The Alpha Twins’ Possessions (The Wolves From The Agreement)

Pack's Things - part 1

Even after the Glacial King has left the castle, the air remains laden with his chilling threat, exuding the reminiscence of his dominance.

The thick atmosphere keeps the immense Hall frozen and filled with static until his dense aura slowly dissipates. Only then does a group of eager girls rush to the center of the Great Hall, curiously surrounding the new Princess of the Pack.

Princess Illaria is adorned with glittering jewels from head to toe. Gold entwines her braids, and diamonds encrust her golden tiara. Her yellow summer dress features a collar and corsage trimmed with precious stones, gold, and pearls. The satin parts of her dress flutter, even in the stillness of the interior, making her appear like a mystical fairy.

Illaria quickly finds herself the focus of countless wolfish eyes from every corner of the Hall—far more than she first noticed.

The stares dart toward her, as if she were prey, sending a shiver down her spine. Their wary gazes make her feel like a target to be brought down.

Her body quavers, and she struggles to steady her voice, unsure whether her downfall would come at the hands of these hostile she-wolves now, or at the unyielding fists of their High Alpha King later. And so, more and more females emerge, from the seating arrangements, from behind the arched doors, and descending from the balustrades.

A cold wave washes over her as the freezing auras draw closer.

Clenching her fists, she grips her dress tightly, feeling as though she has been thrown into the midst of a hungry wolf pack. Despite the vastness of the Hall—built for thousands—it feels suffocating, with nearly a hundred girls, and a few older women, closing in on the Solar Princess.

Descending from the balustrades are the Bahaat clan, while some of the Sokolov Elders peer through the arched doors.

“Courtesy first.” Illaria reminds herself, exhaling softly as she gives a long, graceful bow. “Blood Moon Pack…” The Princess’s voice is small and unsure, still uncertain of the right protocol for such a moment, but she continues, forcing her tone to remain steady. "Thank you for receiving me here… I only wish it could have been under more favorable circumstances." She straightens herself up.

As a master of keeping her face in an unfathomable expression, she wears a princess mask of solemnity.

Yet, despite her attempts at poise, the blonde girl is met with nothing but pride, contempt and defiance in the expressions of the other high-ranking ladies in the Hall, much to her horror.

Illaria senses that they know it all. They certainly know it all…

They know that there is no way for a girl like her to mate a Legendary Wolf King as powerful as Alpha Zawyer. It is all fake, a lie, and they know it!

Illaria feels as though her most profound secret is laid bare before every single Wolf in the room. She swallows hard, stifling an involuntary gasp.

Thankfully, her attention is drawn back to the striking beautiful group of four girls, led by the brunette Beta who spoke to the Alpha earlier—Beta Helena. They are closer to the princess now, and their eyes are filled, not with suspicion, but with eagerness and excitement.

“My Princess! And my Luna!” Helena exclaims, giddy as she beams at Illaria and takes her hand. “We’ve waited for you for so long! But the Moon Goddess never fails us! You are even more wonderful than our Pack could have ever hoped for!"

Helena’s enthusiasm mirrors that of her mate, Beta Austin, but this only deepens Illaria’s sense of discomfort. She is fooling them all, and soon they will know it…

Illaria forces a smile, which looks a little disconcerted, and releases Helena's hand. Then her gaze falls on the icy, watchful eyes of the Wintry Wolves in the Hall, staring at her, as if she needs to keep her guard up.

Beta Helena and gamma Jasmine are practically the only brunettes in the room, and together with Beta Merigold, a red-haired girl, they stand out in the middle of the pale saloon filled with icy Wolves. Even next to their friend, gamma Blanche, a White Wolf who seems easily the friendliest White Wolf in the room, these three She-Wolves of not Wintry-breeds seem very distinct and out of place in this castle.

The Wintry Wolves always wear sinister expressions on their faces, as if their own ice has frozen their hearts. They seem emotionless and impassive. Like spirits of death. They are very beautiful, but they possess the most dangerous kind of beauty—one that is frozen in time, that only exists to lure others close, to capture them and steal everything that might be useful before discarding the rest, and worst of all, one that doesn’t mind doing so.

They are all shades of white and grey, and those who seem blond are either washed out, platinum, or bleached.

The Great Hall is home to three main breeds of Wintry Wolves. First, there are the Frosty Wolves, with red eyes and an aura of freezing cold that emanates from them, capable of freezing objects and people depending on their mood. Ice crystals constantly form around them, adorning their bluish skin. Then there are the Snow Wolves, with darkened eyes and overall albino features too, but a slightly more human expression. They often come from a mixed race of White Wolves and other types of Wolves.

