Alpha Prime: Her Retribution

Chapter Fifty Three (Part III)

The tensions had simmered for years, Adar and I had learned to ignore or at least endure. But now, the murmurs had grown into roars, their disapproval spreading like wildfire across the kingdoms.

The wolf kings, who had once contained their disdain to veiled comments during The bi annual Gatherings, had grown emboldened, their accusations sharper and more direct. This time, they weren’t just speaking about us, they were dragging our son, Alduin, into their hostility.

“They defied the Moon Goddess,” King Adlartok spat during one particularly tense meeting, his voice dripping with disdain. “And now they raise a child born of their defiance. What future can he possibly have? He is cursed by their disobedience.”

“That boy is a danger to us all,” added King Felipe, his tone venomous. “His very existence is an insult to the natural order. Your actions have placed all our kingdoms at risk! The Moon Goddess’s wrath does not fall on just the guilty, it spreads like wildfire."

My nails dug into my palms beneath the table, the sting grounding me. How dare they speak of Alduin this way? He was innocent, a bright and joyful child who had done nothing to deserve their scorn. Adar was silent for a moment, his crimson eyes blazing with a barely-contained fury.

“I have said this several times in this gathering, all my mate and I want is peace, but if you speak of my son again, and I will ensure it’s the last thing you say,” he warned, his gaze cutting through the kings like a blade. “Alduin is my heir, and he will be king one day. You would do well to remember that.”

“They bring misfortune upon their kingdom,” King Bolin muttered under his breath, though loud enough for us all to hear. “The boy is proof of their folly. No blessings will come to a line born of such defiance.”

Adar’s jaw tightened, but he did not rise to the bait. Instead, his hand brushed against mine beneath the table in a gesture of solidarity. I remained silent, though my chest burned with the effort to contain my emotions. Over the years, I had grown accustomed to the weight of their judgment, the scornful whispers whenever I accompanied Adar to the Gathering. But hearing them speak of Alduin, my sweet, innocent boy, was almost too much to bear.

Later that evening, as the council adjourned, Adar and I remained behind in the empty chamber.

“They will never let this go,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around myself. Adar turned to me, his expression softening as he took my hands in his.

“Let them talk. They are old wolves clinging to their traditions because it’s all they have left. Their words won’t harm our son or us.”

I shook my head, years of resentment and hostility weighing down on me.

“But their words are poison, Adar. They are starting to seep into the minds of others. It is only a matter of time before their disdain turns into something worse.”

He pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly.

“Then let them come. I will protect you, and our son, no matter what it takes.”

Despite his words, I could feel the tension in his body, the weight of the burden he carried as both my mate and the king of our people.

************

In the months that followed, the discontent among the wolf kings grew more public. They began to spread their accusations to noble houses, to their people, claiming that Adar and I had cursed not just our kingdom but all wolfkind. Some of the whispers even reached the streets, where the common folk began to murmur uneasily about their king, their queen, and the little prince.

During a particularly harsh Gathering, as accusations flew from every direction, my father stood. His deep voice cut through the room.

“Enough.”

The room fell silent, the other kings turning their eyes to him in surprise.

“You speak of the Moon goddess as though you alone understand her will,” He said, his tone firm. “Yet it is not your place to decide who she blesses or curses. My daughter and her mate have proven their strength, their loyalty to their people, and their love for one another. And their son, my grandson, is no curse. He is a gift. That is enough for me. And it should be enough for you.”

I let out a breath of relief, but the reprieve was short-lived. Another voice, softer but no less insidious, spoke up.

“Present him to us, let him be mentored by any of the kingdoms, far from your influence.” King Adlartok suggested, his tone deceptively neutral. “That way we are assured he will pose no harm towards us or the wolfkind in general”

Adar’s jaw tightened,

“Our son is not a tool for your approval,” I said, my voice steady despite the fury burning in my chest. “He is a child, and his strength will reveal itself in time. Just as it has for every young wolf.”

The kings murmured amongst themselves, their doubt evident. My father’s sharp gaze silenced them once more.

“This Gathering has no right to question the future of Adar’s kingdom or his son.”

The meeting eventually ended, but the unease lingered. The wolf kings left the chamber, their disapproval etched into their faces.

