The air was heavy with unspoken truths as Princess Lena entered Kongpob's chambers. She closed the door softly, but her expression held none of her usual calm grace. Kongpob barely looked up, his gaze fixed on the window where the last light of day was fading, casting a dull glow across the room. He looked every bit as defeated as he felt, weighed down by the armlet he wore like a shackle—an unyielding reminder of his duty and the life he could not escape.

"Kong," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "I need to speak with you about... something I did."

Kongpob turned, and the sadness in his eyes made Lena falter. He looked so worn, as if he were already bearing more than any one person should have to. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. She had to tell him. He deserved to know.

"I wrote to Commander Arthit of Rasina," she confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush, as if speaking them quickly would lessen their weight. "In your name."

Kongpob's eyes widened, and for a moment, he looked as if he hadn't truly heard her. Then the realization hit, and his face drained of color. "Rasina? The kingdom of barbarians your father hate? You... you wrote to him? Pretending to be me?"

Lena nodded, her heart pounding. "I did. I'm sorry, Kongpob. But you must understand, it was the only way I could think of to save you—to save all of us."

" to save us ? Us whom? You and the commander? "Kongpob's hands began to tremble, and he clenched them into fists, his breaths coming faster. "Do you know what this could mean? If uncle gets the wind he would kill phi Arin (his nany he considers second mother) and Aim and Tew (his omega attendants )..."

" Nothing like that will happen. I have been writing Arthit for almost seven months now and no one caught the wind ..."

" Even if your father does not know the truth. What about commander Arthit ? " His voice broke, and he struggled to keep his composure. "If he comes and realizes he's been deceived—"

"I know," Lena interrupted gently, reaching out a hand to touch his arm, though he flinched away. "But listen to me. We can not just think of one or two person right now ? We can't be selfish..."

" Really ? " Kong sniffles " were you doing all of us a favour by colluding with the enemy? "

" Kong, Arthit is not an enemy, he loves you. ."

" Love ? " Kong scoffed " Love is just another words for alpha like slave and servant. "

" Kong— "

"Your father loved your mother too. What good it did to her?" Lena's face fell,she pulled back her hand resting on his shoulder and Kong instantly felt bad. " I am sorry..."

" No. You are right " Lena wiped her tears . And now I see how foolish the plan was. But, I stand by what I told you. This is not the time to be selfish. We can't think about just our fates. If the Kingdom falls in Konrad's hands — it doesn't matter who the omega is . Royal blood like you and me or a child of palace maid — all our fates will be same. Konrad sees omegas as breeding machine. We will be stripped and bred publically — to pop out as many bear cubs as we can before we sucumb to his desirs. This regime will seem thousands a time merciful if our kingdom falls in his hand. Our only hope is General Arthit. "

" How? "

" He is a grizzly shifters and revered warrior. He has fought around eighty battles so far and lost none. "

" Not a single one ? "

" No..." Lena said.

" And why Will he help us ? "

" Because he thinks, you are in love with him and can not live without him. That you have accepted him as your mate in your heart. "

Kongpob looked away, pressing a hand to his mouth, his mind racing through all the possible consequences. The shame, the dishonor, the anger of a man as revered as Commander Arthit when he learned he'd been lied to. Yet Lena's voice was steady, and her gaze burned with a fierce determination that Kongpob had never seen before.

"King Konrad of the Polar Bears is on our doorstep," she continued, her voice low but unyielding. " What do you think your mother would have done if faced with same choices? "

The terror in Kongpob's eyes softened, replaced by a dawning understanding.

He knew Konrad's reputation, knew the tales of the towns razed to the ground, the families torn apart. He'd heard the whispers of omegas taken as spoils of war, of children turned into orphans overnight. It was a horror too awful to imagine—but one that was drawing closer with each passing day.

He knew what his mother would have done ? Anything to protect those who could not protect themselves. Even if meant traversing from known he'll to unknown — like Rasina Kingdom.

" Did you use my handwriting? " he asked.

Lena nodded.

" bring me same pen ."

"So... you are going to write Arthit..." Her voice trailed off, but the question hung between them.

"Yes," Kong a said, his  gaze intense. "He's the only one who could stand against Konrad. Our own armies are too small, our resources stretched too thin. General Reinir is willing to lay down his life, but even he cannot hold back the Polar Bears alone. Arthit—he is honorable, strong, and relentless in his fight for justice. He would fight not for a title, not for wealth, but for those who cannot protect themselves. For us."

