Moonbound To The Werewolf King

A soft knock at the door made her jump. "Come in," she called.

And a young page entered, bowing deeply. "My lady, His Majesty has returned from his hunt. He requests that you wait in your chambers until he is ready to receive you."

Seren's heart sank. "Wait? For how long?"

"His Majesty did not specify, my lady. He is currently busy in his study."

Elder Gareth had ordered the guard to pass the false message to her so she wouldn't worry too much.

In his study? Her brows widened in shock.

The page bowed again and left, leaving Seren alone with her disappointment and growing anxiety. She moved to the window, looking out at the courtyard where servants were still tending to the horses and equipment from the hunt.

But where was he? She'd expected him to come straight to her, to want to meet his fated mate immediately. Instead, he was treating her like just another item of business to be handled when convenient.

The rejection stung more than she wanted to admit. She'd spent hours preparing herself, working up the courage to be bold, to make a good impression. And now she was being told to wait in her room like a child.

She caught her reflection in the window glass and felt embarrassed. The dress that had seemed so daring now felt foolish, like she was a little girl playing dress-up. What had she been thinking? That she could win over a king with a low neckline and some courage?

But even as doubt crept in, she forced herself to stand straighter. She was Seren Evernight, daughter of the High Witch of the Shadowthorn Coven. She was not some weak maiden to be dismissed and forgotten. If King Alaric wanted to play games, she could play them too.

She moved to the small table where her tea had been served and poured herself a cup, her hands steady despite the turmoil in her chest.

Outside, the sun was beginning to set. Soon, the castle would be bathed in moonlight, and she would finally come face to face with the man the Moon Goddess had chosen for her. He does sleep at night, doesn't he? He definitely wouldn't sleep in his study, she thought.

It was 11 PM, and the king had not stepped into the chamber. She had already changed into a sleeping robe, a flowing garment of deep midnight blue silk that pooled around her feet. The neckline was modest but elegant, revealing just the hollow of her throat. The sleeves were long and billowing.

"Okay," Seren sighed, seeing her earlier attempt to dress up for him was futile. Few more minutes, and if he doesn't show up, I'm going to his study. Seren thought as she gripped the book in her hand. It was a romance book she had found herself busy with, as she was bored in the huge chambers.

She wondered when the ball would hold now that the King was back. She had a lot of things bothering her, but at least let her see the King first, she thought. It was killing her.

At 12 midnight, she stood up, determined to go storm into his study. She rang the button for help and Elara came in, looking slightly disheveled but alert.

"My lady?" Elara asked, stifling a yawn. "Is everything alright?"

"Elara," Seren began, then paused, not expecting Elara to be the emergency helper too. "You came so quickly, are you always on duty? And... are you a werewolf too?"

Elara's eyes widened slightly. "Oh, yes, my lady. Most of the castle staff are werewolves, though we're not warriors like the guards or the royal family. We're more... domestic wolves, I suppose you could say. We serve the pack by keeping the den running smoothly." She smiled. "And yes, I'm assigned to night duty for you. His Majesty wanted to ensure you had assistance available at all hours."

"He did?"

"Yes" Elara smiled, but it was all Elder Gareth and Prince Darius.

"So everyone here can... shift?" Seren asked, fascination overriding her nervousness.

"Most, yes. Though some of us are better at it than others. I'm rather clumsy in wolf form, to be honest. Much better with human hands for folding linens," Elara laughed softly. "Is that what you needed help with, my lady? Questions about our kind?"

"Actually," Seren said, gathering her courage, "I need you to show me to the King's study. I've been waiting all evening, and I think it's time I took matters into my own hands."

Elara's expression grew uncertain. "My lady, I'm not sure that's wise. His Majesty values his privacy, especially in his study. Perhaps in the morning—"

"Elara," Seren interrupted, "I'm his mate. Surely that grants me some privileges?"

"Of course, but..." Elara bit her lip. "The King can be... intense when disturbed. Especially when he's been working."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not easily intimidated," Seren said, though her heart was racing. "Please, just show me the way."

Elara studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Very well, my lady. But perhaps... perhaps you should know that werewolves can be quite territorial about their spaces. The study is his sanctuary, the one place where he can truly be alone with his thoughts and since you represent the biggest change to his established order..." She paused, seeing Seren wasn't really paying attention to her.

The castle felt different at night, more mysterious and dangerous. Shadows seemed to move in the corners of her vision, and she found herself wondering how many wolves were prowling the halls in shifted form.

"Elara," she said quietly, "what do you know about the bond? Between mates?"

"The Moonbound bond?" Elara's voice took on a reverent tone. "It's sacred among our kind. The Moon Goddess chooses pairs who complement each other, who can make each other stronger. But..." She hesitated.

