Chapter Text
The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow that bathed the kingdom of South Kingdom in a shimmering embrace. It was a land of breathtaking beauty, where emerald jungles kissed the edges of sapphire waters, and towering peaks rose like ancient sentinels, standing watch over a vibrant, sprawling city. At the heart of this picturesque kingdom, a grand castle stood tall, its marble walls gleaming with a history of power, peace, and unbroken lineage. It was here that Prince Jeff was born, the omega heir to the throne, a prince whose radiance rivaled the very sun that bathed his world in light.
From the day he had entered the world, it was clear that Jeff was no ordinary child. With soft, dark brown hair that rippled like silk under the sunlight, eyes that sparkled with a depth only the stars could rival, and a smile so warm it could melt the chill of any winter, Jeff became a symbol of hope and grace to his people. The kingdom, though rich in traditions and stories of past monarchs, had never seen a royal quite like him. Jeff wasn’t just adored for his striking beauty—his true gift was his spirit. He embodied everything that the South Kingdom stood for: kindness, wisdom, and a quiet strength that made him a beacon of love to all who encountered him.
As the omega heir to the throne, Jeff was not expected to rule with an iron fist of power like the late Alpha King. His gentle nature and diplomatic approach were seen as blessings rather than weaknesses. The kingdom had long embraced the belief that power lay not in domination, but in understanding, in nurturing the land and its people, and so, from an early age, Jeff was taught not only the ways of governance but also the values of empathy, compassion, and the importance of community.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” a chorus of soft voices greeted as Jeff walked down the polished corridors of the palace. The royal maids, dressed in their elegant, pristine uniforms, paused their work to offer him warm smiles and graceful curtsies. His every movement seemed to leave an impression—his steps were light, like a gentle breeze that whispered through the air, his presence like a breath of fresh air in the otherwise bustling, formal halls of the palace.
The people adored him, not just because of his royal blood, but because of his unpretentious nature. He treated everyone with the same respect, whether they were high-ranking ministers, humble servants, or the guards standing at their posts. To them, Jeff was not a distant, untouchable figure in a gilded cage, but a friend, a confidant, and a shining example of what leadership could be.
Even the guards, their armor gleaming in the early light, greeted him with respectful nods, their faces softening with admiration. The sight of Jeff was like a soothing balm in the often tense atmosphere of the palace, where politics and power quietly unfolded in the background. His beauty, undeniably otherworldly, was complemented by the grace in his every word and the kindness that flowed from him like an endless stream. This combination truly captivated the hearts of those who served him. If given the chance, the guards would willingly die for their future king, no matter the cost.
Jeff’s beauty, however, went beyond his appearance. His eyes, a brilliant shade of dark amber, had an almost ethereal quality to them—eyes that sparkled with intelligence and curiosity about the world. They were eyes that seemed to see straight to the heart of a person, eyes that could understand, comfort, and even heal. People often said his eyes were windows to a soul that could hold the entire kingdom within it—a soul that felt deeply, loved freely, and gave of itself without hesitation.
But it was his smile—gentle, warm, and always genuine—that truly made people feel seen, heard, and valued. When Jeff smiled, it was as if the world itself smiled with him, and for a moment, all worries faded into the background.
This morning, like many others, Jeff found himself walking through the lush palace gardens, where the scent of blooming lilies and lavenders filled the air, and the cool, early breeze whispered through the trees. The garden was his sanctuary, a place of peace away from the formality of palace life, where he could let go of the weight of expectations and simply exist as himself.
He paused near a small cluster of roses, his hands gently caressing the delicate petals, his fingers brushing against the soft blooms as if greeting old friends. The tranquility of the moment was broken by a sudden rustling in the bushes nearby. Jeff turned, his eyes catching sight of a tiny bunny that had hopped out from behind the thick greenery. A soft laugh escaped him, and with a warmth that seemed to radiate from his very being, he knelt down, extending his hands to the little creature.
