Chapter Text
As carefully as he can, Takumi places the invitation back on the table. Looking up to the king, his uncle, and to his father who stands at the king’s right hand side, he says, ‘No.’
The king tuts. As it turns out, he isn’t really asking.
‘It’s a cooking competition,’ he gestures a bit sheepishly to the letter. ‘We thought you would be interested.’
Takumi gives a pointed look towards his father. ‘We?’
‘Any alpha who is an alpha will be there, Takumi,’ his father supplies, ignoring his expression. ‘Just think of all the networking possibilities.’
‘Enough of that,’ the king says, elbowing his brother-in-law. Turning to Takumi, he waggles his eyebrows and nods his head towards the table, the crown on his head tilting forward. ‘Just take a look at him.’
Accompanying the invitation is a potrait of a redhead prince, so Takumi assumes that’s the ‘him’ his uncle is referring to. Surprisingly, it is a prince that Takumi is unaware of, perhaps originating from a kingdom too small to demand any fame. Takumi stares at the golden eyes and the obnoxious grin, and fights a grimace.
Objectively speaking, this Yukihira prince is attractive. Subjectively, Takumi thinks he is pretty in a way all omegas were. Designed to allure.
‘A male omega,’ the king whistles. ‘You know back in my day, they were practically a species of their own. Everyone wanted a piece of that.’
Takumi’s eyes grow pained. ‘Maybe, but I’m not inter-‘
‘Oh for goodness’s sake!’ Takumi’s father snaps, interrupting him. Lips tightening to a thin line, Takumi looks up to meet his father’s glower, both of the Aldini men’s brows furrowing as a familiar arguement begins to brew in the air. ‘Would it kill you to be a bit more enthu-‘
A muscle in Takumi’s jaw twitches. ‘If you think I’m going to be complacent in another one of your political schemes—‘
‘Not this again,’ the king sighed.
‘ Where is the patriotism? You of all people should be aware of the impact the drought has had on our crops this year and resorting to external trade might be our only-‘
‘Can we please go back to discussing about the prince?’
‘To say that I am not surprised that you would resort to complete strangers-‘
‘Why must you two always...’
‘How are you ever going to rule this kingdom if you aren’t willing to go above and beyond for-‘
‘— with Trattoria on the brink of a turnaround, do you honestly think that selling me out as a puppet to some random ome—‘
‘Okay, that’s enough!’ The king slams an open palm on the table. Both father and son open their mouths to say one last thing, but the king raises a hand to stop them.
Sighing, he settles back into his chair. ‘Not everything has to be political. It’s only a little cooking competition.’
‘It says whoever triumphs wins the prince’s hand,’ Takumi said, pointing at the letter. He jabs a thumb at his father. ‘He wants to trade marriage for a few more eggs.’
‘Some people have sacrificed worse, Takumi,’ his father mutters, rolling his eyes. ‘Besides, aren’t you getting too old to be a bachelor?’
‘If the boy isn’t ready, the boy isn’t ready,’ the king says firmly. ‘You don’t have to win, son.’
Takumi huffs, crossing his arms obstinately. ‘I would rather I didn’t go to this circus at all.’
‘That’s entirely out of my hands, unfortunately,’ the king shrugs. ‘We decided this would be the best for you.’
Takumi looks between his uncle and father, feeling as if he’s missing something. ‘And why would this...’
The king scratches the back of his neck nervously, gaze shifting away from him. ‘We know it’s not really any of our business, but we’ve noticed that you aren’t really putting yourself out there. You haven’t shown much interest in anyone around Trattoria...’
Takumi can feel his hackles rising. ‘Oh, so you are playing matchmaking now! What happened to 'he isn't ready' then! My love life does not concern you.’
The king and his father trade glances, before his uncle softly chuckles underneath his breath.
‘Maybe not us,’ his uncle says with a pause. ‘But it’s worrying your mother.’
And just like that, the matter is settled.
Despite the heavy crown on his head, even the king is second to Princess Eleonara Aldini. Whatever his sister says, goes.
His father smirks. Takumi glowers.
⟢
What Takumi lacks in enthusiasm, his brother Isami makes up for in preparation.
‘You really didn’t have to accompany me, mio gemello,’ Takumi says hesitantly, watching as his twin unloads baskets after baskets of ingredients. Takumi’s eye briefly catches another alpha slowly walk past him, slowly sizing him up. Isami seems unaware of the spectacle he is making, even as he draws the gaze of a whole crowd of displeased alphas. The majority of them keep sending Takumi dirty looks for no apparent reason.
