The Prince of the North

19 YEARS AGO  Cold winds blew into the castle's open doors. The worried queen looked at her mate- he was now a man she could barely recognize. She brought her son closer to her chest. At a small three years of age, Rowan Forthclaw was an innocent baby and hardly deserved to see this cruel side of his father.  Aldoria had seen the manic look in her husband's eyes. He was consumed by pride, arrogance, and power. His only concern now was to defeat the southerners.  "Terrin," she whispered, meeting his eyes and shaking her head. Gone was the man who would look at her with  love.  He turned back and paid no attention to her.  The palace guards were carrying a southerner who was caught at the border. An innocent mistake. It had happened before. Villagers on the border rarely paid attention to formal political lines.  Two stony faced guards arrived and dropped the poor man in front of the King's feet. Terrin rose to his full height, and gripped the back of the man's hair. At twenty nine years of age, Terrin was an attractive wolf. He still had traces of a mischievous personality in his icy blue eyes, and his blonde hair was still silky. But gone was his kind disposition.  Terrin took a cane in his hands and flogged the man. Aldoria closed her eyes and tried to block the painful screams of the man. Terrin was mercilessly punishing a man who had no stake in the conflict between the north and the south.  Aldoria still loved him. But she wasn't sure that Terrin still loved her, or even Rowan.  Terrin had changed a year after Rowan was born. He had turned more malevolent, and his wolf had become unpredictable. Aldoria had studied enough history to know what was wrong with him.  A curse of the bloodlines had managed to find its way into Terrin. He had turned exceptionally deranged, and had forgotten how to rule with passion and kindness.  But Aldoria hadn't forgotten. And she was certainly not going to take this. Her son's sanity depended on her. His life, everything she'd hoped he would be- it was all fading in front of her. She had to make a tough choice now- to leave. She couldn't stand by and watch her son turn into her husband.  Could she take her child with her? No. Rowan was the first born of Terrin. He'd guard him with his life- he was after all, the heir of the north. She could still protect her unborn child, though.  She looked at her flat stomach, which would soon start showing with a round bump. She had to make a decision.  And so she did.  She made the decision to abandon her son and her husband for the sake of her unborn child. But she'd made a promise to herself. She would come back- stronger, braver, and with another child and hopefully warm Terrin's icy heart.  Of Rowan, she hoped he did not take after his father's personality. He was a mere child. And how Aldoria wished she could take Rowan with her tonight. But she couldn't.  The reason was simple: as a father, Terrin could have her executed for attempting to steal an heir of the kingdom- it didn't matter that he was her offspring as much as he was Terrin's. The second was that Terrin could smell a trace on Rowan- it would never vanish until Rowan grew older. Part of a ceremony at childbirth, Terrin and Rowan had an unbreakable bond of father and son. It was ancient magic- and despite Aldoria's training in witchcraft, she couldn't break that tie.  And so with a breaking heart, Aldoria cradled her innocent son to her chest, turning his head away from the gruesome scene in front of them. He hugged her tightly, tears streaming down his face. He understood little now, but as he grew up, she hoped he would understand why he left.  She kissed the top of his head, reveling in the moment because she knew this was the last time she would touch him for many years to come.  "Sleep well, my young prince," she whispered, running her hand through her child's hair as she comforted him for the last time.