The Omega's True Mate

It was on the night of a full moon.

I had just returned from my usual secret hunt. Yeah, a secret hunt. My father would never allow me to even hunt or rally with the rest of the pack, just because of the condition I was born with.

I was known as one of the weakest Omegas in the kingdom, and being of royal blood only made the stigma worse. Well, it's not like they were wrong though. I am indeed weak and frail as a werewolf.

I could barely keep up with the bunny I caught tonight, even while being powered by the full moon. Only the heavens know what would have happened if it was on any normal night; that was why I always sneak out of the palace every full moon.

Sigh... I sighed depressingly as I knelt before a lake in the woods. The silver full moon shone on the rippling lake, and I could see my wavy reflection.

My black hair was dishevelled from all the running, and my blue eyes were pale - I was tired. I sighed once more, cupping my hands and dipping them in the lake.

I scooped out a decent amount of water and splashed it on my face. It was cold, it was rejuvenating. I poured another scoop on my face, then wiped it clean with the arm of my shirt.

I stood up and sprayed a lot of deodorant on and inside my clothes. I couldn't risk getting snuffed out by anyone at the palace.

My father wasn't usually around at this time of the month, making it easy for me to slip out. But if the guards or my mother caught the scent of the woods on me, they'd definitely tell him. I'd be dead.

After emptying the small deodorant bottle on myself, I turned in the direction of the palace. Thanks to my weak trait, my heightened ability to smell was almost dormant; the excessive body spray I used on myself didn't choke my nostrils.

I leaned forward a bit and burst into a sprint, running at my own supernatural pace.

It took me almost twenty minutes to get to the palace. I was really slow.

I snuck my way in and tiptoed into my room.

"Phew..." I sighed in utmost relief, taking off my shirt and trousers.

I rushed into the bathroom and had a nice, long bath. I couldn't tell how long I spent in there, but when I walked out of the bathroom, the full moon had been bloated by thick clouds.

I didn't give much thought to it as I openned my wardrobe and picked one of my 'elegant' dresses; my mother would kill me if she found me wearing mundane clothes.

It was as I fitted the dress on my body, that a subtle knock came from the door.

"Hm?" I raised a brow, zipping up.

But before I could say anything, the person that knocked voiced out, "Princess Elora, it's Damon."

"Oh..." I relaxed a bit, picking up the fluffy skirt of my dress and trotting towards the door.

Damon was a high ranking guard of the kingdom, specifically assigned to guard me. Mother said it was because he might be my potential mate or something. But we never got along in the first place, he was always so rash and short tempered - not my kind of man.

I unlocked the door and pulled down the handle, opening it as I took some steps back. Damon walked in immediately, towering at a height of 6ft. As usual, he was donned in his combat uniform, that was dominantly black, with laces of purple at the shoulders and other parts.

I took a step back away from him as he looked down at me. The last time we were in that position, he wanted to kiss me, but I was quick enough to react and turn my face away.

He ignored my precaution and bowed his head, "His Majesty awaits you at the Throne room. He requests your audience immediately."

"Huh?" My heart almost skipped a beat. Father was back?! Why now of all times? He always returned about three days later. Or did he find out about--

Before I could get lost in my panicked thoughts, Damon spoke again, louder this time, "Princess Elora, he wants to meet you now. You know how tardiness irks His Majesty."

I sighed, "I know, I know. Let's go, then."

He finally raised his head, stared into my eyes intently. For a split second there, I could have sworn to see worry in those black eyes of his. It made me shudder. This was Damon we're talking about, what could possibly get him so worked up?

He fully opened the door and gestured for me to exit the room, which I did, lifting my annoyingly heavy dress. He followed me aftwards and we walked towards the throne room in silence.

However, as the throne room came to my view, a sudden chill encompassed me. The hairs at the back of my neck stood taut like needles. I could feel... Danger.

Before I could process this sudden premonition, some figures blurred at me from all sides, and before I could blink, I found myself kneeling in the throne room. My wrists and ankles were also bound in thick ropes.

I could literally hear the sound of my palpitating heart. What the hell was going on?

One minute I was having an awkward walk alongside Damon, and now I'm suddenly thrown into the throne room, bound in ropes like some slave.

I lifted my gaze from my tied hands and looked ahead.

There he was, my father, Eric Cassius, the Alpha King of our kingdom, regally seated on his obsidian throne. Seated beside him was my mother.

Then just below the steps to his throne, were the six council members, seated opposite each other in pairs of three.

"F-Father?" I found myself stuttering as everyone had their eyes on me.

Just like with Damon, I could feel their worry and... Regret?

