Fanged Deception, A dark bond

Kaya. “Please, we don’t have time!” “I promise, he will not pick you. You just have to put on my clothes and pretend you are the daughter of this household.” “Kaya, you know that I’m in love with Luther! He will meet my parents and ask to marry me after he comes back from the seas.” Lady Marilyn says. She is the spoiled daughter of the minister of finance and I’m her servant, one of her ladies in waiting. As far as I know, we do not speak to each other. The only thing I do on a daily basis is to clean for her. I don’t know anything about this supposed love of her life, Luther or whatnot. My responsibility is to clean her surroundings. I usually raise her bathe water and clean it up after she is done. I clean her bedroom when she is not present. I do her laundry and every chore that is bulky enough to not be done in front of the masters. I have been working here for three years and this is the first time she is getting my name right. The only reason she is talking to me and holding my hands is because I have the same body shape as hers. Her closest servants are much fatter, and her dress would not get into them. “I don’t know—-this is the king of Akkadian empire we are talking about.” I murmur, and she glares at me. Quickly, Marilyn restructures her face to hide her irritation but I already caught it. I lift my head, my gaze darts between the rest of the servants that are surrounding us. They are here to intimidate me. Her governess, Hilda, looms like a mountain with arms crossed beneath a starched apron. Thomas, the stable boy, shuffled his feet nervously, his calloused hand on a stick. Even Millie, the usually cheerful scullery maid, is narrowing her eyes at me. I feel like a mouse trapped in a room full of giants. I come from a gamma family, it is disappointing to be cornered like this but even my wolf knows we are bottom feeders in our reality. “We used to be friends, Kaya. Have you forgotten?” Marilyn says, leaning closer to me and placing my hands on her chest. I look at her and there is a spark of remembrance in my eyes. It’s true…our families used to be close. Infact, Marilyn and I used to play with one another as teenagers. We were sixteen at that time and I used to be noble before I was reduced to this. My father was General Sigurd of the Southern axis to the throne of Akkadian. We had estates, wealth, properties and titles that preceded us. This was until that unfortunate night where my father was framed for treason, my entire life flashed before my very eyes that night. The Fourfang gammas of the king descended upon our estate and while my father was being arrested, they tried to touch me inappropriately. The minister of war who brought the arrest was an enemy of my father, he came to rub my father’s arrest in his face. In defense, my father pulled out his sword to protect my brother and I. It was there, it was that moment that I watched him get slaughtered like an animal. That memory stuck to my heart like red dye on white. My brother picked up a sword to save my father, and he was arrested. For three years, my brother has been rotting in the dungeons of the king. And for those three years, I have dreamt of killing the king. In my dreams, I am able to stab his heart until it stops beating. Marilyn’s family took me out of pity, but as a servant—a fallen noble whose forename is still attached to treason. “Don’t you know? I am the one who begged my father to give you a roof over your head. No one would have allowed you into their homes since your father is a traitor?” Marilyn says and my breath sharpens as soon as she speaks of it. “What? Isn’t your father a traitor?” She says, her words are laced with inferiority and she is inquiring more because for the first time since she has been talking, an emotion has finally played on my face. I let go of my fists that are trying to curl up. At the end of the day, I am nothing—I don’t have the right to be angry at the people who offer me a roof over my head. But what Marilyn is asking is nothing small. If there is one thing I know about the King, it’s in the rumours that precede him. They say he is an Ornyo, meaning a wolf of dark origin—they say he was born from a woman who was a dark witch, a necromancy of black magic. The king of Fourfangs, Alpha Wulfgar of Akkadian is the man Marilyn is asking me to stand before. The man who ordered my father to be arrested, the one who let his men kill my father, forgetting that my poor father was a general who shed blood and sweat for the foundations of this kingdom. Every year, Alpha King Wulfgar is expected to take a Luna, a queen that will reign over the people and sit by his side. For over four years, he has failed to pick one woman out of society. It is called the king’s choosing and they are usually only open to a sector of noble women from thousands of aristocrat families, it is a compulsory rule for all females at the required age to participate as long as they are unmarried. Unwillingly, parents push their daughters to join such occasion, knowing fully that they are sending their children to meet the spawn of the devil. The passion and fear to be chosen as the next Luna has reduced because year after year because the king has refused to choose a single woman to rule by his side. “I don’t know why you are thinking so much, Kaya. The king has not selected one female over the course of four years. Even if you were to stand naked in front of him, he wouldn’t pick you. Do this for me, huh? I will pay you handsomely…I will give you to ten kg of gold.” Marilyn says and I exhale. I have been saving for a while to be able to meet my brother and send him something in the dungeons. I would need to bribe the guards, there are quite a number of them and I will need more money too. I have been dying to leave this estate owned my Marilyn’s family too…it could get me a small cottage and I could farm. I could find a reason to live this pathetic life. “Yes…I’ll do it.” I say to her, agreeing to take her place in the king’s choosing but what could go wrong? I am living but I’m usually motionless, it would take the eyes of the moon goddess to pick me in the midst of these women. But if he does, which is impossible by the way, I will make it a mission to kill him. Marilyn’s plan worked like magic. Her mother, Madam Sophie is currently down with fever, in the constraints of her bedroom, recuperating and that makes her unable to foresee the preparation of Marilyn to the castle. Her father, minister Caleb doesn’t care about what