"The courtyard looks so beautiful in the winter."

Danica's observation made Michael pull his gaze away from the snowy ground to, instead, look around the castle's large courtyard.

He often walked the castle grounds whenever he wanted to clear his mind, and it was something he did alone. But since he had promised to show Danica around—and doing so was the only way to get her out of the Woodlands—he had no choice but to act as though he was happy to do so.

"I can only imagine what it looks like in the spring. I much prefer the warmer months."

Michael looked from the icicles hanging from tree branches to the inches of snow covering the ground. He then looked at her, taking in the tinge of red staining her cheeks and tip of her nose. "I take it winters in the south are not as harsh as ours in the north?"

"Not at all."

"Pity. I much prefer the colder months."

Her grip on his arm loosened, causing him to look down.

Along their journey back to the castle, she had latched onto him and had yet to let go. He had not pulled away, as he had been the first to initiate contact when he had grabbed her hand to get her out of the Woodlands. But looking down at her hold on him made him wonder if she was laying claim to him—and if grabbing her hand had made her think he had been laying claim to her.

"I am sure I will get used to it."

He looked up into her eyes and caught a glimpse of panic—as if she feared their opposing preference of seasons would cause a rift between them. "Why force yourself to adapt? To please others? To please me?"

She lowered her eyes before turning her head away. "I do not wish to dissatisfy you."

"You do not know me well enough to know what will dissatisfy me." He turned to look straight ahead. "Rest assured, preferring spring to winter is not something I will hold against you."

They continued to walk in silence. As it was meant to be a tour, he led her towards the tall hedged labyrinth in the middle of the courtyard. It was not until they entered that she spoke again.

"You remind me of my brother."

Michael turned his head, interested in the comparison. One of the few things he knew about her was that she had an older brother, Erik, who was their father Henrik's successor.

"He is not much of a talker, and loves his solitude. A lone wolf, you could say. He does not mean to offend, 'tis just his personality."

Had he offended her?

"Are you two not close?"

"We are close, yet two worlds apart, I suppose."

He hated to admit it, but he could relate. As close as he and Gabriel were, having the same blood running through their veins had not meant there was no rank between them. Gabriel was born to be the future Alpha, and Michael was born to serve him.

"Are you saying there is a distance between us?"

How could there not? They did not know each other and had been forced together.

"I am saying," she finally let go of his arm just as they rounded the first corner of the labyrinth, "this mating...you do not want it."

There was no need for him to lie. "I do not. But it has nothing to do with you. A mate is just not something I desire."

Somebody to love, protect, and who would depend on him—he wanted none of it.

"Is it that you truly do not desire a mate, or do you not want a mate if it cannot be the one you truly desire?"

Michael immediately stopped, causing her to do the same. When he looked at her, she was already looking at him. A soft smile spread across her lips when their eyes met.

"Rest assured, you are not the first. As a matter of fact, you are very much like him." She turned and started to walk again.

"Very much like who?"

She stopped—when he assumed she realized he had not been following—and turned to face him. "Your brother."

"My brother? Did you know Gabriel?"

She nodded. "Yes—well, not really. We met only a few times, as I was intended to be his mate."

Rooted to the ground, Michael was unable to do anything other than look at Danica as he tried to process what she had just said.

He was not surprised to learn Gabriel had been appointed a mate, but surprised the mate in question was now going to become his. And on top of that, Gabriel had not only turned her down, but desired someone else?

"Did you not know?" She stepped towards him, but stopped as her attention was pulled away from him.

"Lady Danica." Lukas' voice came from behind.

Michael turned around to see his guard quickly approaching them. When he reached them, he stopped next to Michael but his gaze never left Danica.

"Lady Emilia is calling for you. She asked me to escort you to her chambers."

Michael looked at Danica just as she took a step forward. It prompted him to do the same, but the step he took put him directly in between Lukas and her. "We are in the middle of a conversation."

He hoped Lukas would take the hint and leave, but the guard's eyes remained focused on Danica.

"She said it was urgent."

"And why would my aunt send you and not one of her or Danica's attendants?"

Lukas finally looked at Michael, and opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by Danica.

"It must be important. Thank you for the tour, Michael. Perhaps we can finish it another time. I would very much like to see what the center of the labyrinth holds."

As she walked past him, he fought the urge to grab onto her arm to stop her from leaving.

He wanted to know more about her and Gabriel's betrothal, and could have easily sent Lukas off, but he did not. He let them go. Because as much as he wanted answers, a part of him was not entirely sure he was ready to hear them just yet.

Suddenly becoming aware there were things about his brother he did not know was making him face a truth he had tried to avoid for nearly a year—Gabriel had not trusted Michael in the way Michael had trusted him.

And he did not know whether to be upset or saddened.

And for someone who preferred wallowing in his thoughts in solitude, being alone was the last thing he wanted to be.

* * *

The West Wing seemed particularly welcoming, though Michael was certain it only seemed that way because his somber mood perfectly matched the atmosphere of the ruins. He glanced down at the bird perched on the back of his right hand. He did not want to be alone, but never imagined his only option for a companion would be the healing bird.

He went to the West Wing because, at least for a little while, he did not want to be found. He could have gone back to the Woodlands to find the fairy, but, in all honesty, he was in no mood to explain Danica to her. Even if she did not ask, an explanation would have been unavoidable.

