His Fear Her Becoming

My knees were sore from delivering food to the dinner hall. The air was filled with the smell of roasted steak and it clung to my hair.

“Present this to the female warriors’ table.” Another server came by to pass me a tray of silver.

I silently prayed to the moon goddess to guide me because always trip at the worst times.

The festivity was a lively one filled with noise. Of the men that had won great feats of war to tell of, and the women which were mad with laughter, the air was full.

I went out into the hall.

“She was a scared deer,” a voice said.

“More like a rat” went another voice.

I looked down. All I wanted was to set the tray down and not cause a scene.

I went up to the table and placed the tray.

“Careful there,” she purred but it was a false sound. “Our little Lyra is a bit green when the eyes of the world are upon her.” Then a voice broke in.

Her friends at the table laughed. I went quiet and my face grew hot.

Zylia Storme. The Beta’s daughter. The pack’s pride and joy. She has hazel eyes which light up in the fire and her hair which shimmers. An angel at a dagger when she speaks.

I ran my hands over the hem of my servant’s skirt and turned to leave.

“Did you see what her hands did?” Zylia said out loud as she got up from her seat.

”They shake as if she’s going to drop everything again. Pathetic.”

Her voice echoed in my head.

A chorus of laughter followed.

My chest tightened. “I wasn’t… I …”

“You weren’t what?” Zylia folded her arms and tilted her head. Her lips curved into something far from a smile, a little grin. “You’re not going to bring your misfortune here and ruin our night…again.”

I opened my mouth but no words came out. Omegas didn’t argue. Omegas bowed, scraped, endured.

Hot tears built up in my eyes, but if it dropped, I was doomed. I won’t hear the last of it.

Zylia’s friends leaned in closer to me. Zylia came forward and lifted my chin.

“Careful, Zylia, you don’t want to get her filth and bad luck all over you,” one of them said.

She dropped her hand and rinsed her fingers, sprinkling the water back on my face.

She was their queen and I was their entertainment.

Leave. A voice in my head said. It was the best idea.

I turned to walk away, to find another corner of the hall where I could vanish too, but the heel of my boot betrayed me. They snapped. My pulse climbed itself.

I fell to the ground, eating the dust. The skin on my knee peeled and crimson gushed out.

The hall went silent. 

Then, laughter erupted, sharper and louder.

“Clumsy Omega!” A warrior jeered.

“She can’t even serve food right!" Another added.

I stood up, limping. My palms stung from the cold floors. Their laughter echoed, blurring out any other sound in my head.

I wanted to vanish, to melt under the shadows and never return. But not even a shadow would claim me. I stood before the people who derived joy in my shame, my humiliation.

Zylia’s laugh was the loudest of all. The way she looked at me sent a chill to my spine. She sipped her wine, “After all, she’s an omega. She belonged on her knees.”

Laughter erupted once more.

Her words sting more than the stung on my knees, cutting deep through my chest.

“Moon Goddess, please make it stop,” I prayed, my tears holding in my eyes. I couldn’t afford to let it out.

The words had no power, or so I thought. The hall grew colder. The air thickened, the hairs on my body rose, sending a warning.

Did anyone else feel it too? Or was I the only one who could?

Their laughter faltered. Even Zylia’s eyes darted across the hall. What was going on?

“Enough.” A voice cut through the silence.

Alpha Aiden.

My heart stopped. He scanned the room until his gaze landed on me. I swallowed. His voice was commanding. His aura was dominating.

“Clean yourself and leave.” 

The words were flat, but they struck me harder than Zylia’s insults. He hadn’t spoken them with cruelty or pity. Just dismissal. As though I wasn’t even worth the effort of anger.

I bowed and ran out of there. The night air greeted me like a crisp slap. It was suffocating. I hurried down to the dirt path leading to my house.

I pushed open the door and my adoptive father’s gaze was the first thing that met me.

“Lyra….”

His eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms. He had a look of disgust in his eyes. But I didn’t blame him.

I was filthy. There was dirt all over me and I was bloodied.

“What did you do this time?” His voice was tired and heavy with disgust.

“I…uhm…”

“Speak!” He roared.

“I tripped…and fell.” I muttered but I couldn’t meet his eyes.

He kissed his teeth, “You always bring shame to this family. Do you know what they’ll say? That we cannot even raise an Omega properly. That our house is cursed! You’re a living proof of shame!”

I flinched. His words cut deep. My jaw clenched and my fingers dug the depth of my palm. I stopped before it made an actual cut.

“I didn’t mean…”

“Enough!” He snapped at me. “Go to your room before I say anything I regret.”

I nodded quickly and dashed off the stairs, my chest aching with unspilled tears.

Inside my small room, I sank onto the wooden stool and pulled up my torn skirt to wash the wound on my knee. 

I went into the bathroom

The water stung, pink clouds swirling as blood slipped into the basin. I scrubbed harder, desperate to erase every trace of tonight’s humiliation.

The blood didn’t wash off. Neither did the shame.

It still lingered. The fall. Zylia. The Alpha. Their laughter. 

The urge to vanish after the incident swelled inside me.

A knock came on my door.

It was my father.

“Get downstairs, you have a visitor.” 

A visitor? Why would I have a visitor? Why would someone want to see me?

When I got downstairs, it was….