Elliot was definitely fuming with anger.
After enthusiastically anticipating his visit to the queen, he did not expect to be met with the devastating news: she had matched him with an Alpha he hadn't chosen, and, to make matters worse, it was an Alpha from the Whitehalls. With each movement, his anger increased as he tore off the tight layers of his suit, his jaw tightening.
"I'll strip your families of their titles," he muttered bitterly, the words dripping with venom as he replayed it in his mind.
As an omega herself, he couldn't fathom why the queen would force a marriage upon him. Omegas traditionally choose their own mates, a right that was deeply ingrained in their nature. While political marriages were common in his family, all of his siblings had still made their own choices when it came to love. The queen, of all people, should have understood how absurd it was to strip him of that autonomy.
Without a moment's hesitation, he collapsed onto his bed, face down, and let out a muffled scream into his pillow, his cheetah ears popping out of his head. The weight of it hit him all at once, his family's status now rested entirely on his shoulders.
He had always expected the same fate as his siblings: Alphas lining up to court them, the freedom to choose their partners, followed by a leisurely courtship and, eventually, a marriage filled with love or money, depending on what his siblings want, and children. It seemed like a natural progression, a fairy tale ending he'd assumed was his for the taking.
The moment Elliot laid eyes on that Whitehall dog while waiting for the queen, a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. Something was terribly wrong. Vincent Whitehall, the alpha heir of the Whitehalls, was there at the same time the queen had summoned him. Standing tall with a broad, muscular frame that easily dwarfed Elliot's more slender build, Vincent's gaze locked onto him the moment he entered the room. He shot him a cold, piercing glare that caused tension to rise between them.
He thrashed on his bed, unable to accept that his future had been decided for him. Elliot desperately racked his brain for any possible escape plan, but the only solution that surfaced was death. Yet, as much as the thought lingered, Elliot didn't want to die, but he didn't like the idea of marrying that damned Whitehall dog too.
Why did the queen even care? Sure, the Leightons and Whitehalls had been feuding for centuries, but it wasn't her problem. They were always trying to outdo each other, but it never escalated to anything violent, well, except for that one time when the families clashed physically. Okay, maybe the queen had a reason to intervene, but why him? Why poor Elliot? Why intervene in his generation, and not wait for the next?
He sat up on his bed, hurling his pillow across the room in frustration. Just as it hit the wall, a knock echoed through the door. "Elliot, it's your mother."
Elliot rose to his feet, his movements sharp with frustration. His appearance was disheveled, dark blonde hair falling in wild tangles, his cheetah ears and tail out, and his clothes rumpled from tossing and turning in his bed. Anyone in his position would be a mess. With a huff, he decided there was no point in fixing himself, after all, it wasn't as though he cared about appearances at this moment.
He strode to the door and opened it, not bothering to mask the frustration etched across his face. "What is it, mother?" He asked.
"Are you alright?" his mother asked, her voice laced with concern as her eyes scanned him, taking in the disheveled state he was in. She stepped closer, reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair from his face. "We have to meet them tomorrow morning." She added as she continued to brush his hair.
Of course, she was talking about the Whitehalls. The proud, formidable wolves of the Kingdom of Bestia, everything the Leightons were not. The Whitehalls had gained a reputation for strength, leadership, and unflinching pride, while the Leightons were renowned for their elegance, beauty and connections. The Whitehalls had long held a dominant position in the kingdom and consistently produced Alpha heirs who were powerful and bold. Their reputation, their pride, and their very nature stood in stark contrast to everything the Leightons represented, their devotion to antiquated traditions, making any connection between the two families a cause for friction and, in some cases, outright animosity.
His mother's eyes hardened as she went on, her voice firm but determined. With the weight of a promise, she declared, "I will force them to adhere to our traditions." She wasn't going to let the Whitehalls or anybody else overturn the Leightons' set of rules that governed their way of life. "A Leighton Omega always gets what they want."
His mother's words brought a flicker of hope to Elliot's heart. He leaned into her touch, the warmth of her reassurance grounding him in the moment. "Thank you, mother," he murmured, his voice soft yet sincere. The fury within him temporarily subsided as a feeling of calmness descended upon him. She was correct; despite the challenges they faced, Leighton Omegas had always had the ability to determine their own destiny, neither the queen nor the Whitehalls could bend that.
With a sly smile, she remarked, "We may not be able to end the marriage, but we can definitely use it to our advantage." Her voice was measured, as if she had already started formulating a strategy. The goal was to change the situation to their advantage, not to give up.
"First, he will adhere to the courtship traditions," she stated, her voice firm and unwavering. Her words were sure, signaling that there would be no shortcuts from the established family rules. "Yes, the queen may have already decreed that you two must wed," she said with a knowing glance, "but that doesn't mean we won't test him. We must see if he is truly worthy of being paired with a Leighton Omega."
She spoke in a determined tone, as if she were getting ready for a test that would determine whether the Whitehall alpha was really suitable for this kind of coupling.
Elliot remembered the tradition well, aside from the Alpha being chosen by their siblings, there was always the courtship stage. In order to make sure the chosen mate was deserving of their position.
However, he had to believe that his mother would make this process extremely difficult for the Whitehall wolf. Elliot had no doubt that she would set the standard high and test the Whitehall Alpha in ways that would make the courtship anything but straightforward. He smiled slightly at the thought. He felt somewhat more in control because he could only picture the difficulties that the Whitehall wolf would have.
"Now, fix yourself," she said, gesturing at his disheveled appearance with a disapproving look. "No Leighton Omega should ever look so disgraceful." She moved in closer, her eyes sharp, as she ran her eyes over him, silently urging him to regain the dignity that came with their name.
Elliot experienced a startling feeling of lightness following his talk with his mother. She was correct; it was by no means the end of the world. The idea of being married to a Whitehall no longer seemed like an overwhelming weight, but rather a challenge to overcome. He understood that he still had power over his own destiny.
With haste, he pulled himself together and changed out of his rumpled clothing into something cozier, a plain but tasteful house robe that fit his mood. He had intended to paint in the garden after leaving his bedroom, finding comfort in the peaceful seclusion. However, as he was walking down the corridor, his butler came up with a letter tucked under a bouquet of flowers in one hand.
Elliot glanced at the letter's seal and knew that it was from the Whitehalls. There would only be one Whitehall contacting him today, so he didn't even need to read the name. He took a deep breath and ripped the envelope open, expecting harsh words, insults, and curses to spill out in stark contrast to the delicate bouquet accompanying it; he was instead met with a series of polite, formal questions from Vincent regarding the upcoming wedding.
Frustration flared inside him as he crumpled the letter in his hand, unable to suppress the irritation bubbling to the surface. With a sigh, he handed the crushed paper back to his butler, carefully setting the flowers aside. Despite everything, the bouquet deserved more respect than the letter had earned.
Elliot couldn't wrap his mind around how Vincent could be so casual about the situation they were in. He believed that Vincent was using the letter as a test to see how he was responding to the whole situation. A challenge, or perhaps a test of patience, to see how far Elliot would give in to the pressure of this forced coupling. Whatever it was, Elliot felt even more annoyed, as though Vincent were playing tricks on him.