"Lara," he said softly, "I think I've been falling in love with you since the moment I saw you."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
"That's why I've felt this pull toward you from the start. Why I couldn't stay away."
She stared at him, stunned. Confusion written all over her face. Her heartbeat echoing in her ears. "That… that explains a lot."
She shook her head slowly, trying to grasp the weight of it. She looked up at him, her expression uncertain. "But I'm not anyone important. I've never been trained for this… I don't know the rules, or the expectations. I just... I just read too many books and tried not to be noticed."
He smiled faintly. "And yet I noticed you."
She blushed, eyes dropping. "That doesn't mean I'm ready for… whatever this is."
"You don't have to be," he said softly. "You don't have to change, or impress anyone. Least of all me."
Her voice caught. "But everyone expects something."
"You owe them nothing," he said, his voice quiet but resolute.
Lara looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed emotion. Then, without a word, she stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest.
Thornak held her close, one hand gently cradling the back of her head, the other wrapped protectively around her.
He didn't move when she hugged him
just breathed her in like she was air after a lifetime beneath the surface. He craved her scent. Then his hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer, his grip firm, possessive.
Her head tipped up, eyes meeting his. Something unspoken passed between them, sharp and hot and inevitable.
His mouth found hers, hungry, searching, like he'd been waiting lifetimes. She melted into him, her heart pounding, nerves alight, his touch branding her through layers of silk and skin.... his forehead resting against hers as they parted just enough to breathe.
...
The great throne room of Vargorath was heavy with expectation. Firelight danced along the stone walls, casting flickering shadows across the gathered Lycans. The Alpha leaders of the clans stood before the dais—men and women of immense presence, marked by years of battle and dominance. Queen Maravelle sat regally, robed in deep crimson, with her silver crown glinting in the torchlight. Beside her were several lords of the court, murmuring quietly.
Then the heavy doors creaked open.
King Thornak entered alone, his black ceremonial cloak trimmed in white fur, the sigil of his line embroidered in silver across his chest. The air shifted with his arrival.
The room straightened. Respect met wariness.
"Your Majesty," began Alpha Rendric of the Ironfangs, stepping forward. "We offer our loyalty. But… rumors have spread that she is a mere girl. Is it true? Will she be queen?"
Thornak was sitting on his throne unfazed, his gaze unreadable. "She is no mere girl."
Another voice rose, Alpha Serana of Stormfall. "Then who is she, my king? What clan bore her? What Alpha claims her as blood?"
"She is not known to any of us." said Lord Halric sharply. "The Queen must be from a powerful lycan family."
Murmurs grew louder.
Thornak stood firm. "Her name is Lara. She is to be my Queen."
Silence fell, sharp and immediate.
Some stepped back, exchanging glances.
Queen Maravelle's face was still, but the hard glint in her eyes sharpened.
"But if she has no clan," Lord Halric pressed, "if she was not raised in our traditions… how can she carry the weight of a queen?"
"She will carry it because she is my chosen one," Thornak replied. "Do you question my choice."
A bit of tension passed. Then Alpha Rendric slowly dipped his head. "No, Your Majesty."
Others followed, some more reluctantly than others.
Only Queen Maravelle remained silent, fingers clenched around the carved arms of her throne.
One of the younger Alphas, bold but clearly uncertain, dared one final question. "But she bears no crest. No known lineage. How can one not of a powerful Lycan clan claim the title of Queen?"
A murmur rippled through the room.
Thornak descended the steps of the dais, his gaze golden like fire. He turned to the young Alpha. "Do you question my judgment still?"
The Alpha paled slightly, then bowed his head. "No, Your Majesty. I meant no disrespect."
"Good," Thornak said coldly. "Because whether you approve or not, Lara is your Queen."
Silence followed. He walked back to his throne letting him know that whether he was an Alpha or not, the lycan king still could do as he pleased. He never used his power and title like that but there was a first time for everything.
Alpha Rendric cleared his throat, stepping forward. "If the King has chosen, then we stand with you."
Several others voiced agreement, though a few hesitated, their nods slow and reluctant.
No one argued further.
As he took his throne, Thornak's voice rang one last time through the hall. "Lara is under my protection. Insult her, and you insult me. Question her, and you question the divine bond we are bound to uphold."
The room bowed as one.
As Thornak left Kael came up behind him.
"You could've ended all this by telling them she's your mate. Why didn't you?"
"Because I want Lara to love me first, by choice, not because of the bond. And telling the council would be telling the entire kingdom. She deserves more than pressure and politics."
....
The sound of sparring slowed.
Blades paused mid-swing. Grunts and commands faded into murmurs as one by one, the soldiers turned. A hush settled across the training grounds.
Lara had arrived.
