We walk through the city in silence. I edge close to him instinctively, his warmth drawing my chilled body. The afternoon will quickly be upon us, and we will be forced to part with the youth everyone always complains about. I didn't even know them, yet I already feared for what might lay before them, almost missing them, as odd as it seemed.

Did they want to go? Lycans were so tight-knit that to agree to separate off a chunk of these men almost seemed unfair, much as I appreciated his cooperation. 

Would they go willingly?

 I think back to how many conversations they had about the pack's younger lycans. Even on our first days together, I recall the need for training and management. Youth makes for unpredictable lycans, I suppose. 

It's hard for me to think of the person I was before, to experience the fear that used to torment me. I know it's still in there, like a scar on my psyche; I get glimpses of it when he shifts and when he wears the hardened expression he is now. 

I find myself staring at him with a puzzled expression. Verando glances at me, making a face of disapproval. Nobody stares at the Alpha, but I feel confident, no longer in the mood for rules. After conversations like this, he ceased to be the man I was beginning to fall for; he became the warlord again, and the walls returned.

 The meeting had gotten his hackles up, while the conversation had only worn me down to numb indifference.  

"I thought you hated magic users?" I can't help but pry. While his introduction hadn't been warm, he still agreed to help us despite Haryek's questions.

Verando sighs, keeping his gaze fixated ahead. "Hate is a strong word." He grumbles, not amused by my apparent need to know his reasonings behind such uncharacteristic behavior. I know I should just be happy that he's cooperating, but it's never been good enough to accept good deeds from this man. 

He's so calculated. 

What's the catch?

"And you're okay with sending sixty of your pack members away to bunk with a bunch of mages? For gods know how long?" I don't think I've ever seen him change his mind about something, but I take it back as quickly as it appears.

 Me. 

He had changed his mind on me, hadn't he?

Slowing his stride, he considers my reasoning as his jaw tilts in my direction, though his gaze remains in the distance. He never stopped surveying, never let his guard down. "If it's what must be done." His response is too calm and collected. 

I furrow my brow. "Okay, now you're just playing hard to get." I accuse, trending a few steps closer to steal some of his warmth. "Give it up; I'm exhausted. It's just us here."

The hint of a smile curls onto the corner of his mouth. "A leader does what he has to to ensure the safety of his people. Even if it means being uncomfortable, I have seen these men grow up; I know their families, and sending them away won't be easy. But it's the best way to keep them safe and get the necessary training. If we get ambushed from behind by an elven army, we have little chance of surviving that kind of assault with our weakest link falling behind." 

The city opens before us in a bustling commotion as people dodge around us and resume their lives as if we weren't even there. In civilian clothes, few people even bothered to recognize me with the fur of my coat so close to my face. The low hum is barely a whisper in the background with my engagement in the conversation; once more, he's managed to consume me. 

I'm enthralled that we can have such similarities. Verando brought out sides of me that I thought were long gone, that I didn't recognize. 

"You're showing your age," I complain, half-hearted, as I resist the urge to take his arm. 

How would this even work if he stayed? 

Who would want to live their life like this? 

Unable to touch each other in public, hiding our feelings, wondering if we would be caught? Nobody should be forced to live that way.

Verando appears amused, at least somewhat. "I am almost twice your age, if you recall."

I don't need to be reminded of my apparent daddy issues. In defiance, I hop up on a small stone ledge, walking carefully along its edge. I find it symbolic of our current situation, as we are constantly on the edge of losing everything. Overseeing my feet as I cautiously place one in front of the other; when I glance up, it's my turn to be stoic as I see he's observing me. 

We were stark opposites in many ways, yet I'd never met someone who saw me so entirely. 

"You are going to have to step up and rule this place, you know," Verando speaks in a more patient voice. 

I roll my eyes, marching forward as I shake my head. The heel of my boot scuffs the cobbles much to my satisfaction, and the cuffs of my long sleeve billow dramatically under the sleeves of my frock and coat as I storm forward. 

