Tamed By The Lycan Prince

GRANDMOTHER

CHAPTER FOUR- 8

-ANTONIO-

The corridors of the castle were bright yet cold, their vast emptiness mirroring the conflict within his heart. He moved swiftly through the labyrinthine passages, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The marble floors echoed with the sound of his boots, asserting his presence in the lifeless hallways. His heart pounded against his chest, an erratic drum heralding his rebellion.

As he rounded a corner, he nearly collided into a small figure clad in midnight blue robes. Startled, Antonio skidded to a halt, barely avoiding knocking the aged woman over.

"Grandmother!" he exclaimed with surprise as he recognized Refia, the former queen and his father's mother. Her silver hair cascaded down her back, as beautiful as a moonlit night. Her eyes, the same piercing blue as his, sparkled with wisdom and a hint of mischief.

"Antonio," she greeted him, her voice soft yet commanding. His surprise quickly made way for relief. No one, not even his parents, understood him like his grandmother did.

His eyes revealed the chaos he was trying to contain. He didn't have to utter a word; she already knew. She had been both a queen and a bride under similar circumstances in her past.

"Come, my boy," she said, her voice as soft as the wind blowing through the castle turrets. She gestured for Antonio to follow her into a private sitting room. The room was modestly furnished but had a warm, welcoming ambience. Towering bookshelves lining the walls were filled with epics of old, tales of heroes and heroines who fought against their destiny. A large bay window overlooked the royal gardens where bright nightflowers bloomed under the moonlight.

"Antonio" she began, her gaze softened as she looked at her grandson. "Is this about tonight's night with Count Gaius?"

His surprise at her directness was quickly replaced by frustration. He nodded, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "I can't marry a woman I hardly know, Grandmother."

Refia sighed, her gaze fixed on the blooming nightflowers outside the window. "You are a prince, Antonio," she said turning her gaze back to him. Her voice was quiet but firm. "This is part of your duty to become king."

"I know," he replied bitterly, looking down at his clenched fists. "But why can't I choose my queen? Why must it be decided by a dinner?"

Renewed defiance began to burn in his voice. "Why should I not have the freedom to love whom I wish?"

Refia paused, considering her grandson's words. "Are you in love with another?"

Antonio hesitated, resting against the soft leather of one of the chairs. He weighed his options, unsure if he should tell his grandmother the truth. Would telling her that I found my fated mate solve the problem? No, it would probably make the situation worse if anything. That she-wolf was a werewolf and Wolf's Bane was involved, Antonio thought. Perhaps, telling grandmother isn't the best idea.

Refia watched her grandson closely, recognizing the torment he was trying to conceal. She had seen this struggle many times before - the inevitable clash between duty and desire, tradition and sentiment. She had lived it herself. "Antonio," She reached over, her cool fingers gently covering his clenched fist. "Who is she? You can tell me."

The prince's heart pounded loudly in the ensuing silence. He bit his lip, trying desperately to keep the secret hidden, but the pull of her grandmotherly concern was hard to resist.

"I don't know," he finally blurted out, breaking his stare and looking away, "Our first encounter wasn't exactly normal."

Refia's eyebrows arched in curiosity, "Not normal?" she echoed. Antonio nodded, his gaze still fixed on the plush carpet beneath his boots. He slowly lifted his gaze back to her, a mix of fear and hope in his eyes.

"We met in the Dark Woods," he began, "It was during Alina's coming-of-age ceremony, and I can't seem to stop thinking about her." His voice trembled slightly as he recalled the events of yesterday night. "I can't tell you anymore, grandmother. I hope you understand."

Refia's gaze fell on her grandson, her expression softening. "I understand, Antonio," she said gently, "Sometimes, the heart chooses what it wants."

The prince looked at his grandmother in surprise. Her acceptance was something he had not anticipated. She gave him an encouraging smile, the wrinkles on her face deepening in warmth. "The heart is not bound by caste, creed, or race, my dear."

"Even if it involves the creatures of instinct?" Antonio dared to ask, his gaze drawn back to his grandmother. He saw her eyes widen for a brief moment in surprise, but her composure was quickly regained.

"The werewolves?" she queried, her voice steady as she met his gaze. Antonio nodded in response, the weight of the secret finally off his chest. Silence filled the room, both parties lost in their thoughts until Refia broke it.

"Antonio," she started, her voice softer than ever. "Our kingdom has always held a strained relationship with them, but that does not mean we cannot live in harmony. The old tales paint them as beasts, but I have known a few in my time that were far nobler than some of the royal blood who walk our halls. Love is a powerful force that can bridge even the deepest divides. But it will not be easy."

Her words hung in the air. Antonio didn't know whether to feel relieved or more nervous at his grandmother's response. His heart was pounding a rhythm of anxiety and anticipation.

"You must tread carefully, Antonio," Refia continued, her eyes soft yet stern. "If you are to become king, your choices can shape or shatter our kingdom. You, your brother and sister, carry the hopes of our people, not just your own."

A heavy sigh escaped the prince, his gaze once again drawn to the beauty of the flowers outside. "I know, Grandmother," he said quietly. His heart was a battlefield of fear and hope, uncertainty and determination. The burden of his duty weighed heavily upon him.

"And yet," Refia continued, her voice filled with understanding and wisdom, "if this werewolf girl is truly your fated mate, then denying your heart could prove just as disastrous." She paused for a moment, allowing her words to sink in. "A king whose heart is torn cannot rule justly. Love, my dear Antonio, might be your salvation or your downfall. But remember this: you are not just a prince, but a Lycan. What kind of Lycan you wish to be is your choice."

The room was silent once more as Antonio digested his grandmother's words. His heart still pounded with anxiety, but there was a glimmer of hope now, a small flame that refused to be extinguished.

"I must meet her again," he finally said, lifting his head to look at his grandmother. "But I need to do some research first."

Refia nodded knowingly, her wise eyes reflecting admiration. "You have a good head on your shoulders, Antonio," she murmured, laying a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "Use it wisely and follow your heart. It will guide you to what is right."

Antonio rose from his seat, placing a kiss on Refia's forehead in a silent promise to do his best. The grandmother watched as her grandson strode out of the room, his posture resolute and determined.