Lastly, the most dangerous of all—the White Wolves. There are many of them within the Courts. They walk like aristocracy, feeling like the very majesty of the Earth. Their porcelain-like skin seems like if it would shatter, it would bring the entire world to bleed to death with them. The whiter their eyes, the purer they are considered and the more uniquely they act.

White Wolves do not perceive the world like others do. They are dangerous and unpredictable, driven by instinct—cold-blooded, power-seeking, and bent on survival,—well and on top,—at any cost, for they are the superior, the stock of all races.

Other breeds exist, though they are rarer. These three are the core of a Wintry Pack, such as that of the Blood Moon Pack. A brief glance at them is enough to tell—they reek of death and exude the same spectral, inhuman essence of their Great Ice King.

Illaria would believe them to be nothing more than lifeless, walking ice blocks if she hadn’t seen and felt the fire that burns within that deadly King. A cold burning fire that sets her own being ablaze, even just by thinking about it now, but in truth that knowledge should only imply that that King can be even more dangerous than she could have initially imagined.

Illaria has always tried to hide her emotions, and, to some extent, succeeded. But the raw responses of her body—her skipping heart, pulsing blood, heaving chest—have always been impossible to conceal. No matter how hard she tries, no matter how much they have been the reason her father beat her until her soul was ripped from her, he could never truly achieve it.

But a pure-blooded White Wolf—they seem to be born not only without their eyes, but without their very souls. Glancing back at the ones in the Hall, their blank expressions and dull eyes only confirm this. If there is a soul within these Wolves, it is forever locked within their frosted flesh, used solely for fighting, war, and virulent behavior.

This realization is an inexorable consolidation of Illaria’s fear. Because she is in their Pack! Of this kind of monstrous beings… And she knows she is not really a Luna, more like a hostage there.

“You’re shaking,” Yarin remarks coldly.

Illaria’s scrutinizing and alarmed eyes stop skipping around and meet the steel-blue ones of Alpha Yarin, who takes an intimidating step forward from the height of her 1.9 meter, which become even more evident as she gets to the side of Beta Helena.

“Seems like this city is locked in an eternal frost.” Princess Illaria says, forcing a polite smile and practicing controlled breathing, as she purposefully dismisses Yarin's accusatory tone with her lighthearted spirit.

“You have no idea. You’ve seen nothing yet, Little Princess. It’s a city where only the strongest survive,” Alpha Yarin replies, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Princess Illaria then lifts her chin to meet the imposing figure of the Alpha, some eight inches above her, and with her own eyebrows arched in a meek but confrontational manner, she stares into those blue eyes once again.

“Oh, it does sound like a pitiful place,” the princess says, her gaze fierce, though her voice remains sincere and condescending. She only states with the certainty she has in her heart that a place like this would go against everything she believes in and stands for as an Alpha.

Alpha Yarin chews on a response, but the friction is interrupted by the enthusiasm of gamma Jasmine:

“Oh, by the Moon, Helena, our Luna is so beautiful! Isn’t she?! Our Alpha is such a lucky man! I’m sure you would need to earn some Divine Rights to possess such a beauty…!”

“You flatter me.” Illaria disengages from the confrontation with the other Alpha and smiles politely, she has a touching quality of emotional elegance, that seems to know perfectly well—by some richness of spirit—how to be angry or sad, confused or delighted, and still maintain that superior facade of nobility, like a prospective of a real queen. “But I do appreciate your kindness.”

“Oh, not at all, Jasmine is only stating the truth. And you are so gracious, our Luna! We are truly so happy to meet you… Luna! I’m Beta Merigold, by the way!” The red-haired girl adds warmly, stepping closer into the circle.

“Isn’t she one of the Sun-Blessed Wolves?” Another voice pipes up, as more girl gather around.

“I think so… Look at her, she shines like a star!” They keep droning on and on, enthralled by her beauty. But a darker voice interrupts the crescent admiration:

“You commoners are pathetic, so caught up in her appearance that you don’t even notice the real problem here. This girl is a Golden Moon Wolf—an enemy of our Pack. Worse, she belongs to the Warren Clan, that disgrace of a royal family!” The voice belongs to a Beta female, as white as her long metallic gown. Her eyes, a brilliant purple tone, gleam bluish and coldly, and her heels echo clicking sounds across the saloon with each step she takes.

It’s Beta Aleksandra Close Mort, from one of the Pack’s most prominent General families.

The air grows even thicker with hostility, and Illaria feels the tension rising and a freezing chill settling around her.

Even without fully understanding, she recognizes the unmistakable harbinger of a hostile Frosty Wolf's approach, which becomes clear when a ghostly, half-dead-looking girl, with piercing red eyes, takes a place next to Alpha Yarin, tall and imposing.

It’s Beta Francis.

