Alpha King's Broken Mate

Seen

BRISEIS

The journey to his territory was a blur.

I didn’t ride in a wagon this time.

I rode on horseback, behind a warrior who didn’t speak to me, didn’t look at me, didn’t acknowledge me beyond the way his muscles tensed every time I shifted my weight.

The crest of the Alpha King’s sigil, black and gold, was stitched into the saddle beneath me.

I tried not to touch it.

Tried not to touch anything.

The path curved up into high mountain forests, through fog, and beneath ancient trees whose roots seemed to whisper in a language I didn’t understand. The wind changed. The air grew colder. Cleaner. Heavier, too, like every breath I took here would cost something I hadn’t yet agreed to pay.

No one told me where we were going.

No one told me what would happen next.

They didn’t need to.

He was taking me to his home.

His pack.

His kingdom.

I was the girl in rags who didn’t even shift. And now I was being brought to stand beside the wolf who ruled them all.

It made no sense.

None of it did.

By the time we reached the gates, towering, black iron carved with ancient runes, I was shaking again. Not from the cold. From something else.

From knowing.

That nothing would ever be the same again.

The gates opened without a word.

Beyond them lay a keep.

Not just a house, or a hall.

A keep.

Stone towers. Wide courtyards. Moonstone woven into the walls. Silent warriors stood guard at every corner, armor gleaming beneath the silver light of the moon.

No one spoke as we entered.

They didn’t need to.

They saw me.

They stared.

And I stared back, until I couldn’t anymore.

Because I caught my reflection in the mirrored black surface of the glass doors as we entered the main wing, and for a moment, I didn’t recognize myself.

I looked… smaller.

Smaller than ever.

Like a girl caught in a story she didn’t belong in.

The warrior led me through quiet hallways, down a long corridor where the air grew warmer. Softer.

Still.

He stopped at a wooden door and gestured once. “This is yours.”

Not a command. Not exactly a welcome, either.

Just… a fact.

I nodded once.

He left.

And I stood alone.

For a long time, I didn’t move.

I pressed my palm to the wood, half-expecting it to disappear under my fingers. But it was solid. Real.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was…

Quiet.

Warm.

Too warm.

There was a fire already lit. A soft bed with a thick quilt. A small wardrobe. A window overlooking a forest so deep I couldn’t see the end of it.

I didn’t belong here.

Not in a place like this.

This wasn’t my world.

This wasn’t straw and stone floors and bruises behind barns.

This was silence.

And safety.

And something worse, expectation.

I stood in the middle of the room for what felt like hours, unsure if I was meant to sit or wash or change or kneel.

Then I heard a knock.

Not hard. Not urgent.

Gentle.

I flinched anyway.

But the door didn’t open.

Instead, I heard his voice.

Low. Controlled.

Orion.

“I’ll give you space.”

I didn’t move.

“I won’t mark you. Not unless you want it.”

My breath hitched.

“I just want you safe.”

Another pause.

Then softer, almost like a thought spoken out loud:

“You’re already under my skin.”

Then his footsteps retreated.

And I was alone again.

Only I wasn’t, was I?

Because something moved inside me.

Softly. Slowly.

Like the first curl of smoke after a spark.

My wolf.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t growl.

But I felt her, stirring in my chest.

As if she’d finally noticed something worth waking up for.

As if she’d finally, after all this time, stopped being afraid.

I sat on the edge of the bed like it might bite me.

It didn’t.

It just creaked gently under my weight, soft and strange and too forgiving. I curled my hands into fists against the quilt, stitched in gold and moon-grey, smooth beneath my skin.

I had never slept in a real bed before. Not one like this. Not one with sheets and pillows and warmth.

And it terrified me.

Because I didn’t trust comfort.

Comfort was always the thing they dangled before taking it away again. The moment you got used to a gentle hand or a kind word, it twisted into a slap. That was what life had taught me. Never expect softness. Never rest.

So I didn’t.

I sat upright, spine rigid, waiting for the catch. The punishment. The door to burst open. A voice yelling at me for touching something I wasn’t meant to touch.

But the room stayed quiet.

Time passed. I didn’t know how much. I didn’t sleep. I barely moved.

And then came a knock.

Not from him this time.

Louder. Sharper. Business-like.

I stood quickly, back against the wall, heart thudding. “Yes?” I said, voice barely audible.

The door opened without waiting for permission.

A woman stepped in.

She was tall, broad-shouldered, with a long braid over one shoulder and steel armor trimmed in navy blue. Her eyes, sharp, pale grey, scanned me like she was measuring a weapon.

I flinched.

She noticed.

Then strangely, her face softened.

“Easy,” she said. “I’m not here to harm you.”

I said nothing.

“I’m Commander Thalia,” she said. “Captain of the King’s Guard. Orion asked me to see to your needs.”

I blinked.

See to my needs? What needs? What did that even mean?

“I… don’t need anything,” I whispered quickly. “I’m fine.”

She arched a brow. “You’re shaking.”

I looked down. My hands were trembling again.

I clenched them behind my back. “I didn’t mean to,”

“Stop apologizing,” she said gently.

I shut my mouth.

Thalia studied me a moment longer, then sighed and set a small bundle on the dresser. “These are clothes. Clean ones. Your size. There’s also soap and oils. I’ll send a healer later, unless you object.”

A healer.

They thought I needed help.

They didn’t know.

They didn’t know girls like me didn’t get healed. We just got quiet. We got good at hiding it.

