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The palace never wake suddenly.
It breathed itself awake.
Morning light slipped through tall arched windows, touching marble floors and silk drapes with patient fingers. Courtyards filled with birdsong, fountains murmured themselves into motion, and servants moved quietly through the halls like a current beneath the grandeur.
Teetee was part of that current.
He rose before dawn, as he always did, long before the alphas of the court scented the air with authority and ambition. He dressed in soft lavander linen, silver hair carefully combed back, collar buttoned high. His omega status was not marked by chains or brands, as it was in harsher kingdoms; but by expectation.
Be quiet. Be useful. Do not take up space.
Teetee had learned to do all three beautifully.
He worked in the inner palace, trusted with delicate tasks: polishing silverware that belonged to generations of royalty, arranging fresh flowers in the royal family’s private rooms, keeping the libraries immaculate. He loved the quiet corners of the palace best. places where history slept in books and dust motes floated like tiny stars.
He loved the palace, even if it did not love him back.
------
Prince Por hated mornings.
They smelled like responsibility.
As an alpha, his scent was strong; cardamom and cedar, unmistakably royal; and the palace responded to him. Guards straightened, courtiers bowed, servants stepped aside. He had been trained since childhood to command without effort.
But some mornings, Por wished he could walk unnoticed.
That was how he ended up turning a corner too fast outside the eastern corridor.
The collision was soft but sudden.
Fabric rustled. A breath hitched. Something warm brushed against him.
The basket fell.
Por reacted on instinct, hands shooting out, but it was too late. Clean white linens scattered across the polished floor.
“I... I’m so sorry, Your Highness!”
The voice was gentle, breathless with panic.
Por looked down.
The omega was already on his knees, gathering cloth with shaking hands, head bowed low. Pale hair slipped loose from its tie, catching the light.
Por’s chest tightened.
“No,” Por said quickly, crouching down. “That was my fault.”
The omega froze.
Por helped collect the linens, stacking them neatly. When their fingers brushed, Por felt it. something small but electric, like the first note of a song.
“What’s your name?” Por asked.
The omega hesitated. “You can call me Teetee, sir.”
“Teetee,” Por repeated, testing the sound.
Teetee dared to glance up. Their eyes met for a brief second, and Por forgot what he was going to say.
Teetee’s eyes were warm. Not submissive. Not dull. Just… kind.
When Teetee finally hurried away, basket clutched to his chest, Por remained kneeling long after.
-------
Por began to notice things.
He noticed that the palace smelled different in certain rooms; soft and sweet, like macadâmia ice cream and rain-washed linen.
He noticed a quiet omega who moved gracefully through space, who spoke gently to other servants, who smiled when he thought no one important was watching.
Por told himself it was coincidence.
But he began choosing his routes carefully.
He lingered in the library more often, pretending to read while Teetee dusted shelves nearby. He slowed his pace during evening walks, hoping to see a familiar silver-haired figure tending the gardens.
Teetee always bowed. Always respectful. Always distant.
And yet there was something unspoken between them, like a thread pulled just tight enough to be felt.
------
One evening, Por found Teetee in the palace garden.
The moon was high, silvering the roses. Teetee knelt beside a bush, carefully trimming dead blooms.
“It´s late,” Por said.
Teetee startled, nearly dropping the shears. “Your Highness; I didn’t hear you.”
“You don’t need to bow,” Por said gently. “Not now.”
Teetee hesitated, then straightened slowly. His hands folded together, uncertain.
“Do you like the roses?” Por asked.
“Yes,” Teetee said softly. “They bloom even when negleted.”
Por smiled. “You sound amazed.”
“Maybe I envy them.”
The honesty slipped out before Teetee could stop it. His eyes widened, as if afraid of his own words.
Por sat beside him on the stone bench.
“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” Por said quietly.
Teetee considered that. “I think fear depends on how one is treated.”
Por exhaled.
They sat together, shoulder to shoulder, the distance between them shrinking naturally. Por caught Teetee’s scent again; soft, comforting, grounding.
For the first time in his life, Por felt calm.
-----
The palace started to notice.
Servants whispered. Courtiers raised brows. Advisors frowned.
An alpha prince spending time with an omega servant was not scandalous, until it became frequent. Until Por began smiling in public. Until Teetee was seen at his side during walks, conversations flowing easily between them.
Teetee tried to pull away.
He avoided Por’s favorite corridors. He volunteered for extra work. He bowed lower, spoke less.
Por noticed.
One night, Por followed him to the servants’ quarters.
“You’re evoiding me,” Por said.
Teetee’s shoulders trembled. “I can’t stay close.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not foolish,” Teetee said quietly. “You are a prince. The kingdom will not approve.’’
“And what i want?” Por asked. ‘’doesn’t count”
Teetee turned, tears shining.
Por stepped closer, taking Teetee’s hands without hesitation.
“I want you.”
Teetee shook his head. “staying with me would cost you too much.”
Por pressed their foreheads together. “you’re worthy’’
For the first time, Teetee leaned in.
