As Aldren trembled and struggled to stand, its legs unsteady, its head lowered, Lance stepped between them and pointed sharply towards the back, "Leave. Now." The wolf slowly backed away, even though it continued to glare at Emira.
The wolf hesitated. Then, with a low whine, it turned and retreated, limping away into the darkness, its tail tucked tightly between its legs. As the wolf disappeared, Emira turned sharply, and their eyes met.
"Lord Aron Mast," Lance said evenly. "Welcome to the Stormhold Pack."
The words carried across the courtyard, clear and deliberately acknowledging him, but also reminding him that he was standing on the Stormhold Territory.
Aron’s lips curved into a slow smile. He inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the reminder with a movement of his head. "Crown Prince Lancelot. It has been a long time."
Lance did not acknowledge the reminder and simply stepped forward and extended his hand. After a brief pause, Aron took it.
The moment their hands clasped, the air seemed to tighten. The wolves present felt it instantly. Two forces met, neither yielding, neither pushing outright. It was not aggression. It was recognition.
They held each other’s gaze. Neither man spoke. The faint smile remained on Aron’s face, until it didn’t.
For a brief moment, the warmth drained from his expression and a cold expression flashed in his eyes as if he he had seen something beneath the surface. Something he did not entirely approve of. Then, just as quickly, the look vanished. Aron released Lance’s hand and stepped back half a space," I hope Prince Lancelot does not mind my presence on your happy occasion... Congratulations. On your upcoming mating.
Lance inclined his head once. "Thank you."
There was a pause. Then Lance’s voice hardened, just enough for those closest to hear. "I hope there will be no more unpleasantness tonight. This is a sacred occasion."
Aron studied him quietly. The moonlight reflected faintly in his eyes as he answered, "That depends on what you consider unpleasant, Crown Prince."
The tension crept back into the space between them.
Around them, no one dared to speak. The gathered packs watched in silence, aware that this exchange carried far more weight than polite greetings suggested. This was not merely an introduction. It was a boundary being drawn.
Lance held Aron’s gaze. "Stormhold will not tolerate chaos," he said evenly.
Aron’s smile deepened, slow and knowing. "Then let us both hope," he replied, "that the truth does not disturb your peace. But you need not worry. My bride and I. We will leave here soon. Tonight, under the blessing of the moon, we plan to solidify our union as well."
Lance stiffened at that and his eyes narrowed before he gave a stiff nod," Then, I should congratulate you as well."
With that, Lance was about to turn around and step away when another figure stepped forward with a smile on her face.
"Another wedding?" Shiqi asked lightly as she came slowly towards the dark lird. "The Dark Lord has barely returned, and he would not even wait." Her eyes flicked briefly toward the moon before returning to Aron. "So eager to reclaim power already? In such a hurry, hmm?"
A murmur rippled through the crowd. Many turned in shock at the appearance of the Grand Witch. Usually, the woman was soft spoken, her presence a comfort.
But tonight she was dressed in black from head to toe and her voice seemed to be cutting and edged with bitterness. If one didn’t know she was a white witch, people might actually believe her to be a dark witch and a supported of the dark lord. As the thought came to them, many others stiffened at once and stepped away instinctively.
Shiqi Stav had finally entered the center of the courtyard. She moved with unhurried grace, her dark attire flowing softly around her as she came to a stop before Aron. The moonlight touched her face, outlining her sharp features and the quiet authority she carried so naturally. She did not look at Lance. She did not look at Emira.
Her attention was fixed solely on Aron.
Aron turned fully toward her. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them as their eyes met.
The air shifted again- deeper this time and heavier.
This was not the tension of wolves or power or territory. This was something older. Personal. Layered with history that no one else present fully understood.
Aron’s expression changed subtly. The calm amusement faded, replaced by something far more alert. His gaze searched her face, and then, "Shiqi," he said slowly, her name leaving his lips with familiarity that made several in the crowd stiffen. But even more shockingly, he stepped forward, and with familiarity, stepped forward and kissed the woman’s cheek, murmuring," Still as beautiful as ever."
Shiqi stiffened and then smiled,
Her smile widened as she stepped away from him, "You remember me. I would have been disappointed if you didn’t."
She stepped away a bit more, stopping just short of his reach. "You choose tonight of all nights to announce a union.]"On Stormhold soil. Under the Golden Moon. Do you truly believe that is a coincidence?"
Aron did not answer at once. He held her gaze steadily, refusing to look away.
"Power does not wait," he said finally. "And neither does fate. The fate has brought me my bride, why wait? It is pointless.
Shiqi laughed quietly. It was a soft sound, but it carried. "Fate," she repeated. "Is that what you call it now?"
Around them, no one breathed.
Lance watched closely, his posture tense. Emira’s fingers curled at her side.
Shiqi tilted her head slightly, studying Aron as if he were a familiar puzzle. "Be careful," she said gently. "Rushing destiny has a habit of demanding payment."
Aron’s lips curved again, slow and controlled. "I have already paid. Don’t you think so?"
"I don’t think you have paid enough." Shiqi bit out, her hands clenched now.