The grand hall of Ardan's royal court was steeped in solemn majesty, a place where the affairs of empire played out beneath vaulted ceilings and stained glass that filtered the sun into shafts of gold and crimson.
A court session was in progress, attended by every member of the royal family— their spouses included. Halric Veldar, once disgraced, now restored, watching the doors as though awaiting a ghost.
Then the doors opened.
A hush swept the hall as Aurean entered, dressed in formal Ardanian black and silver with the sigil of Rythe over his chest. No royal insignia. No family crest. Just his title—Emissary of Rythe, Warden of the Western Watch—spoken aloud by the herald as if the words alone carried weight enough to hush disbelief.
Gasps murmured along the court like a ripple of wind over still water. The Aurean who entered was not the broken omega they remembered. He moved with quiet command, gaze steady, shoulders unbowed. Beautiful, yes—but not delicate. He radiated something more than elegance. Something sharper. Controlled. Dangerous.
Few forgot the omega who had once tried to take a prince's life.
Fewer still forgot the rumors of how he'd been captured. Humiliated. Broken.
And now, here he stood.
Aurean paused in the center of the hall and bowed low, eyes never leaving the dais. His voice, when it came, was smooth and firm.
"Your Majesties. Your Highnesses. I greet you all, I have returned with news from Virelia, and with documents of partnership to place in your hands."
Queen Elendra gave him a small, curious nod. She had never met him before, but the tales had reached her. She studied him with a diplomat's eye.
Emperor Valien was harder to read. His gaze sharpened only slightly at the sight of Halric Veldar shifting behind the boy.
Then came Maleus, rising first among the royals to speak. "Aurean," he said, "how was your journey? What news from Virelia?"
Aurean stepped forward with a scroll case. "The partnership between Ardan and Virelia has been secured. Calatheas will serve as their representative. When the initial shipments are prepared, Prince Kaedor of Calatheas will accompany them for final negotiation. As instructed, I present the formal documentation."
He handed the scroll to Maleus, who opened it and read swiftly, then raised his head in silent awe.
A moment passed, still and heavy.
Then the court erupted in thunderous applause.
Aurean stood motionless, only his lashes lowering slightly as he bowed again.
Emperor Valien's voice cut through the applause. "Rythe was right to trust you, Aurean. This alliance will strengthen Ardan in ways we have long hoped for. You've done this empire a great service."
From the shadows behind the throne, Halric Veldar's eyes glistened. He said nothing. Neither did Aurean look his way.
With his mission complete, Aurean bowed again, respectfully.
"By your leave, Your Majesties. I will return to my estate."
No one stopped him. No one dared question his presence.
But every eye followed him as he turned and left the court—not just with dignity—but with power.
The omega had returned.
And this time, he would not be forgotten.
After the court session, Aurean did not linger for pleasantries. Though welcomed with praise and thunderous applause, there was only one person he truly came to report to—Rythe.
But Rythe had not been at court.
Instead, to Aurean's surprise, Maleus had presided over the day's session. Calm. Commanding. Yet it felt strange, wrong almost, that it wasn't Rythe seated in that high chair beneath the empire's sigil.
"Where is he?" Aurean murmured to himself, walking swiftly through the palace corridors. "He should've been there."
He knew where to go.
Rythe's quarters—connected to the barracks and kennel—lay at the far eastern edge of the palace grounds, where the stone path slowly gave way to lush fields, gardens, and expanded outbuildings. But as he walked deeper into the area, Aurean froze.
This wasn't the Ardan he had left behind.
The cold, brooding stronghold had bloomed.
Banners of soft color fluttered above training grounds. The once-gray barracks had touches of green and stone mosaics, signs of care and restoration. Even the air felt less suffocating—more alive.
When he reached the quarters he once feared to enter, his breath caught. Rythe's wing no longer looked like the brutal enclave of a hardened warrior. It looked like a self-sufficient village. Homes for knights. Trees planted along the lanes. A small garden near the walls.
"What… is this place?" Aurean whispered in wonder.
His companions—Mael and Varnak—began pulling eagerly toward a scent they recognized. With a quiet laugh, Aurean let them lead him toward the kennels.
The moment he stepped near the wide arch, the air changed.
A low growl, followed by a chorus of excited yelps, rang out.
And then they came—the hounds of Rythe, dozens of them, charging toward the stranger.
Aurean didn't flinch.
The older hounds, especially the ones from his past, reached him first—throwing their weight into him with joyous force. He toppled backward with a surprised laugh, caught beneath a tide of warm fur, wet tongues, and wriggling bodies.
"Alright, alright—easy—!" he laughed, voice muffled as a massive white hound licked his cheek.
The omega knights nearby—unfamiliar with the stranger—stood in stunned silence. The hounds, so fiercely trained, were never this excited for anyone.
"Who… is that?"
"Why are they—?"
More knights and houndsmen emerged from the nearby barracks, drawn by the commotion. Murmurs passed through the ranks. Confusion.
Then—Lareth stepped outside.
Clad in black and steel, ever Rythe's second, Lareth paused as he took in the chaos—then the center of it all.
He blinked.
And then his eyes widened.
"Aurean?" he called out, half-breathless. "Aurean!?"
Still lying on the ground, Aurean twisted beneath a mountain of fur and managed a wide grin. "Hello, Lareth."
With a sharp whistle, Lareth barked out commands—bringing the hounds to order with practiced efficiency. They pulled back, tails wagging, forming a loose circle around Aurean, who sat up and brushed dog hair and dirt from his once-pristine coat.
He stood.
And suddenly, everyone was still.
Dozens of knights, some holding weapons, others mid-training, all watched in utter silence as the recognition hit them.
This was the omega. The one who was dragged before Rythe in chains.
But this… wasn't that person.
This Aurean stood with grace, strength, and something almost noble in his bearing.
"He's changed…" someone whispered.
"He's… beautiful."
"That's him?"
Lareth stepped forward quickly and clasped Aurean's forearm with a firm shake, then pulled him into a brief, warm embrace. "By the gods, I didn't believe the rumors. You're really back."
"I am," Aurean replied softly. "And I need to speak to Rythe."
"He's not here. He's at the western border with Cale and Renna. But come." Lareth cast a sharp glance at the gathered knights. "Back to your duties. All of you."
As they obeyed, casting furtive looks behind them, Lareth led Aurean through the transformed quarters. The halls were warmer now, softer with tapestries and quiet colors. No longer a fortress. It was a home.
Aurean paused briefly before stepping into Rythe's study—the room holding Rythe's scent, his presence, his shadow.
"He did all this…" Aurean whispered, barely audible.
And for the first time since his return, he felt it—not just awe.
But something painfully close to longing.