"But?"

"But His Majesty has spent twenty years refusing the bond."

"Then why did he allow this?" Seren asked.

"I'm afraid only the King himself knows the answer to that."

They turned a corner, and Seren spotted two huge guards standing in front of a fancy door. The men were the biggest she'd ever seen, with arms crossed over chests so broad they looked like they could stop a charging bull.

"There," Elara whispered. "That's his study. My lady, are you certain about this?"

"More certain than I've been about anything in my life," Seren replied, though her voice trembled slightly.

"Then I'll leave you here. My Lady" Elara bowed then disappeared back into the shadows, leaving Seren alone with her racing heart and the two imposing guards.

She took a deep breath and approached them, trying to project more confidence than she felt. "Good evening. I'd like to see the King, please."

The guards exchanged glances. The taller one, with graying hair and scars shook his head. "I'm sorry, my lady, but His Majesty gave explicit orders. No one is to disturb him tonight."

"No one?" Seren asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not even his mate?"

"Especially not his mate," the second guard said, then immediately looked like he regretted the words.

Seren stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"What my colleague means," the first guard said quickly, "is that the King is handling urgent matters of state. He'll receive you when he's ready."

"And when will that be?" Seren asked, her patience wearing thin.

"We don't know, my lady."

"I see." Seren stepped closer, and she was pleased to see both guards tense slightly. Good. Let them remember that she wasn't just some helpless girl, she was a witch, and witches were not to be underestimated, but was that true? Deep down she knew she wouldn't even stand a chance against them. "Go in, and tell him, I want to see him"

Both guards shifted uncomfortably, but neither moved from their positions.

"My lady," the first guard said respectfully, "we have our orders."

"And I have mine," Seren replied, her voice taking on a steely quality that would have made her mother proud. Who are you please? she questioned herself mockingly.

-

Inside his study, King Alaric Venemore sat behind a massive oak desk, surrounded by maps, reports, and the weight of a kingdom's worth of responsibilities. The room was dimly lit by a few flickering candles and the dying embers in the fireplace, casting long shadows across the walls lined with books and weapons.

He'd been reading the same patrol report for the third time, his mind unable to focus on the words. The rogue pack situation was more complex than he'd initially thought, their numbers, their tactics, their apparent coordination all suggested outside assistance. But from whom? And why?

He set the report down and rubbed his temples, feeling the familiar ache that came with too many sleepless nights and too many difficult decisions. The castle was quiet around him.

At thirty-four, he'd spent more years as king than many men spent in their entire careers. He'd inherited the throne at fourteen when his father died in battle, and he'd been fighting ever since, against external enemies, internal politics, and most persistently, against the expectations of everyone around him.

Marriage. Heirs. The continuation of the bloodline. The words echoed in his mind like a litany he'd grown weary of hearing. For twenty years, he'd successfully avoided the trap of emotional entanglement, focusing instead on the concrete needs of his kingdom. Love was a luxury he couldn't afford, a weakness his enemies would exploit.

And now... the Moon Goddess had pulled her cruelest trick yet.

A witch. His fated mate was a witch.

This time, he hadn't rejected the bond. Not because he was ready for love, but because this bond was interesting, Unlike the two lunas he had been bonded with before. He didn't want to be tangled in anything… but for once, he didn't want to let go either.

He'd sensed her the moment he'd returned to the castle, maybe as a result of the bond. He could feel her restlessness, her confusion, her growing frustration with his absence.

Good, he thought grimly. Let her be frustrated. Let her realize that this isn't some romantic fairy tale where the prince sweeps her off her feet. This is reality, and reality is messy and complicated and often cruel. Just like what happen to her coven.

He knew she was young and completely unprepared for the harsh realities of ruling a kingdom where every decision could mean the difference between life and death for thousands of people.

The marriage would be a political necessity, nothing more. When, he's ready, he'd do his duty to provide an heir with an interesting mate. But he wouldn't pretend to feel something he didn't, wouldn't allow himself to be weakened by sentiment or romantic notions.

He picked up another report, this one detailing unusual activity along the southern border. Three merchant caravans had gone missing in the past month, and the pattern of disappearances suggested—

The sound of raised voices outside his door made him look up sharply. His guards were arguing with someone, and from the tone of their voices, they were losing the argument.

Before he could investigate further, the door began to creak open.

Alaric's expression shifted from concentration to cold fury in an instant. His pale green eyes narrowed to slits, and his hands clenched into fists on the desk. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as his power filled the space, making the candlelight flicker.

Who dares? he thought, his wolf rising to the surface in response to the intrusion. Who has the audacity to ignore my explicit orders?