The Lycan Princesses And Their Omega

Aria'S POV

The training grounds smelled of dust, sweat, and the clean bite of power under the afternoon sun.

I ducked under Lira’s kick, rolled across the packed earth, and came up grinning as her boot passed close enough to stir my braid.

Our wolves moved in perfect rhythm even when we tried to best each other. Sparks of gold and silver flickered along our arms where the deeper strength lived.

We were wolves first, like every lycan in the kingdom, but when the need rose we could push further into the larger, stronger lycan form most never reached. That extra power sat in our blood, waiting.That extra power sat in our blood, waiting.

Our wolves were not separate from us. They were us, the same soul, the same body, the same thoughts. When the shift came, it was simply the rest of ourselves stepping forward.

We shared a twin-link that is like a pathway to each others souls, but we also have the pack mind-link,where we reach the pack through.

“You’re getting slow,” I said.

Lira laughed, bright and sharp, and caught my wrist to spin me. “And you’re getting predictable.”

We broke apart, circling, still smiling. A few younger warriors watched from the edges but stayed quiet. Everyone knew better than to interrupt when the royal twins sparred. The ground beneath our boots was packed hard from years of the same drills, the same laughter, the same bruises we never bothered healing all the way because the ache felt honest.

I feinted left. She read it instantly, of course she did, and met me with a sharp elbow that would have cracked ribs on anyone else.

I twisted, caught her around the waist, and we both hit the packed earth hard, laughing. For a moment the world narrowed to the two of us, the sun warm on our shoulders, the distant sound of practice swords somewhere farther down the field.

It was easy to forget the palace and the Council and the weight of the crest stitched into our collars when we were like this.

That was when the mind-link snapped open like a cold hand on the back of the neck.

🐺Aria. Lira. My office. Now.🐺

Father’s voice left no space for argument.

We stopped at the same moment. Lira dropped her fighting stance with a dramatic sigh.

“And there goes the fun,” she muttered.

I brushed dirt from my sparring leathers. “Ten gold says it’s another lecture about proper conduct at the next Council gathering.”

“Twenty says he wants us to smile prettily at some visiting alpha’s son,” Lira answered. “Or both. He’s been restless since the last border report.”

We started walking toward the palace side by side, still breathing a little hard from the spar. The late light caught the identical dark waves of our hair and the matching silver moon piercings in our ears, the ones Mother had given us years ago.

The path from the training grounds to the main wing was familiar enough that we could have walked it blind. We had done it a thousand times, sometimes racing, sometimes dragging our feet, always together.

No one had ever been able to tell us apart. Not the guards, not the Council, not even most of the pack. We were too identical, mirror images down to the last detail.

The only way anyone learned the difference was when we chose to give them something to hold onto. I had kept the warmer edge, the quicker smile, the open laugh. Lira had chosen the colder one, the quieter assessment, the sharper silence.

It was not nature. It was a decision we had made together as girls so the world would have at least one thin line to follow. Even then, most people still got it wrong.

Sometimes I wondered if Father himself could tell us apart without the small tells we allowed him.

“Whatever it is,” I said, “I call the window seat tonight.”

Lira snorted. “You called the window seat last time.”

“Because you hogged the middle of the bed and stole all the blankets.”

“Lies. You sprawl like a starfish.”

“I do not.”

“You do. And you steal the good pillow.”

I bumped her hip with mine. “Fine. New bet. Whoever gets to the office first without running gets dibs on the window seat and the good pillow for the next three twin nights.”

Her eyes lit up.

Twin nights were sacred.

Shared room.

The absurdly large bed we had insisted on since we were thirteen. The one place in the entire kingdom where no one expected us to be princesses or weapons or political prizes.

Just us.

We had always known, somewhere deep in the blood, that we would share a mate.

One mate. Not two.

The knowledge sat in our bones the same way the lycan strength did. We never spoke it aloud to Father. He would have seen it as a problem to solve with two carefully chosen males and a pair of political alliances.

Mother had looked at that oversized bed once and said nothing, but the corner of her mouth had softened in a way that made me think she already understood.

Lira broke into a fast walk that was definitely cheating. I matched her pace, both of us laughing under our breath.

“No running,” I reminded her.

“This isn’t running. This is efficient striding.”

“You’re a menace.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

We reached the heavy oak doors of the king’s private office at the same time. Lira stuck her tongue out. I pinched her side.

The guards opened the doors without a word. The air inside was cooler, scented with old paper and the faint metallic tang of the ink Father preferred.

King Roran stood behind his desk, broad-shouldered and severe in dark royal black. Maps and sealed reports littered the surface. He did not invite us to sit.

Mother’s chair by the window, the one she usually claimed whenever Father called us in for something serious, sat empty.

I noticed it before he had said a single word, and something about the empty chair told me more than anything he was about to say. Mother never missed these conversations. If she was not here, it was because she already knew what was coming and could not stand to watch it land.

“The council and I have been talking. We’ve made arrangements,” he said without preamble. “Two powerful males from allied packs. High-ranking. Strong bloodlines. Suitable.”

The air left my lungs.

