The subjects watched him with adoration, revering the feared Alpha King as an unbeatable leader and an almost divine figure. Murmurs echoed through the air as people crowded to catch a glimpse of their sovereign. The crowd's eyes sparkled with a mixture of fear and admiration as Ulrich approached with an imposing presence.
Ulrich observed his subjects with a mix of satisfaction and authority, his commanding posture making it clear who was the master of these lands. Turin approached Ulrich, observing the crowd's fervor with a slight smile on his lips.
"It seems the people are excited, Majesty," he commented, his tone tinged with satisfaction. "They can hardly wait to hear the stories of the battle during the welcome feast."
Ulrich turned his gaze to Turin, his golden eyes shining with determination.
"Before the fun, there is one last obligation to fulfill," he replied seriously.
"What do you mean, Majesty?" questioned Turin, furrowing his brow, not understanding the king's words.
Ulrich lifted his gaze to the top of the castle, where the kingdom's elders watched the arrival with serious expressions.
"It's time to face the elders," he declared firmly. "They will surely want to know how the kingdom will benefit from the war we fought."
Turin nodded understandingly, realizing the seriousness of the situation. Together, they advanced towards the castle, each step resonating with relentless determination. The welcome feast would have to wait; first, Ulrich would have to deal with the demands of the elders, assuring them that his reign would bring prosperity and glory to the Northern Vale.
***
The oval throne room in the Castle of the Northern Vale was a scene of authority and power, where the feared Alpha King Ulrich, Beta Turin, and the elders gathered to discuss the kingdom's course after the recent battle against the Silver Fang Vale pack. Ulrich, bored, sat on his throne while Turin and the elders debated the war's aftermath.
Galadriel, the oldest elder and leader of the council, approached Turin with a serious and inquisitive expression.
"How exactly did this battle benefit the kingdom?" he questioned, his voice resonating with authority.
"The victory against Alpha Gray's pack has granted us more productive lands for the kingdom, along with all the resources the defeated pack possessed," Turin replied, his voice firm and confident.
Galadriel stared at Turin intently, his eyes seeking further clarification.
"And what about the people who could be used as slaves and the wolves who could reinforce our army?" he asked, his expression serious. "Where are they?"
Turin sighed, aware of the implications of his words.
"The King opted for the decimation of the pack," he revealed, his voice carrying a somber tone.
Galadriel turned to Ulrich, his expression now filled with concern.
"Why was this decision made?" he asked, his voice betraying nervousness.
Ulrich stared at Galadriel with disdain, his imposing posture reflecting his absolute power.
"Because I can," he replied coldly, his voice echoing through the hall. "I am the king, and my decisions are absolute."
Galadriel stood firm in the face of Ulrich's response.
"I meant no disrespect, Your Majesty," he began, his voice softening slightly. "But as leaders of the elders, we must understand how these decisions affect the kingdom. Kings may come and go, but elders remain to ensure the pack's balance."
Ulrich rose from his throne, advancing towards Galadriel with a look of disdain.
"Nevertheless, you have no right to question my decisions made in battle," he declared firmly. "Next time, perhaps I should call you to the front line. Maybe the smell of blood will help you understand what a battle truly is."
"I apologize if my words were interpreted as disrespectful, Majesty," Galadriel murmured, his voice full of contrition. He bowed his head in submission. "I was only trying to help."
Ulrich observed Galadriel for a moment before announcing his final decision.
"I have decided to send part of the subjects to live in the Silver Fang Vale as a solution to the overpopulation in the kingdom," he revealed. "They will be transferred immediately."
Galadriel nodded, acknowledging the wisdom in Ulrich's decision.
"It is a wise choice, Majesty," he agreed humbly.
Ulrich watched Galadriel for a moment before handing him Alpha Gray's pelt.
"Now, I will rest," he announced, his tone indicating the end of the audience. "I expect you to hang Alpha Gray's pelt with the others for the feast in the main hall."
With these final words, Ulrich withdrew from the room, leaving Turin, Galadriel, and the other elders to discuss the kingdom's next steps in the absence of their feared sovereign.
***
The corridors of the castle echoed with the steady footsteps of the feared Alpha King Ulrich as he made his way to his chambers, his imposing figure cutting through the air with determination. The surrounding atmosphere was steeped in a somber and silent aura, as if the castle walls themselves were whispering ancient secrets.
Upon reaching his chambers, Ulrich found his slaves awaiting him, transformed into their human forms. They were women of supernatural beauty, each belonging to a pack that Ulrich had conquered in his quest for dominance. Their eyes, laden with submission, turned to him as he entered the room.
Ulrich observed the face of each one with a mixture of interest and impatience, searching for Lyra, the slave he had taken as his Luna. His heart beat with an unusual urgency as he scanned the familiar faces among the slaves.
Finally, he approached one of the women, his penetrating gaze fixed on her.
"Where is Lyra?" he asked, his voice heavy with authority.
The woman met his gaze with a slight tremor of fear in her eyes.
"Lyra is resting, as recommended by the royal physician," she replied, her voice soft and fearful.
