My Forbidden Guardian

Chapter- 1

ARIA's POV

Moonlight was never really like anywhere else on my family lands the stars themselves seemed to bend to our lineage.

Born into one of the most powerful families in the wolf clan, from the outside, life looked like a fairy tale: grand halls, lush gardens, and a sprawling estate where warriors and nobles bowed down to my father.

The air was thick with power; even wolves in humans' clothes walked through their work with ease and force, as if bits of a well-greased machine.

Pine and wildflowers interwoven with every breeze smells always remind me of life living and breathing on our land.

Howls echoed in the distance, reminding me of the strong bloodline I come from.

I ran wild upon the open grounds, wide-eyed with wonder at an array of warriors, grand feasts that were never-ending, and the inevitable might of my father.

Lord Valerian, that was his name, breathed into legend and said across the land as if a murmur.

He was not an Alpha like any other. He was the storm, a force of nature, sweeping through enemy clans, leaving death in his wake.

I'd heard the tales, and nauseam, of how he crushed entire clans beneath his feet, digesting their strength, their land, and people, leaving only whispers of their ever having been.

His victories were not battles; his triumphs were stories passed in whispers from one to another, where even the boldest wolves quivered at the name.

"Power isn't gifted, Aria," he had said, speaking with a voice that rumbled like thunder yet flowed like honey, his eyes sharp as blades searching through mine.

"It's taken. Earned. Never forget this."

I was being raised in the shadow of his hand, a legacy passed from one generation to the next until the day I would be burdened with leading.

Could I possibly live up to the task? Lord Valerian, whose hands one man's could end wars, whose mere name caused terror to ripple through the most powerful foes.

As I was deep and lost in my thoughts, I suddenly made up my mind and went for a walk into the garden where sweet jasmine was in bloom, filling with the heavy scent in the air.

I walked through the flowers, thinking surely their loveliness would calm my mind.

On cobblestones, I've been used to the rustle of it all. Kael, my guard, stepped beside me.

He was always there: beside me, watchful and quiet.

"Enjoying the evening, Lady Aria?" he's low voice, breaking the stillness of the night surrounding us.

I turned my head to him, my focus drawn to the angles of his face, the way dark hair curled over his brow, and the way his eyes seemed to shine with light from the moon reflecting off the lake.

"That is beautiful, isn't it?" I said, nodding toward the garden. There were flowers out there, distant, dancing gently in the breeze.

"I needed a moment outside of everything."

Kael nodded his head, his eyes crinkling at the corner as a slight smile tugged at his lips." It's good to get some fresh air."

And so we walked, silence between us for some time, during which, of course, I couldn't help but notice how easy and uninhibited he seemed in this open space beyond the stiff confines of the place.

He was a warrior-strong and capable. There was that gentleness too with me.

I found myself wanting the juicy fruit from the high canopy while stepping across a grove of towering fruit trees.

"Kael," I said, gazing up at the fruit, "can you grab that for me?"

He gazed at the fruit and turned back toward me, with a set, as if trying to come through my body to get at it.

"Of course, my lady," he answered, moving forward an inch to make contact.

Yet no matter how great his length of arm, the fruit was tantalizingly out of my range, teasing me for something I could never grasp.

I exhaled sharply, frustration spreading into my voice. "Well, I guess that means I'll have to wait till tomorrow morning," I said with what I hoped sounded light of heart.

Just as I turned to look away, I heard leaves rustling behind me. And around I came, just in time, to find Kael standing there, holding the very fruit of my thoughts cradled delicately in his hands.

"I thought you'd like this," he said, with that warmth in his voice that was somehow just uncharacteristic for him; that note of pride slipping out.

My heart was full of gratitude, and I stretched my hand to touch the fruit lightly with his. So I could smile, my cheeks faintly colored.

"Thanks, Kael! You always know how to make me smile."

In a rush of affection, I laid out my hand and stroked him lightly over the head - this was my first time doing so.

The boy stiffened for a second moment at the arrival of that surprise on his face, but he relaxed; that momentary flash of joy flickered briefly in his eyes.

"Your kindness means so much," he whispered. His lips did little to hint at the smile forming inside.

I felt the gentle shift in

The air - just a whisper of connection between us - even though part of my mind insisted it was one-sided.

I took a bite of the fruit. It exploded on my tongue with sweetness, and I closed my eyes. I went all the way back and remembered how I met him.

It was that night, the grand banquet hall had seemed as if splashed with splendor: the golden chalices full of wine, silks flowing from the high ceilings onto the floors, and every nook of the room filled with the din of the nobles.

Exotic fruits and jewels in a sparkling sheen lay before us, but one more fantastic than the other.

And yet, while I sat there with my chin resting on my hand, nothing seemed to catch my eye that night.

All I could see was him.

He was at the end of the caravan's display, shackled, wrists bound in heavy iron chains.

He looked young, perhaps not much older than I, with dark hair that curled over his brow ever so slightly.

His eyes were sharp, colder than winter's bite, but behind them, there was a smoldering fire—a strength that was there and radiated from him even in captivity.

He didn't wriggle or appear nervous; there was something, however, about stillness that makes your skin prickle.

The caravan leader, who had been so proudly parading around his gifts, stopped dead in his tracks as I looked past the jewels and fabrics, my gaze locking onto the boy.

As if the energy was swelling in this room already, it somehow cooled off as whispery conversations erupted around the caravan members.

I could catch scraps of their terror and puzzlement: "How did he come so armed?" a trembling voice barely breathed.

"This man has an unknown past… he's already killed many of our soldiers." A febrile voice spat, "Who had the effrontery to bring him to this feast?

We've made a huge mistake!

The leader of the caravan visibly broke out into a cold sweat as he let his boastful personality c***k beneath the strain.

He tried to smile with a thin voice as he exclaimed to my father, "This, milord, is the final gift we bring for you.

I understand he might appear dangerous, but we have put him to the test. If you doubt his ability—

He steeled himself, gazing nervously around the room before speaking out: "We can make him fight. We've brought a lion. Maybe a demonstration is in order, to show you just how powerful this young man is."

The tension in the room shot up, and I could feel all the eyes shift between me, the boy, and the caravan leader.

My fingers tapped lightly against the armrest of my chair, my heart beating in rhythm with the unease settling over the hall.

A lion? They were about to stage a spectacle of blood for the sake of impressing my father and the court.

The lion was led into the room, its gigantic body channeled within a rugged cage.

Hushed but animated whispers began again among the guests filling the hall, but, I was only paying attention to the boy.

He hadn't shifted an inch; his eyes remained dead ahead without even as much as an eyelash being cast to the side for the beast.

His stance was nonchalant, but there was something to the way he kept his body that was unsafe, like a sword drawn but reined in.

I eased forward slightly, squinting in my vigilance to keep watch on him, curiosity warping with an almost otherworldly pull I could not explain.

Right when the door of the cage was about to open, a burning urge surged through my soul. I raised my hand.

"Let him go," I said, firm but with a weight I had never felt before. "I want him."

The room fell silent; those words sank in. A moment passed by in which no one stirred.

The caravan leader gaped like a ghost, blinked wildly, and couldn't decide what to do with himself, stammering, "Y-you don't want to see the fight, Milady?"

"No," I said, meeting his cold, unreadable gaze. Let him go. Now."

This was met by the crowd with a murmur of approval. Many called out

That I was kind and noble, showing mercy to them all. They slowly returned their attention to their drinks and laughter, believing the show to be done.

The lion's cage slowly wheeled away into the distance as the caravan leader started to relax, and he thought that his worst was now behind him.

And then it happened.