Nael still clung stubbornly to Marcus, sniffling from his earlier panic, while Ravel and Adrien lounged across on the sofa, trying to look casual but failing. The palace gates opened with a soft chime, and all eyes turned immediately.
A woman entered, regal in every step. She was in her early fifties, but the elegance in her posture, the confidence in her gaze, and the subtle command in her presence made it impossible to guess her age. Every move radiated authority and power—the unmistakable aura of a queen.
"Everyone, stand," Ravel said automatically.
All rose immediately, including Nael, though he still clung to Marcus like a lifeline.
"mother," Nael whispered, awed.
"How are you, Your Majesty?" Adrien said, bowing respectfully.
Queen Marlia's eyes swept the room, sharp and assessing. Then her gaze landed on Nael. "Behave, Nael," she said sternly, her voice firm yet polished. "You are an omega and about to engage. Haven't I taught you enough?"
Nael's ears twitched, and he pressed his lips into a small pout.
Ravel quickly raised a hand in defense. "Mother, don't scold him. He's just a kid."
Marla's gaze flicked to Ravel, unimpressed. She stepped closer to Nael, her presence enveloping him. "You are about to be betrothed. I have chosen a few candidates for your suit," she said sharply, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Nael muttered under his breath, barely audible, "For my best… or for your reputation?"
The Queen ignored him entirely. She turned to the three elder brothers, her eyes firm and commanding. "As for you three—Ravel, Marcus, Adrien—you bear great responsibilities. Do not let emotions interfere with your duties. You serve this kingdom first."
Ravel and Marcus exchanged glances, Adrien's lips twitched with barely-suppressed amusement, and Nael, still clinging to Marcus, rolled his eyes and muttered with a sly grin, "Mother, you're impossible."
Queen Marlia finally settled herself on the sofa, the poise of a monarch unshaken, even as the four princes surrounded her. Nael, still in Marcus's arms, tried to look casual, though the queen's presence always made him feel simultaneously small and important.
She gave him a measured look and asked, "Nael… do you like someone? Tell me honestly."
Nael blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Mother… shouldn't they marry first? I'm just a little kid—how can I be betrothed?"
Marlia sighed deeply, a sound full of patience and exasperation. "Why do I have to grow you like this?" she muttered under her breath. Then, more formally, she added, "You cannot even argue properly with me now. Fine. I'll be patient."
She leaned slightly forward, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Nael, this should have happened a year ago. You should have been engaged when you turned twenty-one. But for your stubborn insistence that you needed to complete your studies—which, in reality, was just an excuse to roam around freely—you delayed everything."
Nael's ears twitched at the phrasing, and he tried to suppress a grin. The queen's keen perception was never wrong.
"Now," Marlia continued, "the royal court has been pressing your father for the last seven months. This… engagement is inevitable. And your brothers? They are under pressure too, though for very different reasons. But they have all targeted you, in their ways."
Nael gritted his teeth, muttering under his breath, "Those old bastards…"
Marlia's gaze flicked at him sharply, though it softened at his expression. "Watch your words, little omega," she said lightly, though the weight behind them reminded Nael that in this house, manners were as important as strength.
He relaxed back into Marcus's arms, rolling his eyes but unable to hide the slight smile tugging at his lips. Somehow, even when they were plotting to control him, the royal family's presence had a way of making everything feel… slightly safer.
Queen Marlia had always carried herself with the quiet authority of an alpha, the kind that made the entire court instinctively respectful. When Nael was born—the first omega in their family—everything had shifted. The four brothers and the court had treated him like a fragile flower, one that might wither if touched too roughly. Every step he took, every breath he drew, had been watched with protective eyes.
But as Nael grew, Marlia realized that endless coddling would not prepare him for the weight of his position. Someone had to be strict, someone had to make him understand boundaries, responsibility, and strength. That someone was her.
Nael, of course, knew this. He had learned early that behind her gentle guidance and occasional indulgence lay a firm hand and an unwavering will. Their relationship was a careful balance of affection and authority, respect and love, and Nael had come to understand it well.
Now, after their discussion and gentle teasing, Marlia stood and approached him. She wrapped him in a tight hug, firm enough to remind him of her power, soft enough to remind him of her love. As she pulled back just slightly, she leaned close and whispered in his ear, her voice low and steady, "Good luck, Nael… and be careful."
Nael, still slightly flushed from her attention, muttered under his breath with a wry grin, "She realized my plan too… scary woman."
Her gaze lingered for a moment longer before she turned and left the room, leaving Nael with the familiar mix of respect, amusement, and slight apprehension he always felt in her presence.