goes on with Marilyn as long as she is in the carriage that leads to the castle at the time he is ready. So, I put on Marilyn’s newly sewed gown, done by the best tailor in town. It is befitting for a fairy tale princess. It drapes over my slender frame with a grace that seems almost otherworldly, each fold of fabric whispers of luxury and enchantment—I cannot remember the last time I wore something so beautiful. The gown is made up of the finest silk in blue, a fabric so smooth and delicate that it seems to shimmer in the light as soon as I step out. It flows from my waist in cascading layers, forming a voluminous skirt that trails behind me like a river of moonlit clouds. It is embroidered with intricate patterns of silver and gold thread. The bodice is adorned with clusters of tiny pearls and sparkling crystals. The neckline plunges modestly, framing my collarbones, it is unlike any other. Marilyn lent me her jewellery, her shoes and everything else. For the first time in a long time, my hair doesn’t have knots in it, it is smooth and shiny over my waist. I adjust the veil over my face as I come out of the carriage, raising my eyes to the towering gates of the castle, a sense of awe washes over me, mingled with a hint of trepidation. The castle looms before me like a sentinel of ages past, its massive stone walls rising high into the sky, seemingly reaching for the heavens themselves. Each stone is weathered with the passage of time, bearing the scars of countless rules and centuries of history. This is the threshold of the Fourfangs king. After we are allowed to pass through the gates, I find myself in the heart of a sprawling courtyard, surrounded on all sides by towering ramparts and formidable towers, each guarded by one of his gammas who bleed loyalty for him. The air is heavy with the scent of age and stone, and the voices of other female participants reminds me that I am not here alone. “Make sure to be on your best behaviour!” Minister Caleb, Marilyn’s father says, hissing at me and I am not surprised. This is the way he speaks to his wife and daughter. I nod, unable to say anything in fear that he would recognize that I am not his daughter. I doubt that he will though. Workers of the castle in uniform file out in long line and they open the doors of the large hall. We are expected to go in, its where the King’s choosing will take place. As I follow the flight of females while the guardians stay back, the air is thick with the scent of perfumes and the soft rustle of silk as the other girls shift take their seats on a cushion pouch that is on the ground. We are expected to sit on these different hall pouches, the hall stretches far and wide, its towering walls adorned with intricate tapestries. As soon as we are all seated, a door at the front flanks open and a man, whose presence commands attention strides in. His attire is a seamless garment of deepest black which seems to absorb what little light dares to touch it, shrouding him in an aura of mystery and authority. With each step, the rhythmic echo of his boots against the stone floor reverberates throughout the hall, it is an ominous sound. Quickly, my wolf prowls in fear at his chilling aura, there is something dark and scary about him—it is obvious to everyone of us that he is Alpha king Wulfgard, the one who is called Fourfangs, known for cutting off the claws of his enemies as an act of punishment. His hair, jet black as the darkest night, frames his face and his eyes gleams like polished onyx. I can see it despite the veil over my face, I think we can all see it. Quickly, he begins to walk towards us, his gait is swift, and immediate. With bated breath, I watch as he approaches. One by one, he lifts the veils of the girls at the front and they squeal, jolt, in fear, revealing their faces and walking past them as if they are not living beings. As he draws nearer, my heart races faster, the moment of truth looming ever closer. Why am I even scared? At the rate at which the king is tearing the veils off their faces, he won’t pick me. He will not even look at me. I will never be chosen. I say to myself, holding the word in my heart as he continues. I close my eyes, unable to watch how close he is getting to me and while I wait, I am ready for it. At least, I think. I close my eyes, drawing in a deep breath. However, it is taking too much time, it needs to happen but it isn’t. I open my eyes to see what is happening and when I don’t expect it, cold air touches my skin. With a swift motion, he pulls the veil away, and for a heartbeat, everything seems to stand still for me. I feel exposed, vulnerable, as though the fabric that once shielded me from his gaze has been torn away, leaving me bare before him. Against my better judgement, I look into his eyes and his gaze meets mine. I see something flicker in his gaze, something that is full of treachery, darkness in its raw form. The darkness everyone in the Kingdom talks about, the darkness that makes him the most powerful wolf in the kingdom. There are tattoos of alchemy etched into his skin like a tapestry of arcane secrets. His neck serves as a swirling pattern and sigils. As my eyes travels upward to his face, I gasp. Why has he paused at me? Why has he hesitated after seeing me? “Her. Move her to the castle at once!” He says, his voice drips like molten silver and my heart sinks into the depth of my stomach at once. I see his Fourfang gammas walking towards me and I rise on my feet, afraid and shuddering as to what just happened. No, no I cannot be picked as bride to a king who carries the blood of my father. “NO!” I yell, and everyone looks at me, including him. “I don’t…I don’t want to be your queen.” I say, and he looks at me, his face is chiselled and angular, there is a sense of permanence to his expression. When I look into his eyes, they are soulless, cold, and they show nothing of warmth, compassion or the spark of empathy. “Did I ask you to speak!?” He yells, his voice is like the asunder of thunder and everyone whimpers. I am scared but I won’t be intimidated by a man who is holding my brother in the dungeons. “I don’t…I don’t need your permission to speak. Why would I marry a mon—” I hesitate at first, afraid of what these words that I am about to say would do to my fate. “Why would I marry a monster like you!?” I seethe, my chest heaves in defence and he grabs me like I’m nothing but paper, baring his teeth and sinking it into my chest. I have been marked. Marked by the man I want to kill. Attendee panel closed