The Unwanted Luna
The cold stone walls of the council room always felt more like a cage than a place of power.
I sat in silence, my hands folded in my lap, as the ministers argued once again over the kingdom’s defenses. The long wooden table creaked under the weight of papers, maps, and old grudges. One by one, they spoke over each other, their voices rising like a tide I had no strength to hold back.
“We need to station more guards near the southern border. Rogues have been seen moving in clusters,” Minister Corvin snapped.
“And how do you expect us to do that without pulling forces from the eastern range? We’ll be leaving the Silver Mountains exposed,” replied Minister Kael, his voice sharp as a blade.
“Then perhaps we fortify the towns instead of the outer lands,” another chimed in.
Round and round it went. Arguments disguised as strategies. Ego wrapped in concern. And through it all, I sat on the edge of the conversation, listening—never invited to speak.
No one looked at me. No one asked what I thought. I was Luna in title only now, a symbol to decorate the side of Alpha Dorian, nothing more.
The meeting dragged on for hours. Not a single solution had been agreed upon, and slowly, one by one, the ministers began to rise, gathering their notes with exhausted expressions.
“There’s no point discussing further today,” someone muttered.
Another sighed, “We’ll reconvene tomorrow. Perhaps with clearer minds.”
But their minds were never clear. Not when it came to me.
As the last chair scraped against the stone and the room emptied out, I stood quietly. My legs ached from being still too long, my heart from being silent too long. I turned to leave, ready to disappear into the safety of my quarters—
“My lady!”
A servant rushed into the room, breathless, pale, and wide-eyed.
“The king… Alpha Dorian… he’s returned. And he’s brought… a woman with him. She—she looks like an Omega.”
My breath caught in my throat. An Omega?
Before I could question further, my feet had already started moving. I walked swiftly down the corridor, heart pounding, then broke into a run as I reached the grand stairway. My instincts buzzed with unease. I reached the nearest window and looked out.
And there he was.
Dorian.
Majestic in his wolf form—dark grey fur like smoke trailing after him, eyes sharp and regal. His presence always drew attention, commanded fear. But it wasn’t him that made my breath hitch.
It was her.
A young woman, barely past adolescence, clung to his back. Her body was trembling even from this distance. She looked small… fragile. She wasn’t just frightened. She looked dependent on him—as though he was her entire world, her only anchor.
Her arms were wrapped around his neck like a lifeline, and even in her fear, she trusted him.
The sting in my chest surprised me.
Dorian shifted back to his human form as they crossed into the courtyard. His tall figure stood confidently, dressed in dark robes that clung to his broad shoulders. His expression was unreadable, but I knew that look. It was the same mask he wore when bringing home a new weapon for war.
Or a new secret to bury.
I rushed down the stairs and stepped outside just as he entered the palace steps, the girl trailing timidly behind him. She held onto the hem of his sleeve like a lost child.
I stood still, holding his gaze.
“Who is she?” I asked, my voice low but steady.
Dorian didn’t hesitate. “She is the daughter of my father’s closest friend,” he said. “She was thought to be dead. Hidden for her own safety. But we found her. An Omega.”
The ministers had gathered again, drawn like moths to his flame. Whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire.
“She’s of royal descent,” someone said.
“An Omega and yet noble blood?” another asked, confused.
Dorian raised his hand to silence them.
“She has no home, no power, and no protection. The council suggested she be brought into the family,” he continued. “To avoid scandal… she will be named my concubine. That is all.”
That is all?
My breath left me in a sharp exhale, but I refused to let the pain rise to my face. My voice trembled despite me. “A concubine?”
“She is destiny,” Dorian said, turning his eyes on me. “Not love. Just duty.”
With that, he walked past me, the Omega girl close behind, never once looking up.
The ministers stayed where they were, their gazes shifting to me—not in pity, but with something far colder.
Smugness.
They knew I was powerless to stop this. They knew what this meant.
I was Luna in name only. Now, not even that.
I stood frozen, surrounded by people who once praised me, who now looked through me. I could feel their judgment in every glance. I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t needed. Not anymore.
But inside me, something stirred. A quiet flame. Small, but real.
This wasn’t the first betrayal.
And it would not be the last.
Later that night, I stood on the balcony of my chambers, staring at the moon as it hung low and heavy in the sky. My mind replayed the image of the girl clinging to him. Her trust. Her fear.
I wondered if I had once looked at him like that.
Maybe I had.
But not anymore.
Not now.
The silence was broken by a quiet knock at my door. I didn’t answer, but the door opened anyway. Dorian stepped in, calm as ever.
“I hope you understand,” he said.
I didn’t turn to face him. “Understand what? That you’ve decided on my replacement without even speaking to me?”
“She’s not your replacement,” he said. “You’re still Luna.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Until when? Until the next girl with a tragic past and soft eyes crosses your path?”
He didn’t respond.
“You’ve taken everything,” I whispered. “And still, you come here as if I should bless your decisions.”
“She has nothing, Kira,” he said. “And she needs someone. I’m giving her that. That’s all this is.”
I turned to look at him then, for the first time, and said, “You speak of her like she’s a responsibility. But you looked at her like she’s a salvation.
What does it even mean? Is there something that I am not aware of? Are you not going to fully explain to me what is going on?”
His jaw clenched, he looked angry. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes. But he said nothing. Only turned and left, his footsteps vanishing down the hall.
Seeing him go away without giving any answers and still looking arrogant, I closed the door behind him, pressed my back against it, and let the silence settle again.
My heart ached. Without even realizing it, tears were already streaming down my cheeks.
