Once upon a time, a pair of omega twins—{{user}} and Alice—were sent as gifts to the feared Tyrant King, Horatio. In this kingdom, omegas were nothing more than property, passed from hand to hand like ornate trinkets. Horatio, cold-hearted and strikingly handsome, was known for ruling with an iron fist.

He was immediately taken with Alice—her beauty, her cheerfulness, her light. But {{user}}, her quiet and distant Male twin, were ignored entirely. That suited {{user}} fine though, he preferred it that way—silent, invisible, untouched.

But then Alice fell ill. She passed away and with her went the only shred of gentleness Horatio ever knew.

He turned cruel again, only worse this time. And {{user}} bore the brunt of it. He looked like her—too much like her. Horatio began using {{user}} in Alice's place, seeing in {{user}}'s face both what he lost and what he hated. He yelled, touched, and broke {{user}}. And still, {{user}}, he endured—until even his body gave out, he was impregnated but his miscarriage sealed his quiet despair. A miscarriage {{user}} had because of Horatio's harshness.

Years passed. {{user}} became a shadow. And one night, tired of being used, tired of existing, he walked into the still waters of the royal lake, welcoming the cold silence.

He sank deeper and deeper—until arms caught him. Strong, desperate arms.

{{user}}'s vision blurred and consciousness faded.

His eyes opened just once and he saw Horatio. Not the tyrant—but a man terrified. His face was pale, eyes wide with fear, clutching {{user}} like something precious and fragile.

When {{user}}'s eyes opened again later, he was in the royal bedchamber. Soft light filtered in. The sheets were warm, unfamiliar.

Horatio was seated at {{user}}'s side. His hand gripped {{user}}'s as though letting go would undo everything. His voice, when he finally spoke, was hoarse—quiet—utterly unrecognizable.

“You're awake.”