblings).
Bruce gets up and walks around his desk. Jason tracks Bruce's movements in his peripheral vision, and so even though he hasn't moved his gaze from the floor, he doesn't startle when Bruce stops in front of him and places his hands on Jason's shoulders. "Jay. Truly. If I felt you would suffer in this position, I would never have agreed to it. I believe-" he puts his thumb underneath Jason's chin, exerts a little bit of pressure. Jason acquiesces, because he's a good person, and allows Bruce to lift his chin until they can look each other in the eye, "-that you will thrive as Metropolis' queen." He smiles, but his eyes are terribly sad. "I'm going to miss you so much, my son."
Jason cracks and throws his arms around Bruce's neck, drags him in for a tight hug. Bruce chuckles and returns it, wraps his own arms around Jason's waist. For a moment, in the warm, encompassing embrace of his alpha, Jason feels safe. "I'm gonna miss you too," he mutters against Bruce's shoulder.
They hug for a long time.
Bruce doesn't comment as Jason's tears begin to soak through his doublet, just slowly, steadily, runs his hands down Jason's back.
--
The wedding is extravagant.
It's a pity that Jason barely remembers any of it.
He has... bits and flashes of the entire thing, from that moment standing in Bruce's office, feeling the foundation of his future crumble beneath him, to standing before an altar, holding hands with Metropolis' crown prince. He knows that he has been drifting, that he has worried his parent and his siblings, but he cannot force himself to be present.
Better to feel nothing than to feel helpless.
If he was forced to make his way through the mire, if he was forced to burn away the comforting fog, then... well, he does not know what he would have done, but it is extremely likely that either he or the prince–Conner, Jason ought to get used to calling him, they are to be married after all–would not be standing here today.
Talia has always been fond of him the most out of Bruce's non-Damian children; the woman has more personal assassins than she does jewels, and does not shy away from deploying them. If Jason had but asked...
Alas, he is not one to destabilise two realms just for his own personal happiness. Besides, it isn't as though Bruce is wrong. Luthor is mortal and Jason will have more power as Queen than he ever could have had as heir-apparent. It also would come free of people trying to coax him into rebelling against his elder brother.
Or rather, now it will be people trying to coax him into rebelling against his husband.
It is not until he stands in his new quarters, Meteropolis' crown prince's quarters, that the last of the fog burns up. He snaps into the here and now with all the grace and subtlety of a firebomb.
He won't live here, he has his own quarters–less quarters and more entire wing, in truth; after all, the Queen is expected to be the silken hand to the King’s iron one, expected to do the type of politicking that is only encouraged by perceived vulnerability–and can vaguely remember preparing for the wedding in them, omega maids fluttering around him in a storm of anxiety that only the fog kept him safe from. The only reason he's here now is to offer this treaty one, final sacrifice: his maidenhead, in the form of a mating.
Sex had better be fucking worth it for the humiliation he's undergone. From the giggles directed at Dick and Tim, he expects that it will not be so intolerable that he will disdain a second attempt.
(Not that he could, even if he wanted to. Everyone knows that a legacy isn't held by a single child, not when death nips so closely to a baby's heels. Better to go for at least three, before he can feel comfortable closing his doors to his husband.)
"So," his husband says. Conner says.
"So," Jason echoes.
Conner runs a hand through his hair, and a part of Jason's heart unthaws at the blatant unease on display. "I don't want you to think–that is to say, I'm not, uh."
Jason crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. He feels every single year of the age difference between them yawn wider and wider, a canyon almost impassable.
"I have fucked omegas before," Conner blurts out.
Jason buries his face in his palms.
"Shit, sorry, no, that came out wrong–not that I'm lying! It's just, I, uh, I wanted you to know that I would treat you right?" Conner trails off awkwardly.
Jason drags his hands down his face. Whatever did he do to be cursed with this? Was it all the stealing he did as a tender youth? The priest that he had spoken to had assured him that the Gods understood survival, and as long as he sincerely repented, his sins would not mar his soul.
Clearly, however, his future and his eternal soul are two different things.
That, or lies is what he gets, for speaking to a priest of Dionysus. He should have realised that something was up when the priest was a little too enthusiastic when describing exactly how Jason could go about repenting.
(Jason still bears faint scars from the lash.)
"You don't have to be worried. Or scared."
"I'm not scared," Jason snaps.
Conner shoots him a look which is hypocritically judgy, given the bullshit that he's spilled over the floor so far. "I, like, have a working nose, dude."