Kongpob felt a glimmer of hope flicker within him, faint but persistent. The weight of his armlet seemed to lessen, just a fraction. But the fear remained—fear of what Arthit would say, fear of his own inadequacy, fear of what this letter could cost him.

" In the letter, he had asked for your betrothal armlet as an identity proof. "

Kong took a deep breath before taking off the armlet with trembling hands.

He rose from his seat and crossed to his writing desk, his hands shaking as he pulled out a blank sheet of parchment. For a long moment, he stared at it, the words he needed to write eluding him.

Then, taking a deep breath, he dipped his quill in ink and began to write.

---

"To Commander Arthit Rojanapat,"

"I am writing to you not as a prince, nor as a noble seeking favor, but as one who is desperate to secure a hope for his subjects. I know you are a man of honor, one who stands for justice and mercy. And it is that justice, that mercy, which I now humbly beg for—not for myself, but for those who have no other hope."

"Our kingdom stands on the brink. King Konrad's forces are closing in, and though we have done all we can, I fear it will not be enough. Our people—the poor, the unprotected, the omegas who have no strength to defend themselves—are at risk of falling into the hands of a ruler who knows no compassion."

"If you are moved by their plight, then I ask you, come to our aid. Do not come for me, for I am nothing but a symbol in a cage. But come for the children, the innocents who know nothing of war and politics, who deserve a life free from the terror that now darkens our land."

King Konrad is known to drill through the ranks of omega like a farmer through weed in his farm. Forgive me commander, for I am not that strong to face such fate.  This will be my last letter to you.

As the prince of Panthara, I beg for your mercy, save our omegas from fates worse than death.

"Please, if you have any pity in your heart, if there is any spark of mercy in your soul, come to save those who cannot save themselves."

"Yours,

Waiting in hope and desperation,"

"Kongpob of Panthara"

   ..............

When he finished, Kongpob read over the letter, his heart hammering in his chest. Each word seemed a confession, a plea torn from the depths of his soul. He hesitated, but he could feel Lena's steady presence beside him, urging him on.

Sealing the letter, he looked up at her. "You're sure this is right?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Lena nodded, her eyes shining with pride and relief. "Yes. You did the right thing, Kongpob. Whatever happens, you spoke with honesty and courage."

As Kongpob handed her the letter, he felt as though he were relinquishing a part of himself—his last piece of hope, his final cry for salvation. But as he watched her leave to send the letter on its way, he realized that something new had blossomed in its place.

A fragile, but growing, strength.

.......

Word arrived next day: Commander Arthit of Rasina was coming to aid of Panthara.

Kongpob's heart pounded at the news, a mixture of relief and dread. He had secured a future for his subjects,  but at what cost?

In the dead of night, as Panthara awaited its fate and Arthit rode closer, Kong silently vowed that he would do whatever it took to see his omegas safe.

..............

The moon was a mere sliver against the night sky as Commander Arthit Rojanapat ran at the head of his battalion, a company of fierce grizzly shifters known for their unmatched strength and loyalty.

The air hummed with a tense silence, broken only by the steady beat of paws and the occasional low growl as his men scanned the dark forests around them. They were on a mission to Panthara—a kingdom once an enemy, but now a place he was bound to by an invisible thread.

It was impossible to dismiss the unease bubbling in Arthit's mind. For months, he'd resisted the idea of bonding with a stranger, especially an Omega prince from Panthara. The political ramifications alone were daunting, and he was no fool to the ancient grudges his kingdom of Rasina held against Panthara. Yet, one letter—one heartfelt plea—had changed everything.

He could still remember the first letter vividly.  His soldiers were  lounged nearby a campfire, sharing tales of past battles, laughing, and nursing their ale after another day of grueling drills.

It was then that Pik, one of the younger scouts, came sprinting toward them, clutching a sealed letter in his hand. He skidded to a halt in front of Arthit, his face flushed with excitement.

"General, sir! A letter arrived for you!" Pik announced, holding the letter out with an exaggerated sense of reverence.

Arthit raised a brow, unimpressed by Pik's dramatics. "A letter? From whom?" he asked, barely sparing it a glance as he continued with his sword.

Bright, who was sitting nearby, smirked. "Maybe it's from a lady, General," he teased. "Or some poor soul smitten by his valor."

