Traded To The Lycan King

Levious's POV “A political marriage?” I gripped the armrest of the golden throne with my right hand, crushing the carved wood beneath my fingers until splinters dug into my flesh. “I will never willingly sleep with that woman just to continue my lineage. She is my father's intended wife!” “They have not bound their official oaths at the altar yet, Your Majesty, King Levious. Your late father had not even touched her. By the traditional laws of the pack, Agleria has the right to be your consort.” The white-bearded man bowed deeply, his black robe sweeping across the cold marble floor. Beneath his hood, his eyes stared at me with rigid insistence. I let out a low growl, the rumble of my wolf vibrating against the walls of the sanctuary hall. Roughly, I jerked my left arm—revealing it hanging limp, stiff, and utterly lifeless against my lap. “I am a cursed werewolf! My left hand has been completely numb and paralyzed for a year. I am disabled! On what grounds do you damned elders crown me as the new Lycan King?!” The pack elder before me did not flinch in the slightest. His wrinkled face hardened, as unyielding as the ancient laws he had revered for centuries. “Forgive us, King Levious. This decision is absolute from the high council because you are the eldest son of Sqear Geeser. No pureblood can usurp the birthright to this throne. You remain our Lycan King, regardless of the wolfsbane poison that curses your physical form.” “Then what about that woman from the Mevola Pack? How can you heartlessly cast her off to marry a deformed, cursed monster like me?!” “Before his final breath escaped him, Sqear Geeser redeemed that woman with chests of pure gold. This alliance was forged upon a blood seal to fortify the defenses of both kingdoms. Every political benefit has been calculated, including the consequences of this marriage.” Damn them. No matter a thousand reasons they spouted, refusal had already taken root in my mind. I refused to be chained by a woman, let alone shackled by a nonsensical, sacred oath. “I refuse to marry,” I hissed, leaning back against the cold throne that felt increasingly foreign. “Give the woman to my younger brother.” “Every son of Sqear Geeser possesses five wives or more, not to mention the concubines in their chambers. Only you lack a single companion for your bed. Besides, the princess of the Mevola Pack possesses a pure beauty, and she remains untouched.” My blood boiled at that disgusting calculation. With one swift jerk of my right hand, I bolted up from the throne. Heavy iron clanked sharply as my longsword flew from its sheath. The silver flash of the blade stopped precisely one centimeter beneath the pack elder’s chin, forcing his head rigidly upward. “Tell that woman,” I whispered softly, right in front of his suddenly pale face, “it is better for her to beg to be my brother's sixth wife than to surrender her life to a crippled, cursed werewolf like Levious Geeser.” The middle-aged man's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. Cold sweat seeped from his temples, yet his eyes still conveyed a stubborn resignation. “Kill me tonight if it appeases your wrath, King Levious. But by the majesty of the Moon Goddess, this marriage is something you cannot undo.” I snorted in disgust. I lowered my sword, letting it clatter against the floor, and turned to leave the sanctuary hall, ignoring the pleading cries from behind. The weight of this throne felt suffocating—a burden I should have never touched in my entire life. “I have to settle one matter before this damned cycle begins.” That night turned into a s*******r. The night wind in the eastern mountains carried a thick, sickening stench of iron as my blade pierced chest after chest. If I was to be forced into accepting this mad throne, then at the very least, I would rip out the throat of the bastard who masterminded this entire chaos. Living in exile for ten years in the western mountains after my mother's death had forged me into a killing machine. Slaughtering hundreds of wild rogues attempting to breach the gates of the Geeser Pack was my daily routine. And tonight, I would not let the traitorous Alpha who poisoned Sqear Geeser die easily. As the dawn sun began to peek from behind the horizon, the battle reached its end. My heavy breaths turned to vapor in the frigid air, while the enemy Alpha’s body collapsed beneath my feet, his throat brutally torn open. My wrath was entirely vented upon the pool of blood pooling over the mountain soil. He was dead. “Time is tight.” I wiped the blood from my cheek with the back of my hand, then spurred my horse back toward the Geeser Pack palace. That cursed wedding ceremony was already waiting. The main hall of the palace felt dead silent when I arrived. There was no plucking of harps, no choir, or grand trumpet blares that usually accompanied a king's blessing. The heavy atmosphere of mourning over Sqear Geeser's death still shrouded the palace, leaving a suffocating tension. At the far end of the altar, a woman stood waiting for me in a pristine white gown. As the mud-and-blood-splattered steps of my boots echoed closer, I could see her shoulders tense. Her beautiful eyes widened, staring in horror at my combat armor, which was still dripping with the fresh blood of my enemies. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Luna.” I smirked faintly, stepping firmly to a halt before her. “Pardon the interruption, King Levious. But it seems you must wash your body and change your attire first,” interjected a high priest, a representative of the Moon Goddess, whose face looked pale as he took in my disheveled appearance. Instead of retreating to my chambers, I scoffed and unbuckled my armor's breastplate on the spot. The heavy iron fell with a loud crash against the sacred floor of the altar. Indifferently, I allowed a few trembling servants to fit a clean white shirt and formal jacket onto my body, without bothering to change out of my soiled combat trousers. I did all of this before hundreds of pairs of eyes from the invited guests, letting a heavy, suffocating silence rule the room. Suppressed whispers of anger rippled from the row of elders; they were clearly furious that I had flouted the sacred etiquette of the Geeser Pack and defiled the altar with the remnants of a s*******r. Yet, not a single one of them dared to speak out against me. “I, Levious of the Geeser Pack, accept Luna of the Mevola Pack, Princess