To Love My Alpha King

Chapter 1

From the Glasssvial archive! This is an older story and not the best writing, but it may still make you happy!

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A war was going on for years and King Thaksin of Oprela had grown tired of it. He had lost so many good men, just like his rivals did. It was a waste.

During the war, eight nations battled against each other, and against Oprela itself, to take over Thaksin's crown as the older King had no alpha heir to inherit the throne. He had but one daughter: Princess Arya. Sadly, the young princess wasn't qualified to take over his crown, for Arya was born an omega.

The King had been so heartbroken when his Queen died while giving birth to Arya, he'd never married again and never became a father after his firstborn daughter, and so, no other heirs were born.

Arya had lived a good life, growing up in Oprela, and even though she wasn't the powerful alpha that her father would have liked her to be, she had always felt that the man loved her a great deal. It wasn't her fault, daughters were rarely born as alphas. Most women were born being beta and some an omega.

As Arya and Thaksin walked through the royal garden together on this sunny, bright day, the King had told his daughter about his plan:

Soon, a great tournament would be held where alpha Kings from all eight nations would battle against each other to the death. The alpha that was the mightiest and strongest among them would receive Arya's hand in marriage and would become the new King of Oprela, after Thaksin's retirement.

For princess Arya, it was one of the darkest days of her life. She didn't want to marry someone without love.

"I'm sorry, my daughter, you know it pains me to do this, but I don't want more soldiers to die because of this war," Thaksin said. "Enough is enough."

He could only hope that King Leandros would win the tournament, as he knew that the good King would make a fine husband to his daughter.

"I know father. It's not your fault," Arya said, fighting back the tears that were pricking behind her eyes.

She was afraid, so afraid, knowing that her whole life would change after the tournament, something she didn't want to happen.

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Kohl had heard the news about the tournament last week and it had been one of the most satisfying days of his life. He was one of the eight Kings to battle for Arya's hand, and he knew he would win as the other Kings were weak, and pathetic in his eyes. They only had the advantage of having a larger army than he did. Now, without an army to protect them, Kohl would gladly end their lives.

"Are you ready for it?" Aema, the first commander of Kohl's army, asked.

"Oh, you bet I'm ready," Kohl replied while sharpening his sword.

Fighting was his lust and life and he had been trained to kill ever since he was just a seven years old boy. By now, he had lost count of the number of lives he'd taken. All those kills... Kohl felt no remorse, though. Instead, it made him feel powerful and proud.

Kohl had been King since both his parents died when he was only thirteen years old. His kingdom, Geara, was small yet powerful, but Kohl wanted more. That's why he'd been at war for the larger kingdom of Oprela.

He and Aema would leave today, to start their journey. The tournament shall take place tomorrow, in Thaksin's royal arena. Eight warriors shall fight, one against one. First four battles, then the four winners of those first fights shall battle against each other for the second round, again one to one, and in the last round, the two winners from those matches shall fight for the hand of princess Arya, and the future throne.