Rejected Omega Was Told to Sing the Luna Hymn as a Joke – But Her Voice Left the Alpha King Speechless
You’re Everything
Tears were streaming down my face now.
“How can you love me? I’m nobody. I’m nothing.”
“You’re everything,”
the beast growled.
“You’re brave and clever and kind to monsters. You see broken things and don’t try to fix them; you just sit with them in the dark and make the darkness less lonely. You sang grief into beauty and turned survival into purpose. And you looked at us—split and cursed and damaged—and chose to stay anyway.”
“Because I had nowhere else to go.”
“Liar.”
The beast’s voice was gentle.
“You could have refused. Could have begged your father to take you back. Could have fled to another territory. Could have found a hundred ways to escape. But you stayed. Not because you had to, but because you wanted to.”
The truth of it slammed into me. I’d been telling myself this was survival, that I was just making the best of a bad situation, that my feelings were gratitude mixed with loneliness.
The Terrible Revelation
But that was a lie I’d been hiding behind. The truth was simpler and more terrifying.
I’d fallen in love with a cursed king and his beast heart.
I’d fallen in love with the way Charles explained complex politics with patience and respect, with the way he listened to my thoughts like they mattered, with his rare smiles and his tired eyes and his determination to be good despite being broken.
And I’d fallen in love with the beast’s honesty, with its riddles and its fierce protectiveness, and the way it said beautiful things without hesitation or shame.
I’d fallen in love with both halves, which meant…
“Oh,”
I breathed.
The beast’s eyes gleamed.
“You understand now? The curse? The condition?”
The Point of No Return
My heart was racing. Someone has to love both halves. Someone has to see you wholly and choose you anyway.
“And do you?”
the beast asked quietly.
“Do you see us wholly, Catherine? Do you choose us?”
This was the moment, the point of no return. I could lie, could say I needed more time, more certainty, more proof this was real. Or I could be brave enough to speak truth.
I stood, walking across the chamber until I was directly in front of the cage. I was close enough that I could feel heat radiating from the beast’s fur, close enough to see my reflection in its burning eyes.
“I see you,”
I said clearly.
“Both of you. King and beast, thought and feeling, mind and heart. I see all of it: the loneliness and the hope, the fear and the courage, the curse and the man beneath. And I…”
My voice broke. The beast waited, perfectly still.
“I love you,”
I whispered.
“Both of you. Wholly.”
Loving a Soul Split in Two
“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t plan to. But somewhere between riddles and history lessons, between promises and patience, I fell in love with a soul split in two. And I don’t want you whole if it means losing either half. I want all of you, exactly as you are.”
The silence that followed was absolute. Then the beast spoke, its voice shaking.
“Say it again.”
“I love you. I choose you. Both of you. Always.”
Light exploded through the chamber—pure white, blinding light that poured from the beast’s body like sunrise breaking through storm clouds. I threw up my hand to shield my eyes, stumbling backward.
The magic that had held for five years shattered like glass. The beast roared, not in pain, but in release, as its form began to shift.
But this transformation was different. There was no agony, no screaming—just light and change and the sound of chains breaking.
The Curse is Broken
When the brilliance finally faded, I lowered my hand and saw Charles.
Not the king in the cage at dawn, exhausted and broken; not the beast at night, powerful but separated—just Charles. He was standing in the ruins of his cage, whole and human and free.
His gray eyes were wide with shock. He looked down at his hands, flexing fingers that should have been claws. He touched his face, his chest, confirming he was solid and real and singular.
“The curse,”
he breathed.
“It’s broken.”
“The curse is broken,”
I repeated, hardly daring to believe it.
He crossed the space between us in three strides, and then his hands were on my face, tilting it up to his.
“You love me.”
“I love you. Both halves. All of you.”
I confirmed:
“Every part.”
Whole and Complete
Then he was kissing me—desperately, deeply, like a man drowning who just found air. His lips were soft and urgent, his hands shaking as they framed my face. I kissed him back with everything I had.
When we finally broke apart, both gasping, he pressed his forehead to mine.
“I’m whole,”
he whispered, wonder in his voice.
“For the first time in five years, I’m whole. I can feel everything again—the beast’s emotions, but integrated, part of me instead of separate. Like I’m finally…”
He swallowed hard.
“Finally complete.”
“How does it feel?”
“Like waking up. Like coming home.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me.
“Like finding the part of my soul I didn’t know was missing.”
I smiled through tears.
“That’s the worst poetry I’ve ever heard.”
