Colorless

I watched silently as the buildings blurred past, the same ones I saw once a month, the only time I was allowed beyond the castle walls.

As a child, I used to press my face to the window, wide-eyed and curious, fascinated by the world outside. I’d imagine running through those streets in my wolf form, wind in my fur, freedom in my bones.

But that was before.

Now, those same buildings felt cold and distant, hollow reminders of everything I wasn’t. Of everything I’d lost.

I used to think the world outside was alive, buzzing with energy, pulsing with the kind of life I’d once dreamed of. Now, all I saw was emptiness. Stillness.

Because when you’re born a wolf without a wolf… even the most vibrant world feels dead.

That one day, that one car ride, had taken everything from me. My spirit. My freedom. My wolf.

What used to be a bright, fierce girl had become a shadow trapped in human skin, with a soul that howled but no voice to answer.

Wolfless. Powerless.

And somehow, that was worse than being dead.

***

I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror. My body was clad in a blue dress, contrasting greatly with my green eyes.

I didn't mind though, what I did mind was the nature of the dress. It was armless with a deep V-neck going down to just above my navel, exposing my cleavage. The top part was lace, with embroidery at the middle offering at least a bit of decency. It hugged my frame tightly and flared from the waist down to my ankles, a long slit coming up to my thighs, exposing my skin. Too much skin was out in the open, too much for my comfort.

My strawberry blonde hair was pinned up with a few loose curls falling down delicately. My ears adorned with a small sapphire earring and a matching pendant sat against my chest. My face was heavy with make-up, seeing as my parents didn't want anything to give away my condition, which was unlikely, seeing as no one would guess that the daughter of a powerful king alpha would be so weak. A light knock on the door had me breathing in, already knowing it was time. I opened the door to reveal Dimitri, my personal guard. He gave me a slight nod, confirming what I already knew. I walked past him and towards the ballroom, preparing myself for what was to come next.

***

Eleven years, it's been eleven years since I last attended a formal gathering. The last time I did was when I turned ten, and I had ended up embarrassing my parents, much like my very existence.

Now here I stood eleven years later, standing behind the curtains; any moment from now my name would be announced, and I would be required to walk down the stairs elegantly and have my first dance with my father before mingling as custom demands. It was our kingdom’s 500th anniversary, but I knew that that was just for show; it was pretty obvious to me that my parents had an ulterior motive.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's welcome her royal highness, Princess Jasmine McQueen, " that was my cue.

The curtains were drawn and the large ballroom came into sight. Hundreds of powerful creatures ranging from kings to queens to lyncans to alphas, lunas, betas, gammas, people from the top of the food chain. They all stood staring at me, some with admiration, some with boredom, some with expectations and, of course ,the one I'm well acquainted with... judgement. I plastered on a dazzling smile as I walked graciously down the stairs to my waiting father. I knew the drill smile ,not too brightly just enough, keep your head held high, your shoulders squared, level your heartbeat and never hold gaze with someone for too long as it can be seen as a sign of disrespect. It was like second nature to me.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I placed one of my gloved hands in my father's waiting palm and rested the other on his shoulder. He smiled lightly as the music began to play and the ball started. To people outside our pack, we looked like a happy pair, a proud father dancing with his daughter, a proud king dancing with his heir but in reality, it was quite the opposite. Though his gaze held pride, I could see right through it, see the emotion that lay buried within years of practice and pretence... disappointment. It was as clear as day to me. I ignored it though, never letting my smile falter for a second. We danced for a few minutes before the music finally came to an end. My father released me with a smile on his face and a bow while I curtsied.

I took the time to glance around, taking advantage of the little time I had alone before I got whisked away by power-hungry alphas eager to win the favour of my father. I glanced around at the elegantly decorated ballroom, designed to perfection. It was decorated in all shades of white and gold. A long time ago I would have found it beautiful, but now all I saw was grey and black. All too soon, my alone time was stolen as I found myself in a pair of strong arms, my eyes landing on a pair of familiar hazel eyes. A smile automatically graced my features, a genuine one this time. His afro hair was left in perfect curls atop his head, his perfect brown skin glowing beneath the bright lights of the chandelier. Grayson, the one who stayed .

His handsome face was contorted in a goofy grin.

"May I have this dance, milady?" He asked mockingly, with a fake British accent.

“Of course, my lord," I replied with an equally fake accent.

Grayson and I have been friends since we were little. He was the only one that stayed after that damned car ride. He was an orphan, his parents having died in a car crash when he was six. He was thrust into the foster care system immediately, but he didn't stay for long. My parents had adopted him at the first opportunity they got. Sometimes I wonder if the accident was really an accident. I wouldn't put it past my parents to murder a couple just to steal their child. They adored him. He was tall, well-built, charming, bold, and most importantly, he was strong, everything I'm not. I remember when my parents first broke the news to me. I was five at the time, and while Grayson had thought I'd hate him, I was actually thrilled at the idea of having a brother, one I already loved. It was like having your best friend turned into your sibling. He was right to think I'd hate him, though, seeing as he was adopted to replace me, giving him my rightful title as heir to the crown, but I didn't mind. I had no desire for such power. I understood that none of it was his fault. It wasn't his fault his parents died. It wasn’t his fault my parents couldn't accept me for who I was. It wasn't his fault I was born this way, a weakling. I placed my head on his shoulder, glad that I at least had one person who loved me.