Chains of Fate (MxM Sci-fi Omegaverse)

III

Atticus carried an air of trouble about him, that much I had always been able to tell for as long as I could remember my brother. Where Alba felt like a father or mentor. Someone, that at the very least, I didn't want to disappoint. Atticus had always felt like a mischievous blood relative  who would only drag me into his nonsense. As he was doing now. And for a young, odd little Cardinal like myself, getting involved with someone with a knack for pissing off our oldest brother was likely to be a recipe for disaster.

"I can't wait, brother! Are they truly dreadful? Will they hurt me?" I ask, feinting nervousness while also trying to appear like I am containing my excitement. I couldn't look too outwardly please to be seeing the fights. After all, I was not known in any social circles as someone who does well seeing violence. It was apart of my image as a Cardinal to always appear docile and fearful as that is what's expected of me.

I purposely chose not to comment on the rather unusual part of Atticus' palpable excitement. His alpha toys? How laughable. As if one of those very toys wouldn't shred him the moment it had a chance. My brother was shamefully arrogant, and it would be his downfall one day, I was sure of it. But I was not inclined to bring that fact to his attention any time soon. Such an insult might have an impact on my chances of securing an alpha on Port Ira. Not to mention, my brothers and sisters generally didn't like hearing the word "no." It likely had to do with growing up in a Namesake family where not even the lowest ranking Omega was treated less the royalty while port side.

"Only if they get a hold of you, little Cardinal." Atticus replied in a singsong voice that was anything but reassuring. The hateful Omega's scared lips smirked at me, before it grew into a full smile with teeth that looked more like a warning than playful. He was obviously enjoying himself at my expense. Well let him, many Omega underestimated me, my brother would be no different.

For the most part, the long waking hours of endless night had been running smoothly despite our conversation being stilted and awkward as we ate. I was dreading this off-port experience, but returning to Port Gelu with Atticus would only be worse with what I planned to do. We had finished dining a bit ago, with constant nitpicking from Atticus' Keeper on what was considered proper for a Cardinal to eat. Atticus seemed to despise this even more than myself, not that I had ever outwardly expressed my disdain.

Most of what my brother enjoyed dining on was considered too heavy on the stomach for breeding such as mine. All red meat, grain, and spice was improper the Keeper insisted, pulling the plate Atticus had piled for me out of my reach before it was too late. Though I was well aware of what I was and was not permitted to eat, I had been hopeful that a Keeper assigned to a regress Omega wouldn't know the inner workings of a Cardinals diet.

There was also the fact that I was curious as to what bread tasted like. I overheard the keepers mention years ago how a fresh loaf from the thermo ovens of the port granaries were flakey, buttery, and would almost melt in your mouth it was so soft and delicious. Ever since it had been a thing of daydreams for me. So of course, upon seeing the spread for the meal, so unlike the meals I was permitted at home, the large unassuming loaf laid off to the side of the table, I hadn't been able to focus on much else.

Atticus had picked up on the focus of my attention fairly quickly, to my embarrassment. I prided myself in being less transparent than that when in the presence of others. Yet that loaf had called to me like nothing else ever had.

An almost smile had pulled at the scar of Atticus' face in that moment. Without a word he had cut me a slice and lathered it heavily with a soft creamy looking spread that must have been what the lower genders called butter, only to have it ripped away from my grasp by his Keeper.

My brother was a bit of a handful on any given day, angry, and spiteful to say the least of his less friendly character traits, but rarely ever did he raise his voice or release his Omega essence. Even when angry he barely gave off a presence at all, but the tone in which he had banished the Keeper from his quarters had me jerking in surprise as his regress attribute tinged the air like the smoke from the off-port cigars he liked so much. The scent of it was soured with rage, and I found myself wrinkling my nose as my dominus attributes prickled at the challenge.