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Loqi just wanted to show the visiting Lucian prince around, flaunt the splendour of Gralea, that sort of thing. But Prince Noctis has become curiously distracted by a generic MT unit in the royal wing. It’s nothing special, just a guard, but honestly the Lucian savages are so simple that even a basic MT seems to fascinate them.
“I thought there were all green.” The Prince remarks tugging a strand of fluffy gold-blonde hair out from under the helmet of the passive MT.
“Princess Kristina prefers a minimally modified models to guard this particular wing. She doesn’t want the units scaring his Excellency’s grandchildren.”
“Interesting,” the Prince hums, continuing to harass the MT by tugging it’s helmet off all together. He gets a good look at the guard this way.
Loqi’s not impressed, of course, it’s just an MT but Niff men are beautiful with their blonde hair and blue eyes. He supposes the Prince doesn’t see a lot of them on that hellish continent he calls a kingdom. He’s seen this model around. Its hair is particularly intransient to styling but that’s irrelevant. The fluffy hair has more bounce in it than the MT himself. He’s just a doll. He’s made of flesh and blood but he just stands there. He’s not even looking at the Lucian Prince who ruffles his hair.
“Are they omegas or alphas?” The Prince continues to pester Loqi.
“Betas, of course. They don’t need to reproduce so—”
“Doesn’t smell like a beta.” The Prince sniffs brazenly, getting right up in the little guard’s face.
“Well they’re all cloned from Minister Besithia, originally, and he is an omega but those traits are dormant in MTs. They’re sexless. They don’t—” Loqi tries to explain.
“Highness,” Lord Scientia hisses pointedly, at once warning the Prince and simultaneously suggesting to Loqi that Prince Noctis does shit like this all the time.
Prince Noctis pulls the MT against him by its uniformed hips and dropping his head growls, nosing, against its jaw. Loqi’s an alpha himself but royal alphas are an entirely different class, especially when they have magic, still that doesn’t mean—
The MT seems unmoved, for a second, but then it’s eyes scrunch shut like it’s trying to contain itself.
That’s not possible…?
Loqi watches, spellbound, as Prince Noctis snaps at the MT’s jaw, growling low and thick, demanding the little doll roll over. It’s a toy though. It’s not capable of giving into instincts it doesn’t have. Shouldn’t have anyway. Those cells should be dormant. But the MT looks to be trembling and—
The MT drops his polearm and scrambles his arms around Prince Noctis’ shoulders, head dropping to the side to expose the full length of his neck submissively. Prince Noctis’ shifts gears, slipping into a rolling purr that makes even Loqi’s thighs clench, and nuzzles at the MT’s presented glands. His arms lock around the guard and the MT, the thing which shouldn’t be affected at all, makes a sound that Loqi keeps telling himself can’t be a moan but given how the blonde is pressing up against the Prince…
Prince Noctis lifts his head, seeming to be the only thing holding the shuddering MT on his feet, and laughs;
“Definitely omegas.”
Loqi swallows thickly.
“Highness,” Lord Scientia presses again, gently.
“General Tummelt,” Prince Noctis bumps the MT against him, making it yelp adorably. “Can I keep this one? You’ve got thousands, right?”
Loqi considers it for a second. Giving gifts is a good political strategy, supposedly, but he’s sure Minister Besithia would like to cut this MT open and figure out the root cause of the flaw at work here. The MT tucks it’s head under Prince Noctis’ chin, clinging to him, and Loqi sighs. Yeah, this one’s useless to them now. Totally lost to the wiles of a Lucian alpha. Fuck.
Weighing the options…
“Of course, Highness,” Loqi concedes.
Lord Scientia sighs.
Yeah, the Prince is obviously a brat.