Mated to The Enemy, Revenge For My Brother

"Mother please, stop packing these kinds of outfits in my luggage, what are you thinking?" I shook my head at her.

"You folded your underwear wrong," she announced, like this is a crisis worthy of an intervention. She stepped over the piles of clothes on my bed-combat boots, academy-regulation tops, the single formal dress she insisted I take "in case there's a ceremony or a scandal"-and zeros in on the small mountain of folded things in my travel trunk.

I was halfway through shoving my second combat knife into the side compartment of my duffel when I said, "If the academy inspects my underwear folding technique, I'll happily drop out and save us all the trouble."

She did not laugh, which was how I knew she was building up to something.

She cleared her throat. "So. Before you leave for Norsen... we should talk about a few things."

Here it comes.

"I swear, if you're about to lecture me about shining my boots-"

"Sex," she interrupted brightly.

I blinked. "I'm sorry?"

She squinted at me mischievously. "I'm thinking you are of age now, and you might want to have experiences of your own. You know there will be boys at your academy, and you may even find your mate there."

"For the love of the moon goddess, please tell me we're not about to have the conversation I think you are trying to have right now." I stared at her, hoping my suspicions were untrue.

She clasped her hands together. "Yes, we are. We are about to have the talk. I am going to be telling you how to enjoy yourself without getting pregnant."

I groaned painfully, already dreading the conversation.

"You're going to be surrounded by boys. Young men. Some of them, not very bright. With abs and urges." She clasped her hands together again, like she was discussing table manners. "I just want you to be... safe."

I stared at her. "I'm going to a military academy, not a mating campaign mother."

"Yes, but you're very pretty. And stubborn. And sometimes bad decisions happen on cots or under staircases or-"

"Oh my gods, stop talking."

She kept going. "Do you need-"

"If you say the word condoms I will set myself on fire."

Her lips twitched like she was trying not to laugh. "You could at least pretend you're open to the conversation."

"I would rather spar blindfolded with a starving rabid wolf."

"So dramatic," she muttered.

I threw a rolled shirt at her, and she flicked it off with two fingers like it personally offended her.

"Mother please.. No! I won't be needing any of that lecture, the other girls at your seamstress's school may need your motherly insight to what sex should or should not be." I said, rolling my eyes at her.

Her expression changed, and I knew what was coming. "Do you really have to go? I know you are old enough to do whatever you want, but does it have to be that far away? Peanut, would you stay back home at least for a year, for your mother's sake?"

"Mother, we talked about this. I have to go, and you know why. I said, holding her hand.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. "You don't have to go peanut. You are only about to be twenty-one, you do not have to worry about our lands, we are okay. We have enough warriors that protect us, we are safe, and there are no looming threats."

I knew that, all of that was true. There were no looming threats for now but I could not help but think back to four years ago, when my bright pink world had darkened into something far worse than looming threats. We were a pack of peace loving rogue wolves, we never sought to take what we did not own and expansion was never our purpose but we welcomed every rogue wolf that needed food, clothing and shelter.

We thrived and prospered until one day, when the king of the lycan kingdom of Narth decided it was time for war. Two years of warring with Narth, one of the strongest lycan kingdoms to ever exist and still we could not be subdued, we had no fancy uniforms, no fancy armory, just pure power and the will to live.

Most importantly, we had my older brother Rivan. He led the northern faction into the war fearlessly at nineteen, winning many battles and always bringing peonies and pennies back home for me until one day. I was waiting at the city gates for him as usual and when I saw some of the warriors I knew from the northern faction, I was happy, the moon goddess had heard my prayers and my brother was home safe.

The warriors walked in, one after the other, each one looking more devastated than the last and then I saw him, my brother but this time he did not walk back in with his own feet, he was carried in by a boy around his age. Blonde hair, dark grey eyes, blood smeared across his face and chest. That was the last time I ever prayed to the moon goddess.

I moved closer, the fastest I had ever moved in my whole life, and I saw it clearly, a dagger rested in my brother's chest, and I knew in that instant my life was never going to be the same again. My starry nights were filled with darkness, and my dreams turned into nightmares. Everyone said he was a hero, his blood ended the war, he sacrificed himself for his people but I was never going to see it that way not as long as those grey eyes got to see the rising of the sun everyday while my brother laid in the dirt.

