(Alaric POV)
I had always imagined that when my daughter turned eighteen, I would stand before the pack surrounded by celebration, pride swelling in my chest as she shifted into her wolf and the entire territory howled her new name into the skies. I had imagined holding her shoulders and telling her she was ready for anything that our enemies would tremble because the next Alpha stood in my bloodline.
But fate had other plans.
And on the night she turned eighteen, as I watched her kneel on the cold stone floor of the training hall her shoulders shaking, breath broken, tears hitting the ground like drops of defeat, I felt something inside me tear in half.
The second failure.
Sixteen hadn't been enough.
Eighteen sealed it.
Her mother reached her before I did, pulling her close, whispering words only mothers can craft; soft, warm, protective. And all I could do was stand there, fists clenched, nails digging into my palms, trying not to show the war happening inside my chest.
She couldn't shift.
Not at sixteen.
Not at eighteen.
And the pack saw it.
They tried to hide their looks, but I caught them pity, confusion, uncertainty. The daughter of an Alpha, an only child, a female heir in a world where female Alphas were rare but not impossible… and she had not wolfed out.
But that night, as she cried into her mother's arms and I stood uselessly nearby, I made a vow in my heart. A vow that reshaped the path of her life.
"If she cannot become the Alpha… then I will make her the strongest Luna the world has ever seen."
A Luna whose name would be spoken with respect.
A Luna whose authority rivaled any Alpha.
A Luna whose position kept her safe in ways shifting never could.
And perhaps… a Luna who would finally heal an old wound that had scarred two packs for years.
The next morning, I sat alone in my office, staring at the framed photograph on the wall—two young Alphas in training, my best friend and I, laughing with our arms over each other's shoulders. The world had still been whole then, unscarred by betrayal, war, or shifting politics. Our packs had been allies, almost brothers. We had made plans, drawn maps, strategized our futures. We had joked that one day our children would unite the packs into a formidable force.
But war came.
And he died.
Leaving behind a son, Kael Veyron.
A boy who became Alpha too young.
A boy who had to lead before he had the chance to grow.
A boy who had to bury his father and step into a throne that still smelled of blood and battle.
And somewhere in the chaos of that war, the friendship between our packs dissolved into rivalry. Not hatred, not enmity… but distance. Distrust.
Two packs that once fought side-by-side now drew invisible borders around their territories.
But Kael had survived.
Not just survived, risen.
Now, he was a powerful Alpha. Respected. Feared. One of the youngest to lead a top-tier pack.
If my daughter could not inherit our Alpha line, she deserved to stand beside someone who could. Someone strong. Someone respected. Someone who could protect her where I could not.
Someone with a legacy that matched her strength of spirit because Aria might not have a wolf, but she had a fire in her that could burn through steel.
I leaned back in my chair and exhaled.
Kael Veyron.
The idea felt dangerous.
Unpredictable.
Yet perfect.
A marriage alliance between our packs would not only protect her, it would unite two of the strongest forces in the region. A power bloc that would end the silent rivalry and resurrect the ancient allegiance my friend and I once dreamed of.
It would make her Luna over a vast, powerful territory.
And she would no longer be pitied.
She would be feared.
Respected.
Untouchable.
The idea formed roots inside me. It would not leave.
Just then, the door creaked open. My wife stepped inside her hair loose from the night, eyes red from crying, expression set with the kind of resolve that made even seasoned warriors cautious.
"You're planning something," she said quietly.
I met her eyes but didn't answer.
"Please," she sighed, sitting across from me. "Not today. She's still hurting."
"She failed again," I said, the words scraping my throat. "She is eighteen now. She should have shifted."
"She's our daughter, not a prophecy," she snapped. "And she's strong, wolf or no wolf. You keep talking as if she's broken."
I stared at the desk, unable to respond immediately.
Her mother softened. "Don't turn this into a mission, my love. She needs you as her father, not her Alpha."
I clenched my jaw. "And what happens when I die? What happens when the world comes for her? Wolves respect power. She must have a position that matches her spirit."
"She needs love, not alliances."
I looked up sharply. "Love won't protect her. Power will."
My wife shook her head, voice trembling. "You're turning her into a political pawn."
"No," I whispered. "I'm giving her the kingdom she deserves."
"And what if she doesn't want a kingdom?"
I paused.
That question… that one simple question… hurt more than anything else she had said.
But I still answered truthfully: "It is my duty to ensure she survives long after I'm gone."
A long silence settled between us.
Finally, she exhaled. "Who are you planning to marry her to?"
I hesitated.
"Kael Veyron."
Her eyes widened. "Kael? The Veyron Alpha? After everything between your packs?"
"Exactly because of everything," I said quietly. "Our rivalry ends the moment our packs are tied by blood."
She shook her head. "And Aria? When will you tell her?"
"When the time is right," I said.
"When the decision is irreversible," she corrected.
I didn't respond. Because she was right.
Two weeks later, I called an emissary from the Veyron Pack, a man named Ryden. He arrived with guards, tension thick in the air from the moment he stepped across our borders.
His bow was stiff. Formal. Careful. Rivalry still hung between us like smoke.
We sat in my office. He didn't waste time with pleasantries.
"You wish to discuss an alliance," he said.
"Yes," I replied.
His eyebrow rose. "An alliance… or a marriage?"
I didn't flinch. "Both."
Ryden watched me carefully, then leaned back.
"You should know something, Alpha," he said. "Kael has always respected your daughter."
The statement hit me with surprising force.
"Respected her?" I asked.
Ryden nodded. "Even when the packs drifted apart. Even when your territories no longer overlapped. He never spoke ill of her. He remembers the old days—when they were children. When everything was simpler."
A feeling I hadn't allowed myself in years stirred inside me.
Hope.
Training Aria became my renewed mission—not to prepare her for her own throne, but for the one she would share with Kael. I introduced Luna-specific teachings:
Diplomacy.
Negotiation.
Pack law.
Territory strategy.
Subpack integration.
Defense techniques designed for Lunas.
She questioned the intensity sometimes, but I told her it was for her future. That part was not a lie.
But deep down, guilt gnawed at me.
I was preparing my daughter for a life she didn't know was coming.
For a bond she hadn't asked for.
For a pack she would one day help rule.
For a kingdom I was forging on her behalf.
Yet every time doubt struck me, I remembered the way she cried on the floor the night of her eighteenth birthday. The way she whispered, "I'm sorry, Dad… I tried."
And each time, I steeled my heart.
She would never have to apologize again.
Three months after her birthday, a black-and-silver wax-sealed letter arrived. The moment I saw the crest two wolves intertwined under a crescent moon, my breath caught.
The Veyron seal.
I opened it with hands I forced to remain steady.
Alpha Kael Veyron formally agreed to discuss a union between our packs.
A slow exhale left me.
"We're finally doing it," I whispered to the empty room. "Brother… we are finally finishing what we started."
And for the first time in years, I allowed myself to believe that I was doing the right thing.
That she would thank me someday.
That the legacy I carved for her would not break her
but make her unstoppable.