“I’m not sick,” I said.

Thalia’s voice was calm. “I never said you were.”

Silence stretched between us again.

Then she added, softer, “We’ve never seen him look at anyone like that before.”

I swallowed.

“I don’t know why he did,” I whispered.

She didn’t reply right away.

Then she said, “He’s not a man who does things by accident. If he claimed you, it’s because something in him recognized something in you.”

I didn’t believe that.

But I didn’t say it out loud.

Thalia nodded once, then turned to go.

At the door, she paused. “When you’re ready, someone will escort you to him. He wants to introduce you to the pack.”

My breath stopped.

Introduce me.

To the pack.

As what?

His?

As their Queen?

The thought made my stomach twist into a knot of panic and disbelief.

I wasn’t a queen.

I wasn’t even a wolf yet.

But I nodded.

Because saying no wasn’t something I knew how to do.

And because, deep down, some awful, aching part of me wanted to believe that maybe… just maybe…

Someone had finally seen me.

Even if I didn’t see myself yet.

The clothes Thalia left were soft.

Too soft.

A pale grey tunic with silver thread at the cuffs, leggings that hugged my legs without squeezing, and a soft shawl with fur trim. I didn’t know how to wear any of it. I kept tugging at the fabric like it would fall apart in my hands.

I washed quickly in the small basin by the window, using as little of the oil as I could. The scent clung to my skin, something warm, like sage and cedar. It didn’t feel like me.

Nothing here did.

Still, when the quiet knock came, I didn’t hesitate this time.

A new guard waited outside. He didn’t say much, just gave a short bow and gestured for me to follow him.

I expected to be led into some kind of throne room, or council hall.

Instead, I was brought through a back hallway lined with stone and into a room that smelled like honey, flowers, and parchment.

The nursery.

I stopped at the doorway, unsure if I was allowed inside.

But then I saw her.

A little girl sat on a plush rug, legs crossed, surrounded by tiny carved wolves. One was missing an ear. Another was painted gold. They looked well-worn, loved in the way only children could love.

She looked up.

And I forgot how to breathe.

Big grey eyes. The exact same as his.

She blinked once, twice, then stood up slowly and walked over to me, the sleeves of her small blue tunic dragging a little past her wrists.

“Hi,” she said softly.

My voice caught. “Hi.”

She stared at me a little longer, then tilted her head. “You look like a scared fox.”

I blinked.

Her words weren’t cruel, just honest.

I smiled a little. “I feel like one.”

She stepped closer, nose scrunching. “You smell like my papa.”

My stomach twisted. “Do I?”

She nodded. “But different. Softer. Like the woods after it rains.”

I didn’t know what to say.

She wasn’t afraid of me. Not even a little. No judgment. No mockery. No cruelty. Just… curiosity.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

I hesitated. “Briseis.”

She repeated it slowly, carefully. Then she smiled. “I like it.”

“I like yours too,” I said, though she hadn’t told me yet.

She giggled. “I’m Lyra. My papa says I was born during the star rains.”

“That’s beautiful.”

She walked past me and tugged gently on my sleeve. “Want to see my wolves?”

I didn’t know if I was allowed.

I didn’t know if anyone in the pack wanted me near her.

But I followed her anyway.

I sat with her on the rug, legs tucked beneath me, as she explained each little carved animal’s name and personality. One was grumpy. One was brave. One cried too much and needed cuddles all the time.

She handed that one to me.

“This one’s for you,” she said. “Until you’re not scared anymore.”

I couldn’t speak.

Not for a long time.

I held the tiny wooden wolf in my hands like it was made of gold.

And Lyra just smiled, unbothered, her small fingers weaving another toy into the story playing out in her head.

Eventually, I whispered, “Do you… miss your mama?”

She paused.

Then said, very softly, “She left when I was little. Papa says sometimes wolves get lost and can’t find their way back.”

My chest cracked open.

I didn’t know what to say.

So I said the only thing I could.

“I’m sorry.”

Lyra looked at me again, her gaze steady.

“Are you gonna stay?” she asked.

I opened my mouth. Then closed it.

Because I didn’t know.

Because part of me wanted to.

And another part was still waiting to wake up.

“I don’t know yet,” I said truthfully.

Lyra nodded once.

“Okay,” she whispered. “But I hope you do.”

.....

I sat with Lyra until her eyes began to flutter closed, mid-sentence, head resting on my arm. Her fingers still curled around the golden wolf she hadn’t finished naming yet.

I didn’t move.

I didn’t want to break the moment.

It felt… fragile. Like if I breathed too hard, it would all vanish. The warmth. The stillness. The feeling that I wasn’t just tolerated, but wanted.

And then,

I felt it.

That unmistakable weight in the air.

I looked up.

He was there.

Standing in the doorway, silent and still, one hand resting lightly against the frame. He wasn’t wearing a cloak. No crown. No armor. Just a simple dark shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, collar open at the throat.

But even like this, bare, quiet, he was the most commanding presence in the room.

Orion.

His eyes weren’t on me.

They were on his daughter.

The smallest smile touched the corner of his mouth as he watched her sleep.

And something about that broke me all over again.

Because it wasn’t just pride in his eyes.

It was wonder.

Like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

Not just Lyra.

Me.

Sitting beside her.

Like I belonged here.

He didn’t say anything.

And neither did I.

But for the first time since he claimed me, I didn’t feel like a prisoner.

I felt… seen.

By both of them.

And that was enough to keep me breathing.