I was never going to forget those ice-cold grey eyes. Aklan Draven.

I was seventeen, he was nineteen, and I remembered the way he looked at me when he dropped my brother's body at my father's feet-not with regret, not with mercy. Just cold, blank duty.

My mother tried a different angle. A softer voice. "You don't have to do this, Rosa. The academy isn't the only way. You could train here. Or take the healer exams. Or study diplomacy with your aunt. You're not weak, no matter what anyone-"

"I need to go," I cut in.

Her eyes searched mine, and I knew she saw it-the steel, the stubbornness, the four-year-old wound that never scabbed over.

"Rosalind-"

"Please don't try to make me stay."

Her shoulders dropped with resignation. "I just don't want to lose my daughter the way I lost my son."

"I'm not Rivan," I said quietly.

"I know," she rubbed her temple, a small smile curved her lips. "He was born with teeth. You were born with fire."

She stepped forward, cupped my face in her hands, and pressed a kiss to my forehead the same way she did when I was five and refused to come inside during rainstorms.

"Come back to me, Rosalind. No matter what you think you owe the dead."

I did not answer. I could not because I was not sure she would be getting her little peanut even if I was able to make it back.

She left without another word, and the room felt heavier when she was gone.

I did not pack for a few minutes. I just stood there, breathing around the ache in my chest. Then I grabbed my coat and slipped out the back door.

Our yard was small, tucked behind the tree line, wild moss and stones and the smell of pine. The grave marker sat beneath the old oak tree-simple, carved with his name and the symbol of our pack.

Rivan Rougeworth. My brother, my protector, my hero.

My knees met the earth before I realized I had dropped to the floor.

"Hey," I whispered, fingers tracing the bark of the tree like it was his hand. "I'm leaving. I'm going to Norsen miltary academy."

The wind stirred the branches above me, whispering in that way that almost sounded like his breath.

"I know you would laugh and tell me not to get myself killed, but I can't stay here, not while he's still walking free."

My throat burned, and I blinked hard, but the tears slipped out anyway.

"I'm going to get stronger," I told him. "Strong enough to carry our name. Strong enough to make the Lycan prince bleed for what he did. I will avenge you, my brother, I swear it."

A few hot tears dropped into the moss. I was going to give myself that much, but no more because I could no longer be soft after this day, and then I stood, tall and ready for what was to come.

I wiped my face with the heel of my hand, swallowed the grief back into its cage, and went inside to collect my things.

My father was already outside by the car, trunk open by the time I got out. The engine was running, exhaust curling into the chill morning air, and my voyage into my new life was about to begin.

I stopped at the path, and looked back at our house.. the worn brick, the windows glowing softly with lamplight, my mother's shadow moving in the kitchen.

I made myself a promise.

If I ever made it back, I would not come back weak. I would not be the girl without a wolf, I would not be the sister that was left behind.

I would come back stronger.

And Aklan Draven would regret the day he didn't die alongside my brother.

The journey was a smooth one, we got to my new residence of choice a few minutes before the gates were closed for the day. The gates of Norsen Military Academy rose like the jaws of some ancient beast-iron and carved stone, etched with runes older than my bloodline.

My father hopped out first and opened the trunk. "Leave the heavy ones. I've got them," he said, already hauling out my overstuffed bags like they weighed nothing. I grabbed the smaller pack and my weapons case before he could insist on those too.

The academy building loomed ahead-gray stone, banners hanging from the high arches, students in various uniforms milling about. My father walked beside me, carrying most of my belongings with that silent, stubborn pride he always wore like armor. We pushed through the massive doors into the front hall.

The front desk was manned-ruled, actually by a woman who looked like she had sour mangoes for breakfast. She didn't bother to glance up when we approached.

"Hi, good afternoon." I say, flashing a polite smile at the woman behind the desk.

She raised her head and gave me a once-over. "You can leave sir. I believe the admission for your child did not include a plus one ticket."

Okay! Rude.