“Well, hello there, little buddy,” Jeff cooed, his voice gentle, as he scooped the bunny into his arms. The soft, furry creature nuzzled into the crook of his arm, and Jeff smiled, his heart swelling with affection. “What a beautiful day, isn’t it? You must be enjoying it as much as I am.” He walked slowly through the garden, the bunny nestled peacefully in his embrace, its soft fur a comforting weight against his chest.
“Your Highness, you’re here!” The gardener, an elderly man with kind eyes and a weathered face looked up with a surprised yet delighted expression as he spotted the prince. His wrinkled hands, which had tended to the garden for many years, paused mid-action as he stood upright, bowing deeply in respect. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the prince, whose presence seemed to fill the garden with an extra layer of warmth.
“Who is this little friend?” the gardener asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he lightly stroked the bunny’s soft head, making the small creature twitch its nose in response.
“I just met him in the bushes,” Jeff said with a soft laugh, his voice light and full of mirth. “I thought you might know where his family is. I can’t leave him all alone.”
Just as Jeff was about to walk with the gardener, a royal guard appeared at the end of the path, his silhouette sharp and regal against the backdrop of the morning sun. The guard bowed respectfully before Jeff, his tone both deferential and urgent. “Your Highness, Her Majesty has requested your presence in the common room as soon as possible.”
Jeff’s smile deepened, a soft warmth flickering in his gaze. “Of course. Thank you.”
The gardener chuckled, his heart swelling with affection for the young prince. “Don’t worry, Your Highness. I’ll take good care of him. You go ahead now, the Queen is waiting for you.”
Jeff nodded, a small, knowing smile on his lips as he gently handed the bunny to the gardener. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” He patted the gardener’s shoulder with a familiarity that spoke of years of shared moments and quiet understanding.
He turned away from the garden, offering the gardener one last wave, his steps light and graceful as he made his way toward the palace wing where his mother, Queen Saitip, awaited.
Queen Saitip, the revered ruler of the South Kingdom, was a woman of unmatched grace and wisdom. Her very presence commanded respect, her every movement a testament to the power she held, though it was never wielded with cruelty. Instead, her reign was marked by a delicate balance of strength and gentleness—a ruler who could command armies with the same poise with which she guided her people. Her intellect and compassion were legendary, making her both adored and revered throughout the kingdom. But despite her regal authority, it was her son, Prince Jeff, who had come to be seen as the future—the embodiment of hope, renewal, and light for the kingdom.
As Jeff entered the grand common room, a soft, fragrant breeze of jasmine tea wafted through the air, filling the space with its soothing, calming scent. The room was a sanctuary of tranquility, a marked contrast to the vibrant energy that pulsed through the palace courtyards, where preparations for the grand ball were underway. The elegant wooden walls, draped with tapestries depicting the kingdom’s illustrious history, exuded the quiet dignity of royal heritage, and the polished furniture gleamed with a polished reverence that mirrored the royal family’s legacy.
Queen Saitip sat at the center of it all, perched gracefully at a long, carved table. A book was nestled in one hand, and a delicate teacup, fine porcelain embossed with gold, rested lightly in the other. She was a vision of quiet authority—elegant, serene, and yet deeply in tune with the world around her. Her sharp gaze softened as her eyes found her son entering the room, her lips curving upward into a smile that was a blend of pride and affection.
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” Jeff greeted, his voice rich and full of reverence, as he bowed deeply, as was tradition. His movements were fluid, and refined—each gesture a testament to the grace instilled in him by years of royal tutelage.
The queen placed the book down with the smallest of sounds, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she rose to meet him. Her smile widened as she approached, her arms opening wide in a gesture of warmth.
“Ah, my son,” Queen Saitip said, her voice both tender and filled with pride. Her eyes sparkled with an unspoken love as she embraced him, holding him close for a moment that seemed to stretch through time. “You’ve grown into such a fine young man.” Her fingers lightly brushed against his back, a silent reminder of the bond they shared—one that had been forged through years of both challenge and tenderness.
Jeff held her tightly, his chest swelling with affection, the weight of her words settling deep within him. For all her strength, his mother was the one person who always made him feel safe, and grounded.
