Claimed By The Twin Kings

HUDA. The buzz of my alarm was the first lie of the day; it screamed of my regular routine, of just another Tuesday. I slapped it and rolled onto my back, my eyes finding the familiar cracks of my ceiling. The morning sun cast long, golden streaks across the plaster, and for a moment, I let myself get lost in them, trying to see the shapes of Dragons and castles like I did as a kid. Back then, this room was my fortress. Today felt like a beautifully decorated prison I was about to be freed from, whether I wanted to be or not—except if the same thing from the past five years happened again. I was twenty-one years old, sleeping in my teenage bed. Every year, my parent would invite me to stay over the night before The Ascension. It was their quiet way of bracing for the inevitable return of their broken daughter. In our town, this was the deal our ancestors made. The Ascension ceremony was the price for peace. Once a year, the Werewolves–the Alphas and their Kings–would descend on our town. In exchange for their protection from rogue creatures and outside threats, they had the right to walk among our daughters on their sixteenth year, searching for their fated mates. The chosen girls were never seen again; they vanished into thin air, into a world of power and myth we couldn't comprehend. The ones who weren't chosen returned home, silent and haunted, with a hundred-yard stare that never quite faded. I forced myself up. The shower, the teeth brushing, and the reflection in the mirror went by so fast that I couldn't remember them. The girl staring back wasn't a nervous teenager anymore. Her storm-grey eyes weren't wide with fear anymore; they were shadowed with weariness that went so deep. She'd learnt to build walls where her hope used to be. I pulled on my most comfortable jeans and a faded band t-shirt, yanking my hair into a messy knot. Downstairs, the smell of cinnamon and sugar was so thick it was suffocating. My Mum stood at the stove, a mountain of French toast piled on a platter beside her. My Dad sat at the table, clutching a coffee mug like a lifeline, the morning paper untouched. They were trying so hard to pretend. “Morning, Starlight.” Dad’s voice was too cheerful. His smile didn't reach his eyes as he studied my face, looking for any signs of tears like he had for the past five years. “Morning, sweet girl,” Mum said, her smile practiced and fragile. They didn't ask if I was ready; they already knew the answer. I slid into the chair, the silence in the kitchen heavier than words. They wouldn't pressure me, they wouldn't mention the whispers that followed me in the market, the pity looks, the cruel names the other townspeople had for the only girl the Wolves never wanted, the only girl who had not connected with her Wolf at twenty-one. The barren one, the unclaimed, the kids were very creative; they called me the witch. I was the lady that the parents warned their children to stay away from. I was used to it now; I had five years of practice. “I'm not going,” I said quietly, pouring myself a coffee. The dining room grew tighter. My Mum stopped flipping a pancake, her back tense. My Dad set his mug down with a soft click. “Huda….” He started. “No, Dad. Not this year, I can't.” I looked at them, my walls cracking just a little. “I can't sit there and watch every other girl get chosen, I can't walk in that silence…with everyone staring at me like I'm an abomination. I'm tired of the little whispers and mockeries, Dad. I'm done.” My mother finally turned, her face a mess of love and pain. “But, Honey, this year's different. Everyone's saying—” “That the King is coming?” I cut her off, my voice sharper than I intended. “King Karl, the great, ruthless King of Alpha Kings, who's been too important to grace us with his presence for a hundred years, is finally showing up. What's that supposed to mean for me? A bigger audience for my annual humiliation?” My words hung in the air, ugly and true; the rumours had been flying for months. No one knew why the King of the Seven Realms was attending the Ascension now. They only knew he was a terrifying Legend, a phantom of absolute power. For other girls, it was exciting; they were preparing to look so beautiful that even if the King didn't find his mate, they wouldn't mind being his w***e, but for me, it was just a brighter spotlight on my failure. We were interrupted by a sharp, confident knock on the front door. “Oh, thank God,” my Dad muttered under his breath. A moment later, Amaya swept into the kitchen, a whirlwind of vibrant energy and expensive perfume. Her black hair was straightened to her waist, and the intricate silver tattoo of the Blackwood Pack's Luna on her collarbone shimmered in the morning light. She was mated to our local Alpha, Bryan, and she wore her status like a second skin. “Don't even start.” She said, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at me. “I can see that look on your face from a mile away. We are not doing this today.” “What look?” I asked incredulously. “The ‘ive given up, and I'm not going’ look.” She pulled me up from my chair and into a fierce hug. “You look tired,” she whispered into my ear. “Now, put on a brave face; your parents are suffering enough.” She released me and turned to my Mum. “He's driving me crazy, Kayla.” She referred to my Mum. “Bryan has the entire pack polishing their boots and trimming their claws because their King is coming. You'd think the Moon itself was asking for an inspection.” “That's his duty. He has to make sure everybody is ready for the king's visit. I hear this is the King's first visit,” my Mother answered. “It's tiring though,” Amaya said in a frustrated tone. She made it sound so normal. For her, it was. “I'm not going, Amaya,” I repeated, my arms crossed over my chest. Her bright smile softened. She took my hands. “Huda, look at me. Five years, five years you've walked into that clearing, and each year you've held your head high like the Queen that you are. You're the strongest person that I know.” “I don't think so, I'm the town's charity case, and entertainment.” I shot back. “I'm a prayer to the Moon Goddess Amaya. They pray not to be like me. Some people even say it's because I'm…” I couldn't even say the word. Fat, unworthy. In a society where being plus-sized was an offense, I was a criminal. “They're idiots, and you've never allowed the whispers and rumours dictate your life, so why start now? What if this is it? What if this year is your year?” “Even if it was, Maya, who would want to be mated to a Wolfless Werewolf? Hmm? Who would want that liability for themselves?” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. “What if I go, and my mate looks through me, and I have to go home mateless again?” “Then you walk home,” she said. “And you get up tomorrow, and you come over for breakfast, and we mock my husband's obsession with formal attire, and you survive, just like you always do. But what you will not do is hide, Huda. Hiding is for cowards; you're a warrior, my friend.” She let go of my hands and held up a garment bag. “I brought you a dress. It's Emerald green, because you're a Queen, whether you see it or not.” Tears pricked my eyes. I hated her and loved her at the same time. I looked at Amaya’s fiercely loyal face, to my parents’ hopeful, heartbroken ones. Five years of this, maybe one more wouldn't kill me. I let out a long, shuddering breath. “Fine, but if I get pity-patted on the head by one more concerned elder, I'm setting their traditional robes on fire.” “That's my girl.” Maya’s radiant smile returned. We all had breakfast that morning like nothing was wrong, and I tried to forget tonight's event as much as I could. Amaya said her goodbyes and promised to return by seven, when The Ascension would start, and walk me to the clearing. As I cleared the kitchen, my mum and Dad were nowhere to be found. Once I finished cleaning, I went upstairs and found my Mum sitting on my bed, waiting for me. “Mind if I join you?” She asked softly. I just nodded and crawled into the bed beside her. She pulled me into her arms, stroking my hair just like she did when I had nightmares as a little girl. We lay there for a long time, not speaking. “What if I'm chosen, Mum?” I finally whispered, one of the words I’d been holding back all day tumbling out. “I'll never see you again. How am I supposed to live with that?” She squeezed me tighter, her tears finally falling freely. “That is what we have been waiting for. It's been five years, and you've been strong through it. You have a strong heart, and you can do anything. If anything, I'm sure we will get in touch in the near future.” My Dad appeared in the doorway, his face a mask of pained love. He walked over and scooped me up, holding me against his chest like I was a five-year-old again. He couldn't speak. “I love you, my Huda-bear,” he finally choked out. He set me down and reached into his pocket. “I, uh, I made you something.” He pressed a small, smooth object into my palm. It was a Wolf, carved from the dark wood of the old oak in our backyard. It was simple, a little clumsy, but so full of him, of home. “So, you always remember where you come from, and it's in a Wolf shape, so you won't ever give up hope. Your Wolf will come to you one day.” He murmured, his eyes red. I clutched the wooden Wolf, my heart shattering and swelling all at once. I hugged them both, burying my face in their arms, trying to memorise the smell of my Mum's perfume and the scratch of my Dad's shirt. And then we heard it. Not a doorbell. Not a knock. A low, resonant horn blast echoed deep, powerful, and ancient through the valley. It was a sound of kings and beasts that didn't belong to our world. It was time.