Rejected Omega Was Told to Sing the Luna Hymn as a Joke – But Her Voice Left the Alpha King Speechless

Rewriting History

My father’s smile faltered.

“That’s not fair. I provided for you, kept you safe.”

“You hid me. Kept me silent. Let Angelia and the others mock me because acknowledging my existence was inconvenient.”

I stepped closer.

“You offered me up as entertainment that night, father. As a joke. And when the king claimed me, you didn’t object because you were relieved to have the problem of me removed.”

“I was protecting the pack.”

“You were protecting yourself,”

my voice was steady now, cold.

“And I understand. You did what you thought you had to do. But don’t come here now pretending you’re proud. Don’t rewrite history to make yourself feel better about how you treated me.”

He stared at me—this daughter he’d never really seen before.

“You’ve changed.”

“No. I’ve just stopped pretending to be smaller than I am.”

Choosing for Myself

I straightened.

“You’re welcome to attend the wedding, father. But know that I’m not doing this for you.”

“I’m not marrying the king to elevate our pack or to make you proud. I’m marrying him because I love him and he loves me. And for the first time in my life, I’m choosing something for myself.”

“Catherine—”

“That’s all I have to say.”

I turned away.

“Thomas will show you to your quarters.”

I walked away from my father—from his shock, his discomfort, and his belated attempts at reconciliation. I felt lighter than I had in years.

That night, I told Charles about the confrontation. We were in his private chambers—my chambers now, too—though we’d agreed to wait until after the wedding for anything beyond stolen kisses and careful touches.

The curse was broken, but some traditions were worth honoring.

“How did it feel?”

he asked, pulling me against his chest as we sat before the fire.

“Standing up to him?”

“Terrifying. Liberating. Both.”

Access to the Wolf

I leaned into his warmth.

“I spent so long wanting his approval, his acknowledgement. But when I had the chance to demand it, I realized I didn’t need it anymore.”

“Do you?”

his voice was soft against my hair.

“Everything? Well, not everything,”

I teased.

“I still can’t shift into a wolf. I’m still barren. Those things haven’t changed. Do they still bother you?”

I considered the question honestly.

“Sometimes. When I see mated pairs running together, when I hear about pack hunts and moon ceremonies, there’s a pang. Not shame anymore, but wistfulness. Maybe like seeing a beautiful painting I can’t be part of.”

“What if I told you there might be a way?”

I pulled back to look at him.

“What do you mean?”

“The curse is broken, but the magic Morgana used… it’s still present. I can feel it woven through my bones now, part of me.”

A Bond of Choice

His gray eyes were serious.

“And yesterday, I felt something else. A connection where there wasn’t one before.”

“Charles, I don’t understand.”

“You broke the curse by loving both halves of me—by seeing the beast and the king as one complete soul.”

He took my hands.

“What if that created a bond between us? Not a mating bond exactly, but something similar. Something that connects your soul to mine.”

My breath caught.

“That’s not possible.”

“Five years ago, I would have said breaking my curse wasn’t possible either.”

He brought my hand to his chest, pressing it over his heart.

“Close your eyes, Catherine. Just feel. Don’t think, don’t analyze—just feel.”

The Golden Thread

I closed my eyes, focusing on the warmth of his skin and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. And then I felt it: a pulse, a connection, a thin golden thread running from my heart to his—invisible but undeniably present.

My eyes flew open.

“What is that?”

“A bond,”

he said softly.

“Created by magic and love and two souls choosing each other completely. It’s not a traditional mating bond—those require both parties to have wolves—but it’s something. And I think…”

He hesitated.

“I think it might give you access to my wolf. Not your own, but shared. Like you’re borrowing from my strength.”

“That’s impossible. Magic doesn’t work that way.”

“Normal magic doesn’t. But curse magic is different. It rewrites reality, creates new rules. And when you broke mine, you didn’t just free me—you intertwined us.”

Fear and Hope

His eyes searched mine.

“Do you want to try?”

“Try what?”

“Shifting with me. Let me guide you through the transformation. Share my wolf with you. See if the bond can carry you through.”

Terror and hope warred in my chest.

“What if it doesn’t work? What if I try and fail?”

“Then we know, and nothing changes. You’ll still be my Luna, I’ll still love you.”

“But if it does work…”

his smile was gentle.

“If it works, you’ll finally know what it feels like to run on four legs. To taste freedom the way wolves do.”

I wanted it—oh, I wanted it so desperately it hurt. But I was terrified of hoping, terrified of reaching for something beautiful and finding it slip through my fingers like every other dream I’d ever had.

“Not yet,”

I finally said.

“After the wedding. After everything is settled. Then we can try.”

Unique Perfection

Charles looked disappointed but understanding.

“Whenever you’re ready. The bond isn’t going anywhere.”

We sat in silence for a while, wrapped in firelight and each other’s presence.

“Charles?”

I said eventually.

“Thank you. For giving me the choice. For not pushing.”

I kissed his jaw.

“For seeing me as more than my limitations.”

“Always,”

he murmured.

“You were never limited, Catherine. The world just didn’t have eyes to see your strength.”

In that moment, held by a king who’d once been a beast, I felt something I’d never experienced before: completely, utterly whole.

The week before the wedding, Angelia arrived at the palace. I hadn’t invited her, hadn’t even informed her of the date.

But my father had, apparently, and she’d come with him. She was dressed in a gown that cost more than most people earned in a year, her hair perfectly styled, and her silver wolf practically purring beneath her skin.

Sisterly Confusion

She found me in the library, because of course she did.

“So this is where you hide,”

she said, settling into a chair without invitation.

“Surrounded by books, playing at being educated.”

I didn’t look up from my text.

“Hello, Angelia.”

“Hello, sister.”

The word dripped acid.

“Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. Quite the accomplishment for someone who spent most of her life washing dishes.”

“Is there something you want? Or are you just here to remind me you’re beautiful?”

She laughed, sharp and brittle.

“I don’t need to remind you; you’ve always known. But I am curious about something.”

“What?”

“How did you do it?”

She leaned forward, and for the first time, I heard genuine confusion in her voice.

“How did someone like you—wolfless, barren, nobody—end up here, marrying the most powerful alpha in the territories?”

Honesty Over Perfection

I finally set down my book and met her eyes.

“I was myself. That’s all. I didn’t pretend to be something I wasn’t. I didn’t try to be you or anyone else. I was just… honest.”

“That’s it? Honesty?”

She sounded almost angry.

“I’ve been perfect my entire life. Beautiful, powerful, desirable… and yet you’re the one wearing a queen’s ring.”

“Maybe that’s why,”

I said quietly.

“Maybe he didn’t want perfect. Maybe he wanted real.”

Angelia stared at me, something unreadable in her expression. There was envy, yes, but also something that looked like loss.

“I could have had this,”

she whispered.

“If I just… if father had presented me instead of you that night. If I’d been the one asked to sing…”