The Omega in Enemy Hands

lyanna

I had grown up believing the moon never lied to an omega. The moon changed, yes—soft one night, a silver blade the next—but it did not deceive. Its glow guided those blessed by it. Its phases warned of storms, births, and deaths.

But tonight, as I stood in the courtyard of our border estate, the moon hid behind a smear of smoke. The air tasted faintly of iron and burning leather. A warning. One I wasn’t ready to understand.

Behind me, the bells rang. Not the bright silver Aelorian bells forged for festivals and dawn calls. These rang low and heavy, the deep iron growl of war drums, rolling across the valley in warning.

I froze mid-step.

Only moments earlier, I had been tying bundles of dried lavender in the manor’s small healing hut, humming absentmindedly.

Early autumn had settled lightly this year; the mountains beyond the treeline glowed blue-grey beneath a bruised sky—a quiet, ordinary day. Lavender still clung to my hands, absurd against the sharp tang of smoke drifting from the border woods.

A familiar hand pressed against my lower back. “You’re awake again,” Rubin murmured, his voice rough from sleepless nights. He kissed my temple. “You should be resting.”

I didn’t answer. My eyes stayed on the treeline.

“The scouts said the Drakovian patrol retreated at sundown,” I whispered.

“They did.” I felt Rubin’s jaw tighten against my temple. “But there’s movement in the north pass. I want to be careful.”

I turned to him, resting my hands on his chest. His armour was already on—dark Aelorian steel, etched with moon symbols that glimmered in the torchlight. He had only worn that armour twice since our bonding. Never in the courtyard or this close to home.

“You’re worrying again,” I said softly.

His thumb brushed my jaw. “You’re too much of my heart to leave unworried.”

I rolled my eyes, and he kissed my forehead—lingering, inhaling my scent like I was the only calm he had left in the world.

A shout rang from the village gates. Then another. Then a horn—low, trembling, cut abruptly short.

Rubin’s gaze hardened. “Lyanna. Go inside. Now.”

My pulse jumped. “Rubin—”

“Inside,” he repeated. “Pack the emergency satchel. Wake Mira. Wake the servants. Gather the villagers at the south slope. My men will escort you.”

Torches ignited along the treeline—red. Dozens. Hundreds.

My breath stilled. “That can’t be—”

Rubin cupped my face, kissed me hard. “I love you. You will survive this night. Do you understand me?”

My voice broke. “Come with us.”

“I can’t.” He stepped back, already reaching for his sword. “If we abandon this village, Drakovia takes the border in a single night. They’ll reach Astria by dawn. I won’t allow that.”

“Rubin—”

“Go, Lyanna.” His voice cracked with agony. “Our people need you alive.”

He glanced past me to the treeline. “I’ll hold them off with the others. Warriors from the northern farms joined us at dawn. We can buy time.”

I shook my head, fear clawing at my chest. “You can’t fight them alone.”

“I won’t be alone,” he said firmly, though worry lined his eyes. “And their raid force can’t be large. This village has nothing they want.”

Even as he spoke, a crackling boom echoed across the valley. Smoke rose from the western ridge.

“Go.”

“Rubin—”

“Go!”

I grabbed his wrist. “Promise me—”

He kissed me again—fast, fierce, final. “I’ll find you,” he whispered, his voice breaking around the edges. “We will see the sunrise together again.”

I wanted to tell him I believed him, but the scream tore through the village.

So I ran.

The hallways were chaotic.

Mira, my attendant, tore open bedroom doors, shouting names. Children cried. Women scrambled for shawls and boots. Fire barrels exploded outside, shaking the walls.

“Lady Lyanna!” Mira’s face was bloodless. “Is it true? Are they—”

“Yes,” I said, gripping her shoulders. “Take everyone to the south slope. Rubin’s guard will meet us there.”

“But—”

“Go.”

People obeyed me.

I grabbed the satchel, stuffing it with vials, herbs, dried food, and warm shawls. My hands shook, but they didn’t slow.

A second explosion thundered outside. The windows rattled. Screams rose—too close. Far too close.

I slung the satchel over my shoulder. “Move! Everyone, move!”

At the southern wall, Rubin’s remaining guards waited.

“Lady Lyanna,” one said, breath ragged. “We’ll escort you to the river pass. Hurry.”

