During those pitiful times,Arion was waiting for the three weeks that lead him to another mission toward kyon , felt like a lifetime of grinding misery for Arion. The chilling image of the amber-eyed child haunted his sleepless nights, fueling a desperate, all-consuming anxiety. He was perpetually on edge, snapping at soldiers for minor infractions and moving with a frantic energy that left him perpetually exhausted. The forced proximity to Cassian, who took sadistic pleasure in his new bodyguard's frayed nerves, only exacerbated Arion's suffering. Cassian would often touch his shoulder a moment too long, or murmur a leading question about Kyon's supposed "fidelity," enjoying the visible tension that tightened Arion's muscles.
Arion's physical deterioration was slow but noticeable. The lean, hard lines of his warrior body began to look gaunt. Dark circles permanently shadowed his eyes, and his movements, though still precise, lacked their former fluid confidence ( :( ) . He was not easy going; he was a coiled spring of dread and exhaustion, a fact that did not go unnoticed by those who genuinely cared for him.
Among his former comrades in the King's guard were Captain Rhian—a stern but deeply loyal alpha who had fought beside Arion for years—and Nolana , a sharp-witted beta with a keen sense in smell and pheromones, who also served as the barracks' quartermaster and often covered for Arion's schedule lapses. They had both seen Arion at his best, and they were concerned by this shell of a man he had become.
One evening, after Cassian had finally retired, Arion was obsessively cleaning his weapons in the deserted armory. Rhian walked in, his expression heavy with concern.
"Arion," Rhian began, his voice low, "you're running yourself into the ground. You look like you haven't slept in a week. I've seen men break after a harsh campaign, but this—this isn't like you."
Arion didn't look up, focusing with painstaking intensity on polishing the leather strap of his sword hilt. "I am FINE!, Rhian. Prince Cassian requires peak performance. It's just the new assignment."
"Don't lie to me," Rhian pressed, stepping closer. "It started the moment you were transferred. Is it CASSIAN!? Has he put you on some sort of punishment detail? We can speak to the Colonel—"
"No!" Arion snapped, the sudden force of his denial startling even himself. He took a ragged breath, lowering his voice. "I am fine. It is not Cassian."
He couldn't admit the truth. How could he tell his oldest friend that his anguish stemmed from the violation by Prince Kyon, the shame of his body's forced compliance, and the paralyzing fear that he might be carrying that prince's child? He couldn't risk the scandal, the disgrace, or the certain exposure of his secret omega lineage, which would shatter his career and endanger his life. The truth was too dangerous.
Later that week, nolana or As a surname Elara, cornered him near the kitchens, slipping him a pouch of dried herbs. "This is mugwort and valerian," she murmured, her eyes kind but worried. "It's for the nightmares, Arion. You look like you're fighting a losing battle every night. And you've barely eaten a decent meal since the transfer."
Arion accepted the herbs mechanically. "Thank you, Elara. That's thoughtful."
"Thoughtful? Arion, I saw the bruises fading on your back and ribs, and those weren't from training. And that tape on your neck? You haven't taken it off in weeks. What is Kyon doing to you?" she whispered, lowering her voice further. "Don't you dare tell me 'nothing.' You smell of stress hormones, and your scent is all over the place. Let us help you."
Arion felt a surge of panic. He forced his face into a mask of cold dismissal. "You misread the situation, Elara. The bruises were from a particularly rough sparring match with the prince. The tape is for a persistent stiffness. Everything is under control." He stuffed the herbs into his pocket without looking at them. "I appreciate the thought, but I don't need your interference. Focus on your own duties."
He walked away quickly, leaving Elara staring after him with a look of hurt and deep concern. Arion knew he was alienating his only allies, pushing them away with his coldness. But the secrets—the mark, the violation, the agonizing anxiety over the possibility of the infant—were too heavy to share. He was isolated not by decree, but by his own desperate need to maintain the façade of the unyielding warrior, a man who could not be broken by a prince's ruthless claim. He was alone in his suffering, clinging to the only piece of himself he had left: his soldier's duty.
Arion after walking away goes grab something to eat before he goes in his regular patrol, Arion feels a sharp pain in his stomach but try and reach did try to ignore it, the nausea increased highly, he slam his spoon down and get up . " three f*cking day until I go to the west! And I'm already sick" he sigh deeply and get up he grab his sword and walk out of his room.
Walking through the hallway towards the corridor he heard noises. " moan?" He pull his sword ready , after advancing closer he saw the prince cassian room open and a disgusting s*x scene , he felt like throwing up.
He just decided to walk past it and walk out towards other soldiers to start his patrol. " hey! Arion, we bought drinks, wanna drink it off before we start out daily routine?" Jun a captain of the B group ask , " I prefer not I'm not in the mood for drink right now!" Arion dismisses them and walk away from there .
He take a deep breath in and stand up from his seat he start patrolling, maybe it'll help me relax, he tells himself. The feeling of throwing up got closer and closer , Arion clutches his belly tightly. "Ugh!".