-----
The council was furious.
Bloodlines. Stability. Tradition.
Por listened, then stood.
“I will not rule a kingdom built on fear.”
The queen watched her son with unreadable eyes.
Later, she summoned Teetee.
“You love my son?” she said.
Teetee bowed. “I do.” He said with complete certainty.
“And he loves you.”
“Yes.”
The queen sighed. “Then perhaps the palace must learn to bend.”
------
On coronation day, the palace gleamed.
Por stood tall, crown heavy in his hands.
Teetee stood on the front row; not hidden, not needing to pretend.
When the crown was placed on Por’s head, he looked straight at Teetee and smiled
The palace breathed in.
A shift i the air.
------
The palace was different in the mornings now.
Not quieter. there were still servants, guards, and distant council bells; but warmer, as if something gentle had settled into the stone itself.
Teetee noticed it first in small ways.
He woke beside Por instead of alone, wrapped in silk sheets far too fine for someone who once slept in servants’ quarters. For a long time, he didn’t move when he woke. He simply listened to Por’s steady breathing, to the faint scent of cedar softened by sleep, to the way Por’s arm rested around his waist like it belonged there.
Sometimes Teetee traced the line of Por’s knuckles with careful fingers, still half-convinced he might wake and find it was a dream.
Por always woke when Teetee tried to slip away.
“Stay,” Por murmured one morning, eyes still closed, pulling him closer.
“I have duties,” Teetee whispered.
Por nuzzled into his hair, inhaling deeply. “You are my most important duty.”
Teetee laughed quietly, warmth blooming in his chest.
--------
Por insisted on breakfast together.
This had been a point of debate.
“You can’t just steal me from my work,” Teetee had said, trying very hard not to smile.
“I can,” Por replied smugly. “I’m the king.”
So Teetee sat at the long breakfast table, still unused to the servants bowing to him. He poured tea carefully, hands steady despite the attention.
Por watched him like the sun rose just for him.
“You’re staring,” Teetee said softly.
Por rested his chin on his hand. “I waited my whole life to eat breakfast with someone who feels like home.”
Teetee flushed, ears pink. “You’re embarrassing.”
“You’re blushing,” Por said fondly.
-------
The palace discovered that King Por was… soft.
Embarrassingly so.
He walked Teetee to his duties despite not needing to. He insisted on warm cloaks when Teetee worked in cooler halls. He memorized Teetee’s schedule better than Teetee himself.
One afternoon, Por found Teetee in the library, perched on a ladder, dusting shelves.
“Absolutely not,” Por said.
Teetee looked down. “I’ve done this for years.”
“And you’ll never do it again without me standing there,” Por replied, placing himself at the base of the ladder with arms crossed.
Teetee smiled down at him. “You’re ridiculous.”
Por smiled back. “And deeply in love.”
-------
Nesting happened slowly.
Neither of them called it that at first.
Por simply noticed that Teetee liked certain things arranged a certain way. Soft blankets near windows. Cushions layered carefully. The faint scent of macadamia and honey.
So Por brought things.
A woven throw from a distant province. Pillows too many to count. A low table perfect for tea.
One evening, Teetee paused in the doorway of Por’s chambers and stared.
“You changed everything,” he said softly.
Por shrugged. “I wanted it to feel like you belong here.”
Teetee crossed the room and hugged him tightly.
Por held him without speaking, scent soothing, arms secure.
Teetee still did small tasks out of habit.
Folding Por’s gloves. Straightening his collars. Tidying books.
Por pretended not to notice. until Teetee tried to stop.
“You don’t have to take care of me,” Teetee said one night.
Por cupped his face gently. “I want to. Let me.”
Teetee leaned into the touch, eyes closing.
“Then let me take care of you too,” Teetee whispered.
They learned each other’s rhythms.
Por learned when Teetee needed quiet. Teetee learned when Por needed reassurance. Some evenings were spent reading together in silence, Teetee curled against Por’s side, Por’s fingers tracing slow, protective patterns on his back.
Other nights, Por pressed gentle kisses to Teetee’s temples, murmuring promises into his hair.
---------
The servants noticed something else too.
The king smelled different.
Still alpha—still strong—but softened.
And Teetee walked the halls no longer trying to disappear.
He laughed more. He spoke with confidence. He rested openly at Por’s side during council breaks, bringing tea, leaning close.
One afternoon, Teetee dozed in a sunlit alcove, head resting on Por’s shoulder.
Por didn’t move for an hour.
A general cleared his throat.
Por raised a finger. “If you wake him, you die.”
Teetee woke ten minutes later, blinking sleepily.
Por smiled like the world was perfect.
At night, Por brushed Teetee’s hair.
Slowly. Carefully.
Teetee sat between his knees, relaxed, trusting.
“I used to think love was loud,” Por said once.
Teetee hummed softly. “What is it now?”
Por kissed the back of his head. “This.”
Warm. Quiet. Certain.
A palace built on stone and power learned, at last, the soft strength of home.