I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)

Zarius was already marching down the corridor the second the chamber doors closed behind them. His footsteps echoed loudly through the marble hall while Elios and Flio followed a careful distance behind, looking very much like men trying not to get caught in the blast radius of his mood.

They ducked into the designated noble waiting room, a lavishly furnished space intended for lords to compose themselves before formal banquets. The moment the door closed, isolating them from the rest of the palace, Zarius didn’t sit. He began pacing the length of the room like a caged beast, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles in his face jumped.

The meeting was technically over, but the torture wasn’t. Because of imperial protocol, they were required to stay for the formal luncheon with the Solaric delegation.

”It’s an ink on paper,” Flio spoke up quietly, breaking the suffocating silence as he adjusted his uniform collar. ”It is true that sometimes treaties can be broken, Your Grace. History is full of them. Some empires simply choose not to respect the parchment once the immediate threat fades. Gillian’s proposal doesn’t mean the King will sign it.”

Elios sighed and leaned against the nearby cabinet. ”True, but ink on paper can still start a wildfire before it dries. Yerel knows exactly what he’s doing by tossing the Duke’s name into the ring. He’s trying to corner us using the neutral lords’ fear of the conflict.”

Zarius stopped pacing so suddenly it nearly startled both men with clear irritation written across his face. His red eyes gleamed with something wild and dangerous. ”Quick. Give me a few names. Anyone. Give me a list of eligible bachelors I can throw at them to remove that foolish idea Yerel sprouted earlier.”

Elios blinked, tapping his chin thoughtfully as his mind raced through the imperial ledgers. ”Let’s see... who is around the same age as the Solaric Princess, other than you, Your Grace?”

Flio snapped his fingers, quickly chiming in. ”What about Duke Harrison’s eldest son? He has yet to marry, highly educated, and his house carries enough political weight to satisfy a direct royal lineage. Or Marquis Vance’s nephew, the young commander of the eastern cavalry? He has the military renown the Solaric Empire claims to look for.”

”Write them down,” Zarius growled, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling pitch. ”The moment we sit at that table, I am shifting the target. If Yerel wants a noble sacrifice for his precious peace treaty, he can pick from a dozen eager lords who would gladly marry a woman who keeps life interesting.”

Elios stepped forward, cautiously closing the distance between himself and his furious lord. Like it was a routine he already knew by heart, Elios calmly reached over and worked at the stiffness in Zarius’s shoulders, trying to knead the literal knots of tension out of the man’s frame.

”Take a breath, Your Grace,” Elios said soothingly, applying steady pressure. ”Don’t be afraid. The King will not force you into this union. King Alderon knows the North’s military stability relies entirely on your household. He won’t risk a civil revolt just to please a foreign emperor.”

Right on cue, Flio slowly turned his head and gave Zarius a highly skeptical, wide-eyed look that silently screamed, You won’t, right?

Zarius let out a harsh, mocking scoff, though he didn’t pull away from Elios’s hands. ”I am not afraid. Nothing in this world, not the King, not the Solaric Emperor, and certainly not that sniveling crown prince, can make me do something so utterly repulsive.”

Elios paused his massaging, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the Trembling in Zarius’s frame. ”Really? Because you’re literally shaking right now.”

Zarius’s jaw ticked, his fists curling so tightly his knuckles popped like small firecrackers. ”This is not from fear, Elios. This is me shaking from holding back my absolute anger.”

Flio walked over, offering a sympathetic, grounded look. ”He did that just to get under your skin, Your Grace. His Highness just wanted a reaction. Don’t let him win. Don’t let him get the reaction he’s fishing for.”

Zarius closed his eyes. He took a long, deep breath, forcing the violent, chaotic noise of the imperial court out of his mind. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he didn’t see the council room, the parchment, or Yerel’s smug face. Instead, he conjured the image of Cherion.

He imagined Cherion’s soft, grounding presence, the quiet smile he only shared when they were alone in the North. Zarius took a slow breath as the fury inside him finally began to settle into controlled, protective focus. He wouldn’t let them touch his life. He wouldn’t let them touch Cherion.

A series of clear chimes rang through the waiting room, signaling that the banquet hall doors had finally opened for lunch.

”Time to face the circus,” Elios muttered, stepping back and straightening his uniform.

Zarius opened his eyes, any trace of that wild red glow already buried beneath his usual cold, noble composure. ”Let’s get this over with.”

They opened the door and stepped out into the grand, carpeted corridor leading to the dining hall. But what a stroke of absolute luck it was. Walking just a few paces ahead of them...

Yerel.

Accompanied by Karson, who walked like a silent, towering shadow at his back, Yerel seemed to hear the heavy footsteps behind him. The Crown Prince slowed his pace, turning his head to look over his shoulder.

When he saw Zarius, his lips immediately curled into that familiar smirk. Yerel smoothly came to a halt, turning fully to face the Duke as Zarius closed the remaining distance, stopping just a few feet away.

Zarius didn’t offer a polite smile. He didn’t even bother pretending to be polite.

Yerel offered a calm nod. ”Ah, Duke Valtrane. Since we are both heading to the banquet hall, shall we walk together?”

Zarius stopped a few feet away. He didn’t offer a polite smile. He didn’t even bother pretending to be polite.

”It is better if you walk first, Your Highness,” Zarius replied. ”Because I genuinely do not think I have the stomach to handle another word of nonsense coming from your mouth before I’ve even had lunch.”

Elios and Flio stood perfectly rigid, holding their breath at the blunt, public disrespect.

Yerel, however, didn’t lose his temper. Instead of getting mad at the blatant insult, he seemed entirely amused. A soft, mocking chuckle escaped his throat, his narrow eyes crinkling with genuine entertainment as he looked at the sheer volume of suppressed murder radiating from the Monster Duke.

”As you wish, Duke Valtrane,” Yerel mused smoothly, gesturing for his man to move forward. ”I will gladly walk ahead. Heaven forbid I stand too close to a beast when it’s baring its teeth over a spilled bowl of soup. Try not to chew on the silverware.”

Yerel turned and began to walk away. Karson paused for a split second before turning to follow a step behind his master. But as the massive aide pivoted to leave, his gaze drifted away from the Crown Prince.

Zarius, whose sharp eyes were tracking every single movement of the royal faction, watched Karson closely. He expected hostility the moment he approached, perhaps a threat, an icy stare, or the usual intimidating attitude from one of Yerel’s followers.

But as Karson looked back one last time before walking away, something in his expression softened. His normally stern face relaxed just enough for a small smile to appear.

Zarius’s eyes narrowed as he realized the direction of the aide’s gaze. Karson wasn’t smiling at Zarius. He wasn’t even looking at him.

His eyes were locked directly onto Flio, who had suddenly gone entirely, starkly pale beside Elios.