His Accidental Luna

THE NIGHTMARES FROM THE PAST, THE SACRIFICE FOR THE KINGDOM OF DEVONSHIRE

CHAPTER 10: THE NIGHTMARES FROM THE PAST, THE SACRIFICE FOR THE KINGDOM OF DEVONSHIRE

She turn her head from left to right. She looks troubled. There are beads of sweat that are visible, trickling on her skin as her face contorted. Her forehead ceased, a deep frown, breathless as her chest move into a fast pace.

It was Helga. Succumbed, entrapped towards the nightmares that had always hunted her even before. Long gone, but the ghost from the past had keep their tracks, remnants to how they keep grudge and so torment Helga even onto the sleep where she was lulled. The peace taken, stolen memories and so the solemn night she stay restless.

Those face, the claw marks and the wounds, which continuously bleeds.

“Helgaaaaaaaa.....” They screeched, prolonging her name.

It sounded horrible. Terrified as she gaze onto their burning flesh and rotten skin. She was shaking her head rather vigorously. Afraid, although the desire to reach out and hold their hand were so intense that the intensity hurts her. It pained her. The state she never had imagined, and now she was looking at them dying. They were reap and sow, while she live and watch as they fell lifeless.

“N—no!” With her eyes both widely open, Helga suddenly sit up from her bed. Her scream filled the walls of her room. The sound bounce back and forth. Fret troubled left her thoughts weaving, scenarios that she wanted to forget yet they hang receding sight that made her skin recoiled.

She was in a mess. Helga knew she was as she can see her reflection at the large vanity mirror placed at the foot of her bed. Her hair nestled messily sprouted at the top of her head. Some strands knotted, while the others hangs and were sticking on her face. Absentmindedly, she bring her hand to feel her cheeks. Was they tears?

“Am I...crying?” Helga whispered as she felt it wet.

She never realized she was. Perhaps, the dreams had gotten to her and so it touches her soul, the pain embedded she buried that came crawling back at her. It’s been so long since that night ate bothered her.

Those people. They were her family, her own coven who had been killed without mercy long before peace was restored.

She shut down her orbs tightly as the scene played over and over again.

They were so painful, the sight is unbearable. How can she bear something that scarred her entire being already?

She is Helga from the Kingdom of witches, the Motherland Salem. Helga came from the family of healers, and so when the war break out, whom they called as the Dark Ages, they were sought after. They healed the wounded. They cured the sick and poisoned wolves and vampires who join hands together just so they could maintain the balance. It was against the Goddess of Darkness, one who cause destruction and do means against what the God’s will should of. She had been imprisoned for so long, but the damage she left, the agony she embark had left scars even to Helga.

One of the reason why she hated rogues. Rogues were the wolves who lost sanity. They killed children, women even as young as those pups. They infuriated her, and so when she saw the female wolf that Tarik, the second born Prince of the Kingdom she inhabit, she felt like every hate she keep are all lashing out. Helga wanted to argue, why?

To all of people, why should his mate be a rogue?

He had been the one whom Helga serve after the war. Their Kingdom fed her, keep her safe, but what she couldn’t comprehend was why the moon goddess had paired him to the being whom she hated the most? The first time she laid her eyes to Devon, she was far from being a rogue. She was beaten into a pulp, wounded same as to her friend.

“A rogue, you can’t be serious, your majesty!” Appalled and was beyond shock were far more than how can Helga explained the brimming emotion she felt.

They were bloodied and she could feel them weakening. One was poisoned—a wolfs bane that reeks from the male. He is as good as dead, if not cured. Helga was perfectly aware why Tarik had brought them to her.

“Your majesty—” but Helga haven’t had the time to argue, when his aura suddenly become dominating. His shoulder tense and when he glance at her, her throat parched up. This is the very first time she had seen the second born Prince so mad, his rage brewing and the dark pit on his orbs he never bothered to hide. His teeth clenched, he was naked, but she pay no heed as it was commonly normal for wolves.

“Cured them.” His voice is filled with authority that she couldn’t go against with.

And so Helga was force to submit.

“Yes, Alpha.” Through gritted teeth, she was left with no choice.

However, that doesn’t mean she should have express kindness. Helga was harsh. She was rude, and daren’t even let the rogue rest, but she couldn’t deny the fact that her expectation never happened.

What took place was far from what she was anticipating.

On their realm, rogues were known to be one of the dangerous species of wolves. They amok. They are derange and they harm everybody even those who feed them as they are insane. Nevertheless, Devon does not appear as of she would soon cause trouble. She can smile, and Helga could see the worries she felt, which is strange.

It was odd as it was the first Helga had seen a rogue who is on their...right mind.

She shook of her head to cleared those memories away, which suddenly took her in an avalanches.

Helga climbed from her bed. The floor felt cold, she couldn’t suppress the shudders that suddenly run across her spine. It’s getting chilly outside or perhaps, it is because that nightmare had just visited her lately?