My father paused. "I'd like to make sure my daughter settles in first."

She didn't even look at him when she said, "She won't. Please escort yourself out."

My father grabbed my shoulder like I was twelve years old again. "I have to leave now Peanut. Are you sure you will be okay? Do you really want to stay here?"

Before I could open my mouth to reassure my father that I would be fine, the woman cut in again.

"It would be best if you take Little Peanut back home with you, this is no place for weaklings."

"Can I just talk to my daughter in peace, please?"

The woman looked up from her frantic typing and gave a disdainful smirk.

My anger reached a boiling point, but I had to stay composed. "I am fine Dad, I promise."

His jaw worked once, twice, like he was chewing down something he'd rather spit. "Are you sure?"

"I've got it," I promised. "Besides, Mom will laugh at us if I follow you back home."

"Make the Rougeworth name proud," he murmured.

"I will," I said.

He huffed out a breath that might've been a laugh in a gentler world. He cupped the back of my head, pressed a kiss to my forehead, the same way my mother had that morning.

"May the moon goddess be with you."

He squeezed my shoulder and walked away reluctantly, glancing back once before disappearing through the doors.

The instant he was gone, I turned back to the desk. "I need my dorm assignment."

I was met with nothing but silence.

I tried again. "My arrival papers were-"

Still nothing. The woman didn't so much as twitch; it was as if I was talking to a ghost. She kept typing and humming a sick tune of the witch's red Christmas.

My palms itched in annoyance. My wolf, Cara, weak as she was, snarled in the back of my bone, but there was nothing I could do; I had to get assigned by this woman.

Just then, another student approached the desk, a tall fae girl with a mass of braids and inked markings down her neck. She dipped her head and said, clear as day, "Greetings of the Nine Realms."

The desk-witch looked up instantly, smiling like she suddenly remembered she had teeth.

Fucking hypocrite.

"And to you," she purred, dragging it out to prove a point to me. "How may I assist, Miss Valenna?"

I watched the exchange with a slow, simmering disbelief.

The minute the fae girl left, I stepped forward again.

I inhaled. "Greetings of the Nine Realms."

Her gaze snapped up finally , irritation briefly flashing in her eyes before she covered it with a smile so tight it could have sliced bread.

"Student code?"

I recited it without missing a beat. "ROG-S17-042."

She scanned her records, then called out, "Rosalind Rougeworth. You are to stay at the East Wing quarters. You will be sharing Dormitory Five with Elsie Wood and Ferna Pecker. Your academy orientation starts at twelve, noon tomorrow. Your necessary uniforms will be given to you by your assigned counsellor. If you have other questions, I do not care. You are an adult, figure it out yourself."

"Thank you," I said flatly, hoping she got a toe stubble for her meanness.

She looked at me all over again, her nose wrinkling just a little as she looked from her computer to me. "Combat and war strategy? You?"

"Yes."

Her lips parted in a dry laugh. "You should have left with your father, Little Peanut."

I smiled with all the grace of a drawn blade. "I will keep that in mind."

I gathered my things and turned without waiting for dismissal. If I had to wait one more minute while she talked me down, her face would be introduced to the wall.

The halls of the East Wing stretched wide, banners of each realm's faction lining the walls. Lycans, Fae, Elves, Warlocks, Vampyrs, werewolves and more. The air pulsed with magic and tension and something that felt like destiny waiting to happen to everyone who stepped their foot into this place. It was surreal, and I had made it here, where the best of the nine realms learned to fight and protect their own.

By the time I found the stairwell leading to the dorms, my arms were aching. I shifted one bag higher on my shoulder and silently cursed whoever designed a school this big without lifts.

"You look like you're about to drop dead," a voice piped up behind me.

I turned and saw a big pair of eyes staring at me.

She was tinier than me, I didn't think that was physically possible until now, maybe up to my shoulder if she tiptoed, she had moon-pale skin, silver hair braided down her back, and ears that curved into elegant, unmistakable points.

An elf.

She blinked those big lilac eyes at me. "Are you... lost? Or just stubborn?"

I had seen elves many times at the city markets outside Rougestead, my home, but not like this, not this up close and certainly not as friendly as she seemed.

