The atmosphere in the Black Citadel had soured. King Alaric, Caelum's father, had grown obsessed with the prophecy of the "Unbroken Alpha." He saw his son not as a man, but as a deterrent against the rival packs at the border.
The King's Iron Hand
Training sessions that used to end at sunset now bled into the midnight hours. Alaric would stand on the balcony, his voice booming over the courtyard.
"Again!" he would roar as Caelum collapsed from exhaustion. "A King doesn't get tired! If you cannot hold your form under fire, you are a liability to this bloodline!"
Caelum was being pushed to the brink of a permanent shift. His skin was always hot to the touch, and he's temper had become a jagged thing. One evening, after Alaric had forced Caelum to fight three veteran warriors with his hands bound, Caelum nearly lost it. He's eyes turned a lethal, glowing gold, and a low, guttural snarl erupted from his chest that didn't sound human.
It was his mother, Queen Elara, who stepped into the fray. She was the only one who didn't fear his shadow. She placed a delicate, cool hand on his trembling shoulder.
"Enough, Alaric," she said, her voice a calm stream over hot coals. "if you are forging a blade, and never let the metal cool, it will shatter."
She said as she lead Caelum away to the quiet of her solar, bathing his wounds with lavender water, trying to anchor his soul back to his humanity. But even after her comfort, she knew she was beginning to fail against the King's relentless pressure.
The Daughter's Burden
While Caelum was being broken by power, i was being stifled by tradition. my family, the House of the Master-of-Horse, had seen their influence grow because of my closeness to the Prince. Now, they wanted to cash in.
my father began bringing "suitable" suitors to the stables—sons of minor lords and wealthy merchants.
"You are a woman of the court now," my father insisted, polishing a leather saddle with aggressive strokes. "You cannot spend your nights sparring with a Prince who will soon marry a foreign Duchess to seal a treaty. You must secure our family's future. i Smiled, wear the silk, and find a husband who doesn't have claws." my father said
i felt the walls closing in. Every time I was forced to attend a tea or a formal dance, my eyes would instinctively find Caelum across the room. He looked miserable in his stiff military tunics, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might snap.
The Secret Meeting
One night, I found him by the old well, the place where we used to hide as children. He looked feral—his hair a mess, his knuckles bloody from hitting stone walls.
"They want to send me to the Northern Front," he whispered, not looking at me. "My father thinks a war will 'finalize' my Alpha spirit. He wants me to kill until there's nothing left of the boy who sat in the roses."
"And my father wants me to marry Lord Varick's son by the next moon," i replied, sitting beside him. "He thinks my place is in a manor house, counting silver spoons."
Caelum finally looked at me, and the raw desperation in his eyes was heartbreaking. He reached out, his hand hovering near your cheek, afraid that his own strength might hurt me.
"We're losing, aren't we?" he asked softly. "The world is winning."
"Not yet," i whispered, leaning into his touch despite the heat of his skin. "They can command our time, Caelum. But they can't command our hearts."