Chapter Text
It was quieter than it should be, especially considering the light creeping under his door, shining through his windows, prying open his eyes. The consort house was never this quiet, and Armin blinked up at his ceiling, stretching as he tried to climb into wakefulness. The smell of food had his stomach growling, and when he sat up he saw a tray sitting on his desk. It was piled up with eggs and vegetables, a bowl of fruit filled so high that several strawberries had spilled over onto the wooden surface below. Now he was frowning, because none of this made any sense. None of the consorts got their breakfasts delivered to their room, not even the few Untouched like Armin. They got up at the crack of dawn with all the other Omegas and helped prepare the food. A consort was only allowed to sleep in if they were being viewed by an Alpha that day, so the Omega could look their best. Rested, relaxed. A royal envoy was scheduled to come to the consort house to look at Armin, but that wasn't until the following morning. He still had an entire day to prepare, to secret away his belongings, to say goodbye to the others. Though he probably would not be able to sleep tonight, once he lay back down in his bed.
Realization shot through him in a sharp wave, and Armin stood next to his bed, nightgown fisted in his hands. The food in his room, the silence of the house, the late hour he'd been allowed to sleep until... It could mean only one thing.
The royal envoy was coming that day, and not the next. Panic rolled over him, swallowing him up until he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move... He wasn't ready, he still had to pack his things, he needed to talk to the other Omegas, he needed-
Armin's door swung open then, Nanaba forcing a smile at the look of horror on his face. She'd known they were coming today, unable to tell him without facing the wrath of the house matron. Armin could not blame her, not really, but her words had him shaking.
"You need to eat breakfast and get in the bath. They've kept the water warm for you. Your clothes have been laid out, and when your ready I'll do your hair. The envoy should be here in a couple of hours." Armin swayed on his feet, and Nanaba was there in an instant to steady him, one arm underneath his elbow. She wanted to hug him, it was written all over her face, but he was an Untouched. Any more than that and she risked voiding his status, and with a prospective Alpha on their way that instant, one from the palace no less, nothing could be worse. He looked up at her with wide eyes, mouth stuttering over his words.
"I-I I'm not ready. Tomorrow, i-it's tomorrow, they're coming then, they-" Nanaba met his gaze, staring down into him, willing him to listen.
"Armin. You've been waiting for this for years. Your whole life. You're ready."
He had been waiting, it was true. Taken from an orphanage when he was an infant, so young he remembered nothing else but these walls, this house, these people. They had been his family, as much as they could be in such a place. Most of the older Omegas who had been there were gone now, living as consorts in various noble houses all over Shiganshina, and even in the neighboring kingdoms. It was a prestigious house, even among those who trafficked in the Untouched, and Armin was lucky to have been brought there. Many young Omegas without families ended up on the streets, dead or worse.
Since Grisha ascended the throne things had gotten better for Omegas in Shiganshina, but the kingdom was resistant to change, especially where dynamics were concerned. He'd outlawed Omega slavery, the only type of slavery not already banned, and broken up illegal harems and breeding operations with groups of highly trained Alpha warriors. The so called 'Jaegers' raided underground brothels where Omegas were held against their will, and conducted random inspections of the legally operating consort houses to verify they were not doing the same. Still, there were few options for an orphaned Omega, especially a male like Armin. They were not unheard of, but rare enough that he would not have been safe on his own. Not in a place like Shiganshina, anyway. He knew how fortunate he was to have been brought to such a place. Raised to be a consort since before he could speak, learning the customs of nobility from different kingdoms alongside his basic letters and numbers.
It was more important for an Alpha's consort to know how to greet a foreign emissary or what their dining habits were than to be able to discuss literature or history. If your Alpha wants you to know, he will see that you are taught. So Armin did not learn about philosophy, or the sciences. Instead as soon as he finished his first heat, he was taken to the Omega brothel run by the consort house where he lived. Through one way mirrors and well concealed cracks, under the watchful eyes of the house matron, Armin watched the other Omegas do what would one day be expected of him.
Armin watched them consort, with gusto and enthusiasm.
As an Untouched, the Armin spent his whole life deprived of physical contact with others. He was not hugged by his fellow Omegas, nor did his friends hold his hands, or pat him on the back. The only time anyone was allowed near an Untouched was to treat an injury, or prevent one. To catch him if he fell, or stitch up his wounds. Years and years, over a decade, and Armin had never been embraced. The closest thing to any physical contact he was allowed was when one of the others did his hair, and as one of only a few Untouched in the house, they knew just how desperate Armin was for it. They combed through his long golden locks with their fingers, scratching at his scalp, braiding and unbraiding, fastening and clipping and taking it all down to start over again.
He'd broken down sobbing more than once, face buried in his hands, and it had taken all his willpower not to beg them. Please, hold me, just for a moment. The reason the Untouched were in such high demand was their rarity, because few Omegas could endure a life starved of contact. Armin could have given up his status at any time, thrown his arms around the Omegas he lived with and felt the heat of someone else's skin. The touch of their hands on his face, the assurance of arms around him. Holding him close, keeping him safe, even though there was no real danger. He could be a regular consort like the others, or even work in the kitchens, or doing laundry. Armin could clean, or sew, or help care for the young Omegas that were brought in.
But to give up now seemed like the worst kind of idiocy. It would mean he had lived Untouched for most of his life for absolutely nothing, and just the thought made Armin sick to his stomach. He endured, because to throw all that anguish away, to admit defeat so close to to his coming of age was unthinkable.
