An imperial wedding was always a grand affair.

The omega consorts had looked impeccable. They'd worn gorgeous hand-sewn outfits, ornate jewelry, and carried fragrant bouquets handpicked from the palace's gardens. The bonding bite had been proudly displayed on their necks—proof of the imperial alpha's legitimate claim.

The heir had been equally impressive, donning a spotless military outfit and carrying the imperial family's ancestral blade. While the divine blessings had been conducted in a smaller, private ceremony, the reception had been a different matter. The citywide festivities had lasted an entire week.

Although all three consorts had performed their roles to perfection, Caellach had visibly been the most radiant. It hadn't been just a formality; to him, it had been the culmination of a lifelong dream. He'd been practically aglow. Not everything had been perfect—there were whispers of favoritism. Rumors that he'd been chosen not for his qualities, but for his ties to House McLeod. He hadn't cared. Nothing could've ruined his elation.

When finally the celebrations were over, Caellach had been in his chambers, getting ready for a warm bath, when a soft knock came from the door.

"One moment!" he called out, pulling a soft velvet robe over himself. He was exhausted, having spent all day greeting guests, and hoped it didn't show on his face too much.

At the sight of the heir at the door, Caellach's expression lit up, his sweet scent thickening. His most beloved. The one he'd dreamed of being with since before he was old enough to understand what he felt. "Your Highness. To what do I owe the honor?"

The pair was long past titles, but with servants nearby, Caellach had to be proper. He'd been chastised one too many times already for being too casual. It came naturally to him—they'd been close since puphood, before either of them presented. Fate had been kind to make him omega after his beloved had presented as alpha, and again to grant him the blessing of being chosen as consort.

He couldn't be happier.