The Wolf God’s Mate

Chapter One

April, 1460.

"swish!"

"swoosh!"

"swish!"

"swoosh!"

With a bang, the large wooden double-doors burst open and out rush a little girl. Holding up the skirts of her dress with both hands, she quickly steps down the stairs and runs in a direction with practice ease- not finding her dress cumbersome at all. As she gets to the end of the castle, she skids at the corner and dashes towards the back of the building. Her destination: the Training Grounds.

The farther she runs, the louder the swishing sounds get. As she gets closer, the sounds become much clearer and one can tell that it is the sound made when something is being swung in the air.

As she gets to a cluster of shrubs, she slows down and ducks. She then crawls slowly on hands and knees beside the shrubs until she reaches the end. Bracing herself with her two palms on the ground, she stretches her neck out the sides of the plants for a peek at the person responsible for making those sounds. It is a teenage boy about seventeen years old, practicing his swordplay.

He is wearing training clothes consisting of a brown shirt, black breeches and brown boots. Sweating from his activities, his shirt shows wet patches around his back and underarms, and his blond hair sticks to his nape and forehead. As she watches, he skillfully swings the sword over his head and slashes forwards, as though striking at an imaginary opponent. Excited, her eyes widen and with an eager expression, she waits for his next fancy move.

Her expression changes from awe to disappointment as twenty moves in, the boy has repeated the same motion, over and over again. Face scrunched up, she watches some more but nothing changes. It is still the same boring striking motion.

Impatient, she stands up straight so she's visible over the tops of the hedges, and shouts complainingly,

"Hey! What are you doing?!"

With sword over his head, he stops mid-motion due to the interruption, smiles a little and turns his head towards the direction of the yell. Standing up straight, he deftly slips the sharp sword back into the scabbard at his hip, and drawls out,

"Why, whatever do you mean Princess?" with a smirk, evidently unsurprised at her presence.

"What is with the repetitive motions?!” she asks, pointing a finger at him. “Can you not do anything else?!" she continues, and holding up her dress with one hand to walk more easily, marches around the hedges to stand a few feet from him.

"I have not the slightest idea what you are talking about", he replies innocently, eyes filled with amusement.

Panting from exhaustion, he uses the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat on his face, smiles brightly, and looks down at the little intruder in front of him with a raised brow. Her height is only up to his chest. The girl is as exquisite as a doll with waist length black hair, large brown eyes slightly upturned at the ends, a cute button nose, freckles dotted on her nose and across her cheeks and pink lips which are currently in a pout. As beautiful as this doll was, it was also a dirty one, he noticed with amusement.

Her originally pristine white dress is stained with a dark brown substance which he suspects to be mud, at the hem and knees. As he watches her, she stomps her foot and uses a muddied palm to remove a lock of hair from her face, unaware that the action streaks mud all over her cheek and in her hair.

"Well?!" she demands, glaring up at him.

"Well what Princess?" he asks teasingly, bending down to her eye level, so her neck does not hurt from looking up at him.

"Well can't you do anything else?!" she demands again, annoyed that she wasn’t able to see anything more stimulating. “You’ve been doing the same thing three days in a row now, and do not bother denying it. I saw you!!” she exclaims, pointing at him again. "What do I wake up so early for then?" she whines with another foot stomp, looking quite wronged.

Early? He looks up to the sky with the sun so high up and then back down at her again with an incredulous look on his face. He woke up since the break of dawn, dressed quickly and without so much as a sip of water, came out for training. He had been at it for hours without rest. And then here comes this little lady with a well-rested rosy complexion, whom he could be sure had had a scrumptious breakfast before coming out, judging by the crumbs at the corners of her mouth, complaining about how ‘early’ it was.

“Why was I not aware that I was obligated to perform for your entertainment and perusal?” he asks with a small laugh and shakes his head.

“But wait…!” he exclaims with a pensive look on his face, as though suddenly remembering something. He then stands up straight, crosses his arms across his chest and puts on a strict expression on his face, “Weren’t you asked to stay away from the training grounds whenever sword practice was ongoing?” he interrogates. But if one looked closely, they would notice that his eyes were filled with mirth.

The little girl freezes, evidently forgetting this tiny detail. Eyes darting from left to right, her mind races to find an explanation while the young man waits patiently, wanting to see what excuse she would be able to come up with. A few moments later, her eyes brighten at the idea that popped up in her mind. And so with a boost of confidence, she hastily arranges her rumpled dress, smooths down her disheveled hair, clasps her palms in front of her and straightens her spine, “I am here to supervise!”, she announces boldly.

“From behind the bushes?” he fires back with a raised brow.

“Of- of course!” she sputters, “If you knew someone was here, you would carry out your training properly”, she says with more confidence. “That is why I had to hide. It was the only way to know whether you were actually doing what you were supposed to” she ends defensibly.

“And in doing so, I have caught you slacking-off”, and with a sly look on her face, “If you do not want me to tell Papa, it would do you good to surrender your sword”, she threatens, eyes darting covetously to the sword hanging on his hip.

Ah, there it is, he thinks knowingly. The reason is finally out.

“Nice try, but you’re not laying a hand on one of these anytime soon Princess”, he says on a laugh. He lays a hand on the hilt of his sword and with a shwing! pulls it out of its scabbard and holds it up so the blade glints in the sun.

