Rise Of The Rogue Queen

Introduction

"What madness possesses you, Vassius? To stain the legacy of the Frostbite Pack with such shame... have you no sense of duty? No pride?" The Alpha King's voice rang out, loud and full of fury, as if it could shake the very walls of the grand hall.

Vassius stood before him, his head bowed, his heart pounding in his chest. "I can't deny it, Father... I love her," was all he could say-his voice quiet, almost pleading.

Before he could brace himself, a deafening slap landed on his left cheek. The sting lit up his face, the force reverberating through his skull. He stumbled but didn't fall. His pride was too stubborn to let him.

The King's voice turned cold, venomous. "Tell me I misheard, Vassius. You.. a prince, entangled with a rogue?" He stepped forward, eyes burning with disdain. "You shame the blood that made you. Tell me, Vassius... how does a boy ruled by emotion expect to rule a pack?"

"Twice-cursed... a rogue and a witch. Her destiny was sealed the moment she breathed near my throne. Her fate is the darkest cell this kingdom holds," the King added.

"I'll do whatever you ask, but let her go. You have my word... she'll be nothing to me from this moment on," Vassius pleaded.

"Yes, Vassius, she'll be nothing to you, because by dawn, her head will hang on a spike outside this palace, so every rogue knows what happens when they touch royalty. Love is a weakness you'll no longer be allowed to carry. I'll erase her from your life-mind, body, and soul," the King said, then turned and left the grand hall.

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Prince Vassius paced the length of the stone corridor, his mind consumed by thoughts of her-the woman locked beneath the palace in a cell carved for the most dangerous of sorcerers. He didn't know how she was faring. Was she shivering in the cold? Was she afraid? His heart ached with every unanswered question. She had always been warmth to him... and now, she sat alone in the dark, condemned.

He was useless to her now, shackled by duty, bound by blood. His father had made it clear: by dawn, her head would adorn a spike at the gates... a warning and a sentence.

Vassius clutched his chest as the weight of that truth caved in on him. The pain was sharp and relentless.

He stumbled into his chambers, rage and grief crashing through him like a storm. He hurled a vase against the wall, the shattered glass raining to the floor, echoing his screams. His knees hit the cold marble, and he broke, sobbing, choking on guilt.

He was a prince. But what use was a title if he couldn't save the woman he loved? If she was to die... perhaps he deserved no better. Perhaps he should meet the blade alongside her.

His tear-filled eyes landed on an envelope buried among the shards of the vase he'd shattered in his rage. He didn't remember placing it there, but an inexplicable pull urged him to reach for it. As his fingers gripped the parchment, fear tightened around his chest. Slowly, he opened it, the familiar strokes of Hecate's handwriting deepening the ache within him.

"No... no... no. You can't die, Hecate... not with this new revelation," he whispered, his voice trembling as he read the words-his heart splintering with each line. The letter was a cry of desperation, a final message from her. She was too far gone, trapped in a fate he had no power to change.

Anguish overtook him as he stormed toward his father's chambers, his mind consumed by the truth he now carried: Hecate was carrying his child. She had written it in the letter, accepting her fate to die. He couldn't lose them both.

He burst into his father's chamber, his breath ragged. His father and mother turned in shock. The queen's voice dripped with disapproval.

"Do you have no sense of privacy? What if we were-"

"I don't care!" Vassius shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. "Father, hear me! Hecate carries your blood. You can't condemn her to death!"

The Alpha King spat, his words like acid. "Enough of this madness. I have no son who would father a bastard. You've brought shame to this pack, and I will erase it. Both her and the child will be nothing but dust."

"Father..." Vassius whispered, stunned by the cruelty.

"A child of a witch, born from filth... do you truly expect me to accept that? I will not allow that abomination to live, not while I'm breathing. The child is a curse upon our bloodline. I won't allow a bastard born of a rogue to threaten my legacy. She will die. And so will that demon inside her."

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Seven Months Later

It was the loud cry of a baby that stopped Isalith in her tracks. She had traveled from the neighboring pack, excited to shop for the latest dresses and jewelry.

But the baby's cry pulled her away from her plans.

Following the sound, Isalith walked toward the riverbank, and froze in shock.

There, in the arms of a dead, bloodied young woman, lay a newborn. The woman's body was lifeless, drenched in blood, her face twisted in pain.

Confusion clouded Isalith's mind as she stared at the broken form before her.

"Who was she?" she whispered. "And what kind of danger took her life so violently?"

2

20 YEARS LATER. (PRESENT DAY)

PRINCE ZEROTH

Sigh...

Who dares to think they can leave without consequence?

"Darethor... you have failed me. Your incompetence is enough to make anyone's blood boil." My voice boomed coldly, as my gaze pinned Darethor to the ground. His body quivered, not in defiance, but in fear, and I liked it that way.

"M-My... my prince," his voice trembled, barely a whisper against the silence that hung heavy in the room. "I'm sorry. It's my fault, and I take all the blame. Your personal maid... she was blessed with her mate, from another pack. She traveled with him, and I..."