She wasn't wearing silk or jewels, just fitted leather trousers, sturdy boots, and a plain tunic that allowed movement. Her hair was tied back, her face calm and unreadable as she stepped onto the dirt with quiet confidence.
Whispers rippled through the warriors like a breeze.
"That's the king's chosen…"
"What's she doing here?"
"Is she lost? Watching, maybe?"
She said nothing. Her eyes scanned the grounds, watchful, steady. She stood at the edge of the training grounds, waiting and trying not to cause any problems.
Thornak entered from the far end, towering, broad-shouldered, and dressed in dark leather. His eyes found Lara instantly and a faint smirk ghosted across his face as he approached her.
No one dared speak now.
"She's here to train with me." Thornak said, voice carrying across the grounds like a warning.
Several warriors straightened, stopped training to observe them.
Lara gave no reaction. She merely smiled.
And just like that, the mood shifted from uncertainty to intrigue.
He gave her a half-smile, tossing her a wooden practice blade.
"I want to see what you're made of," he said. "No holding back."
Lara caught it with both hands.
They circled each other, tension humming in the air. Thornak struck first, controlled but swift. She parried. He stepped in, twisting, and she ducked beneath his arm, striking low with a speed that made his brow lift in surprise.
"Not bad," he muttered, lunging again.
Their blades clacked sharply, rhythm building. She was smaller, lighter, but moved with a fluid grace that threw off his tempo. He landed a few hits, soft taps to her shoulder or side, but she never backed down. Her footwork was instinctive, her strikes clean.
Warriors stood in silence, watching the King and his mate clash in perfect rhythm, not like adversaries, but as if they had done this before, in another life.
"She was supposed to be learning the basics," one murmured.
"But she's holding her own against him," another whispered in disbelief.
Sweat beaded at Lara's temple, but she didn't waver. Thornak grinned as he blocked another blow and caught her wrist. With a twist, he had her disarmed, but she reversed, knocking him off balance just enough to escape.
A low chorus of admiration rose from the men.
Thornak finally raised a hand, signaling the end. Lara dropped her weapon, panting, cheeks flushed.
"You lasted longer than I thought ," he said, his voice proud and amused.
Applause broke out around them, not forced, not polite. Real.
She turned, startled, seeing the warriors who had once kept their distance now clapping for her, heads nodding in respect.
"You've earned their respect," Thornak said quietly, stepping closer.
After the sparring match, Thornak called for a short break, offering Lara a drink from a waterskin before stepping beside her on the packed earth.
"You did well," he said, voice low so only she could hear. "But instincts will only take you so far. Let me show you something."
He moved behind her, guiding her into a ready stance. "First, angle deflection. When someone strikes from above, don't just block. Redirect. Let their strength work against them."
He demonstrated slowly, lifting her arm and twisting her wrist just so. "Here. Then here. Try it."
She followed, repeating the motion with focus. The first few attempts were clumsy, too much strength, not enough flow. Thornak adjusted her elbow again.
"Use their momentum," he murmured. "Not your own."
By the fifth time, her movement smoothed. By the tenth, she was already quicker.
"Good," he said with a nod. "Now the second: low pivot defense. If they come at your legs, step back, twist the hips, and bring the blade across."
She gritted her teeth, mimicking his motion. Her balance faltered the first time. The second was better. He watched her closely, arms crossed, offering small corrections.
Half an hour passed. Sweat glistened on her brow, but she didn't slow.
Finally, she executed the pivot perfectly, twisting and coming up in a flawless guard.
Thornak's smile was slow and full of pride.
"Well done," he said. "You learn fast."
She looked up at him, cheeks flushed but eyes shining. "Maybe it's you I'm trying to impress," she said, breathless but grinning.
Thornak's brow lifted, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Careful, little wolf. Flattery might earn you extra drills."
Lara laughed, stepping back to reset her stance. "Then I'll be sure to keep it coming."
As the crowd of warriors slowly dispersed, still murmuring among themselves about the spar, Dain stepped forward, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"She's not bad," he said, casting a sideways glance at Thornak.
Lara, still catching her breath and tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear, glanced up cautiously. She had seen him with the king.
"That's your version of a compliment?" Thornak asked.
Dain chuckled. "For a first lesson? That's high praise."
"I'd like to take over her training sometimes. The men are already talking. It's been a long time since someone earned their regard so quickly."
Thornak looked to Lara, who nodded without hesitation.
"She held her own against you," Dain added, voice softening. "That's not something easily forgotten."
Several warriors nearby nodded or clapped a fist over their chests in quiet respect as they passed. One even grinned and said, "She could probably take Varric down if he keeps underestimating her."
Lara smiled faintly, her muscles sore but her spirit light. She hadn't expected to feel welcome among the elite warriors of Vargorath but she was starting to.
Thornak laughed, a deep, genuine sound, and extended a hand to her. "Tomorrow, we test how well you can use what you learnt."