She didn’t know, but Helga was not liking it a bit.

“My King, may I speak with you?” Queen Nerissa hesitated after the women left to train.

It was of a preparation that could attest their agility, and their courage as the first part of the tradition would be a hunt. It was the hunting season performed to one of the dangerous and deadliest forest, whom nobody dared to set their foot on. If the one of them were meant to be a queen, they should be capable to have knowledge, plan their strategy, and the strength to be qualified for the position.

A queen who meets the eye of the storm, and was able to withhold herself even when some circumstances calls upon for her to risk her life. That’s the the of Queen that the ruler next in line needs.

“What it is?” The King turned back and settled his gaze onto her.

He was no fool as he can see the unsure emotion that passed by from her eyes.

Queen Nerissa daren’t speak yet, but she gestured her hand towards the servants who remain inside the halls.

“I wanted to speak with the King...alone.” She ordered.

Her authority is equal to his. His power they shared and so the servants oblige right before giving their respect and leave the two royal bloods.

A deafening silence envelope the two.

“I have something to tell you.” The Queen muster her courage.

“It might have been that thing that keeps blithering you so far, isn’t it?” The king murmured. “You can tell what it is.”

“It was. Your guesses was kind of true in fact.” Queen Nerissa confirmed.

“I was ready to listen, my queen.” The king uttered softly.

He looks gentle as he settled his gaze to her. On the other hand, Nerissa looks torn. It was as if deciding to tell him what bothered her are making her felt like, what was the right thing and what would a mother like her do. Of course, it was about her second borne, Tarik.

As the women were gathered on the halls, and as the King announced what would it be for, she suddenly found herself fell into an unfathomable thoughts of what if’s.

Tarik’s happiness in exchange of the Kingdom’s balance. Her son’s pain to restored the peace they are thriving for. She knew they their Kingdom needed to build a strong bloodline and allies. But what if...?

“There is no merit from what I am going to shared to you.” Nerissa could feel the going anxiety on her chest. She knew he is her mate, but there are some instances where Luther would choose what would be better for the Kingdom. He would put forth his people’s well being over his or his children.

“You can tell me everything.” The King reassured her.

“I know, but it is much harder than I though.” Nerissa admitted.

She stood up from her throne and began walking to where her feet would brought her be until she found herself standing beside the two large windows, where Tarik and her was before. It bring her some kind of nostalgic memoirs. Tarik, who was ready to sacrifice his own happiness for the Kingdom, and the Tarik who flashed before her eyes, indifferent, asking to not settled onto the tradition they had been practicing for ages. Their family borne from it, bestowed by their ancestors, yet she is a mother. It was hard for her to think that one of her son felt like he was slowly drifting away from her grasp. It sadden Nerissa greatly.

Silence fell between the pair. Luther watched her turned back, when Nerissa break the ice.

“Do you think it is possible for a change that our people had gotten used to?” She suddenly asked.

Luther leaned his back to his chair. He had a his suspicions already what was and whom she may have been referring to.

“What kind of change are we talking about?” He was straightforward.

Nerissa had her eyes onto the vast woods that surround their kingdom. The trees stood erect. They are in a row, lined up prior to how their leaves bathed into the light, luminesce coming from the sun as they bask.

“A much bigger, a much larger change, my king.” She speak of her mind and let it all out.

The king hums.

“A change would be possible, but not everyone on the Kingdom would agree on it.” He had his ears and his eyes, and so he knew that it is meant for the tradition.

“What if it wasn’t the only option we have?” The queen faced him.

Her eyes searching his. Her irises look desperate.

“It will cost some things we least expect to.” His refusal is firm. “The allies, the home we built, and obstruct the balance we have honed for years. The trust of the people, would you risk it for tee change you were speaking to?”

“We don’t need to sacrifice them, Luther!” The Queen raised her voice.

“Nor I didn’t want to, Nerissa, but our peace comes with a price.” His face harden. “Same as I before we run into each other.”

What the King said penetrated through her chest.

“So are you saying that if I am not a royalty meant to join the tradition, you wouldn’t...?” Disbelief were written all over her face.

That’s when the King finally come into his senses, when he realized the hurt expression writ on her visage.

“My queen.” His eyes are pleading for her to understand that even him as their father, and as the ruler of the Kingdom, the decision is still harder for him to make. “Please understand me.”

“I will, but—” The Queen meet Luther’s eyes. “If Tarik, if my sons mate is a royalty, would it be acceptable to accept her and disregard the other women?” She added.

“My queen—”

But she cut him off.

“Just give me a definite answer.”

The King sighs.

“It is, but I couldn’t reassured you that it would be easy for the both of them.” He rub his temples.

“It is alright. That’s the only thing that I needed to know.” The Queen responded before she bid her farewells towards the King who seems troubled. Fully unaware that the mate her son Tarik had been paired with was the beast whom they hated...a rogue.

@cycy