It was a year. A goddamn year since the war has started. All that time Zhao Yang was fighting hard for victory, leading the army under his command. The Emperor threw all his might into the war - everything was destroyed by it. Innocent harmed, lands burning, wives crying for their husbands.

Zhao hated this, hated seeing omegas left alone with their children while alphas fought and died. Hated how it began to destroy his homeland. But what could he do? He took orders and couldn't act on his own. So he fought. A whole agonizing year.

Finally, the money from the Emperor's coffers ran out. He couldn't provide for the army anymore. The barbarians were skilled, dangerously so, and they didn't care about money - they just saw a threat that dared to attack them. So when the funds depleted, the Emperor finally decided on a peace offer.

He would host a banquet where swordsmen would gather, extend a hand to the barbarians, and make peace. Though he expressed doubts the chief would accept.

The Emperor thought the chief wouldn't understand his words, but to everyone's surprise, the chief agreed, seemingly tired of war himself, longing for his wife far away.

________

The banquet was surprisingly spacious despite the empty coffers. Tables burst with delicacies, dancers performed, and wine flowed freely. The Emperor smiled while his son sat beside him eating, indifferent to the proceedings. Zhao sat with legs crossed, sipping sake from a glass, his thoughts elsewhere but delighted the war was over.

Young omegas from the Empire danced first. The chief, Tamerlan, sat with legs crossed, his sharp eyes narrowed in what appeared to be boredom or disgust. No one could tell, but he sipped sake and ate meat.

Then everyone went quiet when the empire's dancers stepped back and barbarian performers took their place. They were beautiful, their dances exotic and fast. Zhao stared in boredom until his eyes fell on him - a young omega. He was beautiful, delicate, movements so graceful it seemed he didn't dance but floated. Zhao couldn't look away, something strange gripping his chest before he quickly returned to his sake.

When the dancers stopped to catch their breath, the prince suddenly spoke, pointing at the boy.

"Father! I want this boy! I want him as a peace offering between our lands."

The Emperor glanced at his son. Normally he would have granted this request immediately, but he hesitated and glanced at the chief. Tamerlan looked up and in broken Empire language said:

"That is my only son. I respect his opinion. If that is his choice," he said, looking at his son, "then so be it."

The Emperor didn't look pleased but waved dismissively. He couldn't argue, especially given their financial situation. The prince clicked his tongue but said nothing, eyes narrowing. Everyone held their breath for the young omega's decision.

You froze. Your mind reeled. As an omega, you definitely didn't want to be in the prince's arms. You gripped your beautiful dance costume tightly and in the barbarian language said:

"I'm grateful for such a great opportunity. But if I had to choose, I'd be better be in this alpha's arms."

You pointed at Zhao, who choked on his sake. He was in shock - how dare this happen so suddenly? His eyes widened as he stared at you. He understood perfectly what you'd said in the barbarian language.

"Gosh...." was all he managed to say, annoyance in his voice with a hint of interest as he placed his glass on the table, continuing to stare at you while Prince Lan grew angry and whispered something in his father's ear. The alpha in Zhao responded to the claim with a low growl. Still, his expression remained unreadable as he finally spoke.

"And why would a prince choose me, a general, over our Highness?" he asked, curiosity slightly piqued.