Sleep well, little one.

Jason's POV

The fire in the grate crackled softly, casting flickering shadows across the stone walls of my office like ghosts from old campaigns. I rose from the desk, the sealed letters a neat stack under the weight of an iron paperweight shaped like a wolf's paw— a relic from the northern passes, where Elara had once pulled me from the brink of a frozen death. The bond hummed low and content, a golden thread that connected me to Rose across the darkened campus, her presence a steady anchor in the quiet hours.

I crossed to the window, pushing aside the heavy velvet curtain to gaze out at the moonlit training fields. The academy sprawled below, its towers and courtyards a labyrinth of ancient stone and modern intrigue. Somewhere in the omega wing, Rose was likely curled in her narrow dorm bed, her russet wolf dreaming of the claim she had finally made. The thought stirred a possessive warmth in my chest—not the raw territoriality of a young alpha, but the deep, unyielding certainty of a mate who had waited lifetimes for this.

*Sleep well, little one,* I sent through the bond, infusing it with the calm of the fire's glow and the clean scent of pine lingering on my skin. *The letters are done. Dawn will bring the storm, but we'll weather it.*

Her response came back like a soft brush of fur against my mind: *I felt you writing them. The ink and blood... it's real now. No turning back. Lila's pacing the room like a guard dog—says Marcus was sniffing around the dorm entrance earlier, asking about 'scent changes.' Be careful tomorrow. I... miss the feel of you already.*

A low growl rumbled in my throat, not anger, but the instinctive possessiveness that flared at the mention of Marcus. That whelp—barely out of his first shift, with his eastern pack's silver spoon and entitled smirk—had been circling Rose like prey since the semester began. His jealousy was a palpable thing, a thorn in the academy's underbelly, and now that the sovereign bond was sealed, it would fester into something uglier. I could picture him: broad-shouldered, scarred from mock duels he treated like conquests, his eyes narrowing at the whisper of a claimed omega who had slipped through his grasp.

*He won't touch what's mine,* I sent back, the words edged with steel but softened by reassurance. *Not with words, not with schemes. Rest. Dream of the cabin—our cabin. I'll show you the river where the salmon leap, and we'll run free without these stone walls pressing in.*

A flicker of her amusement warmed the thread. *Pups too? Your vision earlier... it felt so real. But Jason, what if the board exiles us? What if Marcus pushes them to—*

*Then we build our own academy,* I interrupted gently, my wolf pressing closer to hers in the shared mental space, silver fur mingling with russet. *One where bonds like ours aren't scandals but strengths. No fear, Rose. We're sovereign. Equals.*

The bond settled then, her exhaustion pulling her toward sleep, but not before a final pulse of affection—like her fingers tracing the mark she had left on my throat. I lingered at the window a moment longer, the night air seeping through the cracks, carrying faint scents from the grounds: dew on grass, distant shifter patrols, and the underlying hum of academy life winding down.

But sleep wouldn't come easily for me. Not yet. I returned to the desk, pulling out a small, leather-bound journal from a locked drawer—the one I kept for personal reflections, not the official logs. Dipping the quill once more, I wrote by lamplight, the words flowing like a confession to the old gods.

*The bond is complete, and with it, a fire I thought long extinguished. She marked me not in heat's frenzy but in deliberate choice, her tears mingling with resolve. I see the northern cabin in my dreams now, not as a solitary retreat, but a home. Pups with her fire, learning the rites under starlit skies. But Marcus looms—a jealous shadow, his possessiveness a threat to what we've built. The board will convene, and I'll stand unyielding. For her. For us.*

I sealed the journal and tucked it away, the act a small ritual of preparation. The bell tower tolled again—twice now, marking the deeper night. Finally, I banked the fire and extinguished the lamp, stretching out on the narrow cot in the corner of the office. Sleep came in fragments, laced with visions of Rose's wide eyes during the claiming, her voice whispering *mine* as her fangs pierced my skin. The mark throbbed gently, a reminder that we were no longer two, but one.

