Deal with the Lycan King's heir

The day has finally come. The day that I would finally take my revenge on the monsters that had murdered my parents in cold blood and controlled our village for years. “Lillian, you are shaking. Are you feeling alright?” Nick, my uncle, trainer, and last family member, asks as he adjusts the sharp knives laced with silver at my hip with precision. “It’s normal to feel scared,” he continues with a reassuring voice as he walks around me and makes sure that my weapons are completely concealed under my garments, “you are, after all, going to be walking amongst them. Acting in front of them. Cornering them. Cutting their throats.” Nick slides another weapon into my boot, then he stands up and hands me a miniature, but glinting, silver knife by the handle, his eyes narrowing on me, “Fulfilling your life purpose.” My heart skips a beat at his words, even though I have heard this exact chanting for most of my life. I was merely 8 years old when a pack of werewolves attacked our peaceful village out of nowhere and turned our lives upside down. They killed whoever dared rise against them on the spot, including my parents, and then they controlled everything about our lives, starting from the food we ate, population, trade routes, and occupations. We were not allowed to hunt anymore, since our food was supposed to be prey to feed their wolves. All we got were their leftovers, bones, and scrap meat to feed the young. We were cut off from the outside world for fear that we would all leave and they couldn’t use us as their slaves anymore. However, tonight, everything will end. The Jawbreaker Pack is throwing a huge banquet in celebration of his daughter’s betrothal, and he sent an order to our village elder to send 20 unwed, of age, girls to help with serving the food and drinks at the party. Brandon, their Alpha, will be drinking enough alcohol to dry the pack’s wine cellar, and he will never expect a thin girl like myself to be his downfall. “You are misinterpreting, uncle,” I extend my hand, take the knife’s handle, and slide it easily into my hair styled in a thick bun, such that the handle sticks out like a pin, “My body is not shaking with fear, but excitement.” Nick nods, “You are the only one who can do this, Lillian,” then he pulls something out of his pocket. "I have not forgotten that today is your birthday," he extends his hand towards me, and unfurls his fist to display a finely crafted necklace with a royal blue sapphire as its pendant, "Here, it used to be your mother's." "Mom's..." I mouth as I slowly touch and pick up the necklace. "Could you..." I begin to ask, but Nick already moved behind me and went to clasp it. "There. It fits you perfectly." "Thank you, uncle." I hold my head high as I leave the cot and head over to the group of girls already gathered in front of the village church. We are all dressed in the same lightweight, linen garment, its bodice fitted to hug the body and create a defined silhouette. Attached to it is a skirt that extends to the knees and gently flares out, creating a soft flowing effect as it moves. Some of the girls are trembling, others are looking at the church with their hands clasped, praying. I turn my head, content with simply touching one of the knives at my hip. No God will help me when I’m done with this mission. “I didn’t know you were coming, Lilli,” Gwen, my childhood friend, approaches, “I hope that we’ll at least get their leftovers.” A wave of nausea passes through me when I see my curvy, blonde best friend wearing the same outfit as me. “Gwen,” my voice breaks in a whisper, “You weren’t supposed to come. What are you doing here?!” She shrugs carelessly, “I know, but the Elder’s daughter got sick at the last moment and he asked if I could go instead of her.” Gwen covers her mouth with her hand and whispers, “He promised to get me a scarf made of fox fur for the coming winter.” “Damn that old geezer,” I whisper under my breath, thinking that, of course, he would not send his own daughter to a werewolf banquet, knowing the danger that we would be in when Brandon’s beheaded body would be eventually found. With no way around it, I clasp Gwen’s hands between my own, and tightly grip them so as to catch her attention, “You have to listen to me, Gwendolyn,” using her full name assures my success in grasping her full attention on me, “When Brandon leaves the room tonight, make up any reason to leave. Puke, if you have to. Just. Leave. Alright?” Her eyes slightly trail to the pin knotted in my bun before nodding. Her mouth opens slightly to say something, but she is interrupted by Nick and the village elder joining the group. Everyone holds a common breath as another figure accompanies the two of them. Based on his stature, the man between Nick and the elder is, for sure, one of the werewolves. He looks just a bit older than me, broad shouldered, brown hair and with an intense look. Despite their human appearance, the werewolves’ bodies would resemble better a body on steroids, with their fit structure and muscles clearly more accentuated. After years of serving them, we have observed their behavior and noted down any weaknesses that