Chapter Text
Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Fukurodani lives a Prince by the name of Akaashi Keiji.
And word around town is that Prince Akaashi is a cold-hearted, stone-faced son of a bitch.
Nobody dares to breathe a word of it in the presence of the Prince himself, of course, but everyone who’s anyone is in on this little tidbit.
Not that it matters. Keiji, ever the perceptive one, has picked up on the gossip as soon as it had started to spread.
He knows exactly where it came from. As soon as he hits the ripe old age of 18, his scent had bloomed, finally presenting him as Omega. It threw the royal court into a frenzy. The youngest child of the Akaashi bloodline, son of the legendary fated Alpha-Omega pair of the kingdom of Fukurodani, whose siblings before him had presented beta. Everyone had held their breath, hoping for an Alpha to come to fruition from such a prestigious pairing, but of course Keiji has to be a disappointment.
His mother gave herself exactly 24 hours to mourn the loss of an Alpha child she never got to have before setting out to invite all eligible bachelors from the nearby kingdoms.
The royal family had predicted a simple search, a quick courtship, and a grand wedding - just like the ones Keiji’s older siblings had gone through. There’s just one small problem.
With every prospective Mate brought before him, Keiji had taken a quick sniff, turned his nose up, and rejected them all.
“You smell horrible,” he says bluntly when a suitor, offended, had demanded an explanation from him. “Perhaps you had skipped your morning bath, or maybe you forgot to apply your scented lotions?”
The suitor had to be dragged out of the hall, kicking and screaming, threatening war while Keiji perched regally in his throne, a small smirk on his lips.
The news spread far and wide of an Omegan prince, last born of the royal Akaashis, fair in beauty and sharp in wits, proclaiming that no Alpha smells good enough to be worthy of his hand in marriage. It caused quite an uproar, and several nearby kingdoms even sent messengers with strongly worded letters to chastise him.
Keiji’s mother gave herself exactly 12 hours to lament the stubbornness of her child before spinning it into an opportunity: A challenge, to see who can win Prince Akaashi’s heart and nose. It is to be open to all, with the caveat that participants must be Alphas, and they had to be in possession of a sizable dowry.
When Keiji hears of the edict during his breakfast of porridge and nanohana, he only sighs and steels himself for another ordeal of smelling a bunch of painfully rotten Alpha hormones.
To him, no Alpha has ever smelled of what he’s been told they do. His sister said they smell of strength, of protection, like a tree looking over you as you seek its shelter. His brother said they smell like danger, like excitement, like standing at the edge of a cliff, secure in the knowledge that you are safe but knowing that you could easily fall over.
Keiji thinks they just smell like really bad body odour.
As a precaution, he had asked several of his trusted advisors and friends how he smelled like, thinking that maybe his own scent biology must be interrupting the smell of Alphas. But no - Washio, a beta, says he smells perfectly fine; Onaga, an Alpha, says he smells like fresh flowers; and Yukie, an Omega herself, says he cherry blossoms in full bloom.
He had a week of agonising - he worried himself sick thinking he was broken, endured the long hours sitting on the uncomfortable throne as waves after waves of putrid Alpha hormones wash over him. He even started perusing the biology section of the library, desperate to seek out an answer for his affliction.
So far, it had all been for naught. Keiji remains as he is - Mateless and scent deficient - but he’s slowly coming to terms with his body’s quirks.
Maybe I’m fated to a beta, he mused. Or even an Omega. It would be quite fascinating and illuminating.
His mother, having come to the same conclusion herself, did not find that information interesting at all. This time, she did not set a time limit for her wailing and lamentation.
Keiji’s father, accustomed to the overdramatics of his wife, simply patted his son’s shoulder in a show of solidarity. He has no interest in anything in the field of love and Mates, and for that Keiji is grateful.
Still, the lines that formed as people in pursuit for the Prince’s hand in marriage soon snake out the royal hall, down the gilded corridors, and out of the palace’s gate. Each bachelor brings with them a gift and a foul smell, all painfully eager to have a share of the riches the royal family holds.
Keiji tolerates them the best he can, until one day he can stand it no more.
A soft knock on the door wakes Keiji up from his daydream. A blinks a little, glancing down at the open tome on his lap, groaning when he realised he had been on the same page for the past hour.
The beta servant, Hina, clears her throat. “The Queen Mother has requested your presence in the Great Hall, my Prince.”
Keiji sighs. Not another day of this nonsense. Nevertheless, he puts his book down and stands to stretch, shaking out the cramp that’s starting to form in his leg.
Hina drifts closer, a stack of white bandages in hand. Keiji takes one look and rolls his eyes.
Hina smiles sympathetically, setting her equipment down as Keiji unbuttons his collar. “Apologies, my Prince, but you know how important it is to wear your scent patches.”
Keiji fidgets with his fingers as cool hands carefully sticks the patches on his glands before buttoning up his collar again. “I know, I know. But I’d rather be able to calm myself down with my scent than not be able to smell it at all.”
