99 Moons with Alpha Rhaegar

ASKING A STRANGER FOR HELP

Elysia’s POV

I woke up alone. Again.

For a moment, I thought I might be dead. Maybe the rogues had finished what they started, or I’d suffocated from smoke, or perhaps I’d just bled out in the dirt, like fate had decided for me. But if I was dead, I wouldn’t hurt this much.

Every part of my body ached. My head throbbed where I had been struck. My ribs felt like they were broken. My throat was raw from shouting and smoke, and when I touched the side of my head, my fingers came away sticky with blood.

I forced my eyes open. Above me were trees, the sky, and then more trees. I wasn’t where I remembered being. The last thing I recalled was… smoke, explosions, and the chaos of screaming rogues.

But now I found myself on a stone ledge, a shallow groove carved into the side of a cliff. Beyond it, trees stretched endlessly into the horizon. How did I get here?

I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through my side, making me gasp. I touched my ribs—there were bandages, rough and hastily wrapped. Someone had taken care of my wounds.

Fragments of memory rushed back. Strong arms lifting me off the ground. A deep voice, saying something I couldn’t make out. The feeling of movement, like I was being carried. And then nothing.

“Why would they save me just to leave me here?” I whispered.

*Maybe they didn’t want to deal with us,* my wolf murmured.

The thought made my heart ache worse than my aching ribs.

With great effort, I pushed myself up and managed to get to my hands and knees. My arms trembled, and I had to pause to catch my breath, fighting off dizziness.

I forced myself to stand, leaning heavily against a tree. My legs felt weak, threatening to give out at any moment, but I couldn’t stay here. I had to keep moving. I needed to find something—water, shelter, anything.

I took one step, then another. My foot caught on a root, and I stumbled but managed to catch myself.

*Be careful,* my wolf warned. *You’re too weak.*

“I know,” I replied. But stopping wasn’t an option. If I did, I would die. It was that simple.

I continued walking, each step feeling harder than the last. The forest felt infinite—trees and rocks stretching on endlessly. I didn’t know where I was or which way to go. I just knew I couldn’t stop.

Suddenly, my foot slipped on loose stones. I reached out, desperately trying to grab something for support, but there was nothing. The ground dropped away beneath me.

I was sliding, rolling, and my body slammed against rocks and roots, tearing at my skin. Branches whipped across my face.

I tried to stop myself, clawing at the dirt, but it was no use. And then I saw it—the edge of the cliff.

*No!* my wolf screamed inside me. *Stop! STOP!*

I felt panic surge as I clawed at dirt, my nails breaking and my fingers bleeding, but I couldn’t find a grip. I was going to die.

After everything—after surviving the rogues, after dragging myself this far, I was going to fall off a cliff and die alone.

My body tipped over the edge.

And then someone grabbed me.

A large hand—strong and rough—clamped around my wrist, stopping my fall. I dangled there, my feet kicking uselessly in the open air. My shoulder screamed in pain, but his grip didn’t falter.

I looked up.

A man stood at the cliff’s edge, holding my wrist. He had a tough and annoyed look on his face. He was tall—taller than anyone I had ever seen—broad-shouldered and built like a warrior. His hair was black with silver streaks, tied back loosely, and his eyes were a sharp steel-gray, cold and piercing.

He said nothing. Just pulled.

With one strong yank, he hoisted me back onto solid ground, and I collapsed onto my hands and knees. I gasped for air, my chest heaving, my entire body shaking.

He didn’t ask if I was okay. He just stood there, watching me like I was something irritating.

“Thank you,” I managed to say, my voice shaky.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he turned to walk away.

“Wait,” I called out, panic rising in my chest. “Please…”

But he didn’t stop.

I scrambled to my feet, nearly tripping again, and stumbled after him. “Please, don’t leave me here,” I pleaded.

He continued to walk away.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” I said, my voice trembling. “Please, I...”

“Not my problem,” he replied, his tone cold and dismissive.

“Please,” I cried, tears streaming down my cheeks. “I’ll work for you. I can help with healing—I know about herbs and how to make poultices. My mother was a healer…”

“Not interested,” he said firmly.

“I just need a place to stay for a little while… ninety-nine days. That’s all I’m asking. I swear I’ll stay out of your way. I won’t be any trouble. I’ll clean, I’ll do whatever you need…”

He paused for a moment, and I thought he might actually listen.

But when he turned to look at me, his expression was as cold as ice.

“I don’t take in strays.”