Lira’s shoulder brushed mine, solid and warm.

Suitable.

The word landed like a slap.

I felt her shock crash into mine through the twin-link, raw and wordless for a second. Then her voice, dry as dust inside my head.

🐺Well. That’s beyond our bet.🐺

Father continued speaking. Their names, packs, and their political advantages. The benefits to the crown. I barely heard him.

My wolf paced under my skin, restless and angry. The maps on the desk seemed to mock us, all those neat lines and borders drawn by men who had never once asked what the people living inside them actually wanted.

Lira found her voice first. “And if we refuse?”

Father’s eyes hardened. “You are princesses of this kingdom. Your duty is to strengthen it. Not to chase children’s stories about one true mate.”

I stepped forward. “It is not a children’s story.”

“It is exactly that, until proven otherwise, and I will not gamble this kingdom’s future on a feeling neither of you can point to.” He said it flatly, like a man closing a ledger, not like a man who believed there was anything more to argue about.

“We have never asked you for much,” I said, and I heard my own voice come out steadier and colder than I expected. “We have trained until our hands bled. We have worn every expectation this crown has ever handed us without complaint. We have stood beside you in every hall you have ever dragged us into. We are asking you for one thing. Don’t take this from us before it has even had the chance to happen.”

“This isn’t about taking anything from you,” Father said. “It’s about making sure the two of you have futures that don’t depend on a story.”

“It’s not just a story to us,” Lira said. “It never has been.”

“Then perhaps it’s time it stopped being one,” he said, and something in his tone made it clear the conversation, as far as he was concerned, was already finished. “The alliances are already being finalized. Lord Ashen’s son for you, Aria. The eastern border pack’s heir for you, Lira. Before the season turns.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment. The room felt smaller than it had a minute ago, the maps and the reports and the empty chair by the window all pressing in at once.

I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears. The bond-sense that had lived quietly in my chest my entire life suddenly felt louder, as if it knew it was being threatened.

“You could have told us this together,” I said quietly. “With Mother here.”

Something flickered across his face, there and gone too fast to name. “Your mother is aware of the arrangement.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He did not answer that. He turned back to his maps instead, dismissing us with a gesture, the same way he dismissed council members and border reports and anything else he had already decided did not require further discussion. “You are excused. Prepare yourselves. The kingdom does not wait on sentiment.”

We left without another word.

In the corridor Lira’s hand found mine for a brief, fierce squeeze. The stone walls felt colder than they had on the way in.

Near the end of the hall three familiar figures waited as if they had sensed the tension.

Kael, broad-shouldered and easy-smiling, the boy who had been our shadow since childhood and who would one day stand as our beta.

Mira, sharp-eyed and quiet, already carrying herself like the gamma she would become.

And Dorn, lean and watchful, who would take the delta rank when the time came. They were ours. Not by blood, but by choice.

Kael’s smile faded when he saw our faces. “That bad?”

“Worse,” Lira said.

Mira’s gaze sharpened. “What do you need?”

“A minute,” I admitted, and for once nobody rushed me for it. We found a quiet alcove off the main corridor, the kind of half-forgotten space nobody bothers guarding because nothing important ever happens there, and I told them everything.

The arrangement. The names. The way Father had not so much as blinked while he signed away two futures like they were border treaties.

Kael’s jaw tightened somewhere around the word suitable. He had never liked that word, not since he was old enough to understand what it usually meant when it got applied to people instead of horses.

“So that’s it,” he said. “He’s just decided.”

“He’s decided,” Lira confirmed. “Whether we agree or not doesn’t seem to have factored in.”

Dorn, who rarely offered opinions before he had turned a problem over a few times in silence, finally spoke. “And Mother?”

“Wasn’t there,” I said. “Her chair was empty.”

That got a reaction out of all three of them. Mira’s eyes narrowed, already turning the absence over like a puzzle piece that did not fit anywhere convenient. “She always sits in on things like this.”

“Not this time.” I still could not decide if that meant she disagreed with him and could not stand to watch, or agreed with him and could not stand to watch either way. Both possibilities sat uneasily in my chest.

“So what do you want to do,” Kael asked, though from the set of his shoulders he already suspected the answer and had already decided he was not going to talk either of us out of it.

I looked at my twin, at our three closest friends, and felt the decision settle solid in my chest.

“We leave,” I said quietly. “Soon. We find him ourselves before anyone else decides our future for us.”

Lira’s answering smile was all teeth and promise. “Together.”

“Both of you understand what that means,” Mira said, not unkindly, just making sure the words had actually landed before anyone started making plans. “No guard escort. No safety net. If this goes wrong, nobody’s riding out to save you, because nobody back here is going to know where to look.”

“We understand,” Lira said.

“Good. Because I wasn’t asking permission to worry less about you. I was asking if you understood, so I know how carefully to pack.” A small, dry smile crossed her face, the first hint of humor since we had told them what happened. “I’ve been waiting years for an excuse to leave this palace anyway.”

Kael cracked his knuckles. “Then we start packing.”

The kingdom could keep its chosen males.

We already knew who we were meant to find.