Hina nods, smoothing out his shirt. At 24, she had recently been recruited to be Keiji’s aid when he presented as Omega. Keiji likes her gentle, no nonsense attitude and has come to regard her as a sister figure.
“Hinaaa…” he whines, a rare moment of vulnerability. “Do you think I could call in sick today? You know how much I hate these things.”
“Now, now Prince Keiji,” she finishes up her spot check on his outfit and pats him firmly on the back. “No playing hooky today. This is a duty you must undertake, just like any others in your family. At the very least, go and greet your guests and make up some excuse of feeling faint to beg yourself off meeting them individually.”
Keiji smiles weakly as he’s gently ushered out of the library. “I’ll do my best.”
Hina gives him another encouraging pat, leaving him to walk the rest of the way himself.
It’s not as if it’s her fault, or even his mother’s. On some level, he understands why she went to such lengths to procure him a mate. As the crowned Prince, it’s a lesson that has been hammered into him his whole life that there are duties he has to fulfil - for the good of the kingdom, for the sake of his legacy.
Still, Keiji yearns for freedom. He wants to tend to his garden, a little plot of land hidden behind the greenhouse. He wants to play volleyball with his friends (servants, Keiji, he can hear his mother say disapprovingly). He wants to read his manga. He wants to work on the adventure novel he has been writing in secret.
For a brief moment, he contemplates just choosing an Alpha with the least offensive smell and getting this whole fiasco over with. It would certainly simplify things.
But then he thinks of how he’d have to endure the entire courting period, the wedding ceremony, and the nights and days spent together - Keiji would rather roll around in mud under the baking hot sun than inflict such damage to himself.
He nods at the butler as he enters through the back door to the Great Hall, taking a moment to steel himself. The smell always takes a while to get used to.
“...The Prince really is a stuck up little thing isn’t he? Always prancing around with his nose in the air, acting like he’s too good for the rest of us.”
“Yeah, he might smell good but what’s the point of a nice scent and good title if he’s such a feisty, arrogant bitch? Personally, I’d rather have an obedient little Omega serving me. Ooh, imagine just how slick he’d be when I -”
Keiji had enough. He whips open the curtain separating the back room from the Great Hall, striding out with a glare at the first two Alphas in line.
The stench nearly makes him stumble, stale sweat and rotten eggs clouding his head in an instant. But his anger keeps him on his feet, and makes him stand strong in his conviction.
“Your secondary gender does not entitle you to a Mate,” he says coldly, softly. “We Omegas have just as much right to choose who we want to marry as you do.” He stares the Alphas down, smirking inwardly as they shrink under his glower. “You two are disgusting and despicable, and your views on Omegas are painfully archaic and outdated. Get out of my sight this instant. You are no longer welcome in my country.”
Keiji settles down in his seat, stoned face. He watched as the two men are dragged away, stammering and stuttering their excuses to deaf ears. The crowd is silent, and Keiji catches the sight of Hina, stationed at the back of the hall, nodding approvingly.
The anger leaves him like the wind, leaving him weary in its wake. He surveys the long line and sighs. “Next.”
The meetings drag on, one suitor after another. Keiji tries his best to be accommodating and polite, even as he rejects them all. The attendant, a tall, lanky man, lists out the next candidate in a droning voice, a never ending list. Keiji starts to feel a headache building.
He stands abruptly, the throne nearly toppling over in his haste. The attendant looks over in surprise, nasally voice pausing in his reading. “My Prince, is everything alright?”
The next Alpha in line, a hopeful young lady in a monstrosity of a dress, steps up. “Prince Keiji, you’re looking a little pale. Would you like to sit down instead?”
She moves closer, walking up the steps in an attempt to hold onto his arm. Her scent grows stronger, a foul odour as she attempts to calm him with her pheromones. Keiji recoils, his breakfast swirling in his stomach and threatening to make an appearance. The Alpha doesn’t seem to notice, crowding closer and closer in that painfully bright pink dress.
“I have to, um, I just gotta -”
The Alpha is way too close now. Even the attendant had stepped in, trying to coax her away. “But Prince Keiji, you don’t look very well!” She says shrilly. Keiji’s head throbs, his nose starting to clog. He gasps for air, struggling to breathe as she gasps his arms. “You need to sit down now. I know a great cure for your affliction but you’ll have to give me your hand.”
“No, no, I just,” Keiji mumbles, craning his neck to turn away from the smell. His vision starts to swim, getting hazy as he searches for an exit.
“Come, Prince Keiji, don’t be so stubborn!”
She pushes in, the taffeta of her sleeves scratching at his fingers. She’s too close now, face to face, scent to scent, and it takes everything in his power not to throw up on her. He sways on his feet, woozy and nauseous.
The last thing Keiji sees when he finally passes out is the hideously pink skirt of his suitor and Hina’s horrified look as he hits the ground. Then, blessed darkness.