Page 106 of Run Little Omega

Another flash through our bond—Briar, collapsed against a tree, blood seeping from the wounds on her back as the forest responds to her need, roots shifting to create shelter, branches bending to hide her from searching eyes.

The Wild Magic protects her now, answering her need rather than court command.

"And if I refuse?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Then the Council will have no choice but to invoke succession protocols." Lady Frost's eyes finally meet mine, clinical assessment replacing diplomacy. "The court has already prepared the ritual freezing. Your essence will be preserved in the Winter Throne until a more suitable heir can be?—"

Her words cut off abruptly as ice erupts around her feet, climbing her legs with merciless intent. The other messengers scramble backward, protective magic flaring across their skin.

"Seven centuries," I say conversationally as the ice reaches Lady Frost's waist, her face contorted with shock rather than pain. "Seven centuries I've served the Winter Court without question. Denied my nature. Controlled my impulses. Signed whatever orders they placed before me."

The ice continues its upward journey, crystallizing around her torso. I could stop it with a thought, but I don't. The symbolism matters.

"I followed every protocol. I approved every culling. I authorized every disposal—even when court physicians quietly confirmed that contaminated runoff was poisoning border villages." My voice drops lower. "Even when they told me the wasting sickness in humans was a direct result of our waste management practices."

Lady Frost's eyes widen with genuine fear now, the ice reaching her shoulders. The other messengers have retreated to the edge of the clearing, unwilling to challenge me directly but equally unwilling to abandon their companion.

"I told myself it was necessary," I continue, rising to my feet in a fluid motion that belies my transformed size. "I told myself the court's survival justified any cost. I believed that for seven centuries."

I step closer to Lady Frost, watching her body instinctively try to defend against my magic. Too little, too late.

"And then I claimed her." The words emerge reverent, almost tender. "And everything changed."

Through our bond, I sense Briar's exhaustion deepening into unconsciousness, her body finally surrendering to the wounds she's sustained. The forest cradles her, Wild Magic flowing through ancient roots to offer protection I cannot provide while respecting her need for distance.

"Tell the Council this," I say, stopping the ice just as it reaches Lady Frost's chin. "The Winter Prince they knew is gone. The protocols they depend on are broken. The Wild Magic they've suppressed for generations has awakened, and no court alliance will contain it now."

With a gesture, I release her from the ice, letting it shatter around her feet in a cascade of crystalline shards. She gasps, collapsing to her knees as circulation returns to her frozen limbs.

"But I will attend their meeting," I add, watching their expressions shift from terror to wary hope. "Not because they demand it, but because it's time they understood what they've done. What we've all done."

Lady Frost struggles to her feet, dignity reasserting itself despite her ordeal. "When will you return to court, my Prince?"

I look to the east, where the bond between Briar and me stretches like a luminous thread across the forest. She sleeps now, her body healing with the help of the Wild Magic flowing through her veins. Magic that responds to her need rather than court command. Magic that connects us despite her rejection of me.

"Three days," I decide. "I will address the Council in three days."

"And the omega?" Lady Frost asks, unable to hide her distaste for the term. "Will you bring her for examination?"

Rage surges through me at the thought of Briar subjected to court physicians' cold assessment, their clinical violation dressed as medical necessity. Winter magic explodes outward from my feet, coating the clearing in jagged formations.

"Her name is Briar," I say, voice deadly quiet. "And she goes nowhere against her will. Not to the courts. Not even to me."

The messengers retreat another step at the naked emotion in my voice—emotion no Winter Prince has displayed in generations. Emotion I was taught from birth to suppress as weakness, as unfitting for the heir to the Frost Throne.

"The Council will not accept—" Lady Frost begins.

"The Council will accept whatever I decide they will accept," I interrupt, power crackling visibly around my transformed body. "Or they will learn exactly what seven centuries of controlled power looks like when finally unleashed."

The threat hangs in the air between us, crystalline in its clarity. For the first time in my long existence, I am prepared to bring down the very institutions I've served without question. For her. For Briar. For the truth her memories have forced me to confront.

The messengers leave without further argument, white cloaks disappearing into the forest like retreating ghosts. I remain standing in the clearing, ice melting around my feet as my thoughts turn inward.

The claiming bond pulses steadily between us, carrying Briar's unconscious sensations—pain, exhaustion, but also determination even in sleep. Her body fights to heal itself, Wild Magic flowing through her veins in patterns that echo the marks I placed on her skin.

I close my eyes, feeling the weight of seven centuries pressing down upon me. How many decisions have I made without questioning? How many lives have I sacrificed to court protocols? How many omegas have I condemned with my elegant signature, never bothering to witness their culling personally?

Briar's memories have torn away the careful distance I maintained—the clinical detachment that allowed me to authorize horrors without feeling their weight. For the first time in centuries, I truly see what I've done. What the courts have done. What we've become in our desperate attempt to control magic rather than flow with it.

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