I turned back once.

My Alpha stood at the village’s front lines, a lone silhouette framed by burning sky. Sword raised—armour glowing with moonlight and fire. The torches advancing on him looked like a river of molten stars flowing downhill.

The deeper we pushed into the woods, the more frantic the march became. Branches tore at skirts and skin. Children clung to mothers, omegas and elders alike, shielded by those who could support them. Guards led us to the carts fast, yet silent.

I helped Mistress Falene lift a toddler onto a wagon, adjusting his cloak around his shoulders.

“Is it bad?” the older woman asked, eyes wide and shining.

“We’ll be safe soon. Just stay close,” I said, forcing a steady breath. But dread thickened the air. Birds fled in frantic bursts. Hooves pounded. Bells still tolled, low and mournful.

When the first cart creaked forward, nausea hit me sharply, twisting my stomach. Not now. Gods. Nausea had shadowed me for days; I blamed stress, but now it pulsed with the bond to Rubin, warm and unsettling.

Mira touched my arm. “My lady? Are you—”

“I’m fine.” I lied. “Keep moving.”

The dizziness faded enough for me to climb onto the back of the cart beside other women, pulling the little ones closer. Wind whipped my hair as the village fell behind—the well, the fire pit, painted houses.

Rubin… please be safe.

We reached the narrow ravine near the river, the path twisting over uneven stone ridges. Almost there—

A roar split the air. The lead horse reared, the cart lurching violently. Screams rose.

From the treeline, Drakovian soldiers erupted like shadows, black-green cloaks snapping, steel flashing, faces half-covered in war paint. Arrows struck before the guards could react. One man fell instantly; another choked as an arrow pierced his throat. The cart driver went down with a single swing.

I clamped my hand over a child’s mouth. “Down!” I hissed, dragging him beneath the wooden frame.

Chaos exploded. Drakovians surged, hacking through soldiers, dragging villagers from wagons, seizing children. A mother screamed as her child was torn from her arms.

I lunged—but a boot slammed into me, throwing me into the mud. Pain shot up my legs.

“Stop! Please—stop!” a child cried.

Mercy was not a Drakovian virtue.

A hand yanked my hair. I froze, breath ripping from my chest. A broad-shouldered alpha loomed over me, cold-eyed, smelling of burning pine. He hauled me upright, inspecting me with detached interest.

“Omega,” he muttered. “Tie them. Move fast.”

I stumbled. Children sobbed; women screamed; guards lay dead. Where was Rubin? The reinforcements? A distant horn sounded—Aelorian, desperate. Not close. Not nearly.

A rope cinched around my wrists. I flinched as the soldier jerked the knot tight.

Drakovians marked captives with chalk, dragging us into lines and onto wagons. They shouted insults, jeering at omegas for trembling or crying. One ripped a satchel from an older woman, scattering herbs and food into the mud. Rage and helplessness churned in my stomach.

“My lady—what do we do?” the woman’s voice cracked.

I had no answer. My throat burned. My heart stuttered. The bond tugged faintly across miles. Rubin was alive. He needed to come quickly.

A commander stepped forward, cloak snapping like a serpent’s tongue.

“Take the omegas and the young. Kill the rest.”

My blood iced. Kill the rest.

Men lunged, trying to shield mates and children. One soldier was shoved back and cut down instantly. Another tried to lift a child from a wagon—kicked aside, face bloodied. Mothers clawed at iron hands. Fathers swung fists and tools, only to meet cold steel.

A soldier grabbed a trembling omega, laughing as her baby wailed, shoving her toward the wagons. Another crouched, pressing a gloved finger to a young omega’s chest.

“Your bond is weak. He won’t save you.” The girl froze. Another soldier dragged her away. An omega shielding her mate felt a sword bite across her arm, a warning to the others.

I crawled toward a child—but a boot slammed into my shoulder.

“Stop struggling,” the soldier growled. “You’re worth more alive.”

Rubin’s voice echoed in my skull: You will survive this night.

My vision blurred. My heart broke. When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer in Aeloria. Bound. Dragged north toward the mountains. Toward Drakovia.

And the last sound I heard before the trees swallowed me was not my own scream—but that of everything I loved burning away.