This wasn't what I was asking for; this wasn't what I was looking for. The topic kept coming up, and I found myself resisting it.

Verando wasn't supposed to care about me.

His hand catches my wrist, and I jerk out of his grasp. "A kingdom wasn't exactly something I prepared myself for." There's no one else to rule but me. I'm the last of my line, the last of the royal family. 

When do I get what I want? 

Where is my prize for surviving? 

Most would assume a castle would be enough, but I'd finally found something more, and I'd have to sacrifice it to save the people counting on me. 

It all seemed so unfair when faced with such a short deadline.

"That's why you're right for the job." Verando offers his hand, and while I consider blowing past him, I take it and hop off the ledge. That hand would not reach me one day, and I would regret disrespecting such a gesture. 

He always pulls me off the edge, acting as my ground when I'm lost in the abyss. I must be spending too much time with Stefan, for I've become too dramatic even for my tastes. Turning away from him, frowning in my discomfort, I rub my biceps as he steals an inhale of my hair, putting his arm around me despite the potential for onlookers. 

How could he be so unshamed?

I hurriedly looked around, ensuring we'd found a place with little foot traffic before I could remain in his grasp. 

"Do you need me? I want to go see Stefan." My mind was racing; I needed some distance, I needed to prepare myself for the reality that I would be left to do this on my own when all was said and done. People would start looking to me for answers, and as much as I'd always wanted to be heard, I wasn't sure he was correct in his assessment.

Do I need to ask permission after today? What am I now? 

A servant? 

A slave? 

A king? 

An ally?

The thought makes my throat grow tight, I hide from his gaze, exhaling roughly as I run a hand through my hair. 

Damn him for making me care, for finding a way to crack my careful shield, and for making me so uncertain as to why this affected me so profoundly. Happiness was just beyond my grasp, and I was so close to it that it was almost torturous. 

I'd rather have never seen the sun and believed there was only darkness, if I had known, I might never glimpse it again. 

"That might be best; the pack is going to be a mess with the news of a split. Would you ask if Tonic can stay with him for a bit?" His question surprises me, but I nod, sneaking a glance over my shoulder at him. Verando gives nothing away, a warlord first and foremost. 

He would let me go, and that was the difference. That was what I was struggling with: was it truly a fair trade? Pursuing whatever this was couldn't come before your people, and I knew that if I gave it thought, I would agree with that statement. 

The world turns on as if flipping the switch to light the oil in a lamp. I'm so used to being alone with him. People flood around us, passing us by as if we were two normal beings. The sounds of the busy village crash into me as if I had just come out of water. When I'm around this man, the world closes off, and it centers around us. 

I clear my throat and run a hand through my hair. 

"See you later." It's a plea; I don't want him to go; I don't want him to turn away. "And I will see you, right? My offer still stands, you know, you were quite convincing in there. A little course but..."

My criticism brings a slight smirk to his lips, and I'm glad my favorite look returns. 

"Of course. I look forward to collecting my prize." He leaves me to my flustered emotions, and I quickly retreat towards Stefan's house. I don't knock, I enter and make myself some tea while waiting for him to sense my presence. 

The Strigoi appears minutes later, yawning and rubbing his eyes. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure? Glad to see you're alive. Nobody has been to visit me since all the mess with your elf occurred." His feelings are hurt, though I can't blame him. My eyes sting as I meet his gaze, and he rushes to wrap his arms around me. 

I don't know what I want, everything and nothing simultaneously. I've never felt this way; I've never been so conflicted.

My leg twinges, reminding me that I had been shot. I do my best to reanimate our epic battle with the elves, how my fog saved the day, and what it was like to be among a hoard of lycans. 

I find myself lost for words as I explain how it was to lose our own and see the elves fight a hopeless battle. He stops me when I gesture to my leg; Stefan gets up to gather some herbs out of his cabinet with the help of his house spirit.

