~~FIVE YEARS LATER~~
MALRIC
Malric would like to say that a day in his workspace only consisted of being buried in hundreds and hundreds of documents.
Some that required his signatures, some that required him to make weighty decisions that would affect the livelihood of millions.
But that was untrue.
Unfortunately, being Alpha King meant a lot of things. And one of them included having to listen to the wailing of a petulant maid right outside his office.
It had nothing to do with his hearing. She was that loud.
"Your Royal Majesty!" The maid wailed, "should you wish to take my life, then I've no objections! Truly I will have none! But my mistress, the Luna Queen asks for you! Shall you ignore her even when she hangs onto her last breath?!"
Malric pretended to ignore the squabble. He scribbled his signature over a document, appending his seal on it, then folded and set it aside.
When it came to official matters he worked alone for the simple reason that he preferred having his things at the appropriate place he left them.
He almost beheaded his last assistant, who was in fact his first, because he moved his quill quarter-inch to the right from its normal position and then had the guts to mouth that there had been no real difference from its former position.
Just how idiotic could one be—
"Your Majesty! I beg you to see the Queen!" The annoying voice came again.
A knock came to the door. "Your Majesty. It's Zoric."
"Come in."
Zoric, who could be considered his personal guard and the only man who knew of his routine better than his own family, entered. They could be considered age mates, although Zoric had a quality to him that made him look weathered in a roguish sort of way.
"I know it was your order that we leave the maid to wail her lungs out, but I was wondering if she was not distracting you." Zoric gruffed out, all business-like, "shall I have her removed?"
"Do you follow palace gossip, Zoric?" Malric asked instead while opening another scroll and perusing through the contents.
"No, I don't." Zoric answered, his frown etched to his words.
"Then you must not have heard that the maid outside was the one who personally led and machinated the current hottest gossip in the palace."
He felt Zoric frown harder without even looking.
"The hottest gossip in the palace?" Zoric repeated, not bothering to hide his befuddlement at what he might consider a weird conversation.
Rightfully.
Malric drew a red line across the document, then proceeded to fold it and carefully discard it to the pile of documents he considered 'thrash'.
"Perhaps if you stopped being obsessed with my security, then you would have noticed the rumours in the palace saying I am infertile."
Zoric's composure cracked just a bit. "What?"
Malric unfurled another scroll and discarded it after just one look.
"In fact, the more lewd version of the gossip somewhat suggests that I sleep with you."
This time, Zoric guffawed at him, then cool anger held his features hostage. "I shall make sure that such dirty words are never whispered again in the palace."
Malric picked another scroll, then ripped right through it.
"If the maid had spread these two rumors alone, I truly wouldn't be bothered about her," he spelt in a voice devoid of any ease he once had, "but she went as far as saying that Violet is an imbecile."
Zoric's eyes twitched, his fists clenched at the revelation.
An insult to his sister was an affront against the entire North… but that asides, Malric dropped his pen altogether, straightening to his full height. "How many days now has she been begging me to see her Mistress?"
"Five days, Your Majesty." Zoric answered.
Five days without food and water, while screaming her lungs hoarse was hardly punishment enough, but it was time to end the spectacle already. He hated dragging matters more than they should, and he had already dragged this for five suffocating years now.
Five years that had been a royal pain in the ass.
"We shall be visiting the West Wing." He announced, throwing his cloak over him as he breezed to the door. Wordlessly, he passed the kneeling maid who went mute on seeing him while shivering like a lone leaf caught in winter's most bitter cold.
Every Epsilon on the way maintained their guard position at the sight of him. Only bothering with a curt bow before they resumed their patrolling and positions as per Malric's stern orders.
He might live in what the world considered the last of five circles, but that was all the more reason to have his guard up at all times to the point of over imperfection.
Zoric was the only one who walked with him to the long, bitter pathways and stairs that led to the West wing where his wife, and Luna Queen, Aria Lupine laid on her bed, looking nothing less than a ghost.
Zoric waited outside, while he entered the room that smelt of herbs to the point it was quite revolting.
Aria coughed violently, handkerchief against her mouth while the other hand reached for him.
He humored her, approaching and seating by her bedside with his legs crossed.
