It all started on the day the king needed an alpha. One of his advisors told him, yep, it's time for you to get an alpha and get children.
It doesn't sound crazy in this world that the omega is a king. It is how our world is structured. Omegas are off-limits. They are put in positions of power in companies, businesses, and leadership.
There was just one tiny problem. The king, the omega, found that all of the alphas that worked in the palace, when brought in for interviews and to see if they were qualified to start the strict negotiations of marriage and bedfellows, he found that they smelled very bad – disgusting.
So, the search was widened to people who didn't work in the palace. To people who worked in businesses just around outside the building. And then, it widened again. And then a little further.
And then ultimately it hit the paper-pushing mundane life of our alpha. The alpha everyone just thought was a beta, or refused to give his gender.
When people would harass him for his gender, others would defend him. “You can't ask that!” “It's private information!” “It's confidential information!” “It shouldn't be!” “I heard from HR that...” “You can't say that!”
One day, after coming home from work, the alpha opened his mail. The nosy landlady of his tiny apartment complex leaned over his shoulder as he had a very strange envelope. It had cursive writing on it, and gold-leaf details.
“Is that from His Majesty?” She asked with a squeaky voice nervously.
He rolled his eyes at her with a smile. “You don't get to know, Mrs. Kowalski.” He said, turned into his apartment and shut the door before her gaze could follow him.
He dropped his bag down in the kitchen right by the door, and then flipped through the other mail. Nothing of interest, besides one saying the date of his rent due from Mrs. Kowalski. His attention returned to the embellished envelope. He held it with both hands at arm's length away, and took a deep breath, shutting his eyes in fear. Then he exhaled all of the air in his lungs.
“Please don't be something terrible.” He prayed.
He pulled the envelope back to him and then opened the wax seal on the back. His eyes skimmed over the letter's cursive writing, and then went back to read it fully.
You are cordially invited by His Royal Majesty King Halphas for an interview at the palace tomorrow at seven in the morning. We request you wear a suit. You do not need to bring anything besides your honest self.
“For... an interview?”
It wasn't quiet news that His Majesty was looking for an alpha bedfellow, a mate... A person to marry. In fact, it was in the newspaper recently about how the search was officially on, and how it's area of investigation had been further expanded.
“But...” He groaned to himself. “I'm not anywhere near qualified...” He sighed, a bit annoyed that someone else could find out his gender that he was struggling to keep private. And here it was, smacking him in the face.
You are an alpha.
You cannot escape it.