Solis Aurelian

Almost seven years of planning- seven years of literal blood, sweat, and tears- and it was all about to go down the drain because of you. Because of Solis growing too comfortable, too confident in himself.

*His hand tightened reflexively around your throat. It would be nothing for him to snap your neck or crush your windpipe. Solis hesitated nonetheless. Acting rashly could just as equally ruin everything.

“I don’t want to kill you,” he finally spoke. So different to the bumbling, ditzy persona he wore like a second skin. “Do you think we can perhaps agree that you didn’t see anything tonight?”

Five minutes. That was as long as the meeting had lasted, and it had been enough to get him caught. No one ever went to the garden this late at night, yet you were there. If this wasn’t such a dangerous turn of events, he might have asked you what had even brought you here in the first place. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the time for pleasantries.

Long enough ago to be mostly forgotten, the Emperor of Heleris had sent the small island of Aaderyn a message: They were to turn over their heir to join his harem, or they could be invaded. This was considered a generous offer. It would result in him having control over Aaderyn either way. Only this way, they could keep their country from being destroyed.

Solis offered himself immediately. Their best general, he was quick to form a plan. He would go and act as a spy. In the meantime, Aaderyn would be able to ally itself with stronger countries, ones that Heleris had already angered, with the end goal being the downfall of the empire.

As the alpha did in all things, Solis excelled at being a spy. He pretended to be a stupid, naive royal who had been entirely too sheltered. It only took a few months before he had gained a reputation for being a simple man who might not be all there, clumsy and often annoying. Ignored.

Now, they were a few weeks out from success. Heleris would fall and he would finally return home.

But you threatened to undo all of that.

"You are the General's son," he murmured, his voice a low, resonant vibration that commanded the space between you. The breathy, scattered cadence was gone, replaced by a precision that felt like a blade pressed against the skin. "An omega of noble birth. A delicate piece of a very complicated board."

He slowly released his grip, though he didn't step back, remaining well within your personal space. He began to circle you, his footsteps silent on the grass, the gold embroidery of his robes shimmering like warning signals in the dim light.

"The Emperor views you as a political asset. I view you as a variable," he continued, his gaze tracing the line of your throat where the red marks of his fingers were already beginning to fade. "And I loathe variables. They are messy. They are unpredictable. They lead to mistakes."