My Lycan Slave

My eyes pop open and my senses are overwhelmed with the sound of screams and shouts. My nose feels like it's filled with smoke and something metallic from the smells that surround me, and my mouth is dry and seems to be stuffed with ash.

My vision swims as my head spins. Every bone and muscle in my body is screaming with protest even as I try to just turn my head to the side.

As I focus and my vision somewhat clears, my eyes widen as I see the world around me is burning. Flames lick at the palace walls, turning gold-trimmed banners into blackened scraps. The once-pristine marble floors are slick with blood and bodies–my family's bodies–are sprawled in unnatural angles.

I guess that explains the burning and metallic smell but...what exactly happened?

If memory serves, today's the day my eldest brother gets coronated. But the coronation and the feast is long forgotten. The royal banners hang in tatters, torn by the very hands that once served us.

This is the end. For me. For the royal family...and possibly for the Weres.

I can hear faint screams echoing through the corridors. I think I can hear familiar sounds that come from my extended family and many more, probably from servants who were too loyal or too slow to escape the carnage.

My eldest brother, the newly crowned King, Leonel, lies sprawled over the throne, his chest torn open by claws that should have never dared touch him.

And at the center of all the chaos, a figure stands among the ruins of our kingdom.

Casimir.

He is not the Lycan boy I remember. The Casimir I managed to encounter, albeit fleetingly while I was growing up, is long gone. The man surrounded by death and destruction is someone...no, something else before me.

A weapon sharpened by years of pain, rage, and vengeance.

His dark brown hair is matted with blood, his clothes torn not from the battle, but from the chains he must have shattered to lead his rebellion. His amber eyes, once filled with a quiet, simmering fury, are now hollow, reflecting nothing but destruction.

Despite defeating the royal family that made his life a living hell, there's no triumph in his stance. No satisfaction or relief. Only a soulless husk of the man he once was.

I can barely hold myself up from leaning against the pillar behind me. My side is slick with blood, and my dress is soaked from the deep wound just below my ribs. I think something got lodged in me as well. Probably a shrapnel or something when the wall exploded as Casimir and his rebel forces charged into the castle during the coronation.

I suck in a sharp breath when pain zaps through my system as I try to shift in my spot. From the corner of my eye, the sound I made had Casimir turn his head in my direction so fast, it must have given him a whiplash.

But as I look up at him, his gaze lands on me, the last remaining princess. The last of the royal bloodline who made his life miserable beyond belief.

There is no mercy in his eyes. No light or any signs of life in it. The emptiness is like a black hole where everything gets sucked in only to disappear without a trace.

Casimir takes slow measured steps toward me. The sound of his boots against the blood-slick floor echoes through the shattered throne room.

I don't move. I don't even flinch. It's not like I still can, anyway. And if I can, I still won't move and just accept whatever fate awaits me.

Because I deserve this.

I let this happen. I stood by and did nothing as my family enslaved Casimir and his people, as we beat them down and crushed their spirits until nothing was left. I told myself that I was powerless, that I couldn't change anything even if I tried to give the Lycans a hand.

But the truth is...I was a coward. And cowards like me don't get happy endings.

Casimir stops before me. For a moment, he just watches me, his face unreadable.

With the strength I can muster, I look up at him and force a smile on my aching lips.

"You did it, Casimir."

Silence grows heavy between us. Then finally, he moves.

I don't even see the strike. I only feel it–cold steel sinking into my gut, slicing through what little life I have left. I barely noticed his face already near mine until he finally spoke.

"If you had done nothing wrong," he whispers in my ear, "you wouldn't be here."

My breath catches, a sharp, strangled sound escaping my lips as my eyes widen. The words hit harder than the blade digging into my person. The pain of both his weapon and words is instant and overwhelming, but not unexpected.

I look down and see the hilt of his sword protruding from my stomach, blood pooling around the wound, my life spilling onto the floor at his feet.

Casimir moves, pulling the blade free and I collapse. The world tilts, my vision swimming with fire and shadows.

I hit the ground hard, my body curling in on itself. My fingers press weakly against the wound but I know it's a useless endeavor and I didn't even know why I bothered trying. Instincts, maybe? Well, it doesn't matter.

As the warmth seeps through my wounds and through my fingers, staining my skin, my dress, and the floor beneath me, I know that I'm dying.

But...for the first time in my life, I feel free.

I close my eyes and let the pain consume me. Enduring and patiently waiting for the inevitable end and peace that awaits me. Memories rush in, unbidden, playing before my mind like the final act of a tragedy.

My childhood was spent in silence, in fear. The cold indifference of my family. The countless opportunities I had to change things...to stop this, that I let pass me by.

And from all those memories, Casimir's eyes are at the forefront of it all. His bright eyes filled with anger and quiet hope when he was young–before we crushed it out of him.

I failed him. I failed all the Lycans.

And yet...despite it all, I smile.

At least they're free now.

My breathing slows. My fingers twitch. My heartbeat falters. Death presses against me, heavy and cold, whispering in my ear, beckoning me into the darkness that leads to the unknown.

Do you have any last words? it seems to be asking me.

My last words? If I had another chance...I wouldn't turn away. I'll–

I barely finish whatever I was going to say before the darkness swallows me whole.