Ulrich furrowed his brow, surprised by the revelation.
"Does that mean Lyra is...?" he trailed off, his voice laden with a mix of emotions.
"Yes, Lyra is pregnant with Your Majesty's child," the woman nodded hesitantly.
Without further hesitation, Ulrich turned and exited his chambers, his heart racing with a strange sense of anticipation. He was heading towards Lyra's quarters, driven by a burning desire to see his Luna and confirm the news he had just received.
Upon reaching Lyra's quarters, Ulrich knocked on the door firmly, his heart pounding erratically in his chest. He waited for a tense moment before the door opened slowly, revealing Lyra's delicate figure before him.
Their eyes met in an instant, and Ulrich could see the moonlight reflected in her eyes.
"Lyra," he murmured, his voice soft and laden with emotion.
Lyra stared at him in surprise, her eyes shining with a mix of emotions.
"My king," she replied, her voice soft and melodious.
Ulrich took a step forward, his expression softening with an unusual tenderness. He reached out to touch Lyra's face, feeling a wave of warmth radiate from his touch.
"Lyra, my Luna," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Is it true? Are you carrying my child?"
Lyra nodded with a radiant smile, her eyes shining with happiness.
"Yes, my king," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "We are expecting a child."
Ulrich felt a wave of overwhelming emotion flood his being as he looked at Lyra, his Luna, the mother of his heir. He pulled her into his arms, enveloping her in a warm and protective embrace, his mind spinning with the magnitude of the revelation.
"My son," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "He will be the future of this kingdom, the heir to everything I have built."
And so, in the silence of Lyra's quarters, the feared Alpha King Ulrich found true happiness beside the woman he had chosen as his Luna and the child they eagerly awaited.
***
The corridors of King Alpha Ulrich's Castle were a symphony of heavy footsteps and muffled murmurs as he walked alongside his Luna, Lyra. Both were clad in royal attire, their imposing presences radiating power and majesty as they made their way to the main hall of the castle.
As they approached the massive doors of the hall, the guards stationed there greeted them with reverence, clearing the way for the King and Queen of the North Vale. Turin, Ulrich's faithful beta, awaited them with an expression of respect and admiration, his voice resonating with reverence as he proclaimed their identities to the gathered assembly.
"Let all rise to greet the King and Queen of the North Vale!" announced Turin, his eyes gleaming with pride as Ulrich and Lyra entered the hall, their figures dominating the space with an undeniable presence.
The attendees rose in a gesture of respect and reverence, their varied expressions revealing admiration, fear, and surprise at the imminent announcement. Ulrich and Lyra gracefully made their way to their designated seats, Ulrich's gaze sweeping over the assembly with an intensity that made his dominance over all present unmistakable.
With a graceful gesture, Ulrich raised a goblet, the metal gleaming in the candlelight that illuminated the hall. He knew that all present were eager for his words, his announcements, his commands. His tone of voice was firm and resolute as he addressed the gathered crowd.
"My subjects," began Ulrich, his voice resonating with authority. "Tonight is not merely a common celebration of our victories in the Northern realm. Tonight marks a significant moment, an announcement that will shape the future of our kingdom."
All eyes were fixed on Ulrich, expectant, as he continued, his voice echoing through the hall.
"It is with great pride and joy that I announce that Lyra, my beloved Luna, carries in her womb the future heir of the North Vale," declared Ulrich, the gleam of determination and confidence in his eyes reflecting the profound meaning of his words.
A wave of murmurs passed through the assembly, surprise, and admiration painting the faces of those present. Lyra stood beside Ulrich, her expression serene and radiant, her gaze meeting the King's with love and gratitude.
Ulrich raised his goblet once more, a proud smile curving his lips.
"Therefore, I propose a toast to the future of the Northern kingdom and to our heir, who will bring prosperity and glory to our pack," he proclaimed, his voice resonating with conviction.
The attendees raised their goblets in response, echoing the King's toast with enthusiasm and fervor. The hall filled with the sound of clinking glasses, a symphony of hope and promise for the future of the North Vale.
***
The main hall of King Alpha Ulrich's Castle was alive with activity and movement, with the kingdom's people celebrating in ecstasy the victory against the dreaded Alpha Gray and the news of Luna Lyra's pregnancy. Ulrich sat beside Lyra on an adorned throne, watching with a serene and proud gaze as his people danced and reveled to the sound of festive music echoing off the stone walls of the hall.
Ulrich turned to Lyra, his fervent gaze brimming with love and admiration for the woman beside him. "Lyra," he began softly, "there is something I would like to show you."
A smile lit up Lyra's face as she turned to Ulrich. "Of course, my King. What is it?"
Ulrich reached out to Lyra, and together they rose from the throne, leaving the main hall toward the walls where the pelts of alphas defeated by Ulrich in battle were hung. They stopped before the silver pelt of Alpha Gray, which hung imposingly among the others. Ulrich looked at the pelt with a pensive expression.
"Of all the trophies I brought home, this pelt was the most awaited," he confessed to Lyra.