My grandmother always warned me about elves before she passed. She said they were sneaky creatures and could not be trusted; they were the biggest manipulators in the realm, and I had always managed to keep my distance until now.

"Both," I said, regaining my composure. "I'm new, this is my wing. I'm looking for Dormitory Five."

Her face lit up like festival lanterns. "You are ours!"

Before I could react, she threw her arms around me in a surprisingly strong hug that smelled faintly of honey and coconut.

Okay, too much physical contact.

"I'm Elsie Wood," she declared, already grabbing one of my bags like she had been assigned as my handler. "Come on, before Ferna pounces on you from a balcony or something."

"Is Ferna... dangerous?" I asked, concerned.

Elsie snorted. "Only emotionally. But you would love her."

We climbed one flight of stairs, then another, and my legs begged me to rest, until she stopped at a door with a hand-painted number five and several scorch marks on the wall beside it.

When she pushed the door open, I lost all composure, my heart lurched, and I screamed.

The floor was a river. A real one or at least it looked like a real one. The water was rushing, dark and moving fast, with three crocodiles glaring up at me like I was their brunch.

My heart shot into my throat as one crocodile opened its mouth towards me. All of my bravado was reduced to nothing, and I froze so hard that one of my bags slid off my shoulder.

Elsie heaved a sigh and yelled, "Ferna! Stop with the illusions. End it!"

A voice called back, "I am protecting us from strangers who could want to come into our dorm!

They could be spies!"

Oh, great, just what I needed. A psychotic dorm mate.

"She's our roommate, you maniac! You are scaring her!"

The river vanished in an instant

In its place was a perfectly normal wooden floor, slightly scuffed, with a plush wolfskin rug that led to three separate rooms.

Footsteps padded on the wooden floor, then she appeared.

Ferna Pecker.

Beautiful didn't even cover it. She looked like someone dipped a goddess in honey, gold, and silk.

Her hair has slight streaks of pink, peach, lilac, silver, and purple, like the theme for her look was cotton candy. Her eyes were bright amber and looked golden when the rays of the sun hit her face; her smile was wide enough to qualify as a weapon.

She looked chaotic, but I had never seen chaos look so elegant, breathtaking. So coordinated.

She bounced over and enveloped me in a hug that nearly knocked the air from my lungs. "You're finally here!"

My shitty luck. I just had to be roomed with huggers.

I blinked, wondering what she meant. "Finally?"

"Elsie and I have been waiting for you for two weeks!" she declared. "We thought maybe you had died or gotten eaten by mountain trolls or eloped with a goblin."

Yes, this one is definitely a lunatic.

"I had to take care of something at home first," I said, still trying to keep up.

Ferna shrugged like that was perfectly reasonable. "Good. Now you are here, and I had already decided we are going to be best friends."

Yay me.

Elsie groaned, rolling her eyes. "You say that about everyone."

"Yes," Ferna said cheerfully, looping her arm through mine. "But this time, I mean it."

I looked between the two of them, they looked harmless, kind even but I did not come to Norsen to start friendships, I was here on a mission. To get stronger so I could enact my revenge on the man that stole the sun from me. And I was not going to let anyone or anything get in my way

The girls showed me around our dorm. It was more like a micro home with a small kitchen, a big sitting room and three mini bedrooms. The girls had taken the liberty to repaint the entire dorm in the most devastating color they could have pulled, pink.

Not that I expected any less or more from an elf, and a fae. Thankfully, they left my room unpainted, and I was welcomed with the calming aura of light lilac walls when I walked in. I dropped my bags onto the hardwood floor of my new dorm room, the thud echoing faintly in the small space.

Exhaustion clung to me like a second skin, every muscle aching from the long journey from Hatchville

Without a second thought, I collapsed face-first onto the bed, the mattress creaking under my weight. The pillow smelled faintly of lavender and starch, and I let out a muffled groan, willing my body to melt into the sheets and disappear into sleep.