“Indeed, there’s something off about her, isn’t there, Alpha Yarin?” Beta Francis sneers with her presence freezing the air. “Why would this small little Princess smell like deceit?” She savors how easily she can make the Solar Princess shiver with each subtle movement she does. “I know you're untrustworthy, just like your entire family… But something about you is even worse. You’re weak, without an aura… Ha! You’ll never be a match for an Alpha King like ours… How could you possibly be his mate?” The She-Wolf mocks Illaria,.

Alpha Yarin, on her left side, stifles a laugh.

It is true that some strong Alpha Wolves can manage to hide their auras, but that didn’t seem to be the case with this young, frail-looking Illaria. Still, Alpha Yarin is careful enough to remain vigilant, analyzing every detail of the Solar Princess with a menacing gaze.

The drop in temperature that the Frosty Wolf causes is making Illaria shiver even more now, but she grits her teeth and lifts her chin once more, forcing her body to stay steady as she locks eyes with Alpha Yarin’s steel-blue gaze once more,—where a sneer lingers on her disdainful face.

“If you still doubt that,” Illaria begins, mustering courage she barely possesses, “you can ask The Alpha King yourself.” Considering how shaken Yarin—and every girl in the room, in fact—was in the presence of their Legendary King, Illaria doubts they would dare to do it. So she takes the plunge. “I won’t defend what my family did, but I am not them. You don’t have to hate me; I’m not like them.”

“Oh, but you are… or perhaps worse,” Beta Aleksandra shoots back, her purple eyes full of contempt. “You’re either here to betray us, or you’re here betraying your own Pack. Which one would make you lower, Warren Princess? Either way, it makes you nothing but the scum you are.”

“Stop it, you can’t talk to our Luna like that!” Beta Helena steps in to defend Illaria.

“She’s a Wolf of the Warren Clan, how can you keep claiming she’s our Luna? How can you be so clueless, Helena?” Beta Yefim takes the opportunity to side with Aleksandra and the other Betas of the Generals’ Daughters group, eager to ingratiate herself and gain some points with those who matter, just as their fawning Beta families do.

“It was our Alpha King’s claim! You can’t seriously be going against what he just said…” Beta Helena rebukes, but the air in the room shifts as an almost palpable tension fills it. The air stirs like a cold wind before a storm, unsettling everyone inside the Hall.

The cold atmosphere thickens with a quiet threat as Princess Ernesta Sokolov steps forward. Her movements are slow and deliberate, stirring the air around her as if she were commanding the elements.

As she approaches, the pale, washed-out She-Wolves around the Hall part like currents of spectral light, making way for the eerie yet regal aura of the Alpha Princess wreathed in ice to move through.

“Be at ease, Betas. Though, it’s disgustingly clear how easily ignorance spreads among the masses. They fail to understand that such a claim could never come to pass any further in this Pack, as it would verge on something... unacceptably dishonorable. There isn’t a single Sokolov who would stand for it.”

Her words land like a chilling threat, the kind not heard within the walls of this Ice Castle in years. It echoes with the ominous possibility of a disruption with the Sokolovs, hinting at the return of another age of bloody, inevitable and massive wars in the North—a bygone era that no one is eager to revisit.

In fact, many in the Pack would go to great lengths to ensure such a rupture never threatens their world again. And the Sokolov Princess knows this all too well.

Her vacant, blank eyes seem to fall on Illaria for the first time, and the meek, trembling Princess shudders soundly under her cold, lifeless stare.

The winds outside whip against the massive windows of the Castle Hall, their howling resembling the mournful wail of funeral trumpets, or the cries of inconsolable ghosts lost to the same relentless cold in wars that gripped the entire Pack, conjuring memories of so many losses in times past.

“I’m sorry, Princess Ernesta, but with all due respect, did you not hear what our Great Alpha King just said? He claimed that this Princess is..."

“She is not our Luna, Beta Helena.” Sabrina Sokolov, the youngest Alpha Princess, steps forward as well and interrupts Beta Helena with disdain. Her high dignity and status are displayed in her attire. Only upon closer observation that her dress would differ from her royal cousin’s— both, Ernesta and Sabrina, wear astonishing gowns woven of silk and silver, but Sabrina’s is hued like the finest champagne cocktail, and is a bit more intricately trimmed with deeper —sexier— necklines.

Though her ice tiara is smaller, and she has the same blank eyes like a dead person; Sabrina Sokolov could still easily be considered the most alluring being in the room. The way she moves makes her the sexiest creature there and for every inch of her beauty, she possesses double the presumption.

“Nesta, allow me to enlighten this poor Beta insight, that a commoner like Helena has: what our Alpha King said was that she may be our future Luna, because they apparently mated, but she is not THAT yet. She is from the Warren Clan. Her father is a traitor to The Agreement, and her brother is a psychopathic rapist. All of them are criminals. None of them can be trusted. Or welcomed here.”

Hearing this about her family makes Illaria feel nauseous, wishing she could faint.

