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Lars laughed. The question just seemed so absurd that at first, he thought he was joking. "The thought hadn't even crossed my mind." he said. "I'm afraid that I'll never be able to walk away from this. The war will be with me for my entire life."

"I apologize. I didn't intend to come off as insensitive."

"My father used to tell me that even the strongest tree will break if it fights the wind. It's those which bend that weather the storm." He smiled. "So, I'm learning how to bend."

"You're a prisoner here, I know that," Pym said quietly. "You didn't come to these men on your own accord. Were you... Are you highborn?"

Lars looked up, startled. He felt his heart pounding. "What are you talking about?"

"I've spent my life around nobles and I know that you weren't just some common Omega they found and mated. You're someone important. Or at least, you come from a high family. Am I right?"

Now fear crept in. Lars looked around, worried that someone might overhear. "You're mistaken," he said. He wasn't afraid for himself, he was afraid for Pym. If the way he was speaking somehow made it back to the Griffin and Phoenix, they'd probably kill him.

"An Omega should have the freedom to choose their mate. What's happening here, what the Empire is doing across the world, is unconscionable. What has happened to you is unconscionable."

"And what would you do about it, Mr. Longfang?"

"I'd give you the power to choose."

"I don't understand why you would say something like that. There's no choice here. They're my mates. I am their Omega. My body will only ever respond to them. I'm sure you must know all this; you're an Alpha." He stood up. "Thank you for your company, Mr. Longfang."

“Wait,” Pym said.

Lars paused.

“If you could choose, would you?”

“I need to go,” Lars said. “Good day, Mr. Longfang.”

Pym said nothing. He sat back in his chair, pale smoke curling from his nostrils as he watched Lars leave the room.

Lars hurried back downstairs, agitated. Why would he speak like that to him? What was the point of reminding him of his circumstances? It was infuriating. He slammed the door behind him. Back to his sanctuary. His prison.

Suddenly, Lars was hit with an intense wave of nausea, like the food he'd just eaten had turned sour in his stomach. He drank a glass of water but it didn't help. He covered his mouth as he felt the contents of his stomach shift. He retched. Ran to the bathroom. Vomited.

Something felt different, and it took him a while to realize what it was. He'd grown so accustomed to the constant hum that droned deep inside his body that it'd simply become a part of his existence, a constant reminder of his need. But now the hum had silenced. In its wake was a feeling like the glow from a distant sun concentrated somewhere inside of his core.

He was sweating, dizzy. He made his way to a chair and sat, clutching his belly. When he closed his eyes, he could almost see it; a dim ball of light floating in darkness.

Lars didn't need to have this feeling explained to him; he understood it instinctively. He could feel it in his bones, in his very being. A part of him had remained convinced that it couldn't possibly happen. Pregnancy was something so foreign and strange that it was almost unfathomable to imagine. He'd tried to prepare himself for how he might feel when he learned that a child belonging to one of the brothers was growing inside of him, but he’d found it impossible. Maybe it was to protect himself—armor to preserve his sanity.

Now Lars felt an overwhelming sense of calm. He went around the room, responding to an urging compulsion to tidy it up. He fastidiously repositioned the items on the table, making sure they were properly placed. The warbler chirped frantically as Lars moved its cage three inches to the right. He stood back, examined its position relative to the bed, and moved it another inch.

Then he went to the bed and ripped the sheets away. He did this work with a singular focus; everything else had vanished. The things Pym had said no longer mattered—in fact he hardly remembered them at all. Carefully, he replaced the sheets so that they were crumpled and piled up. He crawled into them, inhaling deeply as he did. Then he shifted into his wolf form and used his snout to further adjust the fabric, but it still wasn't right. He dug at the mattress with his paws and tore at the pillows with his fangs until feathers fluttered through the air. He sniffed, studied, prodded, adjusted and readjusted again.

When Griffin and Phoenix returned, they found the room dark, a gap in the drawn curtains casting a lance of evening sunlight across a trail of pillow feathers on the floor to the nest of blankets on the bed where Lars was sleeping. He was mostly hidden by the nest, just a peek of the pale fur on his back rising and falling with his breathing. Then, hearing their arrival, he stirred. His head rose, and for a moment the light flashed across his irises and set them ablaze, like those of a wild creature in the night.

Phoenix closed the door slowly and carefully. Animal instinct had kicked in—they knew instantly what this was and what this meant. For the first time, the two Alphas were treading softly. Lars was in a vulnerable and volatile bestial state. A wrong move and he could lash out, potentially harming himself and the child now inside of him. Only they could get close to him, and they would need to in order to bring him back.

They shifted. Heads low, tails flat, they cautiously made their way across the room towards the nest. Lars let out a low growl, his lips pulling back to reveal his fangs. The two of them slowed but did not stop moving. Griffin moved ahead of his brother, his powerful nose tasting the heavy scent that hung in the room. They stayed in view of Lars, making sure that he could see them both at all times.

Griffin climbed the bed, two paws only at first, waiting for permission to enter the space. Lars's snarl quieted, and then finally stopped. Griffin offered his snout for Lars to smell. The Omega licked him, and Griffin rose to join him in the nest. Phoenix approached next—too quickly and too aggressively. Lars snarled suddenly and snapped, drawing blood on the side of the Alpha's face.

Phoenix pulled back, his fangs bared. Lars rose, fur bristling across his entire body. Griffin only watched—he could not interfere. Alpha and Omega stared each other down. Lars was ready to attack, a wild frenzy set into his eyes. After a long moment Phoenix was able to regather his self-control. He kept his head down and slowly presented himself to his Omega.

Lars calmed and settled. He then licked the Alpha, cleaning his wound. Phoenix huffed and curled up beside Lars. Then he and Griffin began to groom Lars, licking his face, his ears, his eyes, everything. This was not something they'd been taught to do, it was complete instinct. And as his Alphas groomed him, Lars returned to himself. For a while he said nothing and simply took in the moment.

When was the last time he felt this safe?