Arion pov: descent into the dungeon was a blur of brutal, disjointed horror. My body, already tenderized by the night of aggressive passion and weakened by weeks of stress and sickness, was handled with ruthless indifference by Prince Valerius's guards. I was dragged down rough stone steps, the movement jarring my swollen abdomen and sending sharp, sickening lurches of pain through me, The cuffs they slapped on my wrists were heavy iron, cold and chafing against his skin.
I was thrown into a small, windowless cell. The door—a thick slab of oak banded with iron—slammed shut with a resonant finality, plunging everything into absolute, terrifying darkness. The air was thick, heavy with the stench of stagnant water, mold, and fear. The stone floor was damp and frigid, shocking my body after the intense heat of the night.
The humiliation of my physical state was immediate and total. My clothes were torn and soiled, and the lingering scent of Kyon's powerful alpha pheromones clung to my skin a cruel, mocking perfume that only served to intensify the devastating sense of betrayal.
He pressed his back against the cold, damp wall, trying to curl inward, but the movement was agonizing. The brief respite of physical satisfaction had vanished, replaced by a deep, hollow ache. The primal, insistent demands of his pregnant heat were already surging back, amplified by the stress and the cold. He was completely alone, trapped in a pit, and his body was betraying him with a relentless, inescapable need for the very man who had thrown him here.
He wasn't given a blanket, or even a water ration. He was simply left to rot. Arion was a warrior; he could endure cold, hunger, and physical pain. But the lack of heat blockers was a deliberate, calculated torment. The hormones coursed through his system, powerful and demanding, building to a fever pitch. His body began to tremble, not just from the cold, but from the internal fire. He pressed his face against his knees, letting out small, broken whimpers that were swallowed by the dungeon's crushing silence.
He thought of Kyon—not the monster who had betrayed him, but the man whose hands had so recently claimed every inch of his being. The memory of the brutal coupling was now twisted into a source of agonizing longing. His body screamed for the relief that only that specific alpha's touch could provide. He tried to fight it, clawing at his arms, mentally reciting military drills, anything to resist the overwhelming urge to cry out for his captor.
He used you, a voice screamed in his mind. He marked you, impregnated you, and sold you for power.
But his body didn't care. It was a vessel now, a biological slave to the life growing inside it and the alpha who had planted it there. The milk leaked onto his tunic, warm and sticky, a further, unbearable sign of his changed state. He knew the agony would only increase. He was facing days, perhaps weeks, of raging, unsatisfied heat and mounting hunger, a torture designed to break him completely.
Meanwhile, just floors above, Kyon was basking in the glow of Valerius's trust, the perfect picture of the betrayed prince. His plan was flawless. He had eliminated the political threat, secured his position, and left his warrior exactly where he wanted him—broken, suffering, and utterly dependent on the possibility of rescue that would only come when Kyon deemed it politically expedient. Arion's only comfort was the cold stone, and his only companion was the escalating, desperate need of his omega body.
He trembled and saw no one coming, arion start remembering his military exercise and workout, he remembered to his beginnings he had learn to survive without food for a month then two months, a alpha need to be strong, he isn't a warrior for no reason,arion claws his arm and fingers tips, " it won't get me out of here!" He start working out even with a hunger and a swollen belly , he start with a push up from 0 to 1000 , then start to do squat , and take a moment of rest , he breath in and out rapidly, give up is not on my list!, he says to himself even when his body crave for more lovemaking sessions.
The initial days in the dungeon were a crucible of agonizing suffering. Arion's body was a warzone—the relentless, demanding pregnant heat threatened to consume his sanity, amplified by the cold and the gnawing hunger. The biological imperative to scream for Kyon was almost unbearable. He writhed on the cold stone, sweating and shaking, fighting the hormonal tide with every fiber of his being.
But Arion was the Dragon-Slayer for a reason. He had faced down annihilation before. Slowly, painstakingly, the soldier in him began to assert control over the broken omega. He realized that the torture was designed not just to punish him, but to weaken him in needing more and more kyon attention and support.
" I won't give up!" He says panting loudly.
Loris an old and kind beta guard had pity on arion and his pregnant state, and soon start secretly coming in the dungeon leaving a water cup and a dry bread, not much but enough to keep Arion alive and feed the live inside him, loris never says anything only a simple nod and that all , Arion would thanks him with a nod, at some occasions days loris would slide in a golden coin to Arion cell , helping him out, not really out of pity for him but because loris was arion's father old friend and a well known friend to Arion, he was Arion old butler when arion was just a child, and know him pretty well.
"…." Arion nod and grab the cup of water and drink it rapidly he eat the dry bread quickly
and give back loris the plate .
Loris quickly exit the dungeon leaving Arion at least a bit fine for now, Arion lay down his heart beating fast , he regrets falling in love with kyon, for letting him be use as a fool and get pregnant, but he won't give up for sure, he was the north black tiger, a dragon slayer, he can't give up , not now , not ever.