The throne room had never felt so hollow.
Lit by gold-veined torches and echoing with the hum of gathered lords and generals, it still managed to feel like a trap.
The Emperor sat high on the dais, robed in state silks too rich for wartime, his sharp gaze fixed not on Rythe, not on the line of commanders standing in starched uniforms—but on the single figure in plain black at the far end.
Aurean.
He was the last to be announced. The last to step forward.
He did not bow.
He knelt.
As Rythe's war hounds often did.
A hum rippled through the room—soft gasps, mutters beneath breath, a couple of muffled chuckles. One of the southern lords sneered, "Fitting."
The Emperor raised his hand. Silence.
"You all return victorious," he said slowly, his voice silk over steel. "Despite being poisoned… despite a camp infiltrated… despite whispers that half our army should have died." His eyes narrowed. "And yet you won."
He looked directly at Aurean again. "I would hear it from the one whose name I find on every whispered tongue."
Aurean looked up, gaze steady. He could feel the heat of the stares behind him. The weight of Rythe's stillness nearby.
"I was not poisoned, Your Majesty," Aurean said clearly. "I had been sent away to gather wood. When I returned, I found the soldiers ill and the enemy already upon us."
"And then?" the Emperor asked, leaning forward.
Aurean did not blink. "The commanders fought back. The prince, despite his condition, rallied them. The hounds obeyed their training. Together, they drove the enemy off."
No mention of the precise commands he gave the hounds. No mention of the signal, the pre-taught formations, the way he had turned beasts and instinct into an orchestrated blade.
He let them believe what they wanted.
Rythe's shoulders tensed beside him.
"But you remained untouched by the poison?" one of the generals questioned, skeptical.
"Yes."
"And you fought?"
"No," Aurean said calmly. "I'm not a soldier."
Someone scoffed. Another noble muttered, "Exactly what you'd expect."
The Emperor tilted his head, studying him.
"Some claim the hounds responded to you as if you were their master," the Emperor said. "That you commanded them. Trained them."
"I taught them to sit," Aurean replied. "To obey. They belong to the prince."
Another murmur of amusement. Dismissive. But Rythe's jaw ticked. The lie, though spoken gently, was a blade to the ribs.
The Emperor looked to Rythe.
"Your report confirms this version of events?"
Rythe's voice was low. Even.
"It does."
No one in the room breathed for a second.
"And the commanders?"
One by one, each nodded. Reluctant. But bound by whatever quiet agreement had passed between them days ago on the road back.
The Emperor sat back, expression unreadable.
"Then the kingdom owes you all a debt," he said at last. "Victory, though bought in shadow, is still victory. You may all retire."
He stood. The meeting was over.
But as the crowd filed out, Aurean still kneeling in silence, the Emperor murmured just loud enough for Rythe to hear:
"That omega of yours... obedient. Almost convincing."
Rythe did not answer.
The capital welcomed them with parades.
Trumpets. Rose petals. Banners stitched in red and silver.
Not for Aurean.
The fanfare was for Rythe. For the generals. For the survivors who had dragged poisoned bodies through fire and shadow back to the Empire's heart.
Aurean rode near the rear of the procession, hood drawn low, his hounds pacing silently around him like wraiths.
Whispers trailed them like rot.
"That's the one. The one they say the prince tied to a tree."
"Did you hear what he did to him? Disgusting—"
"No wonder he was the only one not poisoned."
"They say he's kept on a collar. Did you see it?"
Aurean kept his gaze forward. The collar they spoke of—iron-gray leather, rune-branded on the inside—was hidden beneath his scarf, but that never stopped the rumors. His hands rested lightly on the reins. The hounds, sensing his stillness, walked tighter.
By the time they reached the palace gates, Aurean was frozen to the marrow.
That night, the court gathered in celebration.
Torches burned high. Goblets overflowed. Nobles draped themselves in honor that did not belong to them.
Aurean stood to the side in the hall, wine untouched, posture poised. He wore a dark tunic, no insignias. No colors of house or station. An outsider. As always.
A young courtier approached him with a smile too polished to be honest.
"They say the hounds obey you more than the prince himself. Tell me—did you scent the enemy from leagues away, or did you lure them in like a moth to heat?"
Laughter followed, brittle and cruel.
Aurean bowed slightly and moved on. He didn't answer. He never did.
Even so, each sneer etched something deeper inside him.
Later that evening, a door slammed.
Hard.
Rythe's private chamber. Candlelight flickered against stone. Aurean stood by the window when Rythe entered without ceremony, the prince's eyes sharp, jaw tight.
"You should have told the truth."
Aurean turned slowly. "No one wanted the truth."
"I wanted it."
"No," Aurean said. "You wanted them to believe we won through honor. Through strength. You want your soldiers to be seen as heroes."
"They are heroes. But so are you."
Aurean met his gaze fully. "No. I'm the shame they endure. The scent they pretend not to smell. The one you tied to a tree and told to degrade himself, remember?"
Rythe flinched. "You told them that. Not me."
"I protected you."
The words fell like a blade.
"I protected your name. Your title. Your men. I gave them a lie they could swallow, because the truth would've made them choke."
Rythe was silent.
"I told them the hounds obey you," Aurean continued quietly. "I told them you fought while poisoned, that your men rose with you."
"You gave them all the credit," Rythe said bitterly. "And took none."
Aurean turned away. "I didn't want it."
"Liar."
The word cracked the air like a whip.
Aurean froze.
"You wanted it. Just not from them."
That hit harder than anything else.
Aurean didn't reply.
Rythe stepped closer, voice low, restrained. "You think you're protecting me. But all you're doing is erasing yourself. Again."
The silence stretched.
"I won't thank you for that," Rythe said.
Aurean nodded. "I didn't do it for thanks."
Rythe watched him a moment longer, then turned and left, slamming the door behind him.
Outside, the hounds waited.
One licked Aurean's fingers. Another leaned against his legs.
Aurean sank to the floor, back against the wall, breath caught in the hollow of his chest.
He had saved them all.
But there was no victory in being invisible.