He faltered... pathetic. I held up my hand to silence him.

"And you didn't find a replacement, did you?" I scoffed, my eyes narrowing. He was still kneeling, his body shaking like a leaf. His weakness was unbearable to witness.

"You serve a prince, not a beggar, Darethor. I give you three days to find me a new personal maid... three. Or you'll be scrubbing the blood off this floor with your tongue." My voice dropped to a lethal whisper... a threat that would burn itself into his soul.

His eyes, pleading for mercy, met mine. But I saw nothing there, nothing but the hollow desperation of a man who knew his fate was sealed the moment he failed me. I didn't need to say more. The silence spoke volumes.

"Y-Yes, Your Highness," Darethor stammered, his voice breaking. He would remember this moment. I made sure of it.

I turned, flicking my wrist to dismiss him. "Now, let's go hunting," I said, moving toward the door with the purpose of hunting. Darethor scrambled to his feet and followed, still trembling, but not from fear of the hunt. His fear lay elsewhere, and I found that amusing. Like he was hiding something from me, but I ignored it.

We walked through the halls of my mansion, the heavy silence between us broken only by the soft rustle of our footsteps on the polished stone. But then, two guards appeared and blocked our path. They were familiar... guards from my father's palace.

"Greetings, Prince Zeroth," one of them spoke, his tone stiff but respectful. "Alpha Tyrian seeks your presence."

I froze. My father? Unannounced? What could he want with me now? I turned to Darethor, a flicker of irritation running through my blood. "We'll hunt later," I said, the words more an afterthought than a decision. "Now, we go to see my father. He clearly has business for me."

"As you command, my prince," Darethor replied, no hesitation in his voice. But his face betrayed him... his unease was palpable, and his pulse quickened like he knew something I didn't. But I ignored him again still.

I rode to the palace inside the chariot in silence. When we arrived, the atmosphere in the air felt different. I could feel the tension before I even entered.

The moment I stepped inside, I saw them. My father, seated at the head of the room, his gaze piercing. But it wasn't just him... Alpha Vassius stood near the window, flanked by a few of his men.

His daughter, Princess Ygraine, was beside him- her regal posture and icy beauty ever-present. Then, my mother, Luna Amarisse, stood at the far end, watching the scene unfold with a quiet intensity.

My gaze locked with Ygraine's, but I showed no sign of recognition. She was nothing more than a pawn... a political connection and a tool. Yet there was a flicker in her eyes that I couldn't quite place. Was it fulfillment? Or something else? I couldn't tell.

I turned my attention to my father, his expression unreadable. "Father," I greeted, keeping my tone even, masking the unease stirring within me. "You summoned me?"

"Zeroth," he said. "We need to discuss matters of great importance."

"Our packs," he began, gesturing between the Skyfire Pack and the Frostbite Pack, "will unite in an alliance. This is not just a joining of werewolves, but of destinies. The strength of our bonds will make us formidable in the coming days." He paused, as his gaze landed on me.

I shifted slightly but stayed silent. The alliance was expected... inevitable, even. But what he said next made my blood run cold.

"To solidify this alliance, both Alphas have decided that our children will marry," he said.

To marry? I have to marry Ygraine?

I turned to my father in disbelief. "Is this true?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. He nodded.

"Father..." I began, but he cut me off.

"It's already done, son. You don't have a say."

My jaw clenched. Words swelled behind my teeth, but I swallowed them like poison. I turned without a bow or a goodbye. My mother's voice called to me pleadingly, but I ignored her, and the palace doors slammed behind me.

Outside, I saw Darethor... he was smiling.

The image snapped something inside me. My mind shot back to earlier... when my father's guards had come, and Darethor trembled like a dog. He knew about Ygraine and me... and he said nothing.

I strode up to him and drove my fist into his face without a word. Blood burst from his nose, painting his tunic.

"You knew about the marriage?" I growled in anger.

But he couldn't speak... he just whimpered beneath the blood.

I didn't wait. I mounted my horse and rode. I didn't care where- I just needed to be far. I found myself in the woods. Still, I didn't stop.

Then, a root jutted from the earth, gnarled and hidden beneath fallen leaves. I misstepped, and the horse stumbled, letting out a wild snort as it lost its balance. I fell to the ground, and my head collided with a tree. I passed out immediately from the searing pain.

A few minutes later, I opened my eyes. The world was blurry. A figure knelt beside me, her touch gentle against my bloodied head.

"You're going to be fine," she said, in a hushed tone. The voice was familiar, though we'd never met.

I blinked, trying to see her face, but the haze wouldn't clear.

Still, my soul whispered one truth.

She's my mate.

VALKIRA

I wiped the sweat trickling down my forehead, rubbing the back of my hand against my brow. My arms burned from hours of hauling firewood, but I couldn't stop. My father and I needed to gather enough to sell. Money was tight... always tight. So we worked, and we worked hard.

