99 Moons with Alpha Rhaegar

ARRIVAL AT BLOODMOON

RHAEGAR’S POV

The gates opened before I even reached them—sharp and immediate, as if they had been waiting. The guards at the entrance straightened the moment they saw me approach, their fists moving to their chests in salute. But their eyes weren’t on me.

They were on her.

The girl lay unconscious in my arms, her head resting against my shoulder, her hair cascading across my chest as if she belonged there. I felt their stares, sensed the questions forming behind their carefully blank faces. Their Alpha King never brings strangers home, let alone carrying them.

I ignored them, urging my horse forward through the gates without slowing.

The courtyard bustled with activity—servants moving between buildings, warriors sparring near the training grounds, and stable hands leading horses toward the stalls. Warriors lined the courtyard as I rode through, their heads bowing in respect, but every single one of them stopped and stared.

Whispers started immediately, low and urgent, spreading like wildfire through dry grass.

*…Who is she?

…Where did he find her?

…Why is he holding her like that?*

My wolf snarled at every voice, at every gaze that lingered too long on her.

*They’re staring at her.*

“Let them.”

*Make them stop.*

“I’m not going to bark at my own people because you’re territorial.”

*She’s ours. They shouldn’t look.*

I clenched my jaw and kept riding. A guard stepped forward as I dismounted, instinctively reaching out his hands. “Your Majesty, let me…”

“Don’t touch her.”

The words came out sharper than I intended, laced with a growl I hadn’t meant to let slip. The guard froze, his hands dropping immediately. His eyes went wide, flicking between me and the girl. “I—I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I only thought….”

“She was attacked. She needs proper handling. I’ll take her myself.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” The guard quickly bowed and stepped back, confusion clear on his face, which was mirrored on every other face around me.

I adjusted my grip on the girl, cradling her more securely against my chest, and started toward the castle entrance.

She was attacked. She needs proper handling. That’s all this is. That’s what I told myself, anyway.

Cain appeared at the top of the steps, his arms crossed, his sharp eyes taking in the scene with unsettling clarity. He didn’t say anything as I climbed the stairs, but I felt his gaze assessing, calculating.

“Prepare a room in the west wing,” I said as I passed him.

He raised a brow. “The west wing?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s close to your quarters.”

“I’m aware.”

“Interesting choice.”

I stopped and turned to look at him. “Do you have a point, Cain?”

His lips twitched into a smirk. “Not at all, Your Majesty.”

I shot him a look and kept walking.

The west wing was quieter and more isolated. The guest chambers here were reserved for high-ranking visitors—Alphas, Council members, dignitaries—not strays pulled from the Wildlands. But I wasn’t going to put her in the servants’ quarters, and I certainly wasn’t putting her in the east wing, where the lower-ranked wolves stayed.

*Because she’s ours*, my wolf said smugly.

“Because it’s practical.”

*Sure.*

I pushed open the door to one of the larger guest chambers. The room was simple yet comfortable—a wide bed with soft furs, a stone fireplace, and a window overlooking the forest. I crossed the room and laid her down gently on the bed.

Her head sank into the pillow, and she made the faintest sound—a soft whimper, barely audible. It hit me harder than it should have. My chest tightened, and my wolf pushed against my ribs, snarling.*Mine. Protect her.*

I stepped back, putting distance between us. “Get the healer,” I commanded the servant lingering by the doorway. “Now.”

She quickly bowed and disappeared from view.

I stood there, staring down at the girl, my hands curled into fists at my sides. She looked small in the bed—fragile and broken. The sight of her made my chest ache in a way I didn’t want to acknowledge.

Footsteps echoed in the hall, and Maren appeared in the doorway, her leather satchel slung over her shoulder.

“Your Majesty,” she said, bowing quickly before moving to the bedside.

I stepped back, leaning against the wall near the doorway, my arms crossed.

Maren worked quickly, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. She first checked the girl’s pulse, pressing two fingers against her throat, before listening closely to her breathing. Then, she peeled back the rough bandages wrapped around her, examining the gash on her head and the bruises along her ribs.

A frown spread across Maren's face as her fingers traced the darkened skin gently. I watched every movement, every touch. My jaw clenched when the girl flinched in her sleep, a small sound escaping her lips.

Maren hesitated, glancing up at me.

“Is she dying?” I asked, my voice flat.

Maren jolted slightly, like she’d forgotten I was there. “N-No, Your Majesty. She’s stable. Just… exhausted, dehydrated, and traumatized. She needs real rest.”

I nodded once. “Then make sure she gets it.”

Maren bowed her head and continued her work.

Two female servants entered the room, carrying bowls of water and clean linens. They moved to the bedside, preparing to clean the girl’s wounds and change her into something more comfortable.

I should have left, but I didn’t. I stayed near the doorway, my arms crossed, my jaw tight.

Every time one of them touched her—every time they lifted her arm or brushed her hair back—my wolf snarled inside me.

*“Don’t let them touch her.”*

“They’re helping her. That’s not how this works.”

*“Then make it work.”*

I gripped the edge of the doorframe so hard that the wood cracked under my hand.

Cain appeared beside me, his voice low. “You’re acting strange, Rhaegar.”

I didn’t look at him. “Focus on your duties, Beta.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “As you say, Your Majesty.”

He walked away, but not before I caught the smirk on his face.

Bastard.

When the servants finished, they bowed and left the room quietly. Maren followed, pausing at the door.

“She’ll wake soon,” she said. “Probably by morning. When she does, she’ll be disoriented and scared. She’ll need—”

“I’ll handle it.”

Maren blinked. “You?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No, Your Majesty. It’s just… unexpected.”

I didn’t respond, and she bowed before leaving.

Then I was alone with her.

I pulled a chair from the corner of the room and set it across from the bed. I sat down, leaning back with my arms crossed.

She was breathing softly now, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Her hair was damp against her cheek, and her lips were slightly parted.

Her scent—wildflowers after rain—slowly curled into my chest like smoke.

I hated it. I hated how it felt like something I’d lost, something I shouldn’t want.

*“Mine,”* my wolf whispered again.

I growled under my breath, refusing.

She stirred in her sleep, her head turning slightly toward me. Her lips parted, and she whispered something so soft that I almost didn’t catch it.

“Please… don’t leave…”

My chest tightened.

I didn’t move closer. I didn’t touch her. But I didn't leave.

Hours passed. The fire crackled in the hearth, and the castle settled into silence. And I stayed.

When dawn began to paint the sky in shades of gold and orange, I finally stood. My body ached from sitting too long, my muscles stiff, but I didn’t care.

I stopped at the doorway, glancing back once—just once. She was still sleeping, her face peaceful now, the tension finally gone from her features.

“Send for me when she wakes,” I told the guard outside.

He bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

I walked away, my jaw clenched, my hands curled into fists, struggling against something wild inside me—something I couldn’t name, something I refused to admit.