Orphaned Queen Goddess

Her Story

Sebastian

I wait, my chest tightening with each second, as I wonder if she’ll find the courage to tell me. Her silence feels heavy, weighted by memories she can’t escape. We sit in the small tent nestled within the dense forest, the creak of the wooden beams almost echoing her hesitation. Finally, her voice breaks through the stillness, soft but strained.

“I was sixteen when my mum moved us,” she begins, her words halting as if she’s testing the waters of her own resolve. “Her new partner had said we could stay with him.”

Her gaze drops to the floor, avoiding mine. Her vulnerability feels raw, and I tread carefully. “Did you have your wolf then?” I ask, my voice quiet but curious. If she was still with her mother, maybe something had stifled the connection with her wolf.

She shakes her head, her voice now barely a whisper. “No, I couldn’t feel my wolf. The day we arrived... the brothers spoke to me. They said I was their mate and kissed me.” Her body tenses, and the words come out quieter still. “They only really kissed me. Dolton would sleep in my bed with me. When I turned eighteen, Dolton used my body... and then Wes and Alex did too. It became a recurring thing. I would refuse, but it made no difference.”

Her voice cracks, and my chest feels like it’s caving in. Helios, my dragon, is roaring inside me, his fury palpable. My jaw tightens, but I try to keep my voice steady as my hand strokes down her back, an attempt to ground her. Her body shakes, and to my surprise, I feel the ghost of a smile against my neck. It’s a hollow smile, born of pain rather than happiness.

“Dolton was different,” she murmurs. “He would cuddle me at night. He told me he loved me. He showed he cared. He tried to claim me the day I was leaving, but Alex and Wes stopped him. He spoke about trying to make their father let me stay.” Her voice falters, and her head drops lower. The pain etched in her face is undeniable, but so is something else. Love. Love for someone who had betrayed her, hurt her in the worst way.

I can’t hide the confusion and anger swirling inside me. “You said he didn’t reject you?” I ask, trying to piece together the conflicting emotions in her story.

“He refused,” she says, her voice trembling. “He told his father he wouldn’t, and his father... his father did something. Dolton ended up screaming in pain, but he still refused to reject me. That’s when his father turned on me.” Her breath hitches. “It felt like my entire body was on fire. I was screaming, so Dolton said it. He rejected me, but... he pronounced our names wrong.”

A chill runs through me. He had loved her enough to endure agony, to fight for her in his own way, even if it ultimately failed. My hand tightens around her protectively.

“He told me he would find me,” she whispers. “I just remember being pulled out and seeing Dolton locked in the cells, banging on the bars, shouting something. Then… he was gone.” Tears spill down her cheeks, and I pull her closer. “Then I thought he came back to save me, he was there, only it was Wes, masked like Dolton to stop me fighting.”

Her words are like shards of glass slicing through me. “You said Wes and Alex masked themselves to look like Dolton?” I ask, my voice low but steady.

She nods, her tears falling faster now. “I thought it was him. I was so happy, but it wasn’t. Wes... he used magic to stop me from fighting.” Her sobs break through the room, raw and heart-wrenching.

I tighten my grip around her, holding her as if I can shield her from the ghosts of her past. “What happened after he rejected you? What did he do?” My mind races. Nothing about this makes sense. Dolton fought for her. So what changed?

“I don’t know,” she admits, her voice small. “I still try to remember. He was there, and then... nothing. Wes and Alex were saying goodbye and leaving. Then their dad asked me what I remembered.” She shakes her head, frustration and sorrow mixing in her expression. “I don’t know what happened with Dolton.”

Magic. It must be. Someone tampered with her memories. “Celine,” I say firmly, “he didn’t just disappear. He fought for you. Someone locked that memory away.”

Her wide eyes meet mine, a flicker of hope breaking through the pain. “How?” she whispers.

“It’s your mind, Celine. Focus on your wolf. Your wolf would’ve seen and heard everything and can share the memory with you,” I explain, my voice softening. I press a light kiss to her forehead. “Try to remember.”

She closes her eyes, her breathing slowing as she concentrates.