"Oh my," Queen Saitip teased as she pulled back from the embrace, her gaze soft but teasing. "You’ve grown into a man. Your mother can't hold you like before, can she?" Her fingers lingered on his shoulders, brushing against his royal attire.
Jeff smiled sheepishly, pouting in playful protest. “Are you saying your son has gotten fat, Mother?”
A soft laugh bubbled from the queen, her voice musical and light. “No, my dear,” she replied, her eyes twinkling with mirth. “What I mean is that you have come of age. Soon, you’ll be the one standing tall, leading our people. Your mother can’t baby you anymore.” She gave him a gentle pinch on his cheek, as she had when he was younger, the affection unmistakable.
The bond between mother and son was undeniable. It had always been their quiet understanding—one forged in the chambers of the palace, in the quiet mornings and late-night talks where Queen Saitip had imparted both wisdom and care. As a young child, Jeff had watched his mother govern with wisdom and patience, and she had seen in him not just the future ruler, but a man capable of wielding leadership with the same grace and empathy.
Queen Saitip had raised Jeff not to dominate, but to understand. To wield power not as a weapon, but as a means to bring peace to his people and it was this that had made him beloved—not just his appearance, but his innate goodness, his unflinching desire to care for those around him.
"Are you excited for the ball later?” Queen Saitip asked, her voice softening as she filled a teacup for Jeff. Her hands were steady, and practiced, though her concern was evident in the way her eyes lingered on her son. “I heard many princesses and princes are coming from international waters and neighboring kingdoms."
Jeff's smile faltered slightly, his fingers tightening around the teacup as he took a slow sip, allowing the warmth to comfort him. He leaned back in his chair, his expression darkening with uncertainty.
"Mother," Jeff said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, “It’s not going to be easy. Some people are still struggling to accept that the next King is an omega. You expect me to find an alpha willing to…” His voice trailed off as he looked at his mother, the frustration building in him again. “I don’t know if I can do this. You’ve read too many of those romance novels, haven’t you?” His tone was playful, but it carried the weight of his true concern.
The queen’s eyes twinkled with an impish gleam, a hint of playfulness beneath the regal poise. “Who knows, Jeff? It’s not about submitting to an omega; it’s about submitting to his wife.”
Jeff nearly choked on his tea, his face flushing a deep crimson. “Wife?!” He sputtered, blinking in disbelief. “Mother, you’re always teasing me!”
Queen Saitip’s laugh was soft and melodic, filling the room with a comforting warmth. “Even now, you act more like a wife than a husband,” she said with a raised eyebrow, watching him squirm. “Are you saying I’m wrong?”
Jeff groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t want anyone trying to change who I am, Mother…” He spoke softly, almost pleading. “The thought of sharing my throne with someone, trusting them with everything…it’s such a huge responsibility.”
“It’s not about sharing the throne, but sharing the responsibility,” the Queen says as she looks at Jeff, who gazes down at his tea without saying anything.
Queen Saitip’s gaze softened, and she set her teacup down with deliberate care. Her voice grew serious, a subtle shift that signaled the depth of the conversation. “Jeff,” she began, her tone firm but full of love, “Ruling this kingdom will not be easy. You are more than capable of managing the council, leading the troops, and making decisions, but there is more to being a king than that. You need someone by your side, someone who can help you carry that weight. You need a partner, not just a consort.”
Her words hung in the air, deepening the silence between them. Jeff’s heart ached as he processed the gravity of her meaning. He knew she was right—leading the kingdom was not something one could do alone but the thought of trusting another person with such responsibility terrified him. His kingdom, his people—how could he risk everything on someone else? How could he share the mantle of leadership? Especially an alpha he doesn’t know?
“I’m not forcing you into marriage, Jeff,” Queen Saitip continued, her voice gentle but resolute. “This is your life, and I trust you to choose when the time is right but I ask only one thing: Find someone who can be by your side. You’re not meant to do this alone.”
Jeff looked down, his brows furrowing as a thought crossed his mind. “How about my brother? I don’t need to marry, we could lead the people side by side.”
The queen’s expression softened, and she sighed quietly, brushing a stray lock of hair from Jeff’s forehead. “If only it were possible, darling,” she murmured, her fingers gently caressing his cheek in a motherly gesture.
