When the dim light that filtered through the cracks in the dungeon ceiling began to slowly paint the walls a pale gray, Omega was no longer asleep. He had not closed his eyes all night, clinging too tightly to the last remnants of his will to allow himself to weaken even for a moment. His body was scorched by fatigue, his skin burned where dirt and traces of other people's touches remained, and his mind swam in a viscous, oppressive fear of the coming day.
Today he would become a wife.
When the grinding of locks tore through the silence of the dungeon, his heart stopped for a moment, and then broke into a mad, convulsive rhythm. Footsteps were heard behind the iron door, and the next moment people burst into the cage. They were not monsters, not strange creatures, but they still felt no less dangerous than monsters.
There were three of them.
Tall, silent, dressed in dark clothes, they acted in unison, as if all their lives they had been doing was putting people from this dungeon in order.
Hands grabbed his shoulders, pulled him up, forcing him to stand up, although his legs refused to obey, sliding on the wet stone.
"No, don't touch me!" The omega screamed in fear. His head began to frantically search for a way to escape, then, changing tactics, he began to cover his head. Afraid that he would be pressed to the floor again.
They didn't give him time to come to his senses. The old maid grabbed him by the shirt, which was already on its last legs, and looked at him with an appraising, but short look.
The omega heard only short commands, devoid of emotion:
"Three hours left."
"Ask to heat water in the trough."
"Prepare some food."
He was dragged somewhere through the corridors, every step was a pain in his body, and tears kept flowing down his cheeks.
They dragged him into a small stone room where a large bowl of water stood in the corner, murky but still warmer than the air of the dungeon. Without warning, he was thrown to his knees in front of the bowl, and one of the two men pressed roughly on the back of his head, plunging his face into the cold liquid.
"Argh aah," the Omega coughed, choking, trying to raise his head, but the iron grip held him in place.
When he was finally pulled out, the water was dripping from his hair, leaving him half-suffocated with fear.
"Maybe cut it?" The man took a lock of his long golden hair in his hand, which caused even more fear in the Omega.
"Ts," the woman tsked, "We only do what the master ordered us to do."
Then they began to wash him without words and without unnecessary movements.
Rough male hands rubbed his skin with rags. When they started rubbing his thighs, the omega began to break free and resist.
"God, don't you like washing?" The woman was indignant. "Now calm down, we're late! - And she continued rubbing his back."
The omega again wanted to cover himself with his hands, to protect himself somehow.
But he had no strength left.
When his skin turned red from friction, they threw him a cloth. It was not clothing, but rather a long piece of white material, thin, almost transparent.
He was ordered to stand up.
He stood up, trembling all over, wrapped himself in the cloth, feeling how it stuck to his skin, hiding nothing.
As he was dragged out of the small room and back into the hallway, Omega realized that the path up would be neither short nor merciful. Step by step, he was led up a spiral staircase, each turn taking him away from the dungeon and bringing him closer to something inevitably terrifying. He had a fleeting desire to return to the dungeon again.
The torchlight grew brighter, the walls wider, the air warmer, but none of these changes brought relief. Each step was like a whip, each breath like a stone in the throat.
When they reached the top, Omega saw the courtyard of the castle.
It was huge, surrounded by high black walls covered in vines so thick and dark that it seemed as if nature itself was trying to hide this world from prying eyes. The cobblestones were dark gray, worn by thousands of feet, and the air was thick with the scent of earth and metal. They took him to the garden annex.
"Take off your clothes" The woman commanded.
"W-what?" The omega cowered in fear in the arms of the two men.
"How you irritate me already!" The woman came up to the guy and pulled the towel off him, - get dressed!
She pointed her finger at a woman's dress hanging on the wall. The dress was a russanka, it was so lacy and shiny that the omega was taken aback for a second.
"But I'm a man," He said, turning to the woman.
"The master said to dress you in this!" She said, no longer hiding her complete irritation.
Without giving the omega another minute to think, they put the dress over his head in a second.
"It fits like a glove! Three days of work wasted!"She clearly praised herself.
The omega looked at himself in the large mirror hanging nearby.
The skirt of the dress hugged his body to the knees, gradually widening at the bottom. The collarbones, neck and arms were covered with a thin, transparent veil. Wide, but naturally thin hips were perfectly emphasized by the dress.
Omega had never been so handsome in his entire life.
Probably, for a second he was pleased with himself, until the particles of pride rebelled
"But I am a man!" He said, turning sharply to the woman, but he saw not her at all...
Outside the window, a crowd had already gathered.
There were many of them - creatures, not quite people, not quite animals. They stood on both sides of the courtyard, silently, lined up in rows. Some had horns, others - tails, fur, strange elongated limbs, beaks instead of mouths, heads, skin color. Everything was frightening. Their faces were simultaneously enthusiastic and hungry, like the faces of parishioners before the altar of sacrifice.
Omega knew he couldn't be seen, but he could still feel their gazes on him, so heavy and assessing.
Two men who were no longer interested in dressing a man as a woman stood at the other end of the room and whispered to each other:
"Will he last?" One of them, the rougher one, with a hoarse voice, doubted.
"He doesn't need to last long," He second one, lazy and satisfied, chuckled," The main thing is for the Lord to put his mark."