The Lycan King's Human Queen

Patiently Waiting

×Octavius×

King Octavius Damon, Lunae Umbrae of the kingdom Lumen, destroyer of his enemies and the most eligible bachelor in his kingdom and beyond, walked down one of the many hallways of his palace as members of his court chased after him.

His announcement, concerning his mate, had left a lot of people curious and desperate to know who the woman was.

It had been less than twenty-four hours since he announced his intention of bringing her to the capital and he has already been ambushed by more than fifty people begging to know who their next Queen will be.

Octavius knew the games they played and how they tried and failed to manipulate him for their own benefit. He had been alive for more than eight hundred years so there was nothing these infants (compared to him) could do to deceive him.

Some of them had barely seen two centuries yet they dared to try and control him?

It was as laughable as it was foolish.

He has been too lenient with them if such thoughts dwelled in their minds and it was better to correct any misconceptions they had about him before they festered and grew into something dangerous, in their minds.

He stopped his march, suddenly and the people behind him scrambled to a halt.

"Who am I?" He asked, casually, his deep and smooth voice that caressed the ears of his listeners, echoing down the wide and now silent hallway.

They remained silent, the realisation of what they had done and the consequences of it, slowly sinking in.

"I ask again, who am I?" His voice had taken a dangerous edge, his wolf leaking into it and staining it with an inhuman growl.

"Your high..."

"Am I a child or am I your king?" He asked, interrupting whatever lousy excuse Lord Baxton of the region Ultae Phyliana was about to give.

"You are our king, your highness," Lord Baxton said with his head tilted to the ground, "but..."

Octavius turned around with a fierce glare, facing his arrogant underlings and the gathered lords and ladies immediately fell to their knees.

It was one thing to bombard him and demand answers when his back was turned but to do it to his face or even look into his deadly silver eyes took courage that none of them could muster.

"How dare you?" He hissed at the cowering adults, "you question me, you raise your voices at me and I take it all, not because I respect you but because I respect your ancestors who fought by my side and were loyal to their last breath. The only reason any of you arrogant, insolent brats still hold the titles you inherited is because I permit it. But if you cross me, if you dare offend me or prove too stubborn, I will take away your titles, your manors, your wealth and everything that gives you the audacity to think I am your equal, and share it among the people you look down on. You shame your ancestors and the good names they created. They were warriors who were not afraid to fight and bleed for what they believed in and you are snivelling cowards who can't even stand up to me or look me in the eye."

"Disgrace," he spat and walked away from the kneeling group, his steps sharper and more powerful than before, daring one of them to follow after him and give him a reason to physically teach them a lesson.

Octavius felt his blood boil with rage and he took deep breaths to try and calm himself.

He did not want the burning anger to take roots and grow in his heart, and had tried to remain calm and anger free for the last few weeks, only for those nosy insects to ruin all of his hard work.

His beautiful mate, Claire, was finally of age and he would be seeing her soon, hopefully, with a calm heart and mind, not one infested with the anger and restlessness that came with being king.

Octavius remembered the first time he had laid his eyes upon her. She had just been born and was placed in the nursery alongside her fellow red-faced companions who were still coming to terms with the sudden change of temperature.

Baby Claire had been a wiggly but quiet child who was weak in body but strong in spirit. He could tell she had a strength that would follow her into adulthood and make her the greatest queen Lumen had ever seen, it was only a matter of time.

Twenty-two years had gone by quickly for Octavius, who had been alive long enough to learn the importance of patience and waiting, and while being away from his mate for two decades was painful, he had forced himself to go through the misery for her benefit.

He knew that the life of a royal was difficult and many caved under the pressure which was why he had left her, to allow her grow and experience life without the shadow of her future responsibilities hanging over her head.

He wanted Claire to enjoy the first few years of her life, make friends, fall in love, get heartbroken by some i***t who did not understand her worth, and experience successes and failures.

She deserved to enjoy the normalcy of being a simple human woman before being mated to him and having to deal with the drama that was his life.