**Dawn – The Ravens Fly**

The first light of morning filtered through the window like a reluctant intruder, pulling me from the haze of dreams. I rose swiftly, muscles still loose from the previous night's shower, the claiming bite a faint, pleasant ache under my collar. The academy was stirring—distant shouts from early drills, the clatter of breakfast trays in the halls. I dressed in my formal uniform: crisp black trousers, a high-collared shirt that partially concealed the mark, and the silver-embroidered vest denoting my tenure. No hiding today. Let them see the truth.

The letters waited on the desk. I gathered them and strode to the raven coop atop the Lore tower, the cool morning air biting at my skin. The birds—sleek, intelligent creatures trained for secure missives—fluttered in their enclosures, eyes sharp as daggers. I attached each letter to a different raven: Elara's to the swiftest, Hargrove's to a sturdy black one, Thorne's to a reliable gray.

"Fly true," I murmured, releasing them one by one. They launched into the sky with powerful wingbeats, vanishing toward their destinations—Elara in the northern council halls, Hargrove in his dean's suite across campus, Thorne in the adjacent wing. Allies mobilized. Shields up.

As I descended the tower stairs, the bond tugged—Rose waking, her thoughts a mix of anxiety and determination. *Morning,* she sent, her mental voice sleepy but warm. *Lila's already heard whispers in the omega lounge. Marcus cornered a beta last night, grilling her about my 'tutoring sessions.' He's jealous, Jason. Possessive. Thinks he had a claim.*

My jaw tightened, possessiveness surging like a tide. *He had nothing. Let him stew. I'm heading to the dining hall now. Meet me there if you can—discreetly. We face this together.*

*I'll try. But the board... one of their aides just posted a notice for an 'emergency ethics review' at noon. It's starting.*

The news didn't surprise me, but it ignited a cold fire in my veins. The academy's politics were a web of favors and vendettas, and Marcus's eastern pack had deep ties to the board. Jealousy would fuel his moves—possessiveness over an omega he viewed as a prize, not an equal. I quickened my pace, the stone corridors echoing my footsteps.

**Morning – Dining Hall Confrontation**

The grand dining hall buzzed with the usual morning chaos: alphas piling plates high with meats and grains, betas chattering over coffee, omegas in their sectioned corner exchanging quiet glances. Scents mingled—fresh bread, roasted venison, the underlying musk of shifters in close quarters. I entered through the faculty entrance, my presence drawing subtle nods from colleagues and wary looks from students.

Rose was already there, seated with Lila at a corner table in the omega section. Her eyes met mine across the room, the bond flaring with shared intensity—a psychological pull that made the distance feel like a wound. She looked composed, her uniform neat, but I could sense the tension coiling in her: the fear of consequences, the possessive tug toward me that mirrored my own.

I filled a tray—strong black coffee, eggs, and a slab of rare steak—and made my way toward the faculty tables, but not before a deliberate detour near the student sections. Marcus was there, surrounded by his pack of sycophants, his scarred face twisted in a smirk as he tore into his breakfast. His nostrils flared as I approached, catching the sovereign scent that now laced my own—Rose's mark, woven irrevocably.

"Professor Voss," he drawled, loud enough for nearby tables to quiet. Jealousy dripped from his tone like venom, his eyes flicking toward Rose's table with possessive hunger. "Heard some interesting rumors. Scent changes overnight? Tutoring sessions running a bit... late? Careful, old man. The board doesn't like when faculty plays favorites with omegas. Especially ones who smell claimed but won't name the alpha."

The hall hushed further, eyes turning. I set my tray down on a nearby empty table, turning to face him fully, my voice calm but laced with unyielding authority. "Marcus. Jealousy doesn't suit you. The sovereign bond is old law—mutual, protected. If you have concerns, take them to the ethics review at noon. But sniffing around dorms and spreading whispers? That's beneath even your pack's standards."

He leaned back, crossing his arms, a possessive glint in his eye as he glanced at Rose again. "Maybe I will. She was unclaimed last week—prime for a real alpha. Now she's marked by some ghost? Smells like coercion to me. The board will see it my way. And when they do, she'll need a proper pack to fall back on."

The bond roared in my chest—possessiveness surging, my wolf baring teeth in the mental landscape. But I kept my exterior steady, stepping closer, voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Threaten her again, pup, and you'll learn why I held the northern passes alone. She's not a prize. She's sovereign. Mine. And if you push this, the consequences will bury you."

