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On the morning of the tournament, the grounds were alive with banners and cheering crowds. Knights in polished armor lined the field, lances upright, and eyes that were hungry for glory and for the omega prince that was seated beneath a canopy of pale gold.
Mek, a knight, approached first. He knelt as Typhoon descended the steps gracefully.
"For luck, Sir Mek," Typhoon whispered. He tied a scented handkerchief firmly around the knight's armored bicep, fingers brushing lightly over the steel and leather.
Then, Tonfah approached. The neighboring king bowed deeply as Typhoon tied another handkerchief to his arm.
"A fair fight, Your Majesty."
His fingers lingered, and his thumb brushed lightly over Tonfah's wrist before he stepped back just in time to see Tonfah's eyes following his every move.
The joust then began, and the crowd roared.
Mek rode fiercly as his breathing grew uneven, and his movements lost their rhythm. Halfway through his next charge, his lance wavered, and he was thrown off balance.
Gasps rippled through the stands as he was undeclared unfit to continue.
Tonfah continued, and he won cleanly without losing his composure.
When the final banner fell, the king rose.
"By victory and vow," Typhoon's father announced, "I declare King Tonfah the champion, and the promised hand of my son shall be his."
Typhoon smiled sweetly as Tonfah dismounted and approached him. He took the prince's hand and pressed a lingering, respectful kiss to his knuckles.
As Tonfah retreated to join the celebrations, Typhoon felt four distinct weights settling around him. His siblings — Easter, North, Daotok, and Duennao, crowded in all at once, their omega senses sharp and knowing.
"You did something," Easter hissed, though his eyes were dancing with mischief.
"The poor knight looked like he’d been hit by a tidal wave," North added, leaning in close. "That handkerchief wasn't just for luck, was it?"
"Phoon," Daotok whispered, poking his arm, "tell us the truth."
Typhoon adjusted his sleeves, his expression the picture of innocence. "I’m sure I don't know what you mean. Is it truly my fault that some alphas simply... lack the constitution to handle an omega’s natural scent?"
The four siblings exchanged a look before erupting into muffled giggles, hiding their faces behind their fans.
"You're a sly cat, Phoon," Duennao whispered, nudging him. "A truly dangerous one."
Typhoon didn't deny it. He simply leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Tonfah’s retreating figure, a sweet, triumphant smile playing on his lips.
"At least," he said softly, "I didn't end up with a knight."
He glanced again at the new king who now belonged to him.
"I got a crown."
The gardens were washed in late-afternoon gold.
White roses climbed trellises, their petals catching the sunlight as a warm breeze carried the faint scent of jasmine across the marble paths. Typhoon sat beneath a silk canopy embroidered with pale clouds and silver thread, a porcelain teacup resting delicately between his fingers.
A servant approached and bowed low. “Your Highness. King Tonfah seeks permission to join you.”
Typhoon’s lips curved immediately into a gentle smile. He blew softly on the steam rising from his cup, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"The King is prompt," he remarked softly. "Clear this set and prepare a new one immediately. It wouldn't do to serve a King a lukewarm pot."
The servant scurried to comply just as Tonfah appeared at the entrance of the garden. The King had shed his heavy tournament armor for a tunic of deep midnight blue, though he still carried the commanding aura of the man who had dominated the field only a day prior.
As Tonfah approached, Typhoon finally rose, offering a graceful, practiced tilt of his head. Tonfah didn't wait for a formal greeting; he took Typhoon’s hand, his fingers warm and rough against the prince's soft skin, and pressed a firm, lingering kiss to his knuckles.
“Your Highness.”
"Your Majesty," Typhoon greeted back, his voice a melodic purr. "Please, sit."
They settled into the high-backed chairs opposite each other just as the servant returned, pouring two cups of pale, fragrant jasmine tea before bowing and retreating to a respectful distance.
"I took the liberty of ordering jasmine," Typhoon said, gesturing toward the steam. "If you have a preferred tea, I can have it changed at once."
Tonfah’s gaze remained fixed on Typhoon’s face. "It’s fine," he replied. "I find I have a sudden taste for whatever you choose."
A comfortable, yet pointed, silence settled over the table. Typhoon sipped his tea, watching Tonfah over the rim of his cup with wide, innocent eyes. The King didn't touch his drink. Instead, he reached into his sleeve and pulled out a small square of white linen.
He leaned forward, laying the handkerchief on the table between them. "I believe I am returning something of yours, Prince."
Typhoon let out a light, airy laugh and tilted his head. "Oh? But I gave that to you for luck, Your Majesty. It was a gift. It’s yours to keep."
Tonfah hummed, a low vibration in his chest. He tapped a finger against the table, right next to the cloth.
"Luck," he repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Tell me, Prince Typhoon... did your 'luck' have anything to do with why Sir Mek, a man who has never missed a tilt in five years, suddenly being… unable to continue mid-competition?"
Typhoon didn't flinch. He set his cup down with a soft clink and giggled, the sound rich with hidden mischief. He leaned in, resting his chin on his hand, looking every bit the "sly cat" his siblings had accused him of being.
