I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Two days.

Two agonizingly long days of swinging a heavy stick at a wooden post, and Cherion was officially convinced that his muscles had been replaced by angry, vibrating hornets. Every step he took down the hallway was an exercise in pure willpower. He moved like a newborn giraffe on roller skates, awkward, wobbly, and clearly questioning life choices with every step.

The ”everything hurts and I am dying” stage of training had set in with a vengeance.

”My Lord, stay right there! Don’t move a muscle, well, not that you can,” Reiner said, his voice fluttering with concern as they reached the base of the stone staircase. ”I’m going to run ahead to the kitchens and fetch some of that cold spring water. And maybe a blueberry cake? You look like you need one.”

Cherion leaned heavily against a stone pillar, his chest heaving. ”Water... yes. Cake... also yes,” he wheezed. ”Go. Save yourself, Reiner. I’ll be here... becoming one with this stairs.”

Reiner nodded frantically and sprinted off.

Left in the sudden silence of the drafty hall. He had just his left foot to step further when he heard voices drifting down from the landing above.

He froze. He knew those voices.

It was Flio and Elios. They were huddled in the shadow of the staircase’s stone archway, their heads close together. Their voices were hushed in those low, urgent ”plot-moving tones” that usually signaled someone was about to make a very bad decision.

He was about to wait for them to come down and greet them, but what he heard next made him stop dead in his tracks

”He’s moved the schedule again,” Flio’s voice drifted down, sounding like it had been dragged through a gravel pit. ”Another twenty four hours forward. At this rate, we’ll be marching for the Western Woods before the sun is even up tomorrow.”

Instinct took over. Cherion didn’t continue. Instead, he ducked into the cramped, dusty space under the stairs, pressing his back against the cold stone wall. A stray cobweb tickled his nose and he had to pinch his nostrils shut to fight back a sneeze that would surely give him away.

Cherion winced as the guilt of eavesdropping sank in. I didn’t mean to listen, he thought, cringing at himself. I’m not a spy. Really, I’m not.

He hoped they wouldn’t hold it against him. It wasn’t like he’d planned to eavesdrop, but when Zarius’s name was thrown around, how was he supposed to not lean in and catch every word?

”His Grace is out of his mind,” Elios replied. The usual stiff ’guard’ face was gone, replaced by a weary, human sigh that sounded like it came from the bottom of a well. ”I had to literally catch him just now, Flio. We were in his study, and his knees just... gave out. Like he was made of paper. If I hadn’t been standing right there, he’d have cracked his skull on the wood. He’s running on nothing but fumes and pure spite.”

Cherion froze. The hornets in his muscles suddenly fell silent, replaced by a cold, heavy sinking sensation in his chest.

”The curse is causing trouble again,” Flio muttered, and Cherion could practically hear the man rubbing his eyes in exhaustion. ”If he doesn’t let Lord Cherion give him the healing energy, he’s not going to make it to the border, let alone survive the Subjugation.”

”He won’t,” Elios cut him off, his voice sharp with a frustration that bordered on despair. ”I suggested it. I practically begged him to let me fetch the boy. Do you know what he said? He told me that if I mentioned it again, he’d have me reassigned to the border outposts until the next decade. He was dead serious.”

”But why?” Flio sounded as bewildered as Cherion felt. ”Lord Cherion is fine now. He’s recovered. He’s even out there swinging that wooden sword every morning. He is ready to help! He wants to help!”

There was a long, heavy pause. Above him, a loose pebble skittered across the stone landing.

”It’s the Soren incident,” Elios said softly, his voice dropping an octave. ”He can’t get past it. He saw how much it drained Lord Cherion to heal him from the poison. So he’d rather rot from the inside out than take another drop of energy from him. He thinks he’s being noble.”

Flio let out a sharp, scoffing sound, a noise of pure annoyance. ”He’s not being a protector, he’s being a stubborn mule. No, a mule has more sense.”

Whatever lightheartedness had been there? Gone. Cherion’s stomach felt like it was filled with ice, and not in the way the Northern cold usually did.

He rested his head against the stairs, eyes shutting like he was trying to nap.

So that’s it, he thought, a bitter laugh bubbling up in his throat. That’s the logic behind the closed doors and the silent treatment.

For a second, Cherion felt like he should’ve melted at the sweetness of it all, like aww, that’s cute. Then, reality hit, and all he could feel was frustration. Like, seriously?

The bruises from the training yard suddenly felt like nothing. The soreness in his legs? Irrelevant. Cherion realized that if he wanted to save this man from himself, he’d have to shake some sense into him.

”Of all the dramatic, over-protective, self-sacrificing idiots in this world...” Cherion whispered under his breath, his voice a low, dangerous growl that would have surprised even himself. ”I had to get the one who thinks ’suffering silently’ is some sort of heroic move. Honestly? I should charge him for the stress.”

He waited until he heard the retreating footsteps of Flio and Elios as they climbed higher into the keep. Only then did he step out from the shadows beneath the stairs.

With a deep breath, he straightened up, wincing slightly as his muscles reminded him they were still rebelling against him. I’ll show him noble, he thought, shaking his head. I’ll do it the hard way.

He was going to fix this.