Marcus's smirk faltered, jealousy flashing hot before he masked it with a laugh. "We'll see, Professor. Noon. Bring your precedents."

I turned away, the hall erupting in murmurs as I collected my tray and moved to a faculty table. Through the bond, Rose sent a pulse of fierce pride: *You handled that perfectly. But he's scared—jealous. It makes him dangerous.*

*Let him be,* I replied. *We've got allies incoming.*

**Mid-Morning – Allies Converge**

Back in my office, I reviewed the Accord documents again, the crimson seals a stark reminder of the old rites. A knock came—sharp, insistent. Professor Thorne entered, his face lined with the weight of academy politics, clutching a sheaf of papers.

"Voss," he said, closing the door. "Your note arrived at dawn. Syllabus confirmations are ready—I've backdated the tutoring logs to cover any gaps. But Marcus's pack is lobbying hard. Whispers of 'power imbalance' and 'omega exploitation.' The board's review at noon will be a circus."

I nodded, offering him a seat. "Appreciated, Thorne. Hargrove should be routing complaints by now. And Elara—"

Another knock. Dean Hargrove himself, burly and red-faced, strode in. "Voss, you sly wolf. My raven got your message. Son's indiscretion stays buried, as promised. I've intercepted two anonymous reports already—scent complaints from Marcus's cronies. Routed them to my desk for 'review.' But the headmistress is furious. Sovereign or not, she sees this as a tenure threat."

"Precedent protects it," I replied evenly. "The Accord overrides charter rules. Mutual consent, adult parties. Rose is no victim."

Hargrove chuckled grimly. "Aye, but politics isn't logic. Marcus is pushing for a full audit—scent tests, bond verifications. Jealous little bastard thinks he can possessive his way into her favor if you're out."

Thorne interjected, "We've got your back, Jason. But prepare Rose. The board will question her directly."

The bond tugged—Rose sensing the meeting, her anxiety spiking. *What's happening? Lila says Marcus is rallying students outside the ethics hall.*

*Allies here,* I sent back. *Stay strong. We're unbreakable.*

**Noon – The Ethics Review**

The ethics chamber was a cavernous room of polished oak and crimson banners, the board seated at a high table like judges in an ancient tribunal. Headmistress Voss—no relation, thank the gods—presided, her sharp eyes boring into me as I entered with Rose at my side. We had met in the corridor moments before, her hand brushing mine in a brief, possessive touch that steadied us both.

Marcus sat in the witness section, jealousy etched into his posture, flanked by his pack. "This is a farce," he muttered loudly as we took our seats. "Sovereign bonds don't form in office hours."

The headmistress banged her gavel. "Order. Professor Voss, Miss Vale—explain this alleged bond. Reports indicate inappropriate conduct."

I stood, voice steady. "Headmistress, the sovereign bond formed mutually, as per the 1847 Accord. Documentation here—consent forms, blood seals. It's not a scandal; it's old law."

Rose rose beside me, her voice firm despite the tension. "I claimed him back. Willingly. Equals. Marcus's jealousy doesn't change that."

Marcus shot to his feet. "Jealousy? She's deluded! He manipulated her—power imbalance! I could have protected her better!"

The room erupted. Hargrove interjected, " Routed reports show no coercion. Precedent holds."

Thorne added, "Tutoring logs confirm academic context only."

A raven burst through the window then—Elara's seal. The message read aloud: *Bond verified. Northern council supports. Stand down or face Accord sanctions.*

The headmistress's face paled. "This... changes things. Review adjourned. Bond recognized—provisionally."

Marcus stormed out, jealousy boiling over in a snarled, "This isn't over!"

**Afternoon – Aftermath and Reflection**

Back in my office, Rose collapsed into my arms, the bond humming with relief and lingering tension. "He won't stop," she whispered, possessive fingers tracing my mark. "But we won today."

"We did," I murmured, holding her close. "The consequences will come—more whispers, perhaps exile threats. But the cabin waits. Our future."

Through the bond, her wolf nuzzled mine. *Together. Sovereign.*

As evening fell, I watched the fields again, possessiveness and love intertwining. Marcus's jealousy would fester, but we were ready. The golden thread held strong.