I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

The air inside the tent was heavy, not just with smells, but with enough tension to make Cherion’s shoulders twitch like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Zarius sat in the center, a silent, brooding mountain of a man who looked like he’d rather be wrestling a frost-giant than sitting through this meal. To his left, Cherion held his spoon with a grip so tight his knuckles were white as bone. To his right?

Marielle leaned in so close to Zarius that their shoulders bumped, her violet eyes practically drilling holes into his face like she was trying to read his brain.

”You’re thin, Brother,” she declared. She didn’t wait for a response before she began piling the fattiest cuts of meat onto his plate. ”What have they been doing to you in this gods-forsaken camp? Eating snow? I’ve seen healthier complexions on a three-day-old corpse.”

Before Zarius could even mutter a protest, she fumbled with a leather pouch at her hip, producing a small, dark vial of something that smelled like swamp water and rusted iron. She uncorked it with her teeth and shoved it toward him. ”Drink this. It’s a tonic. Bitter as a widow’s heart, but it’ll put some life back in your veins.”

Cherion, feeling the need to bridge the icy silence, let out a soft, awkward chuckle. ”Ah, Lady Marielle, you truly care for His Grace. It’s... quite heartwarming to see such sibling devotion.”

The shift was instantaneous. The ”sweet,” fussing sister vanished. Marielle turned her head toward Cherion, her gaze sharpening into a piercing, predatory stare that felt like it was trying to peel back his skin to see what lay beneath. For three long seconds, she didn’t blink. Then, her face broke into a wide, performative smile that didn’t reach her eyes, eyes that remained cold as a glacier.

”Of course I care,” she purred, the sweetness in her voice sounding like honey poured over a razor blade. ”He’s my lovely, darling brother. The only Valtrane worth a damn. Why wouldn’t I ensure his health?” She turned back to Zarius, patting his hand with a frantic, possessive affection. ”After all, someone has to see that he is not... abused by the clumsy hands of the South.”

Brother complex, Cherion thought, his brain screaming in a genuine, cold-sweat terror. This isn’t just sisterly love. This is a fortress. And I’m the barbarian at the gate.

”So,” Marielle said, her voice dropping the feigned sweetness as she went back to hacking at her meat with a dagger. ”The South. I hear the news travels slow, but the scandal? That flew faster than a winter hawk. The Crown Prince, wasn’t it? The one who supposedly had you on a leash for years?”

Cherion’s stomach did a slow, unhappy somersault. He put his spoon down like it had betrayed him. ”The Crown Prince and I... yes, that little engagement was very much a thing people actually noticed.”

”And a matter of laughter, too,” she barked, a sharp, ugly sound. ”I heard he cast you aside like a soiled rag. Left you standing in the middle of the ballroom while he chose someone with a bit more... flair. Discarded by the future King and then you come crawling to the edge of the world? It’s a classic move. Fleeing the shame to find a Duke who doesn’t know any better.”

Zarius’s jaw tightened, his hand clenching around the stem of his mug. ”Marielle. That’s enough.”

But Cherion didn’t flinch. He found a strange, stubborn strength in the face of her bluntness. He looked her in the eye and managed a small, remarkably calm smile. ”You’re right, Lady Marielle. I was cast aside. It was public, it was humiliating, and it was quite thorough. I stood there while the man I had been loyal to for years decided I was no longer worth the effort.”

Marielle’s eyebrows shot up. She hadn’t expected the admission. ”At least you’re honest about being a failure. So you crawled to the North to find a new master? Looking for a bit of pity-shelter?”

”I didn’t crawl,” Cherion said, his voice dropping an octave, gaining a quiet authority that made the knights at the neighboring table go silent. ”In fact, it was His Grace, Zarius, who personally traveled to the Capital to pick me up.”

Zarius’s eyes flickered toward Cherion,but Marielle wasn’t finished. She turned her interrogation on her brother, her eyes narrowing as if she were reading his secrets with x-ray vision.

”That’s the part I don’t get, Brother. Why this? Why accept a betrothal for a hand-me-down? What does he have that makes all this courtly chaos worth it?”

She leaned in, lowering her voice to something that sounded both dangerous and gossip-ready. ”Is he a better ’healer’ in the dark, Brother? Does he do something with those hands that makes you forget he was the Prince’s leftovers?”

The room went dead quiet. Cherion felt his face heat up like a furnace and seriously debated whether the ground was an acceptable hiding spot.

But it was Zarius who moved first.

He rose, full height, and suddenly the room felt tiny. His shadow swallowed Marielle like a very grumpy cloud, and Cherion’s heart did a backflip.

”Enough, Marielle,” Zarius growled, the sound vibrating through the ground. ”You want to talk about Yerel? You want to talk about loyalty? Then listen well. Yerel is a fool, an insane, short-sighted boy who wasted years of devotion because he couldn’t see the value of what he had. Only a man who is truly lost would treat a loyal soul like trash. I didn’t ’accept’ this betrothal because I’m a servant of the King. I accepted it to see exactly what kind of game they were playing, to see the man they were so desperate to throw away.”

He turned his gaze to Cherion, his hand reaching out to wrap firmly, protectively, around Cherion’s wrist.

”But whatever the King intended, the result is the same. Yerel wasted a man who remained loyal while his own court turned into a den of snakes. Whether you like it or not, Cherion is my fiancé. He is the future of this house. And he will be your brother-in-law.”

Her jaw dropped, her eyes ping-ponging between Zarius and Cherion. Somewhere in her brain, a small, shocked hamster had just fallen off its wheel.

He turned his gaze to Cherion, his hand reaching out to wrap firmly, protectively, around Cherion’s wrist.

”But whatever the King intended, the result is the same. Yerel wasted a man who remained loyal while his own court turned into a den of snakes. Only an insane person would let someone like that go. Whether you like it or not, Cherion is my fiancé. He is the future of this house. And he will be your brother-in-law.”

Her jaw dropped, her eyes ping-ponging between Zarius and Cherion. Somewhere in her brain, a small, shocked hamster had just fallen off its wheel.

”And another thing,” Zarius added. ”Stop being so rude. Do not call him a ’leftover’ again. If you continue to disrespect him, if you dare to make fun of him or mock his character one more time, I will look aside the fact that you are my sister. Do I make myself clear?”

”B-Brother, I was only...”

”We are done here,” Zarius said. He didn’t wait for a rebuttal. He didn’t wait for an apology she wasn’t going to give. ”Finish your dinner alone.”

He simply hauled Cherion up from the bench, his grip firm and steady, and walked him out of the tent without a backward glance.

The night air hit like a slap, but it was a relief compared to the suffocating heat of the tent. Zarius’s grip on Cherion’s wrist was steady, reassuring... and oddly warm.

As Cherion looked at Zarius’s back, he realized something that defied all logic. Logic said he should have been numb. Instead, he felt like he’d just stepped into a pocket of sunlight.

He felt warm.