Uprising: ORIS

"Kneel," he commands, his tone surprising even himself.

Adding to the already nerve-wracking shock, the alpha in front of him obliged, falling to his knees with a resounding thud. The king's eyes were hazy, filled to the brim with a potent mix of desire and longing. It wasn't the same type of desire that had initially led the omega to this predicament. No, the desire in the king's eyes now could only be described as a vulnerable form of despair. Those very eyes that had once looked down upon him were now bloodshot and wide, fixated on him, searching for something within his own gaze. Whatever had been there before was no longer.

Never in his wildest dreams would he have imagined bringing the king to his feet. An overwhelming sense of power enveloped him, revealing just how much he yearned for such a sensation. The king's eyes never wavered, like walking on a treacherously thin tightrope. It took every ounce of his being to keep the king's attention fixed on him. He felt as though he could ask for the throne itself and it would be granted. But instead, his mind sparked with a brilliant idea.

"Stand," he commanded once more, his second decree carrying a more demanding tone, highlighting his insatiable hunger for power. This could become something to grow accustomed to.

"Compose a letter to the servants, informing them that 'your' omega has miraculously recovered. Inform them that I am fit to attend the grand ball and that you expect a designated seat for me."

His heart pounded with each word he spoke. Part of him doubted that this plan would succeed beyond a few simple commands, but to his delight, the alpha leapt to his feet and made his way, albeit slowly, to a delicately embroidered table adorned with an assortment of exquisite ink and silky paper. He knew that this endeavor could end in various ways, with one possibility being his own downfall.

His hand shook as the king painstakingly wrote, his slow pace testing his patience.

Suddenly, he realized he hadn't moved and was still standing in his disheveled robes. Wicked thoughts whispered in his mind, urging him to run, to kill, to save himself. And with a gulp he pushed them down as if they were attributed to the saliva on the tip of his tongue.

his clammy hands gripping the edge of the mattress. His eyes layed sight of the mask that lay nearby. He found himself enticed by the mask as if it was daring him to reach out and seize it. Just as he was about to turn to it, a familiar bell rang, calling for a servant's presence. It dawned on him that things might just go his way.

Never before had he wished for that bell to ring faster. It seemed trivial, but right now, it meant more to him than he would admit. The king turned to face him, and doubts flooded his mind. Was this too risky? Would it end badly? Or maybe, just maybe, it was all a dream, not real...

"Sir? You called for me?" a faint voice came from the door, followed by its creaking open.

Yeosang?

He waited, hoping for the footsteps to grow clearer. And then, just then, his friend came into view. The sight of Yeosang, in his plain brown waistcoat and perfect hair, brought him immense joy.

"Yeosang..." he whispered, his heart pinging as he watched his friend's eyes pass over him and settle on the king.

"My apologies, I have come in Mrs.Kang's stead. She is rather busy at the moment."

"It's alright. Deliver this missive unto Mrs. Kang and ensure that she executes my commands with utmost diligence," the king commanded, his eyes remained fixed upon the trembling omega causing more surges of tension to course through his body.

Yeosang's gaze shifted past him once more, his eyes avoiding direct contact as the king spoke.

However the king's eyes remained fixed on him, causing a surge of tension to course through his body. The room reeked of pungent wood and rotting citrus. It finally occurred to him just how bad his pheromones had gotten. He was so focused on the king that his current state didn't matter. He absentmindedly brushed his hand over his bare shoulder, feeling a sudden vulnerability.

He was not fully attired, his night robes hanging low to his waist and pooling upon his lap. In this state of undress, he must have appeared incredibly frail.

It became his utmost priority to shield himself from Yeosang's gaze, not wanting to be seen in such a disheveled state. Lost in deep contemplation, he failed to notice Yeosang departing the chambers, clutching the letter within his fists.

Little was exchanged between them, but Yeosang bestowed upon him a compassionate look before gently closing the door.

Unbeknownst to him, tears streamed down his face, his own sorrow consuming him entirely. The weight of it all became unbearable. He sat there, hands shielding his countenance, finally allowing his silent cries to be heard.

Across from him stood the king, resolute and unwavering, awaiting his next command. Though the omega relished in his new sense of power, it did not feel right at this very moment.

The man before him was a malevolent scoundrel who perpetually imposed his will upon him. Yet, even with the ability to control his thoughts, his words and the very touch of his fingers.

The very fingers that had left their mark upon his chest, leaving him repulsed by the very skin he possesses. The same fingers that had strapped themselves to his waist constantly having their way with him. Fingers that had forcefully encircled his neck, earning gasps and pleads for air.  It all just felt incongruous.