The maidservants and physician bowed and scurried out of the room hurriedly like he was blazing fire that must be avoided at all costs. He supposed in a way he was.
Aria's body still wracked by violent coughing fits, blood splattered on her white handkerchief which she tried to hide from him. And when she calmed down a bit, she attempted to seat up on the bed, only to slip back into her lying position.
Her limbs had no strength anymore. Not even to hold her up.
The maid had been right when she said his wife was at death's door. Although Malric was sure the girl hadn't expected words spoken in desperation to hold a shocking amount of truth.
"You called for me." He said monotonously, "I am here."
Aria attempted a smile that was horrifying with her pale face and purplish lips in place. "I must look unsightly."
She did look unsightly. But it had more to do with her heart than it did with her appearance.
Hers was a rotten heart. And he could relate because his was just like that.
"Not at all." He answered with a smirk.
She smiled, not getting the message. "I know for the last five years our relationship has been strained. You despised me, and I threw tantrums making things difficult for you."
He almost scoffed. Sure, if tantrums involved murdering her maids and scarring some of them for life for the fact that she held the notion they were appealing to him, then yes, she did throw a lot of tantrums.
She smiled as broadly as her ill health would permit. "I forgive you." She said to his amusement, "let's not dwell in the past any longer. I haven't borne your child yet. The bloodline of the NorthSteed's still hangs precariously."
He chuckled, flipping his coin into the air. "So you wish me to lay with you?" He asked, not because he expected an answer.
She attempted to rearrange herself. "I know I'm not very presentable. But before my health gets any worse, I must bear your child. At least when I die, I shall have the honor of having birthed your heir."
He said nothing. Just stared at her. And then flipped the coin in the air again, catching it without skills.
In less than five seconds, she broke under his stare, averting her eyes. "From the very beginning, you loathed me." She spat in a shaky voice, doing away with her pretentious nonsense, "You never gave me a chance to warm your bed! You spurned me! Will you spurn me to the end?!"
Her coughing fits started again.
This time, she coughed up more blood than usual, and the fear in her eyes betrayed that this was the first time her condition was getting that bad.
Malric leaned towards her. "Wife dearest, can't you see that you're already on death's door?" He spelt coldly.
Her lips wobbled, angry tears welling in her eyes. "The physician said I will get better—"
"No," He cut her off ruthlessly, "you will die today."
Cold wind gusted over. The coldest winter the North would ever experience had long been on its way, and he supposed it would start that day.
How very fitting.
"Why?" She muttered, eyes drenched with fear, "why have you always loathed me so much?! I am your chosen mate! I tried to be me, tried to be other women, just to hold your attention but you never looked my way! Why must you loathe me so?! I even tried to look like your damned fated mate…!"
She drew back as if realizing something. "Wait a moment…you never forgot her did you? Even though she was just a lowly woman wearing a rabbit's mask, you never quite forgot her—!" She roared, dissolving into yet another coughing fit
He wasn't riled up in the least by her mad ramblings; he leaned into her, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ears.
"Wife dearest," he muttered in a voice that was almost hypnotic, "it's a pity that the poison I gave you didn't take away your voice."
She stiffened, body tensed like a drawn arrow.
He chuckled. "But it's fine, just make sure that when you get to hell, you rest in a thousand pieces. If not, I shall travel down the underworld, hunt down your ghost, then nail it to a cross where it shall never dream of reincarnation."
Her eyes widened.
Betrayal, hurt, anger, all the things he wished to see in her eyes swirled there.
Words she wanted to say lingered on her lips.
But then the coughing fit started again. This time even more violent.
And it didn't stop.
Not when she fell off her bed.
Not when she coughed out so much blood it could be used for ink.
Not when she reached out to him and he didn't take her hand.
Not when she glared at him in hate, memories of their five years of marriage slamming into her all at once.
And when it finally stopped, she lay sprawled on the floor, no longer breathing.
He left the room, and the screams of her maids as they discovered her corpse travelled to him.
"Send a message to the four Betas," he ordered with cold finality, "tell them the Bride Selection Plan officially starts now."
Because now, he was about to step into the open and finish the century old war that in reality, started that damned night five years ago.