“I’m not a stray…” I protested.

“You’re not my responsibility,” he said bluntly. “Go back to your pack.”

“I can’t,” I whispered. “They’ll kill me if I go back.”

His jaw tightened. “I don’t need another woman dying under my roof.”

I was taken aback by his words. What did that mean?

“Please,” I whispered, my throat tight with fear. “I just don’t want to die out here… alone.”

It wasn’t death I feared the most; it was the thought of dying without ever having mattered to anyone.

My mother was gone. My pack had thrown me away. Even the moon goddess had looked at me and decided I wasn’t worth a scent. I’d spent my whole life being invisible. And I didn’t want to die the same way.

He stared at me for a long moment, then turned his back and walked away.

“No…” I whispered, my vision blurring as I trembled all over.

“Please…” I tried to call out one last time, but it barely escaped my lips.

I fell to the ground, my forehead hitting the dirt. I could hear his footsteps as he walked away. Of course, no one ever stays.

I struggled to keep my eyes open, but darkness began to close in. Why was I so weak?

.

.

RHAEGAR’S POV

I should’ve just kept walking.

That’s what I kept telling myself as I stood there, looking down at her crumpled form on the ground.

She was unconscious, her face pressed into the dirt, barely breathing.

“Not my problem,” I thought and tried to turn away.

*Don’t,* my wolf growled inside me. I ignored him, forcing myself to take a step forward.

*She’s dying.*

“That's not my concern.”

*She’s ours,* my wolf insisted.

I stopped mid-step, clenching my jaw. My hand curled into a fist at my side.

“No.”

*You felt it. Don’t pretend you didn’t.*

I didn’t answer. Because maybe he was right. The moment I grabbed her wrist at the cliff edge, something shifted. A pull. It was faint, barely there, but undeniable. And her scent…Fuck.

It was so faint I almost didn’t catch it. Buried under blood and dirt and fear. But beneath all that—wildflowers after rain, delicate and beautiful. It felt wrong for someone so broken, making my wolf restless.

*Protect her. Keep her. Don’t let her die.*

“She’s a stranger,” I said through gritted teeth, my voice rough. “She might be lying. She could be dangerous.”

*She’s ours,* my wolf repeated, voice steady. *And you know it.*

I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms. This was absurd. I didn’t know her. I didn’t owe her anything. But my wolf was practically screaming at me to turn back.

*If you leave her, you’ll regret it.*

“I don’t regret anything,” I muttered.

*Liar,* my wolf shot back. *Then why are you still here?*

Damn it. I turned back, the crunch of dirt under my boots loud in the silence. She lay still, crumpled in the dirt like a broken doll. Her forehead pressed into the ground, her body trembling.

“She’s fine,” I said, even though I didn’t believe it.

I stared down at her, my chest tight, my wolf snarling in the back of my mind.

She looked really small, barely clinging to life. And something about her made me want to rip apart every single thing that had hurt her. Which was f*****g ridiculous.

I didn’t do this anymore. I didn’t care. I didn’t let people in. Not after…

I crouched down, reaching for her and for a split second, her body in my arms felt too familiar.

Too much like the weight I’d carried years ago. Cold. Lifeless. Too late to save.

My wolf echoed softly, *She’s not her.*

I knew that. But it didn’t stop the memory from clawing its way up my throat.

*She’s different. You know it.*

I didn’t want to accept it, but as I stared at her fragile body on the ground, I realized something—I wasn’t going to walk away. I couldn’t.

Not because I wanted to help her, but because if I did, I’d be haunted by another lost soul that could’ve been saved.

And I was done with carrying the dead.

Sighing, I scooped her up, cradling her in my arms. She felt too light, too fragile.

Her head rested against my shoulder, and I caught that scent again—wildflowers after rain, mingling with all the dirt and fear.

My wolf rumbled with approval. *Ours.*

“Ninety-nine days,” I murmured as I carried her toward my horse. “That’s all I’m giving you. Don’t make me regret this.”

*Sure,* my wolf replied, smugly satisfied. *Whatever you say.*

Ignoring him, I settled her carefully on the horse before climbing up behind her. Her body leaned heavily against mine, limp and lifeless.

I tightened my grip to keep her from falling.

This was a mistake. I knew it was a mistake.

But as I urged the horse to move forward, her scent wrapping around me like a curse, I couldn’t make myself care.

Ninety-nine days.

And if fate was cruel—which it always was—it would be more than enough time to ruin things.