"Leave," he sobbed. "Please, just leave."

And with that, the king approached, striding with pride and practiced poise. He walked directly in front of the omega, offering a nod, and departed.

Finally, he was able to breathe. The lingering scent of the king remained, yet surprisingly, his own fragrance overpowered that of the pungent aroma of wood. His own pheromones fill his nostrils with the tangy essence of citrus. Never before had he been so acutely aware of his own scent, not even during his most fervent heats.

His vision grows hazy, and without conscious awareness, he collapses.

——————————————————————————

A pair of deep eyes lock onto Wooyoung, shimmering with hope. The two of them are seated beneath the shade of a great oak tree, their shoulders touching and heads tilted towards each other.

"Will you marry me, Wooyoungie?" San asks, his voice filled with anticipation.

A wide smile spreads across Wooyoung's face as he gently cups San's cheeks. "Of course!" Wooyoung exclaims, his eyes gleaming with joy. "No matter what happens, when we're older, we'll get married."

San's expression turns slightly pensive. "But what if I present as an omega?" he wonders aloud.

Wooyoung's voice softens as he reassures him, "Well, I find male omegas to be incredibly beautiful."

San's eyes widens with curiosity. "And what if you also present as an omega?" he asks, tilting his head.

Wooyoung removes his hands from San's face and ponders for a moment. "Hmm, that's unlikely. But even if it does happen, it wouldn't change a thing. It would only make it even better! Just imagine, two omegas against the world," he says, his hands sweeping through the air to paint a vivid picture for San.

San nods enthusiastically, a wide smile lighting up his face. "Wooyoungie, that sounds exciting!" he giggles.

"But still, can you promise me that?"

San turns to face Wooyoung, enveloping him in a tight embrace.Wooyoung plants a gentle kiss on San's cheek, before stating,

"Of course, San'ah, I promise,"

"Wooyoung wake up."

Wooyoung was roused from his slumber, his eyes slowly fluttering open as he adjusted to the dimly lit room illuminated by flickering candlelight.

"Hey, it's me Yeosang ," came a gentle voice as delicate fingers traced across Wooyoung's face, coming to rest on his forehead. The soothing scent of vanilla filled the air, calming his frayed nerves. With what little strength he had left, Wooyoung lifts his head from Yeosang's lap, meeting his gaze with a furrowed brow.

The pair found themselves sprawled upon the king's bed, the once-tattered sheets now replaced with fresh linens. Probably Yeosang's doing.

"Why did you ignore me yesterday?" Wooyoung's voice quivered, his eyes welling up with tears. How many times was he going to cry this week?

"I did not ignore you. I simply chose not to engage in conversation with you in the presence of the king. He appeared rather unsettled, you of all people know how easily he becomes agitated. I did not wish to exacerbate the situation. Furthermore, it was not yesterday, but rather a few hours ago, Wooyoung. You had lost consciousness. I am uncertain of what he did to you, but your pheromones were all over the place. It is no wonder you fainted," Yeosang retorted with a hint of disdain.

"You appeared disheveled, so I returned to check on you under the pretense of tidying this chamber," Yeosang continued.

Wooyoung nods

"I also cracked open a window. Uhm also... Do you want to talk about it?" Yeosang asked, searching his eyes. Wooyoung looks away. Always being the first to break eye contact.

"..."

"Your silence means you don't want to talk about it. And I hate to be that person. But are you sure?"

"Mhmm '' he responds. Hoping that Yeosang doesn't push on further. He lowers his head and stares at his hands. Full of scars and enclosed in Yeosang's almost equally as petite hands.

"Alright. Promise me you'll tell me sooner or later. Remember. We don't keep secrets between us." Yeosang smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. Yeosang raises one of Wooyoung's hands, folding each finger except for the pinky, mirroring the gesture with his own hand. They interlock their pinky fingers, and Yeosang's smile finally reaches his eyes, warming Wooyoung's heart.

Wooyoung finds himself smiling back, despite the ache in his heart. "I promise"

Yeosang's face lights up, and he pulls Wooyoung into a tight hug. Surprisingly strong for an omega, Yeosang squeezes Wooyoung, giggling with his head resting on Wooyoung's shoulders.

"Besties forever!" Yeosang exclaims, his laughter filling the room.

Wooyoung, unfamiliar with the term, questions, "Besties?"

"Yeah, like best friends. It's a new term that Elder Seonghwa introduced to me."

"Oh."