Agleria, as my wife. To be her protector and her blade, in glory or ruin, in physical strength or weakness, under the witness of the skies tonight.” I spoke the words loudly, though they were cold as ice. Agleria took a deep breath. Her grip on the flower bouquet loosened, and she looked up, staring directly into my eyes with an unexpected spark. “I, Princess Agleria of the Mevola Pack, accept King Levious as my husband. To be his pillar and his soul, in glory or ruin, in health or sickness, until the destiny of the Moon Goddess separates us.” The priest requested us to exchange rings. My right hand moved steadily to slide the precious metal onto the ring finger of Agleria's left hand. But when it was her turn, I deliberately extended my paralyzed left hand. My fingers were stiff, cold without the pulse of a wolf's vitality. I could feel Agleria’s warm fingertips tremble slightly as she slowly pushed the golden ring onto my numb finger. I leaned down, brushing my lips against her forehead for a brief moment according to the ritual. The touch of her skin was as soft as silk, contrasting sharply with the hardness frozen inside my chest. “With this... under the blessing of the ancient gods, I declare King Levious and Princess Agleria officially as a pair of fated mates and the supreme rulers of the Geeser Pack.” Awkward applause echoed reluctantly, devoid of cheers or joyful whistles. There was only the rigid obedience of a terrified people. The moment the ritual ended, the guards' trumpets blared loudly from outside the main gates, summoning the entire clan to gather and hear the proclamation. However, I chose to turn in the opposite direction. My strides were wide as I headed straight for the private bedchambers in the western wing of the palace, completely ignoring the speech tower. Behind me, soft, hurried footsteps followed. Agleria gathered the hem of her wedding dress that swept the marble floor, keeping it clean from the splatters of blood dripping from the armor I had left behind. She remained silent, yet stalked me with a strange tenacity. “King Levious, do you not wish to hear the announcement of victory being voiced outside?” Agleria asked the moment the heavy oak door of our chamber shut tight. “The palace guards' voices are loud enough to pierce through these walls,” I answered flatly as I yanked at my white shirt, popping the top buttons to expose my chest. From beyond the large window, the booming shout of the guard echoed, cutting through the night: “King Levious has executed Alpha Vivian in the Eastern Mountains tonight! The traitor who poisoned the late king is dead! The Geeser Pack has won full tributes from three werewolf kingdoms at once!” The cheers of the people thundered outside, but the atmosphere inside this room only grew colder. Agleria did not join in the cheering. Her gaze was fixed straight on my bare chest and back. Her brows furrowed deeply upon seeing the red welts and fresh, jagged lacerations marring my skin. “You are badly wounded. Let me bandage it,” she said, taking a single step forward. “Just a minor scratch,” I replied heavily, without turning around. “Fresh blood is still seeping from your back, King Levious. Your white shirt has already changed color.” The woman let out a soft sigh, a ripple of restrained emotion in her voice. “I will fetch some warm water and clean cloths.” Before she could step toward the washroom, my right hand shot out, clamping around her wrist. My grip was firm, pinning her in place. “Are you a healer?” “N-no,” she replied, stammering, her eyes widening slightly in shock at my sudden movement. “You are my wife; leave the wounds for the palace healers to deal with later.” I stared at her flatly, leaning down to bring our eyes level. “This blood will stop flowing once I take a cold bath.” “But, King Levious—” “Now, get on the bed. We will breed until I have a firstborn son.” A deep frown formed on Agleria's forehead. “A son? Why must it be a boy? Do you not desire a daughter at all?” “Only a son has the right to hold the legal seal as the next Lycan King.” “I mean, why such a rush to—” “I refuse to rot inside this palace,” I cut her off sharply, slicing her sentence in half. “I want to return to being free and live in the western mountains just as I used to.” “Then if you leave... what becomes of my fate?” “I don’t know. I only need you to bear a son for me. Once that child turns seven, he will replace me on this cursed throne.” “What if my womb cannot bear a son for you?” “Then I will seek a woman from another pack capable of giving me a firstborn son.” I stepped closer, narrowing the distance between us until the hem of her wedding dress brushed against my boots. “You gain many advantages with your current status, Agleria. You will be the Queen Mother. The finest gold, silver, and jewels will fill your entire chamber.” “But I don’t need any of those accursed riches!” A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye, glistening under the dim candlelight of the room. “I only wanted a warm family... a real marriage.” I frowned, finding the sight of her tears entirely foreign. She expected a beautiful marriage out of a forced bond devoid of love? Truly an absurd mindset. “I don’t understand why you are crying. Do all rulers not always possess five wives or more? Why do you suddenly demand fidelity from a Lycan King?” Agleria wiped her cheek harshly. She stared at me dead-on, her reddened eyes flashing with a sudden, burning courage behind the remnants of her tears. “In that case, let us make a written agreement.” “An agreement?” The new Luna of the Geeser Pack did not flinch, she tilted her head up, challenging my gaze from this close proximity. “If the first child born from my womb is a boy, you are strictly forbidden from leaving this palace, and you may never take another wife for the rest of your life. But... if our first child is a girl, you are free to marry any woman you choose, and you may even divorce me and cast me away without any title whatsoever.” I froze for a moment, staring intently into the eyes of the woman before me. Her sheer audacity sparked a strange sense of respect within my chest. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of my lips as I nodded slowly, accepting her challenge. “Deal,” I whispered heavily, releasing my grip from her wrist and moving my hand to touch the strap of her white gown. “Now take off your dress and get on the bed. I accept your agreement.”