It was a large double-sided broadsword with a shiny silver blade and beautiful gems embedded on its hilt. The most eye-catching thing about it though, was the huge red ruby on the pommel. Arrested, the little girl stares at the sword with rounded eyes, mouth hanging open in awe, and unconsciously whispers, “…pretty” but the boy hears it and bursts into raucous laughter.

Sobering up, she puts on the most intimidating look she can muster, stretches out her arm, palm up and barks out, “Give it!”

“From this moment forth, I am confiscating your sword. I shall return it after you have convinced me that you have properly reflected on your actions” she proclaims, eyes darting every few seconds to the sword in his hand.

Bringing his laughter under control, he uses a finger to wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes and replies, “I’m afraid I cannot do that Milady”, shaking his head. “You are much too young to wield a sword, in fact, you could seriously hurt yourself”.

“No I won’t!” she argues back with a pout, “And I’m not young anymore. I’m all grown up” she declares.

“Oh? And how old are you?” he smilingly inquires even though he knows perfectly well how old she is.

“Twelve and two-thirds”, she answers proudly. “I’ll be thirteen really soon”

“Well I’m afraid that is still too young Princess”, he tries to convince her. “Tell you what, when you get your wolf at fifteen, I’ll teach you swordplay. What do you say?” he placates with a smile.

“But that would too far away”, she whines, dragging the ‘ay’ in the ‘away’.

“Well in that case… No!” he says mercilessly, “Besides…” he gives her side-eyed look, “can you even lift it?”

Gasping in outrage, her face reddens with shame. Knowing that he is right but refusing to acknowledge it, she raises a leg and stomps it on his foot, grinding her heel for infliction of maximum pain. He indulges her and pretends to be hurt be screaming “Ouch!” while holding up the foot with his free hand and hopping on the spot, “That hurts!”

Feeling mighty, she turns up her nose and scolds haughtily, “How dare you quibble, Peasant! Now, hand it over!!” she thrusts out her palm towards him again.

Dropping his foot, he gives a broad grin and retorts, “No!” and slides the sword back into its scabbard.

Eyes widening, she seems shocked that he actually dared to defy her, while he stands there with the same annoying grin on his face.

At that moment, they hear the faint sounds of conversation and footsteps coming closer to where they are. Recognizing one of the voices, she gives a smug grin to the teenage boy and gloats. “See how I deal with you!”

With her thumb and forefinger, she pinches her thigh though her dress, until her eyes redden and then bursts into tears. She turns around and runs towards the direction the voices were coming from, leaving the young man standing there with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Five seconds later, he sighs and with a resigned smile, slowly walks after her.

Catching sight of her target, she lets out an even louder wail and sprints faster.

King Damien had just finished giving instructions to one of his retainers when a little canon bolt collides into his side. Looking down, he finds a little girl hugging him tightly, shoulders shaking with the intensity of her sobs, though he had heard her long before she arrived. At first glance, she seems exceedingly distressed. Sighing softly, he picks her up with one muscular arm and cradles her to his chest.

“What’s the matter Sweetheart?” he asks gently, wiping her tears with the back of his other hand, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Tear-filled red eyes look at him aggrievedly and his heart instants melts, “Come on, tell Papa what happened”. As though the mere thought of it hurts even more, her lips tremble and she sobs even harder while using her two little fists to rub her eyes.

“There, there, it’s going to be alright. Tell Papa who it was that offended you and I’ll punish him for you. What do you say?” he coos, rubbing her back.

With a satisfied glint in her eye after hearing the line she’s been waiting for, she bites on her bottom lip to keep her sobs at bay, quietens down with apparent difficulty and looks behind her at the blond-headed boy that is slowly approaching. She points at him and between hiccups, forces out,

“It was the Peasan- Alexander, Papa!” she complains. Then turns around and collapses her body dramatically on his shoulder, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She then continues to let out quiet sobs. It was as though what he had done was too horrible to say.

King Damien lets out a silent chuckle at her near-slip and with feigned sternness, booms out, “Alexander! Get over here right now!”

The teenage boy jogs the rest of the way and as he arrives, “Your Majesty”, he bows in greeting.

“How dare you bully your sister?” he scolds. His voice stern but his face smiling. The little girl who is unable to see his smiling face gloats in her heart.

“It was wrong of me Your Majesty. It shall never happen again”, he pledges with equally feigned solemnity.

“As punishment, you will clean and polish all the weapons used during practice today”, The King orders.

“But Your Majesty…!” Alexander exclaims, pretending to be shocked and then heaving a heavy sigh of apparent sadness, “As you wish”, and bows once more.

“The bad guy has been punished Sweetheart”, King Damien pats her back.

Snickering inwardly, she raises her head, looks at her Papa with big teary eyes and nods reluctantly.

He then kisses her forehead, gently places her on her feet and rubs her head. “Why don’t you go to your Uncle, I think I saw him in the Gardens just now”.

She nods her head and turns to leave.

“Good Morning Princess Amelia”, greets the Retainer, who had been observing the fiasco by the side with great amusement.

“Good morning!” she instinctively greets back. It seems she had not even noticed him standing there. She then hastily wipes her teary face and performs a curtsy. Suppressing the smile that is threatening to break out on his face, he bows back.

Turning around, she strides away. However, before she got too far, she stops and looks back. Seeing that her Papa wasn’t looking at her, she glances at her brother, makes eye contact, smirks and pulls a tongue out at him. And with a “hmph!” she skips away.

The three men look at one another and burst into laughter.

“So spoiled”, chuckles Prince Alexander.