"The Fates don't weave gentle threads. They knot storms and laughter into the same rope and dare us to climb."
Alaric's POV
The silence in the council chamber could have been cut with a dull butter knife. I had just dropped the Omega revelation, and the air still tasted faintly of scandal, disbelief, and Marcus's impending ulcer. He sat two chairs down from me, pinching the bridge of his nose like I had just confessed to eloping with the Alpha of the Eastern Borderlands.
"Your Majesty," Marcus groaned, low but sharp, "you cannot be serious."
I leaned back in my chair, balancing the weight of my crown with an elegance that had taken years of practice. "Oh, but I am. Seriousness is practically carved into my jawline, Marcus. Do not frown so hard, you will age before me."
Captain Thorne Rell, the most disciplined man I had ever met, snorted before quickly covering it with a cough. Rivan Ostel, my treasurer, dared to grin into his cup of wine.
"An Omega," Marcus repeated, staring at me like I had admitted my mate was a goose. "An Omega, Alaric. And not just any Omega. Elias Blackthorne."
"Ah, so you were listening," I said brightly.
Marcus's voice pitched higher. "The same Elias Blackthorne who could blow up half the kingdom with the things he keeps in his vault. The man who runs his security company like a general with a God complex?"
"Precisely." I steepled my fingers. "So, you see my predicament. My mate is both irresistible and stubborn. It is as though the Fates looked down and said: 'Let's give Alaric someone who makes him want to pull his hair out and kiss him in the same breath."
Rivan chuckled. "That does sound like the Fates."
Marcus groaned again.
But here was the real issue: Elias Blackthorne was not going to waltz into the Northern Kingdom simply because I asked him nicely. And if he did, the entire council would smell something suspicious. An Omega CEO with a reputation as sharp as his suits does not just… drop by for tea. So, I leaned forward, letting my gaze sweep over my inner circle like a wolf readying to pounce. "Tell me, gentlemen. How do I get Elias Blackthorne within these walls without raising an eyebrow higher than Seraphine's?"
The silence was broken by Gavriel Thorne, my oldest friend, who had always been the first to find amusement in my disasters. He smirked. "Easy. You do not bring him as an Omega. You bring him as what he is, security."
That earned him a few blinks. Even I paused. "Explain."
Gavriel tipped his chair back, arms folded. "The wedding will need more security. It is an easy excuse. As Head Enforcer, I can draft the request myself. We invite Blackthorne Security to handle external arrangements. Neutral, professional, unremarkable. No council member will question it. They will applaud the decision, even."
Rivan clapped once, delighted. "Brilliant. Everyone knows Blackthorne Security does not align with kingdoms. Their neutrality makes them perfect."
Captain Rell added, "If Elias himself comes, Niko can assess him discreetly. The Moon Seer should be the first to meet your mate formally."
The thought of Niko cornering Elias made me rub my temple. "Oh, I can already hear the cryptic riddles."
Marcus slammed his hand down on the table. "Absolutely not, that is a terrible idea."
"Because?" Gavriel raised a brow.
"Because," Marcus snapped, "you are all forgetting who Elias is. He is not some smiling guard for hire. He is dangerous and mostly unpredictable. And if you think for one second, he will not notice that the King of the Northern Kingdom himself, put his company under a magnifying glass—"
"Correction," Rivan cut in smoothly, "the Head Enforcer would make the request, and it will not trace back to His Majesty."
Marcus scowled. "You think Elias Blackthorne is stupid enough not to connect dots? He will see right through this farce, and when he does—"
"He'll be standing in the middle of my Kingdom, mate-marked or not," I interrupted with a grin. "Which, I would argue, is the point."
The stoic Captain Rell chuckled, shaking his head. "I don't know what's funnier, Marcus trying to keep your Majesty out of trouble, or your Majesty racing headfirst into it."
"I thrive in trouble," I declared proudly.
Marcus looked like he wanted to sink into the floor. "You thrive in giving me grey hair."
I ignored his dramatics and turned to Gavriel. "Write the request. Phrase it as though the threat level from Seraphine's side is increasing. Make it urgent, formal, unavoidable."
Rivan raised his glass. "To summon the Omega wolf."
Even Rell cracked a grin, and Marcus, however, was muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like prayers for my funeral. Hours later, when the meeting broke, Marcus cornered me as we walked through the torchlit corridor. His expression was tight, his voice low. "Your Majesty, you are playing with fire."
"Always have," I said with a shrug.
"You don't understand." His eyes flashed with something heavier than duty it was worry. "Seraphine is circling like a hawk. If she suspects anything, this marriage alliance crumbles. Wars start for less." He jabbed a finger at me. "You're willing to risk it all for an Omega who doesn't even like you?"
I stopped walking and turned, letting the silence stretch before I answered. "No, Marcus. I am willing to risk it all because he is mine. Whether he likes me or not is temporary. Fate is not."
Marcus stared at me, jaw tight, before letting out a long sigh. "God's help me, one day I'll follow you straight into madness."
"Good," I said cheerfully. "Bring wine. "That night, when I lay in my chambers, I dreamt again of Elias. Sharp tongue, sharper eyes. An Omega who carried himself like a king in his own right. The pull of the bond thrummed through my chest like a drumbeat.
The idea of him walking through my gates under the guise of professionalism, unaware that every step he took tightened the thread of fate between us, made me laugh into the dark. Marcus was right. It was dangerous and damn, wasn't that the fun of it?