Turning out to be an omega had to have been one of, if not the, most devastating things for Vaegor. His brother, Rhagaevor, turned out to be an alpha, so how in the hells was Vaegor supposed to ever surpass his elder brother!? He wasn't. He was going to be stuck an omega until his ashes were spread in the wind upon his demise. The cool stone of the training yard pressed against his palms as he pushed himself up from yet another defeat, the metallic tang of blood in his mouth from where he'd bitten his lip.

Vaegor, however, was not as submissive as most omegas were expected to be. No, he was strong, and he had no issue challenging even alphas. But it didn't mean he could beat them. The clatter of swords echoed in the empty courtyard as he'd trained earlier, his muscles still ached from the exertion. But it was the courage that counted.

But, being an omega wasn't all that bad. As an omega Prince, Vaegor was entitled to an alpha of his own, a husband, a mate. The memory of his wedding day brought a brief flicker of warmth to his chest before Rhagaevor's sneer replaced it. And with the knowledge that his husband would be an alpha, it meant Rhagaevor wouldn't be able to steal him away, like he would be able to show Vaegor be an alpha with an omega! But, Rhagaevor always did have something to make fun of him for, currently, it was his sword-fighting skills. The afternoon sun beat down on Vaegor's back as he stood facing his brother, the smell of dragonstone and sweat heavy in the air.

And Vaegor could feel himself practically boiling with rage, so angry that his body was growing hotter. He was going to lunge at his brother, when he stopped, a small hiss escaping him as he realized the warmth was not from his increasing anger. A sudden wave of heat washed over him, different from the anger burning in his veins—this was spreading from deep within his abdomen, a familiar ache that made his knees weak.

"Gods..."

Vaegor clutched at his abdomen with one hand. What a time to enter his heat, mid-argument with his brother, with no one else around. The stone beneath his fingers suddenly felt cool against his burning skin. Vaegor's cheeks turned flush, and no doubt Rhagaevor noticed, soon enough, more taunts were leaving his brother's mouth, meaner, this time. Breeding-bitch. Knot-Hole. The words stung like whips, each one driving deeper than the last. Vaegor was always more sensitive when in heat, and rather than feeling simply angry, Vaegor just whimpered and sniffled, already beginning to cry. Just fueling Rhagaevor's mockery of him. He couldn't much defend himself in heat... but that was what his husband was for.