The Sovereign and The Sorcerer (Larry Stylinson - L.S.)

Chapter 1

Prisoner of War.

Louis blamed the sudden goodness of his heart which had prompted him to go to the army base and try to heal the wounded soldiers. There had been too many injured men, all fighting the enemy to keep them away from their lands. But those big ships had come and conquered.

They had not been a strong nation in the first place, their ruler should have surrendered and prevented all the casualties, but pride ate away at logic in the most crucial times. He had declared a war and had died like a coward.

Louis did not mourn his death, nor was he saddened by the capture of the place he called home. He had always lead a secluded life. Being a male omega and born to a witch had made him a pariah since his first breath. Once he started showing ability to perform witchcraft, he had been banned from society, forced to live as an outcast.

He should have done what they did to him, he should have stayed away and let them suffer. He should not have tried to save even a single one of them, should not have wasted his healing powers on them.

He tried to be nice to them and was ultimately stabbed in the back.

While Louis had returned to his exile, some lowlife had told the enemy of his nature and his powers in order to get a pardon, and now Louis had to suffer for his foolishness.

They had come while he was picking herbs in his garden to make strengthening potions, had shot a poisoned arrow to his leg before he could even get up. Everything had gone out of focus before going dark.

Now, he was being kept in a cell under the captain's quarters on the ship, his hands bound above his head in iron chains to keep him from performing any kind of magic. It was almost night time now, he had been awake for a whole day, bound and nary a visitor.

It was better this way, he thought, he could be taken to the foreign land, declared an outcast even there and told to go into exile, or he would be killed. He doubted he would survive the whole journey without food or water, soon delusion would set in, then he would faint, his demise following shortly after.

His own people had been scared of him when he had tried to show his abilities to them as a child. His whole life he had been called names, a weakling for being a male omega, and later a darkling for being a sorcerer. Growing up in an orphanage had robbed him of his freedom, he was pushed around and mistreated. If he used his magic for defence, they would lock him up in an iron box.

They had never given him a chance to prove his worth, he could have turned the course of the war if only they had accepted him.

His limbs ached from being forced to stand. They could have chained him in a more comfortable position. Ruthless.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember the lullaby his mother sang to him when she was still alive, maybe this nightmare would pass sooner that way.

His head jerked up as the iron gate to his cell swung open, he must have passed out, the ship was dead silent.

The silhouette of the person barely gave away his features. He could make out a tall frame, strength packing around his body like an armour. The scent hit him next, a thoroughbred alpha, Louis bared his teeth and hissed in warning. He would bite if this man tried to touch him.

"I suppose you are hungry," an amused voice regarded him, his accent giving away that he was from enemy lands, not that Louis needed any more confirmation than the situation he was currently in. "I brought some food and water," the stranger elaborated.