When they brought him into the brothel with the aches of his first heat fading away, joints sore, body still on fire, and he saw these Omegas being mated...
Armin cried then, as well. One day he would be breathless underneath an Alpha, too. He'd never seen one before that night, never been close to one, never scented one. But soon, an Alpha would feel him. Their hands on Armin's skin, their mouth hungry on his flesh. He would be kissed and touched and held, laid bare as an Alpha claimed him for their own. And not for just one night, as the Omegas in the brothels were. No, he was Untouched. All those years of suffering would be worth it, because someday an Alpha would choose him. They would take him to their home, their lands or their castle or their palace, and he would be theirs forever.
Maybe one of many, but that was okay, too. Even if he was not the consort chosen to stand by his Alpha's side, as long as his Alpha made use of him, Armin would be happy. He would prove that he was worthy. Armin would not let them regret their decision, even for a moment. So he watched the Omegas in the brothel with careful eyes, committing to memory each heated caress, each breathy sigh, each lingering kiss. Armin wanted to know just where he should touch, how he should move, what he should say.
Whatever it took to please them, because Armin did not want to be left alone again. Even if his Alphas eyes never lit up at him with possession, or dilated with lust. If he took other Omegas into his bed, or forgot Armin's name. Did not bind Armin with a mate's mark, or cover him in scent. All that was fine.
So long as he touched him, by the gods and the three sisters and all the stars in the heavens, Armin just wanted to be touched. Anywhere. Everywhere.
He ate all the food on his plate, not tasting anything as he shoveled it down. There was no time for savoring his food, not with the envoy already on its way. The royal envoy. No one could say exactly which royal was after an Untouched male consort, but there were not that many Alphas worthy of a palace envoy without mates of their own. The matron of the consort house was hyper aware of any high ranking unmated Alphas, by the very nature of her trade. Armin could name them all on one hand with fingers to spare, though he had no faces to go with those titles.
There was the princess Mikasa, who oversaw the Jaegers in their raids, but if the rumors were true then she would have zero interest in a male Omega. Commander Smith, King Jaeger's First Blade, was also unmated, though neither Armin nor the house matron knew of his orientation. That only left one person, however unlikely it might be, and it had Armin's gut twisting for the thousandth time since they'd gotten word of the envoy coming their way.
Prince Jaeger. Unmated, without a single Omega in his care, and openly admitting that he cared nothing for having a female as a partner. Well past the age of ascension at nineteen, with all sorts of nobles whispering in the shadows. Why hasn't he taken any Omegas, the king is not young, he's fathered no heirs... They did not speak it, but all their supposition boiled down to one question.
What was wrong with him?
Armin got into the bath, forcing the shadows from his mind as he washed thoroughly. Every single inch, scrubbed and scoured, and when he got out the other Omegas were waiting. He dressed in ceremonial robes, long and loose and flowing. Easily shed, because though it was not likely to be his intended mate, whatever Alpha had been sent to inspect him would not be satisfied with what Armin looked like in his clothes. He'd been told over and over, attending inspections of other Untouched. They would want to see him laid bare. Would open his mouth and look at his teeth. Tilt his face this way and that, ask him to turn, to speak, to move.
A part of Armin balked at being sold off like livestock, but he'd chosen this. Over a life of suffering, or uncertainty, but a choice nonetheless. His choice. The lesser of two evils, and as he felt the girls working their hands through his long hair, twisting it up on his head with expert fingers, he found he could not regret it. They shoved jeweled sticks into his bound locks, holding it in place in a messy bun, some of the strands deliberately loose around his face. All his uncertainty began to melt away, replaced with nervous anticipation.
For the first time in his life, Armin would be touched by an Alpha. That ancient part within him surged up, fierce and hungry, saying yes.
Saying please...
..............
Being in a carriage was a foreign thing to Levi, the walls surrounding him strange and nerve wracking, and he was grateful when it rolled to a stop despite not being totally prepared for what he was about to do. Even when he traveled with the prince, he rarely rode inside one, both of them preferring to be on horseback. The prince... He could still picture Eren's face when he'd first brought it up, those green eyes sparking and furious.
'You want buy some child Omega for me as though they were a hunting dog. Are you going to check their hips? See if they'd breed well, Levi?'
Some of that fury had melted away by the time he'd departed that morning, a cold determination taking its place. What choice did they have?
Absolutely none. Not anymore.
Levi tugged his collar up high as he stepped out of the carriage, hand toying with the steel at his belt. Two swords, as was fitting for the First Blade of the crown prince. Soldiers always laughed when they watched him draw them, one held in an underhanded grip, tip pointed at the ground.
They never laughed for very long, though. Levi made sure of it.
Even he knew he was stalling, and Levi took a deep breath before forcing his feet up the path to the consort house. It was just one more thing he did for his prince. A task to be completed. A mission to be accomplished. For the good of the kingdom, but more importantly, for the good of the prince. Levi paused outside the front door, jaw painfully tight. He ran hands that did not shake through his hair, tugging on the strands, gritting his teeth. There was a taste in his mouth like copper, and only then did he realize he was biting his cheek hard enough to draw blood. Levi was nauseated, hands itching to draw his swords. To fight this battle with steel, but it was impossible. Not everything could be won with blades and ferocity, no matter how much Levi wished it were true. He shook out his shoulders, relaxed his jaw. Dropped his hands from the hilts of his weapons, though they felt made of metal themselves.
Levi would do what he must. Even if it killed him inside.