Her touch was tender, but her words carried a weight, and Jeff could feel the truth behind them—a truth that lingered in the air like a distant, unreachable star.
The silence stretched long between them, the weight of the conversation settling heavily on Jeff’s chest. He sat motionless momentarily, his thoughts swirling as he processed his mother’s words. His mind raced with uncertainties, yet his heart yearned for the clarity he could not grasp. Slowly, he nodded, but deep inside, doubt still clung to him, wrapping around his thoughts like a shadow.
Later, after the conversation, Jeff retired to his study room, his thoughts heavy with uncertainty. The kingdom was full of life, and the preparations for the royal ball buzzed in the air—tonight would be a night of celebration. The grand hall would be alive with music, laughter, and the joyous faces of the kingdom’s finest but as Jeff walked through the grand corridors toward his rooms, his mind wandered to his mother’s words, and the weight of it all seemed to grow heavier with every step.
He found himself veering from the bustling preparations, seeking solace in an alcove in his study room which he often used as a retreat. It was small and quiet, a place to think when the pressures of royal life became too much. Sitting on the padded bench, he closed his eyes, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.
“What am I doing?” he wondered. “Am I ready for this?”
The weight of his future hung over him. The ball later that evening, the first true test of his place as the future king, filled him with a sense of unease. Could he live up to the expectations? Could he fill the shoes of his late father, a king revered by all? Jeff did not have the answers, but for a fleeting moment, he wished he did.
A soft rustling sound behind him broke the silence. Startled, Jeff turned to see his cousin, Princess Belle, standing at the entrance of the room. Her slender figure framed by the archway, Belle seemed to almost float in the soft light, her presence as serene as it was captivating. Though still young, she had inherited the grace and elegance of the royal family, and like Jeff, she carried herself with a quiet dignity.
Belle's beauty was striking in its delicacy, reminiscent of a porcelain doll—her fair skin smooth and flawless, with a soft glow that seemed to radiate from within. Her features were fine and precise, with high cheekbones and a gentle, rounded jawline that enhanced her youthful, doll-like appearance. Her dark, almond-shaped eyes, fringed with thick lashes, held a quiet intelligence and an almost ethereal quality, while her full lips held a soft, serene smile that rarely wavered. Her long, dark hair cascaded in gentle waves, the strands catching the light and framing her face like the finest silk.
She moved with effortless grace, each step light and purposeful, as though the air itself yielded to her presence. Though she was not the kind of person to seek attention, her stillness and poise had an undeniable power—a power that made it clear she belonged to the royal lineage, even if she rarely sought to assert her place.
"You’ve been avoiding the ball preparations," Princess Belle remarked, her voice soft but unwavering, a note of understanding in her tone. "And avoiding your own thoughts, it seems."
Jeff shifted uncomfortably, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m just…not sure I’m ready,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “How am I supposed to be king when I don’t even know who I am yet?”
Belle knelt before him, her hands resting on his knees as she locked eyes with him. “Being king doesn’t mean you have to be perfect,” she said, her voice steady, yet filled with warmth. “It means you are true to yourself, to your heart. The people already love you, P’Jeff. Trust that love. Trust in yourself.”
Her words settled over him like a balm, calming the storm that had been raging in his mind. For the first time in what felt like days, Jeff felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could do this.
“I’ll do my best,” he whispered, his voice firmer now than it had been hours ago.
Belle smiled a warm and knowing expression that seemed to light up the entire alcove. It was a smile that spoke of a deep understanding—a silent promise that everything would be okay. Gently, she placed a hand on Jeff’s shoulder, offering him a reassuring touch before rising to her feet with a grace that only someone of her royal lineage could possess. “You’ll do more than that, P’Jeff,” she said softly, her voice imbued with a quiet confidence. “You’ll lead with the wisdom and kindness that are already within you. And remember—you are never alone.”
As she stood, a glint of mischief appeared in her eyes, the playful spark dancing like firelight in the shadows. The momentary shift in her expression caught Jeff off guard. “I heard there are a lot of princes and princesses attending the ball,” she teased, her lips curling into a sly smile. “You never know, maybe someone will catch your eye.”