Lyra studied Gray's pelt for a moment before turning her gaze to Ulrich, curious.
"Why this one in particular?"
Ulrich turned to Lyra, his serious expression softening a bit with a touch of melancholy in his eyes.
"Because, my dear, it was the only pelt that provided me with a certain pleasure to bring home," he explained, his tone of voice laden with somber memories.
Lyra looked at Ulrich, understanding the gravity behind his words. She knew that each pelt represented a hard-fought battle, a challenge faced, and a victory won, but it also carried the weight of lost lives, of interrupted stories.
Next, Lyra took a few steps toward a massive red wolf pelt, which stood out among the others. Ulrich followed her, watching her closely as she stopped before the pelt.
"This is Alpha Crimson of the Firestorm pack," Ulrich said, indicating the red pelt with a solemn gesture.
Lyra looked at Crimson's pelt, her memories mingling with the pain of loss. Firestorm was her former pack, the place where she grew up and learned the ways of the wolves. Crimson was her alpha, a leader she once followed with devotion and loyalty.
"Firestorm... Crimson..." she whispered, her voice filled with emotion and nostalgia.
Ulrich noticed Lyra's expression, the sadness that crossed her face, and approached her.
"Do you miss Crimson? Or perhaps the pack?" he asked, serious.
Lyra took a deep breath, struggling to contain the emotions that threatened to overflow. Then she turned to Ulrich, her eyes meeting his.
"No, I don't miss them," she replied slowly, "I am grateful for the life you have given me, for our kingdom, and our child. There is no room for longing when I am with you, my king."
Ulrich cupped Lyra's face in his trembling hands, his eyes conveying a mixture of concern and tenderness.
"I'm glad you say that," he murmured softly, stroking her cheek with his thumb.
Then Lyra let out a tired sigh and placed her hand on her belly, a look of discomfort passing over her face.
"I'm not feeling well. I think I'll rest for a while," she said with a faint smile.
Ulrich nodded, concern shining in his golden eyes.
"Of course, my dear. I'll accompany you to my chambers," he replied, offering her his arm for support.
Together, they departed from the main hall, leaving behind the celebrations and murmurs of the party as they made their way to the bedroom.
***
Ulrich was immersed in restless sleep when dark dreams enveloped him. He found himself on the plains of Silver Fang Valley, surrounded by the pack he had ruthlessly defeated. But this time, there was no battle, only the accusing gaze of the wolves surrounding him. In the center of the crowd, Gaia, the Seer he had faced in battle, emerged.
Ulrich's eyes narrowed as he saw Gaia approaching, aware that this encounter in the depths of his dreams would not be peaceful.
"You ignored the warnings of fate, Ulrich," her voice echoed around him, laden with transcendent authority. "Now, it is time to face the consequences of your actions."
"I do not care for your prophecies," Ulrich declared, chin raised in defiance.
An enigmatic smile curved Gaia's lips.
"You will care, Ulrich. You will care when you wake up," she replied, her eyes sparking with a dark promise.
Ulrich stared at Gaia with determination, his posture upright and his expression relentless.
"The words of the dead hold no power over me," he retorted firmly.
Before Ulrich could react, Gaia advanced toward him with impressive ferocity. Instinctively, Ulrich grabbed the dagger resting in its sheath and wielded it against Gaia, aiming to protect himself from the imminent attack.
The sound of metal against metal echoed in the air as Ulrich's dagger met Gaia's belly, and a scream rang out in the night before Ulrich abruptly awakened, his heart pounding wildly.
Ulrich's eyes opened to reality, meeting Lyra's before him, her eyes wide with shock and surprise. He blinked several times, trying to assimilate what had happened as the heat of battle still pulsed in his veins.
"What... what happened?" His voice came out hoarse and uncertain as he tried to orient himself.
Lyra lowered her hand toward her own belly, and it was then that Ulrich noticed the dagger he had wielded in his dream was now bloodied, and embedded in Lyra's body.
A shiver ran down Ulrich's spine as the cruel reality of what he had done hit him full force. He released the dagger as if it were burning and held Lyra's face in his trembling hands, his eyes filled with despair and remorse.
"Stay calm, Lyra," he pleaded, his voice full of anguish. "I... I will call for help. This was not real, it was just a nightmare..."
Lyra looked at Ulrich, her face a mask of shock and concern, but also of compassion. She placed a gentle hand on his, conveying a sense of comfort.
"It's too late," she whispered weakly.
Ulrich held Lyra's face in trembling hands, his heart broken by the idea of having harmed the woman carrying his heir.
"I never meant to hurt you, Lyra. Never," he whispered, his words heavy with remorse.
Lyra smiled gently at him, her expression radiant with forgiveness and understanding.
"I know, my king. I know."
Then, as if the strength left her, Lyra slumped in Ulrich's arms, life leaving her from the dagger he inadvertently threw at her while asleep.
Ulrich remained there, stunned and horrified, holding his Luna's lifeless body, bitterly lamenting the tragic outcome of his dreams.