The Rogue Queen

I stood before the tribunal, my hands bound by cold, unforgiving silver chains, my mouth taped shut to prevent me from speaking, a suffocating dark hood over my head that was made of a coarse fabric which made my face itch. I could barely squint to see through it. Mostly it was just outlines of everyone seated before me that I could just make out. The room was cold, my body shivered and ached, every cut and bruise throbbing with pain. Most of them had started to heal thanks to Saga, my wolf-spirit. There were new ones inflicted on me just before the trial by some of the prison guards. They still felt raw and agonizing. I listened to the ongoing discussion. The air was thick with tension and hostility as they talked around me, presenting my alleged crimes against the pack. I stood accused of letting the Rogue King, Alastair Knight escape, and along with that, three of my fellow pack members were killed in the process, but to make matters worse, I had magically awakened—something no werewolf had ever done. No werewolf was ever supposed to do it. I could hear the arguments. No one in our history has ever developed magical talent. So why did I? What was wrong with me? I knew those that had magic were seen as a threat. I never had. It was dangerous, of course. But nothing to feel afraid of. My father had always said it is okay to feel a moment of fear, but to seek to understand the unknown, so you are not paralyzed by confrontation of it. Was I afraid of my gifts? Yes, but who wouldn’t be with a sudden awakening. Often, witches and warlocks, with their limitless, addictive and very dangerous power, use their abilities to harm those around them. They were not the only magic users, but the most well-known to us, and werewolves are taught to stay clear of those who practiced magic lest you become a victim or worse, a pawn in their schemes. The revelation of my gifts had sent shockwaves through the pack, and it terrified them. It took them only moments to turn on me as fear became distrust and anger. Soon they only regarded me as if I was a stranger and no longer their packsister who had just stood in the line with them fighting not just moon-mad rogues, but hunters. A sect of humans ready to wipe out anything that was not like them in the name of their god. It was an accidental circumstance in which my powers came out. It was out of my control, and I was just trying to defend myself. But to the pack, it did not matter. It was my mate, Asher, though, who discovered my powers when I lit up like a beacon and a blast of power pushed everyone away from me. The three dead packmates smashed against the stone wall, their bodies unable to stand the blast and they died instantly. Now to my pack, I am an abomination, and that label alone was enough to condemn me to death if the Elders saw fit. I did not ask for this gift; I never wanted it. But I have it anyway. It was at that moment that my mate rejected me, rejected our bond as I tried to look to him for answers, for help with what I was going through. I was dragged away and thrown into the prison cells which I had only a few hours before been guarding. The pain of the words from Asher, delivered instantly and mercilessly, was the deepest cut of all. 'You are not my mate, I reject you.' His fear-filled words replayed in my mind over and over. The final words of a ritual designed to break the bindings of two goddess-bound wolves. The hurt from that pain was far worse than any other injury I had received. A rejection I was forced to accept and return. Even now, I can feel his hate-filled gaze upon me, or maybe it was fear. At first, I had tried to resist his rejection, fighting through the agony and desperation of our bond, trying to hold myself together. Trying to get him to see, we were still meant for each other. My words fell on deaf ears and the torture began. I was overpowered and torture tactics were used, forcing me to accept the brutal rejection. I was then beaten more and returned to my cell until the Council had arrived and my tribunal began. Now I stand before the Council of Elders, they are the ones that oversee the justice around the territories. It is their job to keep the peace and hand out justice that is supposed to be fair and impartial, because we all know that sometimes Alpha’s can be nearsighted and too close to a situation. Our alpha, my former father-in-law, Jonas Monroe, was indifferent to the situation and content to let his son rage on and potentially even murder me. I would be lying if I said I was not worried if I was going to see a fair trial. But one could hope. The Council of Elders only answered to themselves and the Royal Family, who selected them from a list of nominees given to them by the individual pack alphas. I took in a deep breath and tried to focus on the sounds and smells, the courtroom seemed to close in around me, and every heartbeat echoed in my ears. I could hear their whispers. The weight of their judgment bore down on me like a sledgehammer, threatening to crush my spirit. I longed to rip off the hood covering my face, to look my accusers in the eye and plead my innocence, but the chains held me captive, the hood over my head and tape over my mouth, rendering me voiceless and helpless. Witness after witness came forward, their words stabbed my heart like a thousand daggers. Lies and deceit twisted the truth. The witnesses sat on the stand near the council, their accusations claiming that I was the aggressor, that I used my magic viciously. That I knew what I was doing and purposefully killed my packmates, my friends. A growl formed in my throat when hearing the words, but reason saw through, and I stood tall. My pack, my family, and friends, now saw me as a traitor and a dangerous anomaly. A monster and abomination to our people. I struggled to control the seething anger and frustration, biting my tongue to stifle the urge to scream out in protest. Not that I could anyway. So many questions swam about my head. Why were they doing this to me? Was it because of my magic, the unknown power that ran through my veins? Were they truly convinced that I was a threat to those I swore to love and protect? Was I really that much of a stranger now they couldn't trust me? Each question the Council hurled at the witnesses felt like a relentless assault on my soul. "Did you see Ms. Monroe in the prison hall? What happened in your own words? Did you see her cast magic? Did you see her free the Rogue King Alastair Knight?" The pack members I had trusted and fought alongside answered with damning accusations, their words like betrayal cutting through the bonds of camaraderie we once shared. The only one I could rely on was Anderson Kelley, my best and most loyal friend, and now my champion. He stood tall by my side, fiercely defending me, trying his best to use facts and evidence to protect my life. But the mountain of lies seemed insurmountable, and there was little he could do to refute each fabricated claim. I could only hope the Council of Elders would see truth over the lies. As the trial progressed, my hope felt like a rollercoaster rising and falling based on what I was hearing. Overall, it was depressing and the realization that my pack had turned against me shattered my heart once more and I silently wept.