Jason pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He feels very, very old. What a time to be reminded of the small fact that Conner is more his younger brother's contemporary, than his own. "I would expect nothing less from Metropolis' crown prince."
Conner winces. "OK, yeah, can we just." He waves a hand. "Put all that shit to the side? I don't like being reminded of my title in general, it usually means that someone's either going to remind me of some protocol I've forgotten, or they're trying to put distance between us; either way, it usually means I've fucked up. And maybe I'm being naive, but, like... I don't want formality between us."
He takes Jason's free hand in both of his. Despite the fact that their wedding has been matched to Jason's pre-heat, and so he is much hotter than he would normally be, the prince is yet hotter still. Jason looks at him. Conner seems... almost uncomfortably sincere.
"I know, the way we got married wasn't exactly... peak romance. And maybe we won't ever love each other–that's fine! I know we-" he lets go with one hand, waves it between them like he indicates the both of them, inviting Jason into the in-circle, "-don't really expect love, royalty doesn't have that sort of luxury. But I do want us to at least be able to work together." His blue eyes and bright and determined. He's so em>warm. "I want us to be a partnership."
Well, if anyone would be familiar with exactly how a royal relationship can break down when there's neither trust nor love between the people in said relationship, Jason supposes it would be Metropolis' crown prince. The only reason that Metropolis even entertained a treaty with Gotham is they need to somehow mitigate the fallout of the Queen very publically divorcing and then denouncing the King.
(Couldn't come sooner, if you ask Jason. His interest in politics has always trended towards the internal, to how they can improve the lives of the average Gothamite, but even he had heard of the atrocities purported to be committed by King Luthor. May he suffer a prolonged and painful death.)
(And yet, somehow, he was still not the worst possible in-law that Jason could have got, if he had to be married off.)
Jason sighs. He's not unmoved by Conner's earnestness, and it would be nice to actually have a proper partnership between them.
But in any case... "Shouldn't this be something we discuss, you know, after my heat?"
"Oh! Yeah!" Conner pulls away, rubs the back of his head. (Jason's hand does not feel cold where he let go, it doesn't.) "But, um."
"I know," Jason interrupts. Even if they don't spend his heat together, they'll need to be in close quarters or else everyone will know that they didn't spend his heat together since they won't smell like each other. Not even swapping clothes will work, not if they want to fake how deeply a shared cycle embeds a scent. They'll definitely need to share the bed. And also... "You need to bite me."
All of this will be for nothing if Jason exits this room without the bite of Metropolis' crown prince on his mating gland. From the way Conner winces, he knows it, too.
For a moment, Jason wonders just what Conner's been threatened with, to make him agree to this.
"So!" Jason says, as brightly as he can, all things considered. "Bite, and then sleep?"
"Sounds-"
"Or," a third voice breaks in. Jason swings around to face the window, Conner steps between him and it, snarling deep in his throat. Fucking Tim waves a hand, appearing entirely unconcerned about the fact that he's balancing on a window sill multiple stories in the air, and the only thing between him, a push and a fatal fall is his grip on the windowframe. He shouldn't be here, not just in the window but here at all–the Gotham delegate is supposed to already be on their way home. None of Jason's family should still be in the castle. "I have a third option."
"Tim?" Jason says, incredulous.
"What are you doing here?" Conner asks.
Jason steps to the side so he can see both Conner and Tim. Conner sounds... He sounds like he knows Tim, which is definitely possible, Tim's something of an ambassador for Gotham although Jason can't remember at the moment if he's ever been sent to Metropolis.
But the way Conner sounds, the look on his face...
Ah.
Now Jason understands why he wasn't eager to jump into bed with an omega.
Tim swings his legs over the windowsill so that he's properly in the room. Jason's heart won't settle until he's off the sill, there's still way too high a chance that he falls, and the increased heart rate is making his heat approach even faster than it ought. He needs to resolve this now or he’s going to be reduced to acting on instinct. "No one's going to check the bite to see if it matches Kon's fangs. You just need a bite."
Jason kind of feels like Tim's skipped over a pretty major part of the conversation here, like he's three sentences ahead of where he should be. Unless time slipped past him while he was repressing his heat. "What-"
"It could be any bite." Tim slinks across the room, presses himself against Conner's chest. It should look kind of silly, Tim's more short and slim than Conner, and his scent has always been suspiciously omega. And yet, Conner's the one who looks like a hunted rabbit, pupils wide and hands clenched into fists at his side. His breath noticeably speeds up as Tim comes closer and closer. "No one will question my scent on Jason."