God, I just wanted to pry into their minds and find out what the hell was happening! The silence was unnerving!

Then came my father's voice as he leaned forward with interlocked hands, "Elora, my daughter. I'm just going to go straight to the point..."

'Thank you!' I appreciated inwardly; the suspense was killing me. Maybe it should have, because the next words that came out of his mouth shattered my heart.

He adjusted his posture and said, "I'm selling you off to the Greyhound Pack."

Huh?" I muttered in puzzlement, my eyelids fluttering incessantly like a butterfly's wing.

What did he mean by selling me off to the Greyhound Pack?

The Greyhound Pack, I very much knew. It was one of the realm's most popular Pack, or Kingdom in the case, only second to the Crescent Pack.

I heard that their Lycan King, Alaric Greyhound, was more of a dictator than a ruler, but no one has ever left the kingdom. Instead, more people flocked under his iron-fisted rule, since that was what made the kingdom so prosperous.

Tch. Why am I even thinking about that now? Now wasn't the time for history, now was the time to make history... Hopefully one with a good conclusion. Selling me off to another Lycan King was absurd.

I was the daughter of a Lycan King myself. Though I must say that my father is quite old and has gotten weak, due to the many battles he fought in the past. It was thanks to people like him that most kingdoms now lived at peace with each other.

But still, even though he was now a somewhat frail old man, the people of the kingdom rever and respect him. Then why was he selling me off? Did I do something wrong? Hunting and training secretly to improve my strength couldn't have given him enough reason to trade me as punishment... right?

Still frozen on my knees - not like I could move freely anyway - I saw my father stretch his left hand to the side, then he flicked his palm towards himself.

Out of the shadows came four uniformed men, with domineering heights and statues. I could easily tell that they were guards due to their uniform's slight resemblance to those here. But theirs was laced with gold, adding this beautiful aesthetic.

I couldn't even compare them to the palace guards. Not only was their uniform more profound and elegant, their physique was something else. Damon paled far in comparison to any of them.

"These are the four horsemen of the Greyhound pack," my father said with a tone of respect and satisfaction. "They'll be the ones to escort you to their kingdom."

I don't know what came over me at that moment, but I snapped, "Father, what's the meaning of this?! Is this some kind of joke? Why would you sell your own daughter to another Lycan King?!"

My mother simply turned her teary eyes away, while father sighed ruefully.

He rubbed his forehead as he began, "Look, Elora, I think its best that I don't give you my reasons. I don't want to hurt you any further. Just remain silent as we proceed with the trade."

My brows twitched at his every phrase, "Hurt me any further? There's nothing that you can say that'd hurt me more than I already am!"

On any normal day, I would cower before his presence, and keep my thoughts and opinions to myself. I'd usually tell me mother a part of it, then she'd pass it on to him like a mediator.

But today wasn't just any normal day. Today was different and a drastic pivoting point in my life. The rest of my life would be ruined if the right decision wasn't made at that moment.

Father closed his eyes as he exhaled deeply. It made me wonder the gravity of what he was about to say. Could his words really hurt me more than I already was?

He opened his eyes and looked straight at me, "You almost died when you were born, Elora. It was by a miracle that you survived and have made it this far. You're weak and useless..."

'Useless?!' my eyes shrunk.

"You can't contribute anything to the kingdom in your condition. Even if you were to get a mate, you won't be able to breed; I doubt your body can handle the strain. I could continue listing more reasons why you are of no use to us. You'll just be wasting space in the place."

My eyes quivered as he kept talking. Was I hearing things?

He leaned forward, "That's why I've gone out to find you some use."

"As a slave," I found myself saying. I was still shaken by the whole thing, but there was this subtle anger that gradually riled up within me.

"It's better than nothing. Besides, you're being traded for a symbiotic relationship with Greyhound. I'm sure you're aware of the current scarcity in Dunham. They'd help build and revitalise our kingdom with their abundant resources, while we offer our loyalty to them."

My mood switched from anger to surprise again. I stared at him blankly, "Wait, so you're selling me off as a slave, just to also place the entirety of Dunham into slavery too?"

My father creased his brows, "What do you mean?"

"Pledging your loyalty to another Lycan King is no different than slavery," I answere curtly.

He scoffed, "Heh. What do you know about these things? You are but a child."

I simply shook my head. I didn't know what to think at that point.

"Well, enough talk. You're being sold to Greyhound, and that's my final verdict," he said with authority. The council members bowed in agreement, including my mother.

I was at a loss for everything. Where did all their feelings go? Did they only care about power and relevance?

