Note: In this story, gendered titles accord with the gender of the position, not the person in it. For instance, Queen Victoria and Prince Albert would be "King Victoria" and "Queen Albert" in this story, because Victoria was head of state, and Albert was the head of state's spouse. Hence why Galen is a Princess, even though he's a guy.

They were going to announce the verdict of the Former Crown Princess’s trial soon, but August didn’t want to think about that. Instead, he ignored the news holograms floating above the cafeteria and looked for his friends amongst the rows of benches. It was the lunch rush on campus, and the large hall was noisy with other university students, but after a once-over, he found his friend group sitting under one of the holograms.

“Hey—” he started as a he sat down, but a finger shot out from the side to shush him. His friend Milly was watching the holograms with rapt attention. She was staring at the next-nearest news display with her whole body, leaning so far forward that the end of one of her braids was almost in her soup.

Xanier, another friend who was sitting across from them, reached over to move it out of the way while giving August a knowing smile. “She’s been so hung up on this that she needed my notes from this morning’s class,” he said. Seeing Milly’s finger swing around to shush Xanier, too, August returned the smile and then resigned himself to eating his lunch in silence. In the end, he couldn’t help but watch the news along with them.

The Former Crown Princess and widow of the first late Crown Prince had killed another member of the royal family. In the past, this princess had been the darling Omega of the Astral Empire, epitomizing beauty, grace, and gentility. The son of a famous general, he had had the people’s attention and admiration since childhood, so the whole train of events, from the late Crown Prince’s death to the recent murder of the new Crown Prince, had left everybody reeling.

The trial had been closed to the press, but that hadn’t stopped the news crews from sitting outside the courthouse and filming the door. Any minute now, someone would come out and announce the verdict. All the cameras and all the people watching the cameras’ feeds were all waiting for the same thing.

When the doors in the virtual image finally opened, August found his eyes drifting to the table where the Alphas and Omegas usually sat. Ninety-eight percent of the population were Betas, so most of cafeteria, and the galaxy, could only spectate on the special relationships between Alphas and Omegas. Furthermore, because Omegas were more likely to have Alpha and Omega children, most of them belonged to the same set of elite families. For instance, no one in the current royal family was a Beta, whereas August was the only non-Beta born into his family that anyone knew of, for as far back as anyone could remember.

Nevertheless, August lived with Betas, ate with Betas, and spectated on the royal drama with Betas.

The whole cafeteria went quiet, as copies of a smartly dressed spokesman emerged into the displays across the room. Despite the questions of the press, his message was short: “The Former Crown Princess, Galen Astral, has been found guilty of treason. All further questions, including information on the sentencing, will be provided at a later date.”

August watched as the Omegas collapsed despondently, both onto the table and the nearby Alphas. One might have even have wailed, but it was hard to hear anything over the eruption of chatter in the hall. Even most of the Alphas were visibly slumped at the news, leaning on the Omegas as much as they were being leaned on.

“It can’t end just like this, right?” Milly asked in a tight voice, drawing August’s attention back to his own table. The cafeteria was louder than it had ever been before, and everyone was talking about the same thing.

“Well, how else can it end? Even if he’s an Omega, treason is treason, right?” Xanier replied, but he didn’t look happy to say it. August had never seen him so disappointed the that the rules had been followed.

August himself felt more disappointed than he expected. There was a hollow pit in his stomach, and he couldn’t imagine finishing his lunch. He couldn’t help but remember the beautiful child Former Crown Princess Galen used to be, the darling whose tv appearances and product lines used to be everywhere. At the height of his popularity, his smile had beamed from practically every other screen. Now, August watched the display earnestly as more people came through the court doors.

“There!” said Milly in a stage whisper, pointing somewhat uselessly at somewhere in the distant hologram. August nevertheless spotted him too: a flash of light blue hair with blonde roots amongst a seat of besuited shoulders. Some of them must have been body guards, because they did an incredibly good job at blocking the Former Crown Princess’s face from view.