I barely rested for a number of minutes before my door creaked open, I cursed under my breath and raised my head to see Ferna at my door, carrying a white bowl with beautiful blue markings around it. She stepped inside, her dark curls bouncing with each step, the steam from the bowl curling upward into the air. The rich aroma of herbs and broth hit me, and my stomach growled despite my confusion.

"What's this?" I asked, my voice rough with fatigue as I sat up fully, eyeing the bowl warily.

She grinned. "Soup."

"I can see that," I muttered. "Why?"

Her smile widened, showing just enough teeth to be concerning. "Because you look like you haven't eaten in a century. And before you start, relax, it's not poisoned."

My cheeks flushed, and I opened my mouth to protest, to insist I wasn't that paranoid. "I wasn't-"

"You were, and it's okay," she said, her tone softening. "I see the distrust in your eyes, and I don't blame you. It's the way of our kind, is it not? Everyone betrays everyone eventually."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with truth. I swallowed, my throat tight, and managed a small nod. Ferna's gaze held mine for a moment, understanding passing between us. Then she set the bowl on the nightstand and offered a warm, sweet smile. I couldn't help but return it, just a little.

Our kind never really got along with the other realms. Hell, we didn't even get along with each other, the Lycans hated the werewolves, the Lycans and werewolves hated the Wyseathes, every one hated the blood moon wolves, and all of us were hated by the other realms, seen as rabid dogs. It was a mess even within ourselves, I couldn't blame her if she hated me, and she could not blame me for being wary, such was our position.

"Thanks," I said quietly.

She waved a dismissive hand. "Don't mention it. Eat, rest. Tomorrow's your first day of dying slowly."

"Wow, that's comforting," I muttered, taking the spoon.

"Do you need help unpacking?" she asked. "You will have a busy day, and if you don't organize now-"

I shook my head, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I'm fine. Just... need to crash for a bit."

Ferna studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't offer."

Then she surprised me by stepping forward and wrapping me in a quick, gentle hug. "Get some rest, then," she said before turning and slipping out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

I stared at the bowl of soup for a long moment before resigning myself to the bed once more, the warmth of Ferna's gesture lingering like the steam rising from the broth. Sleep claimed me before I even realized I had closed my eyes.

___________

The next morning, I was up before dawn, the sky outside my window still a bruised shade of purple. I dressed quietly, pulling on running gear, a simple shirt and joggers, and tied my hair into a loose ponytail. Old habits from Hatchville, where I would start every day with a run through the misty fields. As I laced up my shoes, I heard the faint creak of floorboards and glanced up to see Elsie poking her head out of her room, her blonde hair a messy halo around her face.

"Rosalind? Where are you going so early?" she asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Morning! I'm going for a run," I said. "I usually run every day back home in Hatchville."

Elsie frowned, stepping fully into the hallway. "Don't exhaust yourself. Training's in an hour, and you still need to pick up your uniform from the counselor."

I paused, her words sinking in. "Right. Thanks for the heads-up. Where is that again? I mean the counselor."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Main administrative quarters, general counseling office. You can't miss it."

"Got it."

I grabbed my student pass, thanked her, and headed out, the cool morning air biting at my skin as I made my way across the grounds. The administrative quarters loomed ahead, a stone building with arched windows and ivy creeping up its walls. Inside, the general counseling office was easy to find, its door marked with a simple brass plaque.

Inside the office, a woman sat behind a heavy oak desk, writing in a ledger. Her hair was silver-gray, twisted into a tight bun. Her pointed ears told me she was elven, and the faint scars across her knuckles said she had lived long enough to know her way around a sword and a thousand ways to manipulate the earth's core-at least a century old, maybe more.

She didn't look up as I entered, her pen scratching across a notebook.

"Sit," she said, her voice clipped.

I slid into the chair across from her, folding my hands in my lap. She finally glanced up, her sharp blue eyes studying me over the rim of her glasses. "Name?"

"Rosalind Rougeworth," I said.

"Major?"

"Combat and war strategy."

She froze, her pen hovering over the page. Then she set it down deliberately, adjusted her glasses, and let out a heavy sigh.

"Combat and war strategy," she repeated, her tone dripping with exasperation. "I'm getting too old for this. You kids drive me up the wall. I am so tired of all you little girls and your silly crushes on that captain. Every year, it's the same."