Well, probably because he is letting his omega brother do all the work.
He snatches the basket of tomatoes from the carriage before Isami can even blink. His twin stumbles back, blinking in surprise at the action.
‘That one is kind of hea—‘
‘I got it,’ Takumi snaps, hefting it up. The basket looks deceptively lighter than what it feels. Takumi pulls a face as he struggles to set it down. What the hell did Isami think he would use all these tomatoes on anyway? Did they not live through the same drought?
As if sensing his thoughts, his twin brother places a hand on his shoulder to assuage him.
‘It’s all about the investment,’ Isami says easily. ‘Don’t worry about what you are putting in, but think instead of what you are getting from this?’
‘Trade agreements?’
‘Trade?’ Isami frowns. ‘Where’s the romance in that?’
Takumi groans, rubbing his back. He should really lift more and stop all that running he’s been doing. Where was the strength?
‘Isami, we’ve been through this. I’m not here for the prince.’
‘I didn’t think you were serious,’ Isami’s face falls, his body visibly slumping in disappointment. ‘You can’t let anyone know that you are here for eggs. I won’t forgive you.’
‘You would rather I tell everyone that I’m just another knothead alpha here to prove than he can provide better than the next one,’ Takumi scoffs displeased. ‘I thought you omegas didn’t like being trophies.’
‘Some of us don’t,’ Isami shrugs, his eyes growing a little glassy. ‘But sometimes we can dream.’
Takumi steps back, horrified as his brother’s ripe scent floods the air with pheromones. ‘You don’t have your blockers on?’
‘Well, I figure if you aren’t here to find someone,’ Isami says easily, ‘then at least one of us should.’
‘Isami!’ Takumi hisses. ‘There are at least a hundred alphas here. Don’t you think that’s a bit irresponsible?
‘I think it’s about how you look at things, mio fratello. There’s at least a hundred alphas here. And whoever this omega prince, he is only going to choose one,’ Isami counters. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit irresistible?’
Takumi’s nose wrinkles in disgust as he watches his brother turn from him and flash a blinding smile to the audience he has gathered. It’s so subtle, an untrained eye wouldn’t even notice, but Takumi watches it all unfold like it has for the past twenty years. The alphas all around them catch the scent of an omega perusing, and they subconsciously turn toward his brother. Isami’s smile grows wider, his eyes a little darker and the alphas around him lose their minds. They step out, eager to please, all of them noticing the baskets of food all around Isami.
It’s a rat race, as the small group struggles to be first to help, bending over to lift the baskets and completely forgetting that they were here for... another omega. Isami doesn’t even seem to care about any of them, stepping back into the comfort of his beta bodyguards and watching it all unfold with an amused smirk.
It’s a power that both fascinates and irks Takumi. It’s fascinating because who wouldn’t want to capitalise and exploit sexualisation and objectification for personal benefit.
It irks Takumi because he doesn’t understand.
⟢
There was a time once when Takumi thought he would be one of those stereotypical alphas, who took one whiff and went jelly. He used to have nightmares where he gave up his everything, his family, his brother, his entire collection of scarves just because some unknown mate of his demanded it and he was powerless to say no.
But over the years, he grew up and got more and more exposed to the public and the world and he ... he realised.
He was broken.
Because not once, not a single day, hour or minute, did he ever feel it. Feel whatever the alphas swore he would feel when he met the one.
And he met a lot.
Being the Alpha nephew of a king meant a couple dozen people threw themselves at him everyday, and amongst the dozens, there were a few sprinkles of omegas here and there.
Nothing.
All omegas were attractive. They were intentionally sculpted to demand attention. But he couldn’t be enticed.
⟢
An alpha pushes him away from his own carriage to grab the last bag of onions. Another reaches for the same bag at the same time. They pause as their hands come to meet on top of the onions. One second. Two. And a fight breaks out.
Takumi watches the fangs and claws pop out as the two wrestle each other to the ground.
He’s not the one broken, he decides as he bends to lift the long forgotten onions off the ground. He’s the only one sane.
He’s immune.
He takes comfort in this. A small advantage, but today he revels in the fact that his scarves survive another day, knowing that he will never be one of these stupid dumb Alphas anyway.
He’s no omega simp.
At least he isn’t. Until Prince Souma steps out.