Later that evening, as I watched Alduin play in the gardens with his personal guard and Adar’s blood mother, his laughter bright and untainted by the cruelty, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. His innocence wouldn’t last forever, not with the world questioning his worth at every turn. Adar joined me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders as we stood together, watching our son.

“They won’t stop,” I whispered, leaning into him. “Even with Father’s support, they’ll find ways to challenge us. To challenge him.”

“They can try,” Adar said, his voice firm. “But I will protect you and our son, no matter what.”

********************

Three years had passed, yet the weight of tension remained as heavy as ever. The other wolf kings, bitter in their disapproval, had imposed sanctions on Adar and I’s kingdom. Trade routes were cut off, alliances withdrawn, and emissaries turned away at their borders.

Yet, despite their efforts, our kingdom flourished. Our people thrived on ingenuity and self-reliance, transforming restrictions into opportunities. What once had been imports were now crafted within our borders, and where trade faltered, our land yielded abundance. We had turned the other kings’ scorn into a testament of our strength, and our kingdom had grown stronger than ever.

But peace within our castle was a fragile thing. Whispers of unrest reached our ears daily, carried on the lips of travelers and through reports from our spies. The other kings’ hatred for us festered, their disdain now directed not just at Adar and me but at our eight -year-old son.

“A child, Meira. They speak of him as though he’s a threat.” Adar said one evening, his voice cold with fury. I could feel the same anger burning within me. Alduin was the light of our lives, bright and curious, with his father’s crimson eyes and hair and a mischievous smile that could melt even the hardest hearts. Yet to the other kings, he was a symbol of defiance, a constant reminder of the union they so vehemently opposed.

“They will not harm him,” I whispered. Adar pulled me into his arms. But even as I said the words, a part of me couldn’t silence the unease that had taken root in my heart. It wasn’t until weeks later, when my suspicions of another life growing inside me were confirmed, that I allowed myself to hope. I hadn’t told Adar yet, wanting to cherish the knowledge for just a little while longer. The news of another child felt like a blessing, a promise that Eda had not abandoned us.

However, the joy was short-lived…

It was early one morning when the peace of the castle was shattered. The shrill cry of a guard echoed through the halls, followed by the hurried stomp of boots. Adar and I rushed to Alduin’s chambers, dread clawing at my chest with every step. The moment we reached the door, I knew something was wrong.

The bed was empty. The covers were thrown back, and the faint scent of unfamiliar wolves lingered in the air. My knees buckled, and I clutched the door frame for support.

“No… no, Adar. Not Alduin, not my son.”

Adar’s eyes blazed with a terrifying intensity as he turned to the guards who had gathered.

“Search the kingdom. Every village, every border. No one rests until my son is found!”

The room erupted into motion, but I couldn’t move. My heart felt like it had been ripped from my chest. Adar’s arms came around me, holding me tightly as I broke down into sobs.

“We will find him,” he whispered fiercely. “I swear to you, Meira. I will bring him back.”

*****************

Months dragged by, each day heavier than the last. The search for Alduin had yielded nothing but dead ends and empty trails. Every scout sent out came back with the same grim report: no trace of our son. The other wolf kings stood firm in their denial.

“We know nothing of this,” they’d said when confronted. Their faces betrayed no guilt, their words carried the venom of disdain.

“Perhaps the child was taken because the Moon goddess has turned her back on you, as we warned she would.”

Their words burned, but no fire was greater than the one in Adar’s chest. Each Gathering left him pacing the halls like a caged beast, his fury barely contained.

And yet, the offer of help from my father was a small light in the suffocating darkness.

“I will send my best trackers,” he promised, gripping Adar’s arm firmly. “They will go where others dare not tread. You are my family, no matter what the others think. We will bring him home.”

Adar nodded his thanks, but even as my father spoke, I felt hollow. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in his intent—I knew he loved Alduin deeply, his first and only grandson. But after months of silence, hope was a fragile thing, as thin as glass.

Meanwhile, the life within me continued to grow. The irony was cruel: one child missing, another on the way. I should have felt joy, should have welcomed this new blessing, but I was drowning in despair.

