THE MATING CEREMONY

Lucien sat in silence, his eyes narrowed as he stared into the burning hearth in his room. His crippled and shattered leg throbbed in pain, forcing a silent wince as he shifted his weight.

Even after all these years, his werewolf blood — and all the remnants of his strength as an alpha — still tried to stitch his shattered leg back together.

He waited for the heat from the fire to reach him. To melt away the cold in his heart, but it didn’t. It never did. He glanced down at his leg, the twisted vertical scars ran from his thigh to his calf.

His door barged open and Lucien snapped his gaze towards the door.

Anger flashed through his eyes at being interrupted, but he quickly stifled his emotions. He was not the man he once was.

“Why didn’t you knock?” Lucien hissed, his sharp icy gaze directed at his once loyal subordinate and junior brother,

“Why would I?” Alder chuckled, smirking, “Get up, Lucien. Your bride has arrived,” he ordered,

Lucien blinked, his eyes widening in surprise. He could not respond. He didn’t need to. This wasn’t his choice. This was a choice forced upon him by his own Clawhold, his brother – the new alpha had made sure of that.

“She’s…. smaller than I expected.” Alder remarked, “Though she is pretty for a Stillblood, maybe you would actually like her – that is if you like the broken ones.”

He chuckled at his words, the clear disdain showing through his eyes as he looked down at his elder brother.

Lucien’s jaws clenched, he turned his gaze away from his brother, away from the mocking jeer. “Just get it over with,” he murmured.

With those words, he stood up to his full height, and with a throbbing mangled leg, took a step towards Alder.

Alder smiled, his gaze lingering on his brother’s shattered leg before snapping back to the pained expression he could see on his brother’s face. “Follow me Lucien.” he ordered, “Let’s get you presentable for your bride.”

With a chuckle and a flourish, he turned around and walked out.

The “ceremony” was a complete joke. The Clawhold had been cleared out and the courtyard had been cleaned for the first time in years.

Snow fell down the mountainous ranges in small lazy flakes, painting the entire courtyard white. Which was in sharp contrast to the red roses that were littered around the courtyard.

His soon-to-be bride, Aria, was already standing there.

His eyes lingered across her features. Aria was dainty, she wasn’t as small as her brother had said she was. But compared to his almost seven feet, she was small.

She had long wavy silver-blonde hair, eyes that were haunted and scars.

Wait, scars?

Lucien’s eyes widened as his gaze lingered around her exposed flesh, her arms and wrists. There was makeup covering them, but he could see the scars, and he was sure every werewolf here could too.

She didn’t look at him. Her gaze was down, as if she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

Lucien limped forward, his fists clenched beside him as he temporarily suppressed the pain. He leaned heavily on the obsidian cane strapped to his right arm.

Every single step sent spikes of pain traveling through his body, every step a brutal reminder of how far he had fallen.

He held his chin high, his gaze wandering across the courtyard as he saw the members of his Clawhold and hers watching the ceremony with smirks on their faces.

He would not bow down, not to Adler, not to his Clawhold, and certainly not to this broken thing that they sent to contain him. Aria Thorne.

He took a deep breath and inhaled her scent. She did not smell of fear or anticipation, she smelled of resignation.

“Let’s make this quick.” He growled as he reached his bride and stood beside her.

Aria flinched at his voice, he noticed it. Of course, he did, but he didn’t care.

Why would he? She was more broken than he ever was. She was Stillblood.

She did not say a word, only nodded and shuffled on her feet.

The officiant of the ceremony was a half-drunk elder who stumbled as he walked towards them.

Lucien clenched his fists and averted his gaze. This was obviously a farce. Neither the elder nor his Clawhold cared about the wedding. To them, this was just the joining together of two broken things.

“Lucien.” The elder coughed, his eyes red as his gaze darted towards Lucien’s shattered right leg. “Do you accept this St… sorry.” The elder quickly apologized for his drunken slip up, “This ‘woman’ -" his disdainful gaze darted towards Aria as he said that, “- as your mate?”

“I, Lucien Vine, once alpha of this great Clawhold, take this…. Woman.” He started his vow, his pause deliberate as he glanced at Aria, “To be the Luna of my house. I vow no love, no care. Just duty and nothing else.”

Aria blinked, her lips parting as she stood shocked by his vow. She gulped and chose to keep silent.

The half-drunk elder turned towards her, his gaze lingering on her body for a moment before snapping towards her face.

“And you, Aria Thorne?” he drawled, his speech coming out slurred, “Do you accept – ”

“I do.” Aria replied quickly. Too quickly.

Lucien snorted, the disdain in his eyes deepening as he turned around to face her. “Too eager to belong, are you?” He asked, “You’ll never belong.”

Aria’s gaze snapped towards him. A spark flickered across her eyes, but it quickly died down. Her sharp gaze noticing her step-brother already taking a step towards her. She knew that if she did or said anything else, this would probably be her last day alive.

In moments, the rings were exchanged. The vows between the two parties were shared.

And the kiss…. Of course, it didn’t happen.

The elder didn’t even bring it up.

Who in their right mind would want to kiss a Stillblood.

And just like that, Aria Thorne was now his.

She was property now. Nothing else. Not even cattle or even a lowly human. Just a broodmare.

Once the ceremony was over, Lucien turned around without another word. He limped away, the tip of his obsidian cane striking the courtyard in a sharp audible thud.

Behind him, Aria froze in place. She had no idea what she was supposed to do now.

Should she follow him? Where would she stay? How would she live?

All those questions flashed through her mind as she watched her new ‘master’ limp away.

“Go on Ari.” Lyra’s sharp voice echoed from behind her, “Follow your mate, you have to consummate the mating, right? Or are you too broken to do that too?”

At those words, the silent crowd who had been watching the ceremony without a sound erupted into laughter. The disdain in their gaze was so piercing that Aria flinched.

Without a word, she took a deep breath and rushed towards her Lucien.

The laughter increased behind her. Before she even reached Lucien, she could tell that the others had already started partying.

Lucien glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, his brows furrowing as he turned his gaze straight.

Aria frowned as she followed Lucien towards an unknown destination and into a new life that would be no less as hard as her previous life.

Her life was not hers anymore.

She had left one prison only to be locked up in another.

The chains were gone, the collars were invisible. But they were still there, still ever present. Still binding.

And Lucien?

Lucien did not see a mate when he looked at Aria.

He saw a broken burden.

And as far as he was concerned, she was far more crippled than he was.