I Became the Villain Alpha's Omega (BL)-Chapter 89: A Knot of Blue

The North didn’t just have a harsh winter, it had a soul that seemed to actively dislike anything with a pulse. Cherion was currently sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at a stack of heavy wool tunics and wondering if it was physically possible to die of "too many layers" before the monsters even showed up. His fingers were stiff, not from the cold, but from a sort of frantic, pre-subjugation nerves.

He was reaching for a particularly thick pair of socks when the door didn’t so much open as it exploded with enthusiasm.

"Lord Cherion!"

Reiner swept into the room like a localized hurricane of sunshine. The man was a walking contradiction, he lived in a fortress made of iron and ice, yet he radiated the kind of bubbly energy usually reserved for toddlers or people who had discovered a very large stash of gold. He was carrying a basket so large it looked like it was wearing him, overflowing with spools of thread and dried berries.

"Reiner," Cherion blinked, his hands still clutching the wool socks. "Why do you look like you just won the lottery? We’re about to march into a valley full of monsters and you’re glowing."

Reiner let out a high, melodic laugh that echoed off the stone walls. "Look what I have, Lord Cherion." He reached into the basket and grabbed this tiny, ridiculously detailed woven thing, someone clearly had way too much patience.. "A Northern lucky charm. I make them for everyone. The stable hands, the cooks, the soldiers, everyone who follows the Duke into the valley gets a bit of Reiner’s luck."

He plopped the charm into Cherion’s palm. It was surprisingly heavy.

Cherion looked at it, and for a second, the world tilted.

A memory slammed into his brain. The originals Cherion and Yerel. Ugh...

Cherion flinched, shoulders twitching like he’d just touched something sticky. Just sensing how desperately this body’s previous owner had clung to that yellow-haired boy made his skin crawl.

God, He was a mess, he thought, a sneer tugging at the corner of his lip. He looked down at the sapphire red necklace currently resting against his collarbone. Then he looked at Reiner’s simple, honest charm.

The original Cherion’s taste in men was, frankly, a disaster. He’d basically been a doormat for Yerel’s ego. He touched his necklace. I guess my fate isn’t quite as tragic, he mused. Yes, Zarius is grumpy, silent, and looks like he’s perpetually smelling something bad, but hey, at least he puts his money where his mouth is. It’s a slight upgrade. I’ll take the ’scary Duke’ over the ’deadbeat Prince’ any day.

"Lord Cherion? You’ve gone quite pale," Reiner tilted his head, his smile softening into concern. "Is it the bone? It’s from a mountain goat. Very lucky and sturdy."

"No, no," Cherion shook his head, clearing the mental cobwebs.

Cherion’s gaze lingered on the charm Reiner had made, his thumb tracing the rough texture of the rowan berry. His mind drifted to Zarius. The Duke had been... difficult lately. Well, more difficult than usual. He was practically a walking statue made of ice and bad moods. They hadn’t really talked over the last few days, at least, not in the way they usually did. Cherion would chatter away, filling the silence with his usual energy, only to be met with one-word grunts or a sharp nod.

It was obvious the upcoming subjugation was eating at him. Zarius looked tense, shoulders stiff like he was waiting for the universe to smack him first.

He glanced at Reiner, a dangerous glint of creativity appearing in his eyes. "Teach me. I want to make one. But not just a regular one."

Reiner’s eyes practically did a little dance. "You want to make a charm too? Is it for the Duke? Lord Cherion! My heart is singing! Let me just..." He bolted out of the room before Cherion could finish his sentence, returning seconds later with a mountain of thread, silk, wool, and linen in every color imaginable.

"Pick one! Or two! Or five!" Reiner chirped, waving his hands over the rainbow of textiles. "The color is the soul of the charm, you know."

Cherion looked at the pile. There were forest greens, earthy browns, and even a few strands of ostentatious Southern gold. But his hand moved almost on its own, reaching for a spool of deep, crystalline sapphire. It was a striking, vivid blue.

"This one," Cherion said, holding it up.

Reiner went dead silent for a heartbeat, his gaze darting from the blue thread to Cherion’s own eyes, then back again. A slow, mischievous grin spread across his face.

"Blue," Reiner hummed, his voice thick with a giggling, bubbly sarcasm. "What a... distinctive choice, My Lord."

Cherion was a little confused, but Reiner didn’t bother explaining further. Instead, he showed him the first knot, a complex, looping thing that felt like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube with your toes. "Oh, the Duke will be so happy!"

"Who said it was for him?" Cherion huffed, his fingers fumbling with the thread. "I’m the one who needs luck. I’m the one who doesn’t know how to fight a frost-troll."

"I see," Reiner hummed, his fingers moving like lightning as he started a second charm. "So the Duke gets nothing? How very tragic for him."

"Quiet, you," Cherion muttered, though there was no heat in it.

As they worked, the fireplace quietly popped and crackled in the background. Cherion found himself getting frustrated with the knots, his fingers weren’t built for this kind of delicate "Northern Craft Time."

For the next several hours, the room became a chaotic workshop. Reiner taught, and Cherion practiced, his hands eventually finding a rhythm. Cherion poured everything he had into it. He thought of the way Zarius looked when he was tired. He thought of the weight of the Duke’s responsibility. He poured his own warmth, his own light, into every single loop of the blue thread.

The teasing finally died down, leaving Reiner observing in quiet. He saw the way Cherion was looking at that specific charm, the way he handled it like it was made of thin glass.

"You’re making it slightly crooked," Reiner finally whispered, breaking the spell. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

"It’s not crooked! It’s... textured!" Cherion snapped back, though his ears were pink.

"The Duke will love his textured, blue-eyed lucky charm, Lord Cherion," Reiner giggled, dodging a flying spool of wool.

Cherion looked at the blue knot in his hand. It was a little crooked. It was definitely a bit lumpy. But while he tied it, he’d quietly wished nothing but good things for Zarius.

May your armor be as thick as your skull so nothing actually gets through to the important bits.

May the monsters find you as intimidating and unapproachable as people did.

May no harm come your way and your curse be kept at bay.