Her Mate was Never her Husband

Omega’s don't have a mate. They are to be given off to the highest bidder. This was always a fact within their pack. One that Lysa was acutely familiar with. The youngest daughter of the Roul family, ever since her birth had killed her mother, she was treated as a slave. Being forced to work and beaten and bruised every day by her father and her brothers. “Where’s dinner?” A gruff voice called out. “Coming!” She called out to a man she wasn’t allowed to call father. It had been a year since their Luna had fallen sick. She was somewhere in the forest while the rest of the tribe was aimless. Lysa’s own father had not been to war since then or even hunting, they lived off of scrap. He was evidently sick and found it hard to hunt. Funny how he did not feel the same illness while drinking alcohol. “Here father…” she placed the herbal soup down, in hopes that it would help. He grunted in response and then properly looked at her, “Go get ready,” he ordered, looking at her carefully, “make sure that face looks presentable.” She could not understand, but somehow she knew, whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be kind to her. Sure enough, she heard the sound of men and women laughing and talking outside as she dressed up, before she was even fully dressed up. A woman barged in, rowdy and large. “So this is her? She’s small. Will she work?” She asked, touching Lysa’s red hair that was still in the process of being combed. “She is a hard worker, well raised,“ her father quipped, eagerly watching the money bag strapped to the lady’s hip. “And if she cannot bear me a child?” another man asked. Lysa didn't dare look up, but she saw his feet, he seemed to be a large man. “She will work then,” her father shrugged, “She’s a useful one. And best of all? She never says a thing.” ‘Never say a thing’ The only defense mechanism that Lysa had learned in all those years under him. “Look up Omega,” the man snapped, and she looked up at him, almost fearful. He had shining blue eyes and brown hair framing a face that would be handsome if not for the cruelty etched on it. “Sir?” she mumbled. “You belong to me now. You are my Omega.” His words were a warning and all she could say was yes. With the exchange of a mere 10 coins of gold, she was sold. That was all she was worth to her family. She trudged along with the man and his mates who were all talking merrily while she stared at the ground. Lysa hoped that the moon goddess would take her too, like she had taken the Luna. That if the ground swallowed her, she would be happy. —------------------------------------------------------ The songs of mourning played as wolves howled in the night, the moon was nowhere to be seen. The Luna of the tribe. The most feared werewolf. The daughter of the moon… had died. In battle perhaps? Fighting for her tribe…? No. She died alone. Old, sick and uncared-for. Neglected in a cave while the moon watched. She had now turned her face away from the tribe that had done this to her daughter. “The moon shows us not her face…” The priest stood morose, there was a large pyre and the frail body of the matriarch of the tribe lay, covered with a thin muslin cloth. Her son stood in the front of the crowd with a growing irritation on his face. “Can we get on with this? The body shall decay in front of our eyes!” He scoffed, his friends joining him in his jeering. The priests exchanged a look before nodding, “The moon has refused to see… you may light the pyre, young Arden.” They bent on one knee while he unceremoniously threw a burning stick onto the pyre. The fire roared to life, engulfing the old Luna’s body into it, as if hugging her. The smoke and embers reached up high into the sky as if the Luna herself was reaching out to her mother one last time. With tears brimming her large eyes, Lysa watched. She had seen the Luna many times before. Luna had always cared about the Omega’s and the downtrodden, always tried to lift them up. Then why now… when she needed her tribe the most, they had forsaken her. She looked up at the moon and wondered if the moon would care about what she said, but said it anyway, “Don’t let them get away with it.” She whispered. “What did you say?” Arden snapped at her, “Who are you talking to? Did I give you permission to talk?” “Sorry sir I-” before she could even apologize properly, she was sent flying across the ground and fell near the pyre, burning her hand near a flame. She bit back a scream but backed away from the heat. “Stop,” a voice commanded. Eryx, the head healer, walked over, his eyes ablaze with anger. “Is that appropriate today? Luna hated it when any wolf was treated such… at least not by her own blood. If I could call you that.” “That is my Omega, and I shall do as I please. Crawl back here,” he ordered Lysa who was just beginning to stand up. She looked at him for a second and then the crowd. Most, did not care as they treated Omega’s like that as well. Some had pity in their eyes yet did not do anything. She knelt on the floor and took a deep breath. “I SAID CRAWL!” Arden roared, his face cruel and twisted in happiness as she complied. The pyre burned as her dignity was thrown to the dogs. She could hear their laughter. Lysa closed her eyes again, Moon goddess, I know I am no one, not blessed by you. But I love you the same… don’t forget me… “This is what Omega’s are born to do… they’re nothing. Unblessed.” Arden spat as she crawled over by his side and sat on the ground. “I am the alpha of this pack now… Remember that Eryx… “ he warned, “I won’t be talked to that way again, when the fires have died down. Throw away the ashes.” He waved off the priests before turning away to walk. Lysa got back on her feet, stumbling to keep up with him.