"You'll die of infection, idiot. You should have come here sooner, it's going to leave a horrible scar!" He so quickly pulls me to my feet and yanks the side of my pants down to look at my leg, but I've taken the wind out of his sails because I have been taking care of it. 

Examining the stitching, the dark-haired strigoi carefully runs a cool finger over it. 

"You're growing up." His expression softens. "I never pegged you for war," Stefan mumbles and watches me with those deep red eyes. His long black hair is pulled back into a loose bun, strands falling to frame his frozen face.

How much do I reveal? 

To Stefan, I bear all. 

"It's only a wound; I'm quite good at tending to them now. You've seen my body. But... this battle is different." I come back quickly. 

Stefan watches me so knowingly. "Because of him?"

 I bristled at the accusation; more than anything, I didn't want to be the only one clinging on. I didn't want to be a Prince who pursued a man I hardly knew over some feeling that I couldn't explain. 

"No." I snap, "The stakes are higher; this is a cause I actually feel strongly about. This isn't just conquest for the sake of collecting taxes; if we are successful, it will rewrite history and change laws.. these men will be free men. I want to help the resistance. We are marching on Ziduri in 3 weeks." 

"Not a lot of time." Disapproval replaces curiosity as Stefan packs my injury.

"I'm not here for me, Stefan; I'm here because Tonic had a mental breakdown." I run through the scenario and watch the careful facade crumble as I explain the situation. His hand covers his mouth as if an icy breath could escape his corpse's lungs. 

I bring up my hand to trace the fading bruises on my neck. 

My voice still isn't the same, though I try not to let it devastate me. Maybe it will make people think I'm older. 

"He needs you right now, Stefan," I conclude. 

"Of course he does. He's a sweet, innocent boy! He should never have been in that fight!" The concern on my friend's face brings a flutter of hope in my heart. He's fallen head over heels, himself, it seems. Stefan catches a glimpse of my misty-eyed expression and swats at me.

 "Don't you start! These damned dogs are doing a number on us." Exhaling shakily, he nods. "Bring him here. I can work on him; he would be the safest here, plus maybe he can help me hunt. With so much activity, I'm reluctant to go out much, and you took my snack with you only to maim the poor thing.."

 I grimace at the tone of his voice, blaming me, and I suppose rightfully so. I'd pushed when I shouldn't have, and Tonic would remember hurting me if he ever came out of this, which would no doubt be crushing for him. 

 "I'll see if I can coax him down here tonight. One more thing: Consider joining the rebellion, Stefan. You have plenty to offer the cause and are the only unbiased one." 

It's only wishful thinking; Stefan was never one for politics.

 We have an idle conversation until I feel I need to return to see the inexperienced lycans off if only to make sure Verando didn't run off with them. 

It's strange to think of them that way, considering most of them are older than me, but they are the ones deemed unfit for organized battle. 

The large group moves through the city, five wolves wide.

 Each carries a pack strapped to his back of his personal belongings. My eyes wander over all the different coat colors, though I don't recognize anyone except for Alpha, who leads at the front of the battalion. 

Jogging up to walk beside him, ignoring the stab in my leg, the wolf regards me quietly with an almost frown as his gaze drifts to my injury. 

As we march towards the rebellion, it's eerily quiet, like a funeral. "It's fine.. Stefan packed it."

The wolf grunts in response, almost irritated as his nose wrinkles. Sniffing my collar, I wonder if it's the scent of the strigoi that has his hackles up. 

Loan is waiting for us, looking surprised that we showed up.  Haryek nods in agreement as he limps over. 

"Can you imagine what it would be to control them?" Haryek marvels. "Hypothetically, of course!" He holds his hands up apologetically, and I instinctively place my hand on Alpha's shoulder. 

The wolf struggles to speak, rough in his tone. "These are your sixty. They're young, but they're good soldiers, and they are ready to defend your rebellion. You don't need to feed them, don't heal them, don't save them. Let the god's will be done." His voice is firm, and I can see Loan hedging. 
 