Each morning, I woke up with the ache of loss clawing at my chest. I missed Alduin’s laughter, his kisses, his endless questions. Every kick from the life inside me, brought tears to my eyes. How could I celebrate one child when I had failed to protect the other?

Adar tried to comfort me, but his presence was a constant reminder of what we’d lost. His own grief simmered just beneath the surface, revealed in moments when he thought no one was watching, the clench of his fists, the set of his jaw, the way his eyes dulled when he stared out over the kingdom.

“You’re not eating enough,” Adar’s blood mother scolded gently one morning as she helped me dress. “The child needs strength.”

“I’m fine, Kamilla” I replied, my voice flat.

But my reflection betrayed me by the shadows under my eyes and a hollowness in my cheeks. She excused herself as Adar entered the room.

“You can’t keep going like this, Meira,” he said softly, kneeling in front of me. His hands rested on my knees. “You’re hurting yourself. You’re hurting our child.”

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

“How can I bring another life into this world when our son is out there, alone and scared?” My voice broke.

He held my hands.

“This child isn’t a replacement, Alduin is still ours, and I swear to you, Meira, I will not stop until he is home. But this child, this life… it is hope. A reason to keep fighting.”

I leaned forward, my forehead resting against his, and cried.

****************

My footsteps echoed through the castle halls as I ran towards the throne room, supporting my swollen stomach with one hand, my heart pounding against my chest. News had reached me, my father’s trackers were back which could only mean one thing, they had found Alduin. I pushed through the doors, my breath ragged.

"Where is he? Where is Alduin?" I called out, Adar was seated on the ground near the throne, his head bowed, he looked up.

"Meira, stop," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"Where is he?" I demanded again, my eyes darting to every corner of the room, expecting Alduin to run to me, his small arms outstretched.

And then I saw it.

A small bundle, wrapped in a sheet on the floor. My heart stopped, my breathing became shallow as I took a hesitant step forward, my legs trembling beneath me.

"Meira, don’t," He pleaded, rising to his feet. "Please, don’t."

But his words didn’t register, my vision narrowed to the small, still form in front of me. Step by step, I moved closer, my heart pounding in my ears. The air seemed to grow heavier with every step I took. I sank to my knees, my hands trembled as I reached for the edge of the sheet.

"Don’t, Meira," Adar’s voice broke, I could feel him behind me.

With a sharp tug, I pulled the sheet away.

Alduin’s pale face stared back at me, his small body lifeless and cold. Bruises marred his perfect skin, and his hair, so much like his father’s, lay disheveled. A scream tore from my throat, raw and primal, shaking the very walls of the castle. The windows shattered, raining shards of glass onto the marble floor. The chandelier above crashed down, its crystals scattering in every direction, but I didn’t care. It felt as if my heart had been ripped out of my body. I gathered my son into my arms, cradling him against me as sobs wracked my body.

"No! No, no, no!" I wailed, my tears soaking into his hair. "Alduin, my sweet child, please, come back to me."

Adar dropped beside me, his own anguish pouring out as he tried to pull me back, to protect me from the weight of my grief. But I fought him, clutching Alduin tighter, sobs tearing through me. As I rocked my son’s lifeless body, a sharp, searing pain tore through my abdomen. I gasped, clutching at my stomach, the agony nearly knocking me over.

"Meira!" Adar’s voice was frantic, but I couldn’t focus. Another wave of pain hit, and I screamed again. Blood pooled beneath me, staining the marble floor, as I doubled over, my body convulsing. I felt life slipping away from me—not just Alduin’s, but the child growing within me.

Adar’s arms wrapped around me, his voice a desperate whisper in my ear.

"Stay with me, Meira. Please, stay with me."

But I was slipping into darkness, the pain and sorrow too great to bear. As I clung to my son’s body, I felt the light within me flicker and fade, leaving only a void of loss behind.

***********

The funeral was a blur, my body moved, but my mind was a haze, unable to grasp the reality that my son, my Alduin, was gone. The dark veil over my face did little to shield me from the stares, the whispers of sympathy, or the crushing sorrow that pressed down on my chest. I stood motionless as they lowered his tiny casket into the earth, my trembling hands clutching a lock of his hair I had snipped off.