I blinked, genuinely confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

She waved a hand, muttering to herself as she stood and disappeared through a door behind her desk. I sat there, dumbfounded, trying to process her words. A crush? On the captain? I didn't even know who he was. What was she even talking about?

She handed them over with a weary wave. "These are yours. Use them religiously. You won't need them long anyway."

I frowned. "Why's that?"

"Because in two weeks, you'll be back here begging for another assignment. Happens every year."

I wanted to tell her that would not be me, but there was no point. I was fine with her thinking I was just another naive girl with a crush.

I took the uniforms, my confusion deepening. "Thank you," I said, because it seemed like the only appropriate response, and left the office, my mind spinning.

Back at the dorm, I found Ferna and Elsie in the common area, dressed in their own uniforms. Elsie had silver, and Ferna had bright red, vibrant against the muted ones I held in my hands. They looked up as I entered, and Elsie gave a tired smile.

"Wait, why are you getting different colors?" I asked, holding up my uniforms.

Ferna grinned. "Different majors, different colors. Elsie gets silver because she is in the Healing department, and I wear red because I'm in Elements Mastery."

Elsie nodded. "You'll have your general training first, then majors separate. Hurry or you'll be late."

I ducked into my room and changed quickly. The black uniform fit like it had been stitched to my skin-tight, structured, highlighting every curve I didn't particularly want highlighted. The fabric clung to my hips and shoulders, and the high collar gave me an edge that made me look sharper than I felt.

I pulled my hair into a high ponytail, checking my reflection briefly before stepping out.

When I stepped back into the room, both girls froze mid-conversation.

"Stars above," Ferna whispered. "You're in combat and war strategy?"

I nodded, tugging my gloves on, shifting uncomfortably under their stares.

Elsie gasped, grabbing Ferna's arm. "She's so lucky! She gets to see the Captain every day. He's so hot."

I blinked. "The Captain?"

That captain yet again, the same one I was accused of having a crush on just minutes ago. I see why Mrs Grumpy called me a silly girl with a crush, Elsie was totally acting silly like a kid who just discovered candy.

Ferna sighed dreamily. " Captain of the Combat Division. You'll know him when you see him. Trust me."

I rolled my eyes. "Right. Let's just get to training before we're late."

But they didn't stop. Not for a single step on the way there.

Elsie chattered about his skill in battle, how no one could match his strength or his precision. Ferna added details that made it sound more like she had been daydreaming about him than observing his technique.

By the time we reached the training grounds, I was half amused, half exasperated. The morning sun was just cresting over the courtyard, catching on steel blades and glinting armor. Some students already stood in formation, divided by division colors, all murmuring with nervous excitement. Some students were warming up and their instructors were barking orders.

I was laughing at something Ferna said when Elsie grabbed my arm, her nails digging in as she pointed excitedly. "Look! There he is! The captain!"

I followed her gaze, expecting some generic, over-hyped warrior. Instead, my eyes landed on a figure I had not seen in four years, one I thought I would see again, one day. My heart stuttered, and the laughter died in my throat.

Gray eyes, blonde hair. The same boy who had brought my brother's body home. The one I had seen through my tears, standing in the blood-soaked dirt, eyes cold as winter. The one I had sworn to kill.

Aklan Draven.

The Captain.

My heartbeat stumbled painfully.

He looked older now-sharper jaw, broader shoulders, a quiet authority that made everyone around him seem smaller. But those eyes were the same. Storm-gray. Empty.

Elsie was still whispering something beside me, but I didn't hear her.

Because in that moment, with the sunlight striking his profile, the ground beneath me might as well have disappeared. It felt like a distant dream, yet I could taste it, the vengeance.

After four years, fate had done it.

It had put me in front of the man I hated most in the world. Rage blinded me, and all I wanted to do was drive a dagger into his chest, the same way he had done to Rivan. Blood rushed to my ears, and my thoughts aligned in just one way.

Maybe the moon goddess did not listen to the prayers of the helpless, but she did listen to the prayers of the vengeful and she had brought my enemy right into my orbit.