At the corner of my eye, I could see Damon shaking where he stood, his nails beginning to grow longer...

My father's voice drew my attention back to the throne.

He stood up, his hands spread wide as he smiled, "Now, shall we proceed with the trade?"

'This is absurd,' I muttered inwardly.

It all still felt like some bad dream or trance. I mean, this whole trade thing couldn't be real, right?

Sigh... I couldn't come to terms with the reality before me. A reality I never saw coming at all. As a weak Omega, my plan was to live a secluded life as a princess, maybe find my real mate and... That was it; I never really gave my future any deep thoughts. Maybe I should have.

One of the four horsemen of Greyhound, moved away from his cohorts and stood before the steps that led to the throne. I don't know what he did exactly, but I saw him snap his fingers, and I was sure to have seen his suit give off a faint golden glow.

Then, in the blink of an eye, a table appeared between him and the obsidian steps.

I narrowed my eyes as I recognised that table. It had been in the throne room for as long as I could remember, but it was usually situated by a wall at my right.

I turned my head and took a glance at the spot it usually was, just to confirm my hunch. It was no longer there. I was right, it was definitely the same table.

'So he can move objects with magic?' I pondered internally as I retracted my gaze back to the man. It was very rare for Werewolves to use magic; they usually employed witches if they needed some miraculous assistance.

Hmm, from the way his uniform glowed, it's probably not made of normal fabric. A witch must have made it. That means... Damn, the palace guards of Dunham are definitely no match for them.

Or was father scared, because of their power? Did they threaten him?

I know we've never been close and barely spoke to each other, but I could tell that he actually cared for me. Then what changed?

I kept that thought at the back of my mind as my father walked down the steps and stood at the other side of the table.

I didn't have a clear view of what transpired between him and the horseman from my perspective, but I was sure to have seen a parchment, a fountain pen and some other peripherals.

After a few minutes of doing whatever they were doing, the horseman circled around the table and stood beside my father, who pointed his hand at me and said, "Bring her."

To be honest, I half expected that order. I was after all 'a part of the trade'. It was only right that I had something to do in making the agreement.

Two palace guards lifted me up by my arms and pushed me toward the throne. Damon's body was still shaking as I walked past him, his claws were halfway out.

I quickly turned to him and shook my head as I mouthed, "Don't. You'll die."

He replied in a whisper, "I'll die for you."

I was touched. For the first time since I've known him, I actually felt something toward him. It wasn't love. No. Sadness, remorse, and other melancholic emotions related to death, was what I felt for him, because I knew that he was going to die if he did something stupid that night... or morning? I couldn't tell what time it was, and I couldn't care less.

Albeit, I smiled as he said this. Every other person in the throne room saw me as some useless sack of bones that needed to be thrown away. But Damon still cared; it was oddly comforting.

The guards pushed me again and I stumbled before the table. On it was a parchment, in which the trade's terms and conditions were neatly scribbled. I would have fallen for whoever wrote this if this happened under different circumstances.

I could see the Lycan King of Greyhound's signature, the horseman's signature, and my father's signature. All that remained was mine.

Though I was bound by the wrists, the horseman passed me the fountain pen anyway. How could someone be so cold and inhumane?

I leaned towards the paper and tendered a random signature, just to spite my father. The horseman wouldn't know if the signature was mine or not, but my father could easily tell, and it made me glad. That look of shock and anger on his face filled my heart with this odd sense of satisfaction.

That was one way I could get back to him for treating me like some worthless object. It paled in comparison to what he had done to me, but it was still something.

The horseman noticed the uneasy aura around my father, prompting him to slightly turn and ask, "Is everything alright, Alpha Eric?"

My father quickly regained composure and he nodded in response, "Yes, yes. Carry on."

The horseman nodded and looked towards me. He raised his right hand and a claw jutted out of his index finger.

"Now, all that's left is your blood to seal the contract," he said coldly.

I flinched back.

However, at that moment, a loud growl reverberated across the throne room and I was no longer before the table.

I found myself in Damon's arms as he dashed towards the exit. He was partially transformed, his fangs reflecting the rays of the moonlight that pierced through the windows.

But just before we could make it out, one of the horsemen appeared before us. And then again, I found myself before the table. My father shook his head in disappointment, but it wasn't directed at me.

The horseman that had blocked our path, appeared beside his partner and my father. In his hand was Damon's head.

My face went grim, I almost puked. I turned in search of his body. I found it standing straight before the entrance like some statue, blood pulsing out of his open neck.

It was disgusting, it was painful.

I turned back to face the men before me, my limbs quivering nonstop.

"What the hell?"