He was just a child… just an innocent child

I didn’t cry, I couldn’t. The tears had dried up somewhere between the moments I cradled his lifeless body, washed and prepared him. I barely noticed Adar’s hand resting at my back, too wrapped up in my grief.

The days after turned into weeks, I took refuge in my chambers, staring at the mountains in the distance, wishing for time to turn back, for the moon goddess to show mercy to bring back what I had once lost, my son and my unborn child. Kamilla sat with me sometimes, not saying anything, her presence becoming constant. I lost track of the days until my father came. His heavy footsteps barely registered as he entered my room.

“Meira,” he said softly, I didn’t look at him, he sat next to me.

“I know you’re hurting, child, but there are matters we must discuss, I have already discussed them with Adar.”

I remained silent, my gaze fixed on the horizon.

“The other kings…” He began. “They are planning to attack you and Adar’s kingdom, seeing as the two of you are already in a vulnerable state”

His words pierced through the fog of my mind, but I didn’t respond. My heart felt too burdened to care.

“Don’t let them win,” he whispered softly. “You are stronger than this.”

I wasn’t strong, I had never been strong to begin with.

He left, his words lingering in the quiet. That night, Adar came to me. He knelt before me, his hands covering mine.

“I know you’re hurting,” he said, his voice raw. “But I swear to you, Meira, I will avenge the death of our children. I will make them pay for what they’ve done to our family.”

I stared at him, my lips parting to speak, but no words came. Instead, I pressed my forehead to his, tears slipping down my cheeks. He held me, and for the first time in weeks, I let myself cry.

The next morning, I stood by the window as Adar addressed his soldiers.

“I stand before you, not as a king but as a lycan who has had everything taken from him.” Adar’s voice resonated across the courtyard, steady and unyielding. His eyes, burned with unshed tears, swept over the assembled soldiers, their expressions a mix of solemn determination and unwavering loyalty.

“I will not force any of you to fight for me,” he continued, his tone softening just enough to show the weight of his words. “What lies ahead is not an easy path. We face enemies who call themselves kings, yet they are nothing but cowards hiding behind decrees and ancient traditions. They believe they can punish us, destroy us, because we defied the moon goddess’s will. They thought they could take my son, our prince, and break us.”

Adar’s voice hardened, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“But they were wrong. They took my child, yet we still stand. They imposed their restrictions, yet our kingdom still flourishes. They want to see us fall, but they forget who we are.”

The soldiers straightened, a ripple of resolve moving through the crowd.

“We are Eldorian wolves!!!,” Adar declared, his voice rising. “Bound not by tradition, but by the strength of our bonds, the fire in our hearts, and the blood that runs through our veins. They think we are isolated, weakened but they are mistaken. We are united. We are strong.”

He paused

“I go to war not as a king seeking conquest, but as a father seeking justice. As a mate protecting his queen. As a lycan defending the family and the home we have built together.”

Adar stepped forward, his gaze meeting that of the soldiers closest to him.

“Each of you has a choice. If you wish to stay, I will hold no grudge. But if you fight with me, if you stand by me, you do so knowing that we fight for more than vengeance. We fight for our future, for our children, for the right to live free of the hatred of those who would see us destroyed. We fight for our kingdom, our pack.”

A murmur of agreement rose from the soldiers, growing louder until it became a resounding roar of support. Adar nodded, his jaw tightening as he raised his fist.

“To those who would see us fall, we will show them the strength of our unity, the fury of our loss, and the unbreakable bond of our Kingdom! Who will stand with me?”

The courtyard erupted in a deafening howl, a collective cry of loyalty and determination. My chest swelled with hope as I watched.

“For Alduin,” he said, his voice carrying above the chaos, “for all that we hold dear, we fight as one!”

The soldiers howled again, their voices shaking the very air.

When he returned to our chambers, I was waiting. His armor stood tall on the rack, gleaming in the morning light. I ran my hands over the intricate engravings, the cold metal firm beneath my fingers.

“Let me,” I whisper. He approached, his hands covering mine as I worked to fasten the breastplate over his broad chest. I worked in silence, feeling his eyes on me.

“Meira,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I will come back to you.”