Prem snickered, cracking the wax seal before Arthit could stop him. "Oh, it's much better than a lady, lads. This one's from a prince," he whispered, holding the letter aloft with a flourish.

A round of laughter erupted among the soldiers, who gathered closer, practically shoving each other to catch a glimpse. Arthit sighed, reaching for the letter, but Knot had already snatched it out of Prem's hand, clearing his throat as he began to read aloud, his voice dripping with mock sincerity.

"To the Honorable General Arthit Rojanapat, Defender of the Free Kingdoms and Shield of the Weak," Knot read in a dramatically swooning tone, causing a few chuckles to erupt around the circle.

Arthit rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he listened, already feeling the embarrassment creeping up his neck.

Knot continued, with exaggerated emotion, "Since I first heard the tales of your valor—the bravery with which you defend those under your care, your strength against enemies who quake at the mere mention of your name—I felt something stir within me."

A collective "Oooooh" rippled through the group, and Toota doubled over with laughter. Wad, one of the older soldiers, shook his head, grinning. "Sounds like you've got yourself an admirer, General."

"In the portrait I managed to glimpse, I saw not just a warrior, but the man I have dreamed of, the one whose courage could rival mountains and whose heart, I hope, is warm and just," Knot went on, his voice growing more absurdly passionate with each line.

The men guffawed, some of them wiping tears from their eyes as they tried to imagine the prince's dreamy expression. Arthit, however, was starting to wish he could disappear into his tent.

"My heart has chosen you, my dear General, and it has chosen without permission or approval!" Knot practically wailed, clutching his chest dramatically. "No other man shall ever touch my heart or my soul. I will not submit to any other, no matter who is promised or pledged to me."

The campfire crackled, and Prem slapped Arthit on the back with a wide grin. "Looks like the prince is ready to run away from home just to be by your side, General. How noble of you to inspire such devotion."

Arthit scoffed, trying to appear unaffected. "Very amusing," he muttered, though a faint hint of a smile tugged at his lips despite himself.

The letter was ridiculous, of course—flowery words and all. Still, the innocent adoration, however misguided, was strangely touching. And he could only imagine the young prince, whoever he was, imagining some grand romance from across the kingdom.

But Knot wasn't done yet. With a flourish, he launched into the final lines, where the prince had declared his willingness to give up everything for Arthit.

"Please, General Arthit, if there is any room in your heart for an Omega prince who dares to dream, come to me. Take me as your own, and I shall honor you, respect you, and cherish you all my days."

A moment of stunned silence followed, before Prem let out a low whistle. "I didn't think it was possible to put so much pining into one letter."

The men burst into laughter once more, this time grabbing each other for support as they wheezed at the thought of the General being wooed by such earnest, naive words.

"So, when are you setting off to rescue your beloved prince?" Toota quipped, nudging Arthit with a wicked grin.

Arthit finally took the letter back, folding it and tucking it into his cloak with a huff. "Enough, you scoundrels," he said, his voice gruff but not entirely annoyed. "If he knew the kind of buffoons I'm surrounded by, he'd think twice before writing such nonsense."

"Oh, but General," Bright drawled, wiping a tear from his eye. "You've got to admit, it's endearing. Imagine the poor prince, sitting in some gilded room, writing to his 'fated mate' across the land. He must be utterly convinced of your heroic charms."

Arthit sighed, but he couldn't deny that some part of him felt a small pang of curiosity—a wondering about this prince who thought so highly of him. "I'm just curious how he thinks this is all going to work out," he muttered, glancing at the letter once more. "Fate, stars... Ridiculous."

Knot grinned, elbowing him. "Admit it, General, you like it. Maybe the lad's foolish, but he's genuine. Could do worse, right?"

Arthit chuckled, shaking his head. "We're done here, lads. Get some sleep before I put you all on double watch tomorrow."

But as the men drifted back to their tents, laughter and whispers trailing in the air, Arthit remained by the fire, staring into the embers. Against his better judgment, his thoughts drifted back to the letter, and the idealistic prince who had dared to dream.

.......

When Arthit had first read the letter,  Arthit had shrugged it off—he had no intention of indulging some pampered prince's fantasies.

Yet, When he had employed some spies, he came to know prince Kongpob was given the status in name only. He was more like an ornament — betrothed against his will to the general of the army. And Arthit felt bad for him.

