Two Omegas

[Full rewrite, slowly getting back into the swing of updates...]

[Complete outline, definitely won't abandon this story. Thanks for sticking with me.]

You open your eyes and have forgotten your name, your family and friends, even your gender. In a dazed state of "Who am I? Where am I? What am I supposed to do?", you find yourself with an astonishing fortune and an exceedingly noble title. You have wealth, knights, castles, and a booming economy, military, and technology.

You lie back, feeling at ease, and go to sleep.

When you open your eyes again, you realize this good fortune is nothing but a hollow shell. Others have taken control of your vast power, and the people and resources of this planet are theirs to mold as they please. The flesh and blood of those who have differentiated as omegas is ground into the steps of a staircase, while the powerful lounge on a gold-trimmed red carpet woven from human bones and sorrow.

You jolt upright. Thank goodness you're an alpha.

You believe in preparing for danger even in times of peace. Unable to accept this world, you feel you have to do something. You try to break free of your puppet status, and by a twist of fate, you acquire an omega. Perhaps you can use him to test the limits, pass along information, confuse your opponents, and shape your public image.

You don't intend to mark him or torment him, but you underestimate the poor omega's biological need for an alpha's comfort. That night, he goes into heat in your room. You urgently remind yourself that you must suppress your biological urges. You can give him a temporary mark, but you mustn't form a deeper bond with anyone.

In truth, you needn't have worried.

His scent nearly makes you throw up your guts.

Belatedly, you retreat with your left and right feet moving in unison, then slump against the sofa, wishing you could light a cigar. You no longer dare lie back and do sit-ups on the earl's five-hundred-square-meter bed.

Alphas and omegas are intensely repelled by each other's pheromones.

Oh, shit. You're actually an omega.

If you remember correctly, omegas pretending to be alphas get killed.

★

You are a top-tier assassin, ruthless and skilled at disguising your true nature. You have nailed the world to a book of atonement. In your "righteous" view, all alphas who oppress omegas deserve to die. But the vast biological gap between you means you can only take their lives during a night of passion.

You move along the fringes of the underworld, seeing omegas only as your own kind. In silence, you endure the frequent deaths of your kin in ways too horrifying to imagine.

The dark, twisted web of power in this world slowly converges on the alpha seated at the heart of the earl's castle.

Years of silence and restraint have only fueled your fury and deepened your resolve. You prepare, bide your time, and plot with meticulous care. At last, you get close to him and ensnare him.

But your plan goes awry. He remains unmoved, never enters rut, and doesn't mark you. You have no confidence you can kill him in one blow. As you spend more time together, you absurdly begin to think he might be different... only for him to casually hand you over to someone else without a trace of attachment. You no longer expect anything from the vile gender known as alphas. The assassin's blade is already thirsty for blood.

You are certain he must be impotent, with a physical defect and a twisted mind that have made him a psychopath. Tirelessly, you observe the smallest details with razor-sharp intelligence, and correctly predict which ship he will flee on after losing control.

A sharp, delicate blade is hidden in your palm. You sprint silently at full speed, counting your steps before turning to see how you will grab that alpha by the hair and slit his throat, forcing this distorted world to a halt.

But as you round the corner, you see only a figure collapsed on the ground, too weak with pain to crawl, reduced to little more than a skeleton. A faint smell of blood drifts through the air. The strange scent is so repulsive that you nearly throw up on the spot.

Your reaction is a pitiful mess. Shock surges through you, because you know:

That is an omega, one of the "same kind" you have protected day and night.

The face lifting sharply from beneath bloodstained hair is the very one you have imagined piercing night after night.

Your knife suddenly slips in your hand.

1. Also titled Raising an Alpha's Skirt

2. Both are omegas. They stay together, and the earl is the bottom.

3. Dystopian, mildly Platonic.

4. A lunatic pretending to be normal x a normal person pretending to be insane.

5. So many potential triggers that they can't all be avoided. Read with caution. No children. Any other trigger you can think of might appear.

6. Writing with complete freedom.

Theme: All people are equal.