The Emperor’s False Omega

Aziel’s POV

The battlefield burned beneath a crimson sky.

The scent of blood and iron choked the air as steel clashed against steel. Bodies fell beneath my blade, one after another, until the enemy’s banners were torn down and trampled beneath our feet.

Victory. At last.

I laughed, breathless, and turned toward the one man I trusted most.

“We won, Ronan…”

Pain.

A sharp, burning pain tore through my chest.

I looked down.

A blade. His blade.

Ronan stood before me, his hand buried in my heart. His face was splattered with blood… mine.

“Forgive me, my King,” he whispered.

Then he twisted the blade.

My eyes snapped open.

My chest heaved violently as I clawed at the silk sheets beneath me.

No blood. No battlefield. No Ronan.

Instead…

A soft canopy.

Perfume.

And a body far too light to be mine.

I froze, my breath coming in sharp bursts as my gaze darted around the room.

The ceiling above me was painted in pale silver patterns. Thin curtains draped around an oversized bed, soft and expensive-looking. The scent in the air was sweet, too sweet, like crushed flowers and incense.

My body felt wrong.

I sat up too quickly and nearly collapsed back against the pillows.

Weak.

I was weak.

My arms trembled beneath my own weight, my chest rising and falling rapidly as panic clawed its way up my throat.

No.

No.

This was not my body.

I lifted shaking hands in front of my face. They were smaller.

Paler.

Slender fingers with no calluses. No scars. No strength.

I stared. 

Then my hand flew to my chest. No wound. No blood. No scar.

Nothing.

My heart pounded wildly against my ribs.

I was alive.

How?

The last thing I remembered was Ronan’s face.

Ronan’s voice; his blade.

I clenched my jaw so hard it hurt.

That bastard.

The one person I had trusted. The one person I had fought beside for years. The one person I had raised from nothing.

He had killed me.

I sucked in a sharp breath as another wave of dizziness hit me.

My head pounded.

Images flashed through my mind.

A different room.

A different life.

A pale young man crying silently into silk sheets.

A voice.

Cold. Cruel.

“You should be grateful. His Majesty may spare your life if you please him.”

Another image.

A mirror.

Long silver-white hair. A frail body. Purple bruises on pale skin. A carriage waiting outside palace gates.

And then…

A rope.

My breath caught.

I jerked upright so fast my vision blackened for a second.

Memories.

Not mine. Someone else’s.

Or…No.

This body’s.

My fingers dug into the sheets as the memories slammed into me harder.

Lior.

The third prince of the Blue Moon Kingdom.

An Omega.

Weak. Fragile. Despised.

A sacrifice.

My expression darkened.

Lior had killed himself. He had taken his own life rather than be sent away.

And somehow…

I had woken up in his body.

A hollow laugh nearly escaped me.

A king.

A feared Alpha warrior.

Reborn as an Omega.

If the gods existed, they were mocking me.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to stand.

The second my bare feet touched the cold floor, my knees nearly buckled.

Pathetic.

This body was pathetic.

I caught myself against the edge of the bed and inhaled slowly through my nose.

The scent hit me instantly.

Sweet. Soft. Wrong.

My own scent.

My face twisted.

Omega.

I could smell it on my skin. In the air. Clinging to the sheets.

My stomach turned.

A knock came at the door. My head snapped toward it.

Before I could answer, the door creaked open. A young man stepped inside carrying a tray. He was dressed in noble servant robes, with neat dark hair and a calm expression.

My eyes narrowed.

The young man walked in carefully.

“Oh, Your Highness, you’re finally awake.” His voice was gentle. “I was beginning to worry.”

I said nothing.

He placed the tray down carefully.

“You gave everyone such a fright.” He lowered his voice. “The carriage to Emperor Ragnar leaves at dawn. You should eat something.”

My fingers twitched.

He stepped a little closer.

“You need your strength.”

Something cold settled in my chest.

Lior’s memories sharpened.

Fear. Despair.

A rope tightening.

I moved before I thought.

My hand shot out and the tray crashed to the floor. I slammed him against the wall hard enough to crack wood.

The young man clawed at my wrist, eyes wide.

“Y-Your Highness…!”

My grip tightened.

Even weak, I was stronger than this.

My voice came out low and dangerous.

“Who are you?”

His face turned red. His legs kicked helplessly.

I leaned in, eyes cold.

“Answer me.”

His eyes widened in confusion and terror.

I squeezed harder.

His struggles weakened. His face darkened.

One more second.

One more.

The door burst open.

“Your Highness!”

I turned sharply.

Three maids stood frozen in the doorway.

One screamed.

I clicked my tongue and released him. The man collapsed to the floor coughing violently.

I stepped back slowly.

The maids rushed in.

One helped him.

Another stared at me in horror.

“P-Prince Lior…”

I straightened.

My silver-white hair fell over my shoulders and my thin frame trembled slightly from effort.

But my eyes…

My eyes were not Lior’s.

Cold.

Sharp.

Predatory.

I looked at them all and spoke calmly.

“Get out.”

They froze.

I took one step forward.

“Now.”

They ran.

The young man stumbled after them, still coughing.

The room fell silent.

I exhaled slowly.

My body shook and muscles burned.

My chest tightened.

I nearly collapsed back onto the bed.

Weak.

Too weak.

My jaw clenched.

No.

I refused this.

I refused weakness.

I refused helplessness.

I refused to die in this body.

I closed my eyes and sat cross-legged on the bed.

I inhaled slowly. Then exhaled.

Again.

Again.

Ancient Alpha discipline.

Mental control. Breath control. Instinct suppression.

I focused inward.

On the pounding of my borrowed heart. On the weakness in my limbs. On the strange heat beneath my skin.

Omega instincts.

I pressed them down.

Buried them.

Locked them away.

Sweat slid down my neck.

My breathing steadied.

Minutes passed. Or hours.

I did not know.

A voice outside the door made my eyes snap open.

“Prepare Prince Lior.”

Another voice answered.

“The carriage to the Tyrant Emperor leaves at dawn.”

Silence.

I stared toward the door.

Then slowly…

I smiled.

Cold. Sharp. Terrifying.

“Ragnar,” I murmured.

The Blood Tyrant.

The monster emperor.

The man this body had feared so much he chose death.

I rose to my feet.

My legs still trembled. My body was still weak.

But my mind was steel.

I walked toward the mirror.

A pale Omega prince stared back at me.

Long silver hair. Delicate features.

A body built to kneel.

I lifted my chin.

My reflection did the same.

“No,” I said quietly.

My voice was calm.

Certain.

Deadly.

“I am no sacrifice.”

I touched the mirror.

My eyes darkened.

“I am a King.”

And at dawn…

I would enter the enemy empire.

Not as prey. Not as a victim.

But as a King.