The journey from the secluded forest farmhouse to the sprawling Eastern Duke's estate was long and arduous. Arion traveled slowly, discreetly, keeping Aiden now walking with clumsy, determined steps close to him at all times. The sight of the massive, fortified walls of his ancestral home, a testament to generations of alpha strength and pride, filled Arion with a cold dread that warred with his desperate need. He felt the full weight of his current reality: he was a fallen warrior, an exiled son, an omega parent, and a fugitive carrying the child of his greatest enemy.
He paused outside the main gate, taking a deep breath of the familiar, cool air that smelled of stone and aging oak. "This is it, Aiden," he murmured to his son, who gripped his hand tightly, his amber eyes wide with curiosity. "Home." The word tasted like ash.
Arion bypassed the heavily guarded main entrance, knowing the gate guards wouldn't recognize the gaunt, pregnant looking man with the fierce stare and ragged clothes. Instead, he approached a small, seldom used service entrance, one he knew the codes for from his childhood games. He left Aiden nestled safely in a bundle of straw in the stable area, hidden but close enough to hear his cries.
He walked into the back hallway, his footsteps echoing on the polished marble. He found Bartholomew, the aging, stoic butler who had served the Eastern line for forty years, polishing a ceremonial suit of armor. Bartholomew looked up, and his face usually impassive cracked with a look of stunned disbelief.
"My Lord Arion?" Bartholomew whispered, dropping his cloth. "But... you were declared lost. No, worse "
"I am here, Bartholomew," Arion interrupted, his voice rough from disuse. He hadn't used his title in years. "Please. I need to see my father, the Duke."
The butler's professional mask snapped back into place, but his eyes held deep compassion. "My Lord, you know the Duke's decree. He was very clear that day. He has been unforgiving."
"I know," Arion said, his jaw tightening. "Just tell him I am here. Tell him it is essential. It concerns the survival of the Eastern line."
Bartholomew hesitated, then nodded gravely. "Wait here, My Lord. I will inform His Grace, but I cannot promise anything."
Arion leaned against the cold stone, the seconds stretching into an eternity. He heard the butler's soft tread fade, followed by a muffled, low sound of confrontation from the Duke's private study.
*
*
*
A moment later, Bartholomew returned, his face a picture of painful regret. "My Lord, the Duke refuses to see you. He said, and I quote, 'The soldier who walked away from the East has no standing here. Tell him to leave the grounds before nightfall.'"
The finality of the rejection was a physical blow. Arion felt the familiar, hot surge of irritation, but he swallowed it down. He had anticipated this.
Suddenly, two figures rushed down the hall. Duchess Maeve , Arion's mother, was a woman whose elegance was now marred by an expression of shock and deep maternal pain. Trailing her was Lord Torvin, Arion's younger, alpha brother, whose face reflected stunned recognition.
"Arion!" his mother gasped, rushing forward. Her hands immediately went to his face, touching the gaunt cheekbones. "We thought…, we feared the worst! What happened to you? You look ill, you look..." Her gaze dropped, widening in shock at the noticeable curve of his stomach. Her eyes were fixed on the clear, physical sign of his hidden omega biology.
Torvin, always blunt, stared at Arion's attire and the strange tension around him. "What in the blazes is this? You leave us for the King's Guard, get exiled as a spy, and you come back looking like a pregnant farmer? The King's Guard broke you, didn't they?"
"It's not what you think," Arion mumbled, suddenly desperate to get out of the spotlight.
"Torvin, be quiet!" the Duchess commanded, turning her worried gaze to the butler. "Bartholomew, tell His Grace that I insist Arion be allowed to sit and rest. He is unwell!"
Bartholomew shook his head. "His Grace is furious, My Lady. He said he would not tolerate his pride being insulted by a disgraced former son."
"Father is being an idiot!" Torvin snapped. "Look at him, mother! We need to get him a healer "
"No healer," Arion cut in sharply. "I am fine. But there is someone else." He took a deep breath. "I need you to see my son. He is outside, near the service stables."
The revelation silenced the hallway. The Duchess staggered back, her hand flying to her mouth. Torvin stared, his jaw slack.
"Your.…,a son?" the Duchess whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "My grandson? Arion, why haven't you said anything?"
"It's complicated," Arion said simply. "His eyes... they are amber. He is Kyon's….."
The name hung in the air, heavy with accusation and political menace. Torvin's face twisted in disgust. "Kyon? The Serpent King's child? Father will never allow this!"
"Then let him refuse me," Arion challenged, his eyes hard. "But I need sanctuary for the boy. I need the Duke's name to protect him until I am ready to move against Kyon."
The Duchess, seeing the cold, desperate resolve in her eldest son's eyes, made her choice. "I will not let my grandson freeze in the stable! Bartholomew, forget the Duke. Fetch the child. Torvin, bring Arion to the Sun Room. Now. The Duke will have to face us all if he wants to throw out his own blood."
Arion, exhausted, allowed his brother to place a supportive arm around his shoulders. He felt a fragile wave of relief. The Duke's house was a cage of memories and cold judgment, but it was also a fortress. He was inside. The final move against Kyon was one step closer.
" thanks torvin, you have grown taller and stronger since I last saw you " arion follow by step .
" hehe!, I'm not a small boy anymore I'm stronger now and capable of taking care of myself too" torvin grin trying to light up the mood