Also, a question sparked in his mind. Was it a ploy of Kongpob's enemy to get rid of Kongpob by accusing him of colluding with Kongdom's enemies ?

Days later, another letter had arrived, this one even more earnest. It described Kongpob's deep admiration for Arthit's sense of duty, his moral compass, his honor. The letter painted a vivid picture of a prince whose quiet yearning and loneliness seemed to speak directly to Arthit, despite his best attempts to keep his guard up. The prince's words were filled with an almost desperate hope that someone, somewhere, would see him for who he was—not just a pawn in a kingdom's plans but a person with his own dreams and desires.

Slowly, he'd allowed himself to consider the possibility that there was truth in the prince's words. He'd read the letter several times, feeling a strange tug on his heart. What kind of life had this prince led,  he'd wondered, to be so willing to reach out to someone from an enemy kingdom? And then another question had followed, one that disturbed him even more—Why do I care?

Arthit found himself caught in a growing curiosity about the mysterious prince of Panthara. The letters continued to arrive, each more heartfelt and revealing than the last, as if Kongpob were entrusting his very soul to the commander he had never met. Arthit knew he should have disregarded them, but against all logic, he began to wait for each new letter, drawn to the voice on the page that seemed to mirror so much of his own loneliness.

His men had noticed, of course. They'd laugh and jibe, calling him the "romantic warrior," never missing an opportunity to suggest that his "lover" awaited him in Panthara.

"Watch out, Commander," his lieutenant, knott, had teased him just days ago. "They say Omegas from Panthara are like roses—they look soft, but they've got thorns. Better hope this prince doesn't prick you."

Arthit had rolled his eyes but could not deny the small smile tugging at his lips. He'd never thought of himself as a romantic, but the prince's words had lingered, burrowing into a place he hadn't known was empty. There was a vulnerability in those letters, an aching need for connection that resonated with him. It stirred something fierce and protective in his heart, a strange sense of responsibility he couldn't shake.

Then, when the siege on Panthara had been announced, everything had shifted. He had been prepared to turn a deaf ear, believing that the prince would be protected by his own kingdom's forces. But then, a final letter had arrived, this one darker, filled with a desperation that left Arthit unsettled.

But first, he had to make sure, it was Kongpob. So he asked for the betrothal ornament. If the prince was courageous enough to romance an enemy commander, he would find a way to send him his betrothal insignia.

The insignia did arrive , with an unsettling letter. Bordering on plea, making him suspect, Kongpob had taken some unthinkable step. The man seemed resigned to his fate yet perverse optimistic.

King Konrad is known to drill through the ranks of omega like a farmer through weed in his farm. Forgive me commander, for I am not that strong to face such fate.  This will be my last letter to you. "  it read in a shaky scrawl that seemed different from the confident hand of the previous letters. "My time grows short. If you do not come, our omegas will be forced into a fate.I cannot bear to even think of.  Please... I know I am asking you to risk your men and your life, but if there is any part of you that believes in my words, help us. "

He'd read the letter twice, feeling the weight of each word sink into him. He could almost imagine Kongpob standing there, eyes pleading, lips parted in silent protest. This prince was more than just a spoiled noble. He was a soul caught in a gilded cage, a person whose dignity and choices had been stripped away in the name of duty and politics.

And Arthit couldn't ignore that.

So here he was, running with his men through the dead of night, bound for a kingdom on the brink of war, with the promise that he would bring this prince to safety.

His grizzlies followed in silent solidarity, each of them seasoned in battle, each loyal to their commander's every command. Arthit could sense their skepticism—many of them thought him a fool for risking his life for a mere Omega. But loyalty was deeply embedded in their code, and if their commander had made up his mind, they would follow him to the end.

The path was fraught with danger, and Arthit knew the risks he was taking. A siege was no small matter, and they would be entering hostile territory. But something inside him whispered that he could not turn back, that he had to see this prince for himself, to know if the soul he'd come to care for through those letters was truly as earnest as it seemed.

As he ran, his mind wandered to the future, to a world where Kongpob could be free to choose his own path, to make his own choices. The warmth that spread through Arthit's chest at the thought caught him off guard. He had thought love was something for others—dreamers, poets, not for hardened warriors like him. And yet, the letters had softened something inside him, a part he hadn't known was waiting.

He looked up at the stars and whispered a silent promise to the night.

"Kongpob," he murmured under his breath, "I will come for you. Whatever it takes."