August wanted to keep looking, but all of a sudden, the comm on his wrist began buzzing and ringing. He glanced down at the now lit screen, which showed his hospital’s name. “Sorry, I’ve got to take this,” he apologized as Xanier and Milly looked over. The cafeteria was far too loud to answer the call inside. He left his tray behind as he sprinted to the cafeteria doors.

Once the doors closed behind him and the clamour inside was out of earshot, August unfolded his comm and answered the call, holding it up to his ear.

“Hello? August?” The voice of his doctor came through.

“Yes?”

“I have some very exciting news!” the doctor said, before adding, “Some very good news.”

“Really?” August was surprised, and somewhat skeptical. He sat down on one of the cold metal benches nearby, ready to listen. He couldn’t bring himself to expect much, though. He had a very rare autoimmune disease. Even in this advanced age, there was no cure, and very few treatments. Currently, he was taking a combination of Alpha pheromone inhibitors and immune suppressants, but he had already developed a tolerance for most of the inhibitors on the market. He was on his last option, and, once it stopped working, he would say goodbye to his normal life as a “Beta” and watch his body unravel for the last time.

This doctor was a leading expert on the disease, and he’d been preparing August for the inevitable ever since August had become his patient. So this conversation now seemed a little strange. It was hard to fathom what good news could possibly mean.

“Do you remember,” his doctor said, “I told you about an Alpha who treated Alpha pheromone rejection through marking their partner?”

“I think so,” August said skeptically. They had talked about this years ago, but he remembered that it hadn’t been an option for him. It wasn’t really an option for anyone, except that one lucky Alpha. “Didn’t they have to have a 100% pheromone match, or something? And the marking had to be redone, uh, basically all the time?”

“Yes, yes!” The doctor confirmed, a little too cheerfully given the subject. “In order for this treatment to work, the pheromone bond between partners has to be as close to perfect as possible, so that the Alpha is not left with any free-float pheromone after the marking. There is a natural dip for Alphas afterwards, where their body doesn’t produce any more pheromone for 2-3 weeks. So for those 2 or 3 weeks, the Alpha won’t need an inhibitor! Once the pheromone production starts up again, the marking needs to be redone, keeping the pheromones permanently suppressed!”

August sighed, “So, from what I understand, it only works if you can somehow find someone who’s both a perfect match and is, um, willing to have sex with and be marked by you for the, uh, rest of your lives? Yeah, I really envy that one couple! It’s like lottery odds.”

“Yes, exactly! So anyway, I have been looking for Omegas who might be willing to do such a thing. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack, so much discussion with Legal and Ethics... But August! I’ve found an Omega for you.”

What?” For a moment, August like felt his whole body had come unmoored, and had to look down, at his legs, at his feet, at the pavement beneath them, to check that he was still on bench. What his doctor just told him didn’t seem possible.

“Mmm, he’s facing the death penalty—”

At this, August couldn’t help but turn and look back into the cafeteria. The displays had switched to a panel of talking heads, and the Former Crown Princess completely gone. He wondered how many Omegas would be in a similar position to him, all across the Astral Empire.

“—And if you’re compatible, and the treatment works, he’ll get his sentence commuted. He’ll just have to live with you, under house arrest of course, and continue the pheromone therapy!” The doctor finished.

August struggled to fully process what he had just been told. He asked the next most obvious question, “So... what was his crime?”

The doctor seemed to hesitate, “Uhh... let me see...” the sound of typing came through, then abruptly stopped. “Oh! I’m so sorry I forgot about another appointment. I need to go! I’ll send some more details on the comm and we’ll go over the contract at the hospital in a few days. Have some good classes and don’t worry!” The connection went dead.

August’s doctor was on the cutting edge of pheromone science, and as a result he was always in a rush. After the comm went silent, he was mildly unsettled, but it only lasted a moment. As far as crimes went, there were really only a few that carried the death sentence these days, and they were all pretty bad. August, however, decided quickly that he would go through with this no matter what the Omega had done. Everything else about this plan was such a stretch that, if it really worked, he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He smoothly folded his comm back into its watch form and went to finish his lunch.

After school, August went home and headed to his room. He lived with his family in a nice apartment close to the hospital and his university, and from his window he could look into the busy street below or over at blocks of other shiny high-rises. He was long used to view, but sometimes, when he wanted to think about something, he liked to watch the vehicles and people shuttle about.