A soft, melodic giggle bubbled from her lips as she met his gaze, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Jeff couldn’t help but pout in response, his expression one of feigned annoyance. “Mother said the same thing. Both of you are into those romantic novels too much,” he remarked with a raised brow, his voice tinged with playful exasperation.
“Have you actually studied for your final exams?” Jeff added, his gaze narrowing slightly, an amused challenge in his tone. Belle, taken aback, immediately raised her chin in defiance, her lip jutting out in a mock pout.
“Hey, even if I fail, I can always take it again,” she defended herself with a shrug, her voice light but filled with youthful conviction.
Jeff chuckled softly at her boldness. “Yeah, but Uncle will scold you for sure,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back on the stone bench. Belle sighed dramatically, her shoulders slumping as she let out an exaggerated groan.
“You’re changing the subject!” she said, her voice rising with playful annoyance as she placed her hands on her hips, a stance that looked more like a frustrated child than a poised royal princess.
“Well,” Jeff began, his eyes drifting to the window as he stared out at the view beyond, his mind lost in thought for a moment. “I’m sure you’ll meet someone. There are plenty of alphas out there who’d be more than willing to be smitten by an omega like you, Phi. You’re handsome, kind, and everything nice. I’m sure everyone would take a liking to you.”
Jeff’s smile softened, a genuine fondness for his cousin shining through his teasing. “I don’t want to marry anyone,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a weight that belied the casual words. He glanced at Belle, meeting her gaze with a serious expression, but his eyes softened with the underlying vulnerability only she could read.
Belle’s smile faltered just slightly, her playful demeanor shifting to one of understanding. She leaned in closer, her voice lowering to a more sincere tone. “At least give someone a chance. You never know. You might meet someone amazing. Or at the very least, a great companion.”
Her words hung in the air for a moment, like a gentle plea for him to open himself to the possibilities of love, companionship, and the future. Jeff’s lips twitched into a soft smile, his head shaking as he rolled his eyes affectionately.
“You and your ideas,” he murmured, a fond smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Belle giggled lightly, as if the exchange had lightened his mood, and Jeff’s heart felt a little lighter too.
Just then, the sound of his phone ringing interrupted the moment. Startled, Jeff reached for it, glancing at the screen. “It’s my friend from England,” he said, his expression shifting to more serious. Belle, seeing his attention shift, stood up slowly, giving him a warm but knowing look.
“Well, don’t take too long, Phi,” she said with a teasing tone, though her voice was gentle and affectionate. “You still have to get ready soon. I’ll see you later.”
With that, Belle left the study, her light footsteps fading into the distance, leaving Jeff to think, his mind turning over the conversation. The ball, his future, and the weight of expectations all pressed on him, but for a moment, Belle’s words lingered in his mind. He was never truly alone—he had his family, his friends, and the people who believed in him.
As the sound of Belle’s retreating footsteps faded into the distance, Jeff couldn’t help but smile softly to himself, his heart feeling a little lighter, his resolve a little stronger. It was as if the weight of the world had been momentarily lifted off his shoulders. Belle’s words, full of playful teasing yet underlined with sincere care, echoed in his mind. She had a way of making everything feel more manageable, even when it all seemed too much.
He closed the door behind him with a quiet click, a soft exhale leaving his lips as he leaned back against it for a moment. He let the calm settle around him before walking over to his desk, where his phone sat, buzzing with an incoming call. The screen flashed with a name that made his stomach flutter—a name he’d never dared to say aloud, not to anyone.
With a sigh, Jeff picked up the phone, his finger swiping across the screen to answer the call. "Hey," came the voice on the other end, soft but familiar, carrying the same warmth that always made Jeff feel like everything was going to be okay.
“Don’t hey me!” Jeff’s voice was playful, but there was a sharpness to it, a hint of frustration in the way his brows furrowed. “I’m still mad that you’re not coming today.”
