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Born to be Queen 👑

The gates of the Imperial Palace had never opened so silently.

Usually, the arrival of a new imperial consort was an affair of music, flowers, doves, and endless flattery. But not today.

Today, there were no doves. Only tension. And the sound of one pair of boots tapping on imperial stone with arrogant rhythm.

Wangji did not need a procession.
He was the procession.

Wrapped in royal black, his long coat trailing behind him like the tail of a comet, the omega walked as if he’d lived in palaces all his life. Chin high, silver earrings catching the sunlight, he wore no veil, no blush, and certainly no humility.

He wasn’t here to be anyone’s wife.

He was here to remind the world that an omega could command kings.

“Is that him?” one servant whispered from behind the lotus curtain.

“The fourth consort?” another gasped. “They say he slapped the Minister of Ceremonies at his last engagement meeting—”

“And cursed at the Empress Dowager—”

“They say he’s cursed, period!”

Wangji smiled sweetly at their whispers.

Let them talk. Let them tremble. Let them wonder what kind of fool the imperial alpha must be to drag an exiled royal omega back from the mountains just to chain him with marriage papers.

Let them all learn:

No one chains Wangji. Not anymore.

---

The imperial court was lined with petals. But Wangji didn’t spare them a glance.

He walked past the First Wife’s golden gate. Past the Second Wife’s courtyard of mirrors. Past the Third Wife’s rose garden.

He stopped only at the newly built pavilion.

The Fourth Wife’s wing.

Cold. Bare. Disrespectfully small.

Good.

He didn’t want comfort. He wanted war.

“Is this it?” he said flatly, surveying the meager entrance with his arms crossed. “Did the great Emperor forget he was marrying royalty, not a servant?”

The chief eunuch beside him winced. “Y-Your Highness, the Emperor—”

“Don’t call me Highness until you mean it,” Wangji interrupted. His voice was velvet dipped in venom. “For now, ‘Your Majesty’ will do.”

The eunuch nearly collapsed trying to bow low enough.

---

Wuxian arrived at dusk.

Not a word. Not a bow. Not even a glance of recognition.

The dominant alpha stood at the entrance of Wangji’s room, still in royal armor, his eyes sharp as a drawn blade.

He was tall. Dangerous. And infuriatingly smug.

“You made quite the entrance,” Wuxian said, voice dry. “The entire court is shaking.”

Wangji didn’t rise from his seat. He simply sipped his tea.

“Is that what impresses you, Your Majesty? A little thunder?” Wangji set the cup down. “I was hoping to impress with my disobedience.”