"What the fuck are you getting at, Tim?" Jason asks. His skin itches, he can’t repress his instincts anymore. They’re screaming at him to get rid of the other omega, to destroy the competition for the alpha.
Tim doesn't answer, just reaches up and scruffs Conner, digs his fingers into the back of his neck until he slumps down over Tim. The only thing keeping Conner from hitting the floor is Tim.
Jason's never seen an alpha be so deeply affected by a scruffing before. It's strangely intimate, he wants to look away, to give them their privacy–which is stupid, that's his husband that Tim's putting his hands all over. "Tim. What are you doing?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Tim tilts his head and shoots Jason a look that he doesn't quite understand. He's never seen that look on Tim's face before, directed towards him...
But he has seen it on other alphas' faces. It's a look they give to an omega they want, dark and hunting and hungry.
But Tim's his brother, he must be misunderstanding it. And Jason's married now. There's only one alpha who should be looking at him like that and they just decided to take it slow.
Tim doesn't so much drag as lead Conner over to his–to his and Jason's bed. He lets go of Conner's neck and Conner collapses like his strings have been cut, falls back onto the bed in a sprawl that has no right to look as attractive as it does. His hair is a mess, his clothes somehow askew, and there's a growing flush on his cheeks. He looks like he's just been fucked. Jason's hands curl into fists, dig his nails into his palms until pain spikes through him. It's enough to clear his head just a little, chase away some of the fog of the encoaching heat.
"Tim-"
"None of that, now."
Tim crosses the room and cups Jason's face. The touch feels good, better than it should; Jason's instincts finally settling at ease as the thin thread of alpha rises up through Tim's omega scent. Jason pulls away–he's not a slave to his body, despite what people think of omegas. "Explain yourself."
"Jason, please. I thought you were smarter than that. You really need it spelt out for you?"
Jason snarls, bares his teeth. People might think that alphas are the more aggressive dynamic, but it's not out of the ordinary for omegas to kill alphas they don't think are worthy. It's common enough that it's not prosecuted by law–sure, it's dressed up as hysterical omegas being unable to conduct themselves in a civilised manner, but still, no one would blame Jason if he tore out Tim's throat and then tossed the body out the window.
Part of him very much wants to do so.
(But the other part of him...)
Tim rubs his thumbs over Jason's cheekbones, caresses his face like it's something delicate. Jason's not so out of it that he doesn't notice the fine tremble in Tim's hands, the way his eyes seem fever-bright up close. "You're mine, Jay," Tim whispers, "I'm not going to let anyone take you from me."
Jason slaps Tim's hands away, steps away from him and towards Conner. It's not that he thinks that it's safer by the bed, but he's not about to flee and leave his new husband alone with his apparently delusional brother. "Since when is anyone letting anyone do anything?" he spits. He already knows that there's no weapons in the room, not that he would use them if there were any. There's guards stationed outside their rooms and the rooms aren't exactly soundproof–guards are supposed to be able to hear intruders. But if they have a brawl and the guards do come in, it could wreck the treaty. Tim's clearly having some type of mental break, but he doesn't think that Metropolis’ court will believe that when they could have a cuckolding story on their hands.
Tim's eyes narrow. "Kon."
There's rustling behind him, Jason whips around but he's too late. Conner grabs his neck just underneath his jaw and tips his chin up, exposes his mating glands to the alphas. Jason hisses and drives his elbow back into Conner's solar plexus. Conner wheezes as the air is forced out of him, but he doesn't let go of Jason. He wraps his other arm around Jason's waist and pulls him flush against Conner's body. Jason snarls and writhes, tries to slam his foot against Conner's instep, but Conner slides his foot out of the way just in time.
"It'll be okay, I promise," Conner says against Jason's ear.
"Forgive me if I find that hard to believe!" Jason hisses.
"Trust us, Jay." Tim approaches them. No matter how hard Jason pulls against Conner's grip, he can't escape. His struggles weaken as he's enveloped by the scent of alpha, omega, pack, family. His instincts scream at him to calm down, that he can trust, even as his brain insists on the opposite. "It's going to be okay."
Cool fingertips on his jaw, the gentlest push sideways to give Tim access to his mating gland.
"Don't you fucking dare."
A warm body against his front, hot breath against his neck.
"Don't!"
A bite.