we could find. Unfortunately, they seem to be a mix of human and wolf, but an improved version of both. They act and speak as we do, yet their sense of smell and hearing are a hundred times better than ours. They also follow a basic hierarchy, their Alpha being the leader of the pack, followed by the Beta, Gamma, and Omega minions. Some of the girls serving in the Alpha house have noticed that sometimes they seem to communicate without speaking, but there was no way for us to confirm this ability. The fact that this werewolf came by himself in the midst of our village to retrieve us only stands to prove how much they underestimate us. I hold my hands behind my back and drop my head, as we’ve been instructed. The werewolf’s nose twitches as he takes us in by turn, and when his gaze finally falls on me, he takes just a bit longer. My fingers curl around the hilt of my blade. Just in case my uncle’s way of hiding the smell of the weapons on me didn’t work. But the werewolf moves on to the next girl, and a breath of relief leaves my chest. When he is done, the werewolf simply turns on his heels, and his legs move to leave. The muffled cry of a parent standing on the sides breaks the silence, and the village elder asks with a trembling voice, “When can we expect them to be back?” The werewolf halted in his steps and turned toward the elder, “They will be back whenever we are done with them. Don’t worry,” he smiled, and for a moment, his eyes landed on me, making my hair stand up on my forearms, “they will enjoy themselves.” His words had a finality to them, such that the elder did not dare ask anything else. We followed the werewolf as a group, our steps almost in unison clacking against the rough dirt on the ground. The distance between our village and their pack’s is of about an hour of walking through a dense forest. We can only travel through this forest when we are either escorted by a werewolf, or wearing the smell of one. Otherwise, the pack’s security line will quickly surround and question you. The moment a step is taken on their territory, it is up to them what happens to you. We, basically, belong to them. As we walk, I carefully follow the werewolf in front of us, taking note of his every movement. He walks casually, his hands held in his pockets, but I can tell that he is more attentive than he lets on, since his ears twitch once in awhile as he listens to every rustling of the leaves. Out of curiosity, I turn my head towards the woods where the branch of a tree just moved, hoping to catch the sight of a werewolf. As if taking note of my distraction, without turning an inch towards us, the werewolf leading us speaks, “Tonight you will be serving at the banquet thrown for the Alpha’s daughter’s betrothal to the Lycan King’s son.” Lycan King? “You are just stupid humans, so I will give you a piece of advice. If you think Alpha Brandon is scary, then you do not want to mess around the Lycan King’s family.” Scarier than Brandon? Is that even possible? Brandon is a mountain of a man. The werewolf halted, and all of us did the same. He turned his chin toward us, “Bow, and do what he says.” A chill passed across my body, but I quickly shook it off. My goal tonight was to assassinate Brandon, avenge the death of my parents, and end their control over our village. I had no interest in their politics. However, beside me, Gwen's legs began shaking and I immediately grabbed her hand in mine. "We are fine," I mouthed silently, just like I did 10 years ago. When we fell together into a river and got stranded on a rock. Or, when the two of us hid under a bed as our families went to fight against the werewolves. Or, when we stood in front of the holes that would serve as our parents' graves. Our escort continued to walk, and so did we. Hand in hand. “All I want is to live freely,” I thought as we stepped inside the werewolves’ village. It was not my first time being brought here, but it could certainly be my last if anything goes wrong tonight. This thought made me tread carefully. Especially now that I was surrounded by the enemy. The weapons I was wearing were meticulously strapped to my body so as to move with me, and not make a sound. Nick made sure of that. Otherwise, it would have been easy for the werewolves to hear them. As we followed our escort amidst their own, I could feel the intense looks that we were receiving from the werewolves passing by. The first, and most important, rule to follow when encountering a werewolf was to avoid eye contact. It is said in our village that their wolves' consciousness exists somewhere deep inside of them, and their wolves consider direct eye contact a challenge. Thus, we are taught to walk with our heads bowed and even when spoken to by one of them, we are supposed to look at the ground. As such, all we could do was follow the trail of the person in front of us. "All halt," the werewolf escorting us signaled, and all of us stopped at once. "Kneel," he then ordered, and we kneeled with no questions asked. His command seemed destined not only for us since all of the werewolves around us kneeled at once, on both sides of the paved street. Soon after, I discovered why.