Filled with nervousness, cold, adrenaline, and her rapidly pumping heart, she flushes with a mix of different red hues, gasping in distress.

She wants to run away from there. Yet, she remains mute, unsure, and utterly exhausted. She tries her best not to let her desperation show, —or to resist the overwhelming urge to flee,— but she feels close to fail miserably at both as she gulps loudly, aware of the piercing gaze of Ernesta, the eldest Ice Princess, still fixed on her.

“I’m sure the council will soon understand that it’s not prudent to keep a Warren Clan member here on our lands. Even the beautiful Princess Illaria surely knows better by now,” Ernesta says, watching the small blonde girl’s trembling body seem eager to run away, all while she feebly tries to hold herself steady in the center of the Hall. Trying hard to appear stronger than she ever could be, and the Sokolov Princess mentally snorts. “She clearly knows her place. She knows she will need to leave. She is not welcome here. This is no place for her.”

“And we don’t want the Warren Clan here,” Beta Aleksandra chimes in, reigniting the discussion and prompting several others to echo her venomous words.

“The Warren Clan is a filth of Wolves. They’re cursed!” Beta Taiga snarls, standing behind her White Royal Alpha, Ernesta Sokolov.

“Yeah, this is a cursed princess!” Beta Francis adds, chilling the air with her icy, Frosty Wolf voice. “You’ll destroy our Pack!”

Illaria’s heart pounds, but she remains outwardly composed. Her muscles tense and she feels like she’s in an out-of-body experience as she watches the screams against her escalate, unsure of how to react.

The murmurs grow louder, gathering momentum. “She doesn’t even have an aura! Our Alpha deserves so much better than that pathetic, weak girl!” Beta Yefim scoffs loudly, and the surrounding Betas echo their agreement, hostility rising in the Hall.

Then, a younger voice cuts through the noise. “JUST GET LOST! How dare you come here and think you can take our Luna’s place?!” Beta Giulia, only 13 years old, yells defiantly.

Illaria flinches and feels the humiliating sting of being nearly chased away by a screaming 13-year-old Beta girl. Tears spring to her eyes as her pride crumbles.

Although she had faced rejection before, even from her own family, this feels especially hard to bear this time—she doesn’t know why, but she assumes it may be due to her current weary state.

And Illaria realizes it’s more stubbornness than courage that keeps her rooted in place, despite all the screams aimed at her.

The tension is palpable as the threat of violence hangs in the room, and Beta Giulia continues to yell, but one specific phrase makes the entire Hall fall into an eerie silence, with those words still echoing:

“We already have a Luna! And it’s Alpha Yarin—she’s so much better than you!!!”

Everyone gasps and looks in fear at the child’s audacity to say those words in the middle of the Hall.

“Damn it, Giulia, stop it!” Then, Giulia’s mother cries, clapping a hand over her daughter’s mouth. Her light White Wolf eyes are now wide with fear of knowing that everybody heard this and how much their Great Alpha King hates everyone that claims Yarin as Luna. And how many have already been punished with their lives for much lesser betrayals. “Never say that again, Giulia! Our Alpha King can punish us severely for it!”

Her harsh voice reprimanding the girl echoes in the suddenly silent—and tense—Hall until the authoritative voice of a Beta guard on the balcony cuts through the impending chaos with a harsh order. “Enough! Our Alpha King was quite clear when he ordered you all to return to your quarters and rest.” Her categorical tone demands attention. She wears silvery armor with a white cape, the inside of which is red, embroidered with a bold gold border. “And that time is NOW!” She uses her Wolf gutural sounds. “Come on! All of you! It’s the King’s order!” Her demeanor gains even more credibility and authority as she quotes the High Alpha King’s command and hits loudly the floor with an enormous halbert.

Once again, the Great Hall falls into a tense silence.

Illaria stands tall, her chin lifted, her eyes red with emotion and her skin flushed with the blood pulsing hard beneath. Inside, a storm rages in her chest.

“You’re right, Capitan Collins. But you can leave it to me to handle this." Alpha Yarin takes the lead, her voice cold with authority. "All of you, OUT!" She barks the command in her Alpha-tone making the She-Wolves to scatter instantly.

The Sokolov Alpha Princesses, on the other hand, stand their ground like the Alphas they are, unaffected by the tone of authority, and exchanging cold stares with Yarin after reluctantly breaking their gaze on Illaria.

Until that, with a subtle nod, they finally turn their backs and leave as well.

Beta Helena and her companions, however, stand defiantly, arms crossed, rebelliously resisting the imperious Alpha-tone of an Alpha of their Pack. A gift that the confidence of having strong mates give to them.

Alpha Yarin, however, ignores them and turns to Illaria. "As for you, Princess Warren, I suppose I should escort you out of here as well..."