"He's quite impressive compared to the other members of the so-called 'High' Council. The only thing that's high is Elder Kun's forehead. There must be something he could do about it."

Yeosang chuckled at his own joke. It wasn't particularly funny, more on the immature side if you asked Wooyoung, but he couldn't help but giggle nonetheless.Both omegas took a while to stop giggling at the sheer absurdity of the joke. It got even worse when they would stop, lock eyes, and burst into laughter again, unable to contain themselves.

Again, the joke wasn't even that funny. But for Wooyoung, laughing was just what he needed at that moment.

"By the way, I didn't mean to pry, but I may or may not have read the letter the king sent to my mother. I'm not sure if you were informed, but it turns out that the old geezer wants us to prepare you for the upcoming ball. Even though he was the one who got all upset when it was arranged for you to attend in the first place. I don't understand the sudden change of plans. The ball is tomorrow evening..." Yeosang rambled on.

Wooyoung wondered if his plan would be exposed. It wasn't common for the king to change his mind. If he said everyone should go left, then left it would be. No discussions, no second thoughts. Thankfully, the council usually kept the king from making the more irrational decisions. So if anyone was likely to overlook the king's strange change, it would be Yeosang. Wooyoung loved Yeosang, but sometimes the older omega could be quite oblivious to his surroundings.

But in this case, Yeosang noticed. And if Yeosang noticed, everyone else would notice sooner or later.

"And the ball isn't even that great. It's just another excuse for betas to flaunt their connections and alphas to parade around with their mates." Yeosang threw his hands up in the air, perhaps to emphasize the absurdity of his own words.

Wooyoung struggled to keep up with Yeosang's endless complaints about the upcoming event. It felt like an overwhelming amount of information being thrown at him. But Yeosang didn't stop there. He continued his never-ending list of everything he found wrong about the ball. And truth be told, it seemed like he had an issue with absolutely everything.

As Yeosang rambled on, Wooyoung's mind began to wander, consumed by thoughts of his own upcoming plan. The desire to catch even a glimpse of San had consumed him. It had been months since they last saw each other, and not a night went by without Wooyoung yearning to be held in San's now strong arms, to be lulled to sleep by his angelic voice, and to bask in his intoxicating scent.

To be honest Wooyoung was yet to decipher San's scent. The closest they had been to each other was two council members apart, and the overpowering pheromones of the alpha elders made it difficult to distinguish any specific fragrance. However, amidst the overwhelming smells of charcoal and rainy mist, there was a fleeting floral note that Wooyoung knew deep down belonged to San. That delicate scent brought him a unique sense of comfort and familiarity.

Thinking about it now, alphas typically have a rougher scent that may not always be pleasing. Yet, San was different. His scent was soft and alluring, unlike anything Wooyoung had ever encountered. But then again. It was San. His San. So of course things like the typical could not be attributed to him.

"Wooyoung? Are you listening to me?" Yeosang asks, giving him a gentle nudge, completely snapping him out of his daze. Wooyoung's face flushes with embarrassment at being caught so off guard.

"Yeah, you were saying som—"

"Hush." Yeosang quickly puts a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"I understand. You have a lot on your mind right now. Why don't we save my ranting for later? You need some rest; tomorrow will be a long day." Wooyoung nods in agreement.

"Alright. Get some sleep." With that, Yeosang stands up, wearing a smile, and slowly walks across the room. But not before covering Wooyoung with the new set of clean comforters.

Wooyoung watches as his friend fades from sight and frowns, knowing that it will be another night of tears if Yeosang isn't there to comfort him."Can you stay the night?" he pleads.

"No, bestie. I'm afraid not. It's a bit risky tonight, especially since the king left just a few hours ago. He'll probably be returning soon. His schedule is clear, so there's no reason for him to have left in the first place."

"Oh, okay..." Wooyoung looks away, troubled by the second mention of the king's strange behavior.

"Good night, Wooyoung."

"..."

"Aren't you going to say it back?" Yeosang frowns. "Should I blow out the candles?"

Wooyoung tries to speak, but no words come out. Instead, he shakes his head.

"Okay," Yeosang sighs.

A few more quiet footsteps, then the sound of a closing door. Wooyoung slumps, tears threatening to fall. He clings to his favorite pillow. a worn bag of feathers. A pillow Yeosang never bothered to replace for him due to all his protest.

Wooyoung's grip tightens around the pillow, the same one that San had laid his head on the first time they met after all those years. He clings to it, as if he's holding onto the skinny boy he loved all those years.

"San'ah," he sobs, his voice choked with emotion.