“You must,” I replied, my hands lingering on the clasps. “For our kingdom, for our people.”

He kissed me, the tenderness of the gesture cracking through the wall of numbness that had surrounded me. As I helped him with the final piece of his armor, I caught his wrist before he turned to leave.

“I love you” I whispered.

“I love you too.”

I watched as he marched out to lead his men into battle until he disappeared from sight.

*******************

The temple was silent, save for the echoes of my trembling voice. I knelt before the altar, the weight of my grief pressing down on me. My whispered prayers were desperate, raw, and broken. I begged the moon goddess to keep Adar safe, to bring him home, to give me the strength to endure what felt like the end of everything.

Hours slipped by, and still, I prayed, eyes closed, lips moving. Then, suddenly, it hit me, a sharp, piercing agony in my chest, a rift in my soul.

"No..." I gasped, clutching at my heart as my body doubled over, lips parted but no scream came. My bond with Adar surged with

unbearable pain, then went silent.

I was assaulted with the image of Adar, kneeling in the battlefield, a sword embedded in his chest from behind, the sword was ripped out, blood sputtering from his lips and the wound before the wielder of the sword raised it high in the air and brought it down.

"A- Adar" my voice shattering in the hollow stillness of the temple. The bond was gone. He was gone. My body trembled violently as sobs tore through me, my harsh breathing filled the temple. I forced myself to stay upright. My trembling lips continued to form prayers, now a desperate plea for mercy, for a miracle… anything. The heavy doors burst open, and a soldier stumbled in, pale and wide-eyed, his chest heaving with panic.

“My Queen,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “The king… he has fallen. The wolf kings are advancing, they will be here soon.”

The world spun around me, and I clutched the edge of the altar to steady myself.

“My Queen, you must leave. Let us protect you.”

I straightened, forcing the overwhelming grief to the back of my mind, my eyes on the statue of the moon goddess as a calmness descended on me.

"Gather the guards," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "Take the women, children, and elders into the mountains. Ensure their safety. They must survive."

“My Queen, the King's blood mother, made me promise her to keep you…"

"I will not leave this place," I said, cutting him off. "Go now, and do as I say."

“My Queen… please”

I ignored him, closing my eyes once more and resumed praying, this time for the safe passage of my people to the mountain and for the safety of my mate’s soul. The soldier’s shoulders sagged, but he obeyed, leaving me alone once more.

The sounds of battle drew closer, crashes of a kingdom crumbling echoing around me, but I did not falter. The temple doors groaned open again, and I felt their presence before I saw them, men that had witnessed my birth, my childhood, my entire life yet they had now become enemies.

“Well, well,” one of them sneered. “Still praying, are we? After disobeying the moon goddess, do you think she will listen to you?”

"Did your prayers save your mate?" another laughed, circling me like a predator. Their taunts washed over me, cruel and venomous, but I didn’t stop. My lips continued to move, even as tears slipped down my face.

"She doesn’t hear you," one of them snarled, pain erupted in my head as I was dragged towards Adlartok, I opened my eyes, staring up at him.

“Injustice never lasts... it may take time, but the truth will always come to light, and you will all be exposed. And when that moment comes, you’ll face the consequences of your actions, and you’ll get exactly what you deserve”

Something flickered in his eyes before they hardened, he drew a sword, the same one, still stained with Adar's blood, the blade glinting in the faint light of the temple.

“Your words mean nothing, we carried out Eda's instructions and we have her unyielding support and protection.”

The blade plunged into my chest, searing agony ripping through me. I gasped, crumbling to the ground as I stared at the vaulted ceiling of the temple, my eyes moving to the statue of the moon goddess.

Your words mean nothing when we have the moon goddess’ unyielding support…

Tears rolled down my cheeks as everything began to make sense… this was all her doing… everything…

My vision blurred as they dragged me to the fountain, their laughter ringing in my ears.

The cold water swallowed me whole as they threw me into the fountain. The icy shock stilled my body, blood mingling with the water as I sank beneath the surface. My vision darkened, my strength fading. My final breath escaped me, my heart stilled, but my soul refused to rest.

Your words mean nothing, we carried out Eda's instructions and we have her unyielding support and protection.