After looking over the appointment information his doctor had sent him, the new treatment was starting to feel a little more real to August. It was exciting! But it also meant he’d have to mark someone, which he’d never given much thought to before.

As a kid, he’d assumed he would grow up to be a Beta, and romantic things like pheromone compatibility and marking wouldn’t apply to him. As a teen, he starting taking inhibitors as soon as he was diagnosed. As a result, he found out that he wouldn’t be as tall or as strong as a regular Alpha anyway. August generally avoided telling others about his secondary sex, because he didn’t see the point. He was more like a Beta than an Alpha in most regards, so just lived his quiet life among them, and scared off any potential love interest by saying that he was terminally ill.

Now, all of a sudden, he was finding out that he’d have to mark an Omega, and soon! It was something he’d only ever read about before. A marking could only be done when an Omega was in heat, and it had to happen during sex, because of something to do with the endocrine system. He’d heard both that it was painful and that it didn’t really hurt. He’d heard that an Omega’s gland could hold onto an Alpha’s pheromones for up to 6 months, and that no other Alpha would be able to mark them in that time.

August had also heard rumours that Alphas liked to take advantage of Omegas. That they made a status game of who they could mark and how long they could keep them that way. That they were cruel and abusive to Omegas in heat. That they were vicious wild animals in bed. He’d heard that it was a primitive instinct; that it came naturally for them. He didn’t know how much of any of it was true. August had his doubts regarding just how natural anything to do with marking could possibly be for himself, though.

At this point in his ruminating, August’s comm made a dinging noise. He snapped out of his daze and looked at it. Milly had uploaded another video to her true crime channel. This one was titled “HOW THE CROWN PRINCES REALLY DIED”. August needed the distraction, so he sat down on his bed to watch it. He unfolded his comm to its desktop size and set it to float in front of him. In its screen, he could see his friend sitting cross-legged on her desk, with one of her trademark paper timelines running down one side of the wall behind her, and gesticulating with the old-school retractable pointer in her hand.

“So for those who don’t know—and everybody knows, but bear with me here—Crown Prince Alexander died four years ago, apparently from falling off a balcony in his palace during construction. Now, two years ago, his death was officially ruled an accident, and information about the investigation... like, we just don’t know. The royal family never made it public.

“BUT—” Milly leaned towards the camera with clear glee on her face, “—everyone knows that that the Crown Prince’s cousin, Duke Johannes, didn’t like him and was set to become crown prince if he died. And as of today it is a settled FACT that the widowed wife of Crown Prince Alexander KILLED ‘Crown Prince’ Johannes,” the not-so-subtle inflexion in her voice revealing the widely-held belief that Johannes never really deserved the title.

“So. I think that Former Crown Princess Galen knows something we don’t. And I, for one, am inclined to believed him! And I think a lot of us who have been following these cases agree! That’s why I started my petition to reopen the investigation into Crown Prince Alexander’s death, which you can sign below,” Milly ended the video.

August had already signed the petition when Milly had first made it, as a show of support for his friend. He didn’t want to spend any more time thinking about it, though. He looked over at his closet door. It was shut, but he knew that behind it, pushed into a corner, was a box filled with junk labeled ‘GALEN’, still unopened from when his family moved to the capital for him.

“August?” His sister suddenly popped her head through the door. “Mom says supper’s in five!”

“Might as well come out now then,” August replied idly, relieved to have something better to think about. He folded away his comm and followed his sister to dining room.

A few days later August went to the hospital with his family’s lawyer. They followed the directions in the information packet, and found themselves on a quiet floor of the building. The whole area appeared to be for meetings, with glass walls dividing the corridor from the conference rooms to either side. Conspicuously, one of the glass walls was lit up and opaque with colourful images of patient artwork.

August’s lawyer turned to him and said, “Must be it,” opening the door confidently.

August had no time to hesitate as he followed him inside. The room already had a number of people inside of it, but the first thing August noticed was shoulder length blue hair with blond roots, twisted up in a claw clip, seated at the end of the table near the door.