5
1053 Words
Alea's POV
The gown they forced her to wear was made of silver-threaded lace that shone like a spider’s web beneath moonlight. Delicate, ethereal, and binding. Her veil was longer than her spine could carry, and each step toward the altar felt like walking the path of chains hot with flames.
Her wrists trembled beneath the silk gloves. Her lips refused to part. She could barely breathe.
The great hall of the castle was brimming with wolves...elders cloaked in ceremonial outfits, warriors in red armor, and the curious, silent stares of pack members burned into their skin.
None of them smiled.
No one smiled.
Even the air around her felt cold with judgment.
And then there was him.
Claus.
Dressed in midnight robes adorned with runes of power, his chest half-bared, a leather strap across his torso held the ceremonial dagger every Alpha groom wore. His eyes were locked on her like he was daring her to falter.
She wanted to run.
But she didn't.
Because her wolf sat still.
Watching.
Obedient, but twitching.
The priest stepped forward.
“We gather under the sacred blessing of the Luna gods, under the moon and sky, to bind two fates, two flames, into one fire.”
His voice echoed through the hall like a knife carving into silence.
Claus stood proud, shoulders squared, chin raised. His wolf was practically glowing beneath his skin.
She stared at the floor.
“Alpha Claus, do you take this woman to be your bound mate, your Luna, your wife in blood and soul?”
“I do,” Claus said immediately. His voice didn’t shake.
The priest turned to her.
Her stomach turned to ice.
“And do you, Katherina...”
He called her by that name. Not Alea.
Katherina.
“...take this man to be your bound mate, your Alpha, your husband in blood and soul?”
The room fell dead quiet. Even the wind beyond the walls seemed to pause.
She hesitated.
The silence stretched.
Too long.
Claus’s breath hitched, almost unnoticeable, but she felt it.
The priest turned slightly, his eyes warning.
And then, barely louder than a whisper, she said, “I do.”
The hall exhaled. The priest nodded, and the ceremony went on.
Chanting, blessings, the binding of wrists with crimson cord, the ceremonial dagger pressed gently to each of their palms to seal the vow in blood.
But she barely heard a word of it.
Her voice said I do.
Her soul whispered," I don’t know.
......
The feast after the ceremony was more of a display of dominance than a celebration. They dressed her like a queen and paraded her down the corridor lined with wolves who bowed not out of respect, but caution. No one respected her in the back. They all think she would bring them nothing but trouble, and she understands them. They were all showing her a bit of respect because of the Alpha, Claus.
They knew what she’d been accused of.
They knew what she might be.
She didn't bother trying to defend herself anymore. She was going to live her new life without causing any trouble for anyone.
Her new chambers were five times the size of her cell, adorned with velvet and obsidian. But they felt more like a luxurious coffin.
She barely sat on the bed before the knock came in.
“Your co-wives would like to greet the new Luna,” the maid said, not bothering to hide her smirk.
Her heart sank.
Claus had a wife.
Of course, he did.
The door opened, and they poured in like snakes. Six women, each more radiant, more terrifying, than the last. Dressed in deep emeralds and blues, their beauty was sharp enough to slit throats. They all looked her over the way wolves look at a rabbit that'd wandered into their den.
The one who walked in first was tall, with skin like dark honey and a golden ring around her left eye.
She smiled, but there was no kindness in it.
“You’re smaller than I thought,” she said, her voice sharper and not suiting her figure.
Another person chimed in from behind her. “He does like the delicate ones. Shame they don’t last long.”
“Look at her wrists,” said a third. They’re trembling. Is that fear or excitement?”
They circled her like vultures. She remained seated, chin up, trying not to shrink.
She would not cower again.
Not this time.
“I am Alea,” she said, steadying her voice. “Luna to the Alpha.”
The women all paused.
And then, slowly, the one with the golden ring around her eye leaned in and whispered in her ear, “We know who you are. And we don’t care what name you take.”
The others laughed, low and cruel.
“Claus is our husband,” another added, a voice sweet as poisoned honey. “You? You’re an ornament. A scandal dressed up as royalty.”
“You think you can just walk in here with your veil and pretend the past didn’t happen?” sneered the one with the sharp green eyes. “He might call you Luna. But we will remind you, every day, who truly rules this palace.”
They stared at her, one by one, in perfect rhythm like a rehearsed dance. They didn't bother to hide the displease in their face. It was like they were staring at prey that willingly entered the trap.
The last one, the quietest, lingered by the door. Her voice was soft, yet colder than the rest. “Welcome to your new home, Alea. We hope you like the scent of blood.”
And the silence that followed was louder than the silence of a graveyard. Alea didn't know if she should answer that question or just stare at them. She had a feeling she wasn't going to like her new home and she was already seeing why. She barely knew these women and they already made her feel less important compared to them.
She stood still for a long moment, refusing to cry.
But inside, her wolf stirred.
Anger.
Heat.
Fire beneath her ribs.
This wasn’t over.
This palace might have been their hell.
But if they wanted war, she would not come unarmed.
- Writer