My father had taken the left side of the forest, and I was on the right. There was no need to talk; we both understood what needed to be done. I bent down again, the sound of branches snapping under my weight almost comforting in the quiet of the trees.

But then there was something else. A sound, hooves pounding the earth in a desperate rush... and it made me pause. My heart raced. I froze. Was my father behind me? Did he hear it too? I turned quickly, expecting to see him. But he wasn't there.

My chest tightened. I swallowed hard and turned toward the sound, trying to track where it had come from. The forest was dense, the trees thick enough to hide what lay ahead.

And then I saw a man. His body crumpled in the dirt, his head resting on a fallen tree. His horse was nowhere to be seen. I didn't know why, but I couldn't ignore it. My feet moved before I could think. I ran to him, kneeling beside his still form.

He was breathing... barely, his chest rising and falling, but there was something wrong. His forehead was smeared with blood. I touched his head, my hands shaking.

His eyes fluttered, weak. They were half-open, struggling to focus, to see me. His breathing quickened, as if he were trying to say something, but no words came. I didn't know why I said it, but I whispered anyway, the words leaving my lips almost on their own.

"You're going to be fine."

Then something happened.

It was like an invisible force coursed through my body... through my hands. I felt it as it pulsed through my fingertips, into his skin, deep into the wound on his head. My breath hitched when I saw his wound start to close, his skin knitting together before my eyes. The injury healed... just like that.

But there was still blood staining his hair and face. I pulled my hands away, stunned. What had just happened?

Before I could gather my thoughts, a voice shouted through the trees.

"My prince!"

I didn't think. I just ran, bolting into the underbrush, my heart pounding in my chest. I crouched behind a thick cluster of trees, the sound of hooves growing closer. I dared not peek out, my hands still shaking as I pressed them to my chest.

Through a crack in the branches, I saw the one I had helped. He was being lifted, placed gently onto a horse by another man.

They rode off together, disappearing into the distance.

I stood still, trying to steady my breath. My eyes dropped to my palms. My heart thudded against my ribs as I stared at them... at the smoothness, at the power that still seemed to pulse there. I turned my hands over, feeling the difference- the strange sensation that lingered.

I healed that man. But how?

PRINCE ZEROTH

I blink my eyes open, slow like the world is just forming again. I try to recall. Something happened. Something... strange.

"Darethor," I croak, my voice foreign to my own ears.

"I'm here, my prince," he answers quickly, stepping out from the corner like he never left.

I shift, feel the weight of the sheets, the softness under me. "What the hell happened?" I ask, my head aching with confusion more than pain.

He looks at me like he doesn't know whether to be relieved or alarmed. "You should be the one telling me that," he says. "You had blood all over your head, down to your neck. But when I checked..." His brow tightens. "There was no wound."

I blink, confused. "No wound?"

"None."

"But I fell," I say, the memory coming back in bits. "From the horse. I hit my head... hard, on a tree."

He nods once. "That's what I figured. But the physician examined you- he said you're fine."

"Fine?" I echo. "The pain... it was blinding. It knocked me out. But now I feel no pain."

My chest tightens as the memory claws deeper. Trees... wind... the thud of the fall. And then... her.

"And then she came," I whisper, sitting up fast. "She touched me."

"Who?" Darethor asks, his voice edged.

"I don't know," I say, shaking my head. "A girl. She was there. She knelt beside me. She touched my head and told me I'd be fine."

Darethor tilts his head. "You sure you didn't imagine it? The hit might've-"

"No," I cut him off. "She was real. I remember her voice, but not her face."

"So you mean she healed you?" he asks. I can hear the disbelief swimming behind his words.

"I don't know how," I admit. "But I felt something. Warm..."

I look down at my hands as they tremble slightly. Not from fear. But from knowing- that girl in the woods is my mate.

"I need to go back," I say, climbing out of bed.

"Back where?" Darethor asks.

"The woods."

He moves toward me. "Your Highness, you're still recovering..."

I shoot him a look. "Recovering from what? Didn't you just say the physician found nothing wrong with me?" He pauses.

"I know what I felt," I say. "And I need answers. I need to find her."

Darethor opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off before the words come.

"I'm going back to the woods," I say, grabbing my cloak.

"And that's final."

But the knock on the door stopped us.

"Did you tell anyone what happened to me? My father?" I asked, anger bubbling in my throat.

"I spilled no word, my prince," Darethor replied, his eyes honest.

"Then who the fùck is knocking?" I growled, tension crawling up my spine.

"I'll check," he said, already moving. He reached the door and pulled it open.

"Oh, it's you..." he muttered. "Come in."

A petite maid stepped in. Her steps were small, soft- almost too careful. Her eyes met mine briefly... then dropped to the floor with practiced grace. She wore the omega scent. Still... something about her made my breath pause.

"I got you your personal maid, like you requested," Darethor said.

My attention was locked on her. Not in lust... though she was beautiful in a quiet, aching way but in familiarity.

Her presence stirred a memory I couldn't catch. "What's your name?" I asked, my voice lower than before.

She lifted her gaze and answered, "My name is Valkira."