Moonglow. Valley of the Royal Wolves
The Moon Claws pack is said to be comprised of royals, standing as one of the wealthiest and most powerful packs on that side of the continent—a jewel in the Lycan crown. For decades, their fortress has stood resolute, and their royal Alpha, Sigmund XI, wielded significant influence among both wolf and human territories, even after his passing.
To the wolves, he was one of the mightiest Alphas; to the humans, he embodied royalty. His ancestor, Sigmund I, had previously forged a union with a human princess, solidifying his position within the Moonglow royalty and propelling him into the Moonglow political arena. His sons and daughters gradually infiltrated the entire royal court, until decades later, the only remaining high-born families were those with wolf bloodlines. Now, within the Moonglow hierarchy, the wolf royals lay claim to the crown, with the high-born following in succession, omegas serving as their royal attendants, and humans and whatever there else, existing as subjects.
In the current time, one of the most influential high-born figures in the country was Delta Lavendair. He had been the late king's right-hand man and his most trusted advisor. They had been steadfast comrades, and in the interest of maintaining power and wealth, they had long ago decided that their children should be united through marriage. Today marked the realization of this enduring commitment—the day when Alpha Sigmund XI's heir, Sigmund XII, would marry one of Delta Lavendair's daughters.
"Long live Sigmund XII!"
"Long live the royal couple!"
"Long live the royal wolves!"
The kingdom buzzed with jubilation and anticipation. The streets teemed with crowds of joyful individuals adorned in their finest attire, all eager to catch a glimpse of the newlyweds and partake in their happiness. Children darted around with radiant smiles, clutching miniature bouquets of flowers to offer to the bride and groom as they paraded through the streets following the royal wedding.
The Delta's household was even livelier, bustling with activity. The household staff moved in a flurry, ensuring that every corner of the mansion was immaculate and inviting for the esteemed guests. Every aspect of the event underwent meticulous scrutiny, executed with precision and grace, from the polishing of marble floors to the fluffing of plush cushions. No effort was spared in making the mansion exude excessive splendor and presentability. Interestingly, this effort seemed somewhat ironic, as the wedding was not taking place at Delta Lavendair's mansion but rather within the royal palace's court. However, under the leadership of the Delta's wife, Madam Evie, the household aimed to treat the guests to a week-long celebration, replete with parties and exclusive afternoon teas, all in honor of her daughter's ascension to the royal throne.
As the wedding ceremony drew closer, the mansion buzzed with mounting excitement. The air was infused with the anticipation of a joyous union. Yet, amidst the revelry and the haste, a certain air of formality and tranquility lingered in one of the rooms within the Delta's mansion. There, standing amid it all, was a young woman with hair reminiscent of spun silver, cascading down her back in gentle waves. She remained motionless, wearing the same blank expression she bore at all times, while another young woman smoothed out the delicate fabric of her mistress's gown.
"I need to sew something, my lady," the maid announced, to which her mistress only responded with a nod. Just as always, her mistress stood there serenely, entrusting herself entirely to her maid's capable hands. Such trust didn't develop overnight; the maid had served her for many years, and now, as the wedding approached, she was the sole person who understood the meaning behind her mistress's silence. The way she maintained her composure with grace amid all the chaos was truly admirable in the maid's eyes.
"My lady, are you alright?" she finally asked. She had struggled all morning to refrain from speaking, but her mouth could no longer contain the words. The marriage between the Alpha's heir and the Delta's daughter should pose no problems, especially considering that her mistress and the royal Alpha's son had long since recognized that they were mates.
Although the concept of mates had been abandoned in this kingdom ever since Sigmund I chose to marry a human princess to secure a powerful territory for his kind, it still held significance for many. In fact, numerous wolf packs across the continent devoutly followed and acknowledged the concept of mates as their primary preference for coupling
"It's only going to last a couple of hours. You just need to be there. You don't even have to meet everyone," Clara added, attempting to emphasize that the event would pass by like any other day. "Don't worry, I'll be there to ensure you're well taken care of."
"Hand me the veil," her lady interjected, dismissing Clara's question with a gesture. She was well aware that Clara, her maid, was merely expressing concern, but she didn't really require sympathy. She was fine, wasn't she?
"My lady, I've heard that the tradition of mates isn't as strong anymore. Even Alpha Sigmund I didn't recognize it," the maid persisted in her attempt to offer comfort. She understood that her mistress might not openly welcome sympathy, but their longstanding companionship made it difficult to disregard her worries.
"I'm not a fan of Sigmund I, however," her mistress responded, her expression void of any emotion, causing Clara's face to sour. At this point, she couldn't bring herself to believe that her mistress was truly okay and that the ongoing event wasn't dampening her spirits. The fact that her mistress hadn't slept the previous night was evidence enough of her profound discomfort. While her mistress attributed her lack of sleep to nightmares, Clara however thinks it was because of a silent heartbreak.
Clara handed her the veil, and with great care and precision, her mistress began to cover her head with it. Her once-beautiful silver hair was now concealed beneath the delicate linen, as was her face.
"This veil complements the dress I crafted for you wonderfully," Clara remarked as she stepped back to take in the sight of her mistress adorned in her full attire—her very own masterpiece.
"This veil is my curse," her lady declared, a newfound burden evident in her words. This time, her formerly composed demeanor faltered, and Clara comprehended the reason why.
The linen above her lady's head bore an immeasurable weight—a painful and potent reminder of what her lady lacked and what she stood to lose. It draped over her like a suffocating shroud, engulfing her essence, her spirit.
That veil had become her identity and also her prison.
That veil was the very reason why Sigmund XII, the Alpha's heir and her lady's mate rejected her and is marrying her sister, Lady Violet today.