"What? You want me to let them die?" He stammers.

"Yes. It is the way of our ancestors. To die in battle is to receive glory, and to deny them that is high treason. Take it or leave it." I watch his lip curl, his ears erect, and his body rigid.

"Fine." Loan practically spits. 

Alpha gestures with his muzzle, and a lighter wolf with black tips appears. "Tejo will be leading them; you go to him with requests. Frost will be the one you send back. Keep them out of your liquor; it is probably smart to keep them out of everything, truth be told. Put them to work." He says the last part to Frost, mostly. 

 Knowing that Frost will be staying with us pleases me more than I like to admit. He was honest, and I liked that about him.

"I expect frequent reports. You'll send him back as soon as you arrive to confirm the conditions and to bring back your people. Are we clear?" His commanding voice makes the small pack avert their eyes, and some even lower themselves. 

"Sure." Loan crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. "Let's get going. I want to be there before nightfall." Frost trots over and lowers himself, and while Loan looks exasperated, he hesitantly climbs on as well as his female companion. The group moves off soundlessly, and I feel the tension hang heavy over us as Alpha watches them leave. 

It was truly a moment in history; never before had werewolves been convinced to side with anyone, and to have breached pack life in the lycans my father created was unfathomable. The questions repeated in my mind, and I suspected he held the same concerns: were we doing the right thing by sending those men off with such fresh allies?

Quickly as the left, Alpha composed himself, turning his attention to Haryek. "Have your people ready by morning. We go on a run, and I expect your men to be there, it's time they get used to us and we learn them. Wolves do best with scent; your men will have a scent much different from Ziduri soldiers, which will be the distinguishing factor." 

Haryek scoffs. "Surely, my people can't keep up with wolves, let alone train alongside them. It's not fair to subject them to brutality-" 

"Didn't say you would be runnin' with wolves. We're going on foot, a relatively level playing field. My men will be loaded down to help them appear more mortal in their pace; surely elves can keep up with a handicapped lycan?" Slowly, he approaches Haryek, and I watch the elf grow rigid, crossing his arms over his chest. "I hope you prove your worth; you've given me little reason to keep you around. So maybe show some initiative tomorrow, yeah?" 

"Just try to keep up." Haryek counters shortly, irritated as his upper lip curls. 

Unimpressed, Alpha presses me with his muzzle, and I bid Haryek goodbye as I follow him to leave. Staying at his shoulder, my fingers entwined in the thick coat, I'm glad to be heading for the conclusion of this day.

Once out of sight, he surprises me when he lowers himself to allow me to climb on. Much as I didn't think I'd ever sit on him again, I'm relieved as my leg aches. 

"Thanks for not killing him." I stroke the scruff of his neck.

"Yet." Alpha grumbles as we walk through the town. 

"Are you alright?" I ask him quietly.

"No. But I have to be for now." I notice we are heading towards Stefan's and pull him to a stop.

The heavy shoulders shrug casually. I marvel at the various coat colors beneath my fingertips with shades of pale silvers and deep grays. "Where are we going?"

"We are doing what Lycan's do in times of stress. Drink and eat. Your friend has graciously agreed to host. When we leave, Frost will bring Tonic and leave him with Stefan. He's been banished from the pack; he's free to do what he wants now." 

I flinch and straighten. "What?! I was just there?!" My mind reels.

"Stefan sent word pretty quickly by way of his spirit creature. A blessing, as Sota is on a war path to have Tonic executed, causing a rift. It's the best thing that could have happened to Tonic in this situation. Tonic can not remain after what he's done, and it's not safe for him to be among the men. 

Banished, it will be against our laws for anyone to harm him. It is for the best this way. And, as you said before, everyone likes Adriam, so arranging this gathering was quite simple." He gestures with his muzzle, and I see Adriam waving at us in the distance.