The voice on the other end chuckled, the sound of it a balm to Jeff’s simmering irritation. “Sorry. I still can’t celebrate with you in the open, anyway,” the person replied, their tone tinged with regret.
Jeff’s lips pouted in mock disapproval as his mind wandered. He let out a long sigh. “Well, at least you could’ve been here. We could’ve celebrated like old times,” he said, his voice softening as the longing in his chest grew. “We could’ve snuck into the secret tunnels beneath the castle, met up at the hidden chamber, and celebrated just the two of us. Coming of age is a big deal, you know? It’s important to celebrate, and yet...we can’t even do that together. It’s unfair…I’m sorry.”
There was a pause, just a moment of silence before the voice returned. “Phi! It’s okay. Don’t be sad. I’ll be back, and I’ll give you your gift soon.” The tone was light, but Jeff could hear the sincerity beneath it, the unspoken promise. “Come on, Phi,” the voice continued, and Jeff’s heart skipped, he was happy, the warmth that seemed to bleed through the phone. “I’ll be home soon . Wait for me phi .”
Jeff smiled at the thought, the small comfort bringing a brief moment of peace. “Just think of me like I’m right there next to you, always,” he said, his voice softening as he spoke, as though the words held some hidden depth only the two of them shared.
The voice on the other end responded with a few more words, but Jeff barely heard them, his thoughts drifting back to the memories of their quiet moments together—too many to count, too precious to put into words. After a few more exchanges, the call ended with a quiet click , and Jeff was left holding the phone for a moment, staring at the screen, as if expecting something more.
He placed the phone down on the desk and took a deep breath, pushing himself to stand. He felt the pressure of the moment pressing against him, but it wasn’t the overwhelming weight of dread he had once feared. It was something different—something empowering.
He glanced at himself in the full-length mirror that hung on the wall. His reflection stared back at him—he looked different today, somehow. There was something about the way the light hit his face, something about the way his posture straightened, that made him feel as though he were no longer standing at the precipice of something terrifying. Instead, he felt as though he were standing at the threshold of something greater—the threshold of his future, the future of the kingdom, and the people who believed in him.
The ball awaited him. Yes, it was a celebration, but it was so much more than that. It was a step into the unknown, a glimpse of what his life could be once he embraced his role. The weight of the crown still felt heavy, but now, with the words of those who cared for him echoing in his heart, he found the strength to carry it.
The ball would be the beginning of a journey— his journey. It wasn’t just about tradition or royal duty. It was about embracing the person he was becoming—someone capable of leading, of making a difference, and though he wasn’t ready to take on the weight of the world just yet, he knew that he could. With his family, his friends, and him by his side, he would face whatever came next.
The journey had begun.
Jeff adjusted the heavy ceremonial robe draped over his shoulders, the fabric rich with golden embroidery that signified his status as the crown prince. In the grand mirror before him, his reflection stood tall, every inch the heir to the throne. The image was regal—powerful. But beneath the finery, beneath the title, was a truth the kingdom must never fully grasp.
An omega wearing the future king’s robes.
It wasn’t an outright scandal, but it was far from ideal. Alphas were the natural leaders—strong, commanding, the kind of rulers people expected. Omegas were different. Softer. Nurturers. Their worth was measured in diplomacy and lineage, not governance. His very existence as an omega heir had been questioned from the moment he was born. If not for the late king’s decree, if not for his mother’s unwavering presence at court, the whispers would have turned to open debate long ago.
And if they ever learned the truth—the kingdom’s carefully guarded secret—those whispers would turn into a storm.
Jeff swallowed hard, smoothing his sleeves as though the action could steady his thoughts. He had a twin brother. His closest confidant. The only one who truly understood him. And unlike Jeff, his brother was an alpha.
A single revelation could shatter everything.
If the world knew there was a hidden alpha with the same royal blood, there would be no question, no hesitation. Why let an omega rule when the "rightful" choice stood in the shadows? Society wouldn’t see it as treachery; they would see it as correcting a mistake. Jeff’s position, already fragile, would crumble beneath the weight of expectation.
So he carried on, as he always had—shoulders squared, head high, playing the role he was never meant to play.
Tonight was just another performance.