He stopped in front of a large door that smelt like cinnamon, blood and lightning when it strikes a wet rock, a perfect reflection of his pastry-loving, bloodthirsty Lunae Penumbra and right-hand man; Alark.

He pushed the door open without knocking, knowing the man had already sensed him coming and c****d an eyebrow at his best friend who was unapologetically stuffing hand pies into his full mouth even as Octavius stared at him.

"What?" The red-haired man asked, spraying crumbs and spittle everywhere.

Octavius sneered as he shut the giant door and walked further into the office and closer to the food-laden table that was supposed to be his desk, "you are revolting, Alark," he complained as he picked up a blueberry hand pie and examined it with interest.

"You're the one who made me your right-hand man," he said with a shrug as he continued stuffing his mouth, ignoring the way his bulging cheeks and stomach protested.

"And I regret that decision every day," he responded with an amused and fond smile as he took a small bite of the pastry.

"Are you excited?" Alark asked as he shoved him playfully with his shoulder, his gold eyes twinkling with mirth, "you'll finally have someone to..."

"Have s*x with in the most inappropriate places like you and Lissana?" He glared at the smirking man, having smelt the by-product of their activities in one of the palace's alcoves.

"Our love is passionate," he said with a small shrug, the playful smile still on his lips, "you'll understand when you have your mate and can't keep your arms off of her. What was her name again? Constance? Cleopatra? Cremate?"

"Claire," he corrected with a small smile and distant eyes.

Octavius may or may not have suggested the name to her parents by insisting the nurses that attended to them suggest it. It was such a beautiful name and when he saw those big blue eyes staring up at him, it had seemed almost criminal to name her anything else.

"What if she..." Alark waved his hands in the air, the word too taboo to leave his mouth, especially because he knew how much his friend longed for a mate, "she's human and... you know what, forget it," he backtracked when he saw the look making home on his king's face, "I'm sure she'll be just as excited to see you and even if she's human, she knows the law about mates."

"You can not reject them, no matter how much you despise the person or hate them," the dark haired man recited, knowing the rule; like many others, intimately. "it is punishable by law to reject a mateship," he said with a contemplative look, "but if she despises me and does not want to be with..."

"She won't."

"I will let her go," he confessed and let out a sigh.

"You can't be serious," Alark said with shock and annoyance, "you've been waiting for as long as you have known what a mate is to have your own and you're ready to give her up just because she's a bit whiny in the beginning?"

"I do not know," said Octavius with a frustrated sigh then laughed, "we have not even met yet and she is already leaving me confused," he stared down at the half-finished hand pie and stuffed it into his mouth.

"She won't reject you and you two are going to live a happy and content life together," declared Alark with a stubborn frown and the unshakable belief and confidence that had helped Octavius win battles when things got tough and their victory seemed impossible.

"I hope so," he grabbed another hand pie and stuffed it into his mouth. "This is oddly therapeutic," he commented as he enjoyed the sweet snack.

"What is?"

"Eating while I am sad or upset."

Alark laughed, "it's all fun and games until you start gaining weight, become slow and die on the battlefield."

He eyed the man worriedly, wondering if he was speaking from having seen it happen, "I do not think it is tha..."

"Do dead people get fat?" Alark asked, suddenly and Octavius blinked several times to try and understand the mindset his friend was using to question such a thing.

"I should check," Alark said to himself as he walked towards the door and Octavius frowned in confusion.

"How the hell are you going to investigate such an absurd thing? Dead people can not eat or digest food."

"But they lazy around all day and don't get any exercise done," he commented as he turned to face his friend, "they can't burn off all that fat and it accumulates..."

"But they are not introducing any new fat to the body so there is nothing to burn and they even lose weight the longer they stay dead..."

"And that's the secret I want to learn! How do they lose weight and stay so fit without doing anything?" He wondered with a contemplative stare then turned around and flung open the door.

"They are not fit, they are decaying..."

The door was slammed shut before he could finish his sentence, leaving Octavius to contemplate his friend's random bouts of stupidity.

How could a man so brilliant, be so dull?