Chapter Seven: The Weight Of The Crown

The palace was silent when Sebastian returned.

It was the silence of marble halls lined with torchlight, of tapestries whispering faintly in the night breeze, of guards who bowed but did not speak. A silence that stretched over a kingdom that believed their prince untouchable, unshakable, flawless.

But inside Sebastian, silence was war.

Every heartbeat dragged the memory of the forest back to the surface. Her scent clinging to him like chains. Her cries tearing through the walls of his chest. The terror in her eyes a terror he had put there. And worse, the bond. The unmistakable snap that tied her to him. The Moon Goddess had given him his mate…and he had shattered her before she could even speak his name.

His fists clenched at his sides until his nails drew blood.

Caius trailed behind him through the corridor, unusually quiet. Normally, his friend filled the space with teasing remarks, crude jokes, or wild stories to lighten Sebastian’s sternness. Tonight, there was nothing. Only the soft tread of boots on stone and Caius’s wary eyes, watching his prince with a weight he couldn’t carry.

He had never seen Sebastian like this shoulders rigid, back like steel, eyes hollow, lips pressed into a single unforgiving line.

When they reached the prince’s chamber, Caius finally dared to speak. His voice was low, uncertain. “Sebastian… what happened out there?”

Sebastian paused in the doorway. His grip tightened on the frame until the wood splintered beneath his claws. For one brief moment, Caius thought he might answer. Thought he might share even a fragment of what haunted him.

But when Sebastian turned his head, his eyes were dead. His voice was colder than the northern snows.

“You saw nothing. You know nothing. Speak of this to no one, Caius… or I will cut out your tongue myself.”

The threat hung in the air like a blade.

Caius froze. He had grown beside Sebastian since they were pups. He had wrestled him in the dirt, laughed with him under the stars, sworn to fight at his side until death. Yet never not once had Sebastian threatened him.

The prince’s words chilled him to the bone.

He swallowed, his throat dry. Then, stiffly, he bowed his head. “As you command, my prince.”

The door slammed shut between them.

Inside, Sebastian ripped his robe from his body and staggered toward the mirror.

The crest glowed faintly across his chest, pulsing like molten silver. It seared through the darkness, a cruel reminder of the bond. A reminder that somewhere, beyond his walls, his mate bore the same mark.

He had been meant to cherish her. To protect her. To honor the gift the Moon Goddess had woven into his soul.

Instead, he had defiled her.

Sebastian’s breath came ragged. His reflection stared back at him dark hair matted, jaw clenched, eyes hollow with self-loathing.

He lifted his fist. The glass shattered with a single punch. Shards rained onto the floor, slicing his knuckles, blood dripping down his wrist. But even fractured, his reflection remained. A dozen broken pieces of the same truth: a prince cursed by his own weakness.

“I was supposed to protect you,” he whispered, voice raw, trembling. His lips brushed against the jagged edges of his breath. “And I destroyed you.”

His hand pressed to the glowing mark. It throbbed beneath his palm, alive, burning as though her wolf’s fury lived inside it. Every pulse carried her voice or what he imagined of it. Sometimes it was a sob. Sometimes a scream. Sometimes silence so heavy it crushed him.

And every time, it broke him again.

By dawn, Queen Seraphina came to his door.

“Sebastian?” Her voice was gentle, warm as morning light. Her hand rested against the carved oak, as though touch alone could reach him. “I heard you return late last night. Are you well, my son?”

Sebastian closed his eyes. For a heartbeat, he wanted to open the door. To fall into her arms like when he was a boy, when her embrace had been the only thing to soften the brutal training his father demanded. To confess everything. To beg her to tell him he was still worthy of love.

But when he opened his eyes, all he saw was blood. Blood on his hands. Blood on her face in his memory. The weight of what he had done pressed against his chest until it was hard to breathe.

“I am fine, Mother,” he said at last. His voice was flat, stripped of all warmth.

Silence lingered on the other side of the door. Then her voice again, softer, careful. “Your scent… it’s strange again. Different. Are you hiding something from me?”

Sebastian’s chest constricted, panic clawing at him. If even she could sense it, how long until the entire kingdom did? He forced steel into his tone, biting down on every tremor.

“I said I am fine.”

Another pause. Then the sound of her retreating steps, soft as a sigh.

Only when she was gone did Sebastian sag against the door, bile rising in his throat. He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t tell anyone. If the King knew… if the pack knew the heir of the Royal Bloodline had lost control, had broken his fated mate under moonlight the kingdom itself might shatter.

That evening, King Alaric summoned him to the training yard.

The Alpha King stood waiting, sword in hand, his presence filling the open space like thunderclouds before a storm. His power pressed against Sebastian, reminding him always reminding him that he was heir to a throne built on blood and strength.

“You return late,” Alaric said, his tone sharp, eyes still fixed on the blade he drew in flawless arcs. “And you reek of firebrandy.”

Sebastian’s stomach turned violently. Of course his father could smell it. Nothing escaped him.

“I needed air,” Sebastian said simply. His face betrayed nothing.

The King’s sword froze mid-swing. His gaze snapped to his son sharp, piercing, like steel cutting to the bone. “You are Crown Prince of the Royal Pack. Heir to the last true Alpha bloodline. You do not have the luxury of recklessness.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened until his teeth ached. Reckless? No. Reckless was too small a word. What he had done could not be explained, could not be forgiven. But he swallowed it down, locking it behind a mask of stone.

“Yes, Father.”

The King studied him, eyes narrowing as if trying to pierce the mask. Then he lowered his blade, voice cold and unyielding. “When the time comes, you will rule with strength, not weakness. With control, not indulgence. Do you understand?”

Sebastian bowed stiffly. His voice was steady, even as his insides screamed. “I understand.”

If only you knew, Father. If only you knew what your son has done.

Days bled into weeks.

Sebastian trained harder than ever before. He fought until his muscles tore, until sweat blinded him, until his knuckles cracked open again and again. Every strike of his sword was punishment. Every drop of sweat was penance. Every scar was a reminder of the girl whose life he had ruined.

But the mark never let him forget. It flared when he slept, when he bathed, when he closed his eyes beneath the stars. Each throb dragged him back to her Aria. His mate.

The girl who had every reason to hate him.

Sometimes, when the night was quietest, he swore he could hear her. A sob, distant but clear. A whisper of rage. Or worse, silence so crushing it hollowed him out.

The bond tethered them. Whether she wanted it or not. Whether he deserved it or not.

Caius tried once more, weeks later.

Sebastian returned from the yard, shirt torn, body slick with sweat, the sun casting long shadows across his bruised frame. Caius stood waiting by the wall, arms folded, expression cautious.

“Sebastian,” he said quietly, “I don’t know what happened that night. You won’t tell me, and maybe you never will. But it’s eating you alive. If you don’t let it out, if you don’t—”

Sebastian’s head snapped toward him. His glare was sharp enough to wound. His voice was ice.

“I told you once, Caius. Speak of it again, and you won’t live to regret it.”

For the first time in his life, Caius felt not just worry for his friend but fear of him.

The boy he had grown beside was gone. The one who laughed under the stars, who dreamed of love, who once sketched wolves and constellations in the corners of his books that boy had died in the forest.

In his place stood a prince carved from stone and shadow, chained to a throne, burdened by a secret too heavy for even royalty to bear.