Just as he bypassed the locked room—the very one Zanna said held a dark object—the bird began to peckat his hand. Assuming it no longer wanted to be held, he placed it on the wooden floorboard and waited to see what it would do. Its wing had yet to fully heal, so he was not worried about it flying away.

It looked up at him for a second, then faced forward, turned and walked towards the locked door. Once it stood in front of it, it twisted its head to look back at him—as if it was waiting for him to open it.

"'Tis locked," he said—because now his life consisted of talking to an animal as if it understood him. When it only continued to stare at him, he walked over to it. "Have you no fear, bird? Of all the rooms, you chose thisone as if there are no creatures waiting in the darkness to devour you."

The bird tilted its head back to look up at him, its beady black eyes vacant of any sort of understanding.

"I said it is locked." He reached out to grab and turn the door handle, but it did not budge.

Although a part of him had done so to prove to the bird it was locked, it was also to assure himself the room—as he had always known it to be—was unbreachable. If there truly was a dark object in there, he had not the slightest clue how he would—could—retrieve it.

He looked at the bird, prepared to tell it 'I told you so', when, suddenly, he heard voices.

He carefully scooped up the bird in one hand and headed for the room where he always met with Zanna. He gently closed the door behind him, held the bird against his chest and pressed his ear against the wood.

With every second that ticked by, the voices gradually became louder, but were still too far away for him to make out whom they belonged to. Only after a minute or so did they become close and clear enough to make out.

They belonged to his parents.

On occasion, his mother would go to ruins, but not once had he seen his father in the West Wing. If they had come together, they must have wanted to ensure nobody would be around to hear them.

Michael glanced down at the bird then held it up to eye level. "One of your best qualities is that you do not chirp much. I will reward you handsomely if you keep quiet."

The bird only cocked its head to the side and blinked at him. He could do nothing other than take that as a sign the bird had accepted the challenge. He then slowly opened the door just a crack—enough to see them at the end of the corridor yet still keep himself hidden.

"Michael is not Gabriel, Aaron. He is your son, your blood—our blood. He is his own person, with his own thoughts, feelings, and desires. Gabriel was an amazing person, with the potential to do amazing things, but so is Michael." She reached out and placed a hand on his father's arm. "Why do you refuse to see his potential for greatness?"

His father turned his back on her. "You know why, Reina."

"He is not Gabriel—"

"Exactly. Gabriel always put his duty first."

"Yes, and at the expense of his happiness."

His father whirled around. "A price he was willing to pay because he knew duty came before happiness, Reina. I cannot say Michael will do the same, and it is that uncertainty that makes me hesitant to give him the throne. Have I any other choice but to be harder on him? If I am to leave our pack's future in his hands, I will do what I must to make him worthy of that responsibility. If I have to break him to do it, make no mistake, I will not hesitate."

"Nor will I hesitate to protect him. Make no mistake about that, Aaron, as he is all I have left."

"You see? That right there—what you call protection—is what I now have to undo. In the name of protection, you gave him too much freedom, raised him too nonchalantly."

"What I did was love him, Aaron. Twice as much, and twice as hard. Did I have any other choice?"

His father only stared at her. If he was too stunned to speak, or simply had no rebuttal, Michael could not say. Did he hope to hear his father object to his mother's insinuation that he did not love Michael?

No.

Maybe?

No.

Because having any sort of unrealistic expectation, more often than not, left one disappointed.

After a brief silence, his father finally spoke. "Starting tomorrow, I will make sure he will not dare smile without permission. Breaking him is the only way to make him great. That is how I will love him, Reina." He stepped closer to her, and took his face in her hands. "And you can either stand with me, or against me. Choose wisely, my love."

Michael's free hand balled into a fist upon hearing his father's threat. But before he could do anything, his father walked off and out of sight. For a few seconds, his mother stayed where she was, staring after her mate. The urge to pull the door open and go to her was quelled when she, too, walked off.

He was not ignorant to the fact he was the one thing his parents argued about most. They simply tended to do it behind closed doors. That time would have been no different had he not been there to eavesdrop. He had always known where he stood with his father, but after what he just heard, Michael realized every interaction with him had been more than just tough love.

Because he did not love him. He just needed him to carry on his legacy.

Michael closed the door, turned around and leaned back against it before sliding down to the floor.

If loving something made you want to protect it, then hating something made you want to destroy it. His father wanted to protect their bloodline's legacy, and viewed Michael as a threat to it.

The writing was very much on the wall.

His father was going to destroy him, and it was only a matter of time before he set fire to everything around him to smoke Michael out.

Of that, he was certain.

The bird chirped, pulling Michael's attention towards it. He could not help but smile as the tiny creature had, in fact, done as instructed and remained quiet. He placed it on the floor beside him before pulling out a piece of bread from his pant pocket, tearing it into smaller pieces and sprinkling them onto the floor next to it.

As he watched it eat, he wondered if his desire to save it had blinded him from seeing he was only putting it in a worse environment. If it had, then he had to get it out of the castle before it became a casualty to the war his father was going to wage upon him.

A/N: Not Michael being given the girl who was supposed to be his brother's mate! Any theories on why Gabriel might have turned Danica down?