"I simply find," Typhoon whispered, "that a crown sits much more comfortably on my head than a knight’s helmet ever would. I would much rather have a King than a mere soldier, wouldn't you agree?"
Tonfah’s expression darkened with a mixture of exasperation and intense heat.
"Phoon," he warned, the shortened name a low, private growl that spoke of a familiarity they had shared long before this tournament was ever announced.
Typhoon didn't look intimidated. He leaned closer until he could catch the scent of petrichor and cedar that clung to the King.
"Fah," he countered playfully, throwing the shortened name back with a defiant shimmer in his eyes.
"What you did was reckless," Tonfah said, though he didn't pull away. "You played with the biology of an Alpha in a crowded arena. It could have turned into a riot. Besides," he added, his pride flickering in his gaze, "I would have won that competition regardless. I didn't need your interference to claim what is mine."
Typhoon reached out, and picked up a small, sugar-dusted cookie from the tiered tray. He took a tiny, delicate bite, his eyes never leaving Tonfah’s. Then, with a daring smile, he held the remaining half out toward the King’s lips.
"I know you would have won," Typhoon murmured.
Tonfah stared at him for a long beat, his jaw tight. Then, he reached out to wrap his hand firmly around Typhoon’s wrist, holding him steady. He leaned forward and bit into the sweet directly from Typhoon’s fingers, his lips brushing the prince’s skin.
Typhoon’s smile widened, triumphant and sweet. "It doesn't matter if it was unnecessary," he said softly, his thumb stroking the back of Tonfah’s hand. "I simply took an extra step to ensure that I ended up exactly where I wanted to be. With you."
Tonfah let out a heavy sigh. He didn't let go of Typhoon's hand. Instead, he looked at his cunning, beautiful omega with a gaze full of fond, dangerous devotion.
"You are a terrifying creature, Typhoon," Tonfah rumbled, pulling the prince's hand back to his lips.
"And you," Typhoon replied, "are the King who was smart enough to let me catch him."
The intimate bubble surrounding the two was suddenly punctured by the sound of rhythmic, hushed laughter and the heavy tread of royal guards. Typhoon didn’t pull his hand away immediately; he allowed his fingers to linger in Tonfah’s grip for a heartbeat longer than was proper before straightening his posture.
A moment later, the King entered the pavilion, with his four other sons trailing behind him. Easter and North were already whispering behind their hands, their eyes darting between Tonfah’s possessive stance and Typhoon’s flushed cheeks.
Tonfah rose with practiced dignity, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty."
"Sit, sit," the King commanded, waving a hand with a boisterous grin. The servants scrambled to add chairs, and soon the table was crowded. The four omega siblings sat together, their collective scents of sweet blossoms and citrus filling the air.
They stared at Tonfah with unabashed curiosity, their giggles occasionally breaking through the formal atmosphere.
"I was just telling the Queen," the King began, leaning back as his tea was poured, "that it was a true pity about Sir Mek. To fall to such a sudden ailment mid-joust... most unusual. But," he added, turning a proud gaze toward Tonfah, "your performance, King Tonfah, was nothing short of exceptional. You held your line when a lesser man would have faltered."
Across the table, Easter nudged Daotok, both of them wearing grins that were entirely too wide. They looked at Typhoon, who was currently the picture of filial devotion, his hands folded neatly in his lap.
Tonfah caught the look and let out a low, smooth chuckle. He glanced sideways at Typhoon, a spark of challenge in his dark eyes.
"You are far too kind, Your Majesty. But as I was just discussing with the Prince, a gem like Typhoon deserves to be set in a crown rather than a knight’s helmet. A soldier’s life would have been... ill-suited for him."
He repeated Typhoon’s own words back to him with such deliberate gravity that Duennao had to cough into a napkin to hide a snort of laughter.
The King beamed, missing the subtext entirely.
"Well said! I am delighted that a King has won the hand of my son. To be truthful, I wouldn't have had it any other way. A royal match is what this kingdom needs, and what Typhoon deserves."
Typhoon turned his gaze to his father, his expression softening into one of pure, honeyed sweetness.
"You are right, Father," he said smoothly. "It was King Tonfah’s brilliance and his... unshakable focus that allowed him to win the day. No other Alpha on that field could have withstood the pressure quite like he did."
"Exactly!" the King agreed, clapping his hands together. "Brilliance and strength!"
As the King continued to ramble about the wedding preparations, Typhoon allowed his gaze to drift back to Tonfah. The 'innocent' smile remained on his lips, but the glint in his eyes was sharp and predatory, a silent confirmation of their shared secret.
North leaned over, whispering just loud enough for the omegas to hear, "Oh, he's brilliant alright. Brilliant enough to know when he’s been caught in a web."
His four siblings dissolved into a fresh round of giggles. Typhoon didn’t mind. He simply reached out and took another cookie, his eyes locked with Tonfah’s in a silent, shimmering vow of the power struggle, and the passion that was to come.