Mated to the Pack's Biggest Liar

MORGANA'S POV My life was the kind people whispered about behind closed doors. A tragedy wrapped in silk. Eighteen years old, yet I could not remember a single moment when I had truly smiled, not the practiced curve of my lips I offered others, but a real smile that reached the soul. Happiness had always felt like something meant for other people. Not for me. I was beautiful. Even I knew that much. In the werewolf world, beauty mattered almost as much as bloodline. My hair fell in dark waves down my back, my skin carried the pale glow of moonlight, and my eyes–silver-grey like a storm brewing over winter mountains were striking enough to make people stare twice. Yet none of it mattered. No mate. No suitors. Not even the lowest-ranking warrior had ever approached my father to ask for my hand. In a world where unmated she-wolves were pitied and desired daughters were promised before eighteen, my situation was almost laughable or perhaps cursed. My father was Nelson Anderson, Beta of the Crestwood Pack–the strongest pack in the northern territories. Feared by enemies. Respected by allies. But I was not his treasured daughter. That title belonged to someone else. Years ago, before Father rose to power, he had been nothing more than a low-ranking Namalian warrior struggling to survive. Back then, my mother, Diana Anderson, had stood beside him through everything. Through hunger. Through ridicule. Through the brutal training grounds where stronger wolves mocked weaker bloodlines. Mother loved him when he had nothing. And Father had loved her too. Or at least... I believed he once did. Then fate changed. After Father became Crestwood's strongest warrior and earned the attention of the Alpha, everything shifted. The Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack offered him something no ambitious man would dare reject. Princess Diana–Beautiful. Noble. Powerful. The Alpha's only daughter. A woman whose wolf carried royal blood. Father stood between love and ambition. In the end, ambition won. He married Princess Diana beneath the sacred Moon Temple while the entire pack celebrated his rise to greatness. That same night, while music echoed through the Beta estate and wolves danced around silver fires, Mother quietly packed her belongings and returned to Namalia without a single word. She never came back. Not even after I was born. Growing up, Namalia had been cold but peaceful. The forests stretched endlessly beneath moonlit skies, and the scent of pine and wild rain filled the air every evening. Mother raised me alone in a small wooden home near the mountains, far from the politics of powerful packs. Father visited sometimes. Rarely. Whenever he came, Mother would pretend not to care, but I always noticed how her eyes softened when she heard his footsteps outside. She still loved him. I think she always did. And same for goes to Father. But Princess Diana was not a woman who shared what belonged to her. As the daughter of an Alpha, she possessed both power and pride. Father was watched constantly. Every visit to Namalia became shorter than the last until eventually years passed between each one. Then the rogues attacked. I still remembered that night vividly. Smoke choking the air. The sound of wolves screaming. Blood soaking the snow. Namalia had never been strong enough to withstand rogue invasions. By the time reinforcements arrived, most of the village had already burned. Mother died protecting me. Sometimes I still heard her final scream in my dreams. When Father learned of the attack, he came to Namalia himself. I had never seen a grown wolf cry before that day. He held Mother's lifeless body for hours beneath the rain. Then he brought me back to Crestwood. I was sixteen then. The age every She-wolves dreamed of. The age of mating ceremonies, courting festivals, and finding one's destined partner beneath the blessing of the Moon Goddess. Most girls my age were surrounded by admirers. But not me. Because despite being the Beta's firstborn daughter, my existence was awkward–unwanted. I was the daughter of a dead commoner woman. An embarrassing reminder of Father's past. Prominent he-wolves wanted to marry someone who was most compatible with them to elevate their status. And standing behind me like the sun itself was Eve Anderson. Princess Eve. Father's legitimate daughter with Diana. The cherished jewel of Crestwood. Unlike me, Eve had everything. Beauty. Status. Powerful bloodlines. And most importantly, her mother, Princess Diana, was practically like a sister to the Luna of Crestwood herself. The entire pack adored Eve. Warriors competed for her attention. Noble families sought alliances through her. Even future Alphas from neighboring territories attended banquets hoping to dance with her beneath the moonlight. And then there was me. The forgotten daughter. The shadow in the palace halls. Compared to Eve, I didn't have any powerful family connections and I was more like alone in the world. This was the main reason why many Top warriors and reputable families didn't want to claim me. For two years, I lived in Crestwood like a ghost haunting someone else's home. Despite residing in the Beta estate as his daughter, I held less authority than the servants. Many newcomers assumed I was a maid because I spent most of my days helping in kitchens, carrying laundry, or tending herb gardens away from noble gatherings. No one corrected them from calling me such. Sometimes not even Father. At my lonely moments, i thought about the two consequences of not having suitors. One being that soon I would past the desirable mating age to start a family. Second being that father would join hands with Princess Diana to support princess Eve to get married before me, and my marriage state–married or not, wasn't an exception. The pack members called me gentle and obedient. Quiet and Docile. A perfect young lady. If only they knew the truth. The real me had once climbed trees barefoot, fought he-wolves twice my size, and shouted without fear whenever anger burned through my veins. In Namalia, Mother often laughed that my wolf would probably grow into an uncontrollable beast. But before she died, she held my face in trembling hands and gave me the warning that shaped the rest of my life. "The Crestwood Pack isn't like Namalia, Morgana. You cannot live by impulse there. Princess Diana is dangerous. If you offend her, she will destroy you." So I learned to survive. I swallowed every sharp reply resting on my tongue. I lowered my gaze when insulted. I smiled when noblewomen mocked my clothes. I pretended not to hear servants whispering that Father was ashamed of me. At first, pretending nearly killed me. Suppressing my true nature felt like trapping a wild wolf inside chains. I became a well-behaved lady who never showed her teeth why laughing. There were nights I clawed my palms bloody trying to control my temper. But eventually…The act became real. Day by day, I transformed into the person everyone thought I was. Soft-spoken. Graceful and Harmless. The lonely daughter no one desired. Sometimes I overheard people gossiping during banquets. "Such a pity. She's beautiful, but no respectable family would choose her." "Poor thing. She'll probably remain unmated forever." Their pity never hurt me. What hurt was knowing they were right. Still, I convinced myself I didn't care. Heavens knew I didn't care about being unmated and that I had already prepared to grow old alone and live an independent old maid's life. But as Eve turned Sixteen, I began noticing the subtle shifts around me. The colder glances. The hushed conversations stopping whenever I entered a room. The calculating look in Princess Diana's eyes whenever she saw me. And slowly, it was clear that as I aged, someone else would see my unmated state as an obstacle in their path.