E L E A N O R
"Be safe, Tobias." I say for the umpteenth time as I adjust my husband’s armor, brushing off bits of barely visible dust from his shoulder pads as a way to keep him from mounting his horse too quickly. His men watch us, their faces cast in shadows of worry, weighed down by the gravity of our situation. This war—this conflict—I desperately wished he wouldn’t engage in. It wasn’t that I was the type of wife to hold my husband back from his ambitions; I simply couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, especially since our marriage was just a year old. Tobias was next in line for my father’s throne, his shoulders—the very ones I kept tapping—heavy with responsibilities that often placed the needs of the people above those of his own family. "I will, I will." He laughs, leaning closer to seize my lips with a mind-blowing kiss. I feel his smile against my mouth as his tongue dances with mine, igniting a moment of sensory bliss. The kiss is brief, though, and he pulls back to envelop me in a warm embrace. "I'll miss you, really. I promise to write as soon as we arrive at camp, okay?" "Hmm," I hum in response, a flicker of concern lurking in the depths of my heart. With a long sigh, he gently pulls away and retrieves his wedding ring, smiling down at me as he places it firmly in the center of my palm, wrapping my fingers around it. I look up at him, tears brimming in my eyes. "What are you doing?" "Just give it back to me when I return, alright?" He raises an eyebrow playfully. My hands tremble, but I push aside my fears. He won’t die. He'll return, and then I can give it back to him. I nod, speechless. He hugs me again, presses a soft kiss into my hair, and in moments, he’s mounted on his horse, leading his men away. "I love you, El!" he shouts, nudging his horse into a gallop. "I love you too!" I call back, running after him for as long as I can. I finally stop, watching him vanish into the distance, clutching his ring tightly in my fist while wiping the hot tears from my cheeks. I hear footsteps approaching, crunching dry leaves in the palace grounds. A soft, minty scent follows, and I recognize it as Dora’s, my personal maid. Turning to meet her gaze, I see a bright smile on her lips, wrinkles framing her face. Taking a deep breath, I sprint into her arms, sobbing helplessly. "Hush now, dear. He'll be back soon," she whispers, gently patting my hair. "I know, I just miss him," I manage to say through sniffles and laughter. As he promised, his letter arrives a few days later. I read it over and over, smiling at his cheeky remarks about thinking of me and wishing for the war to end so he can return home. The third day finds me once again examining his wedding ring while preparing at the vanity table. Keeping it locked away in a drawer felt too distant, and an idea surfaces, causing me to smile at Dora as she finishes styling my hair. "Dora, could you turn this into a pendant?" I ask, handing her the ring. "Of course, my dear! I'll have it ready for you before we visit your father," she giggles, taking the ring with her as she walks away. I slip on my shoes and earrings, then don my hat over my navy blue dress. I’ve saved the pink dress for Tobias’ return party, my favorite color—one he loves to see me in. I make a mental note to write back to him as soon as I return from my visit to my father's castle, who summoned me earlier that morning. Living separately had been my choice; not that I sought to avoid my father's presence, but rather to enjoy some privacy before Tobias succeeded him as Alpha. We could reside like a normal couple, with only Dora and a few maidens tidying up the place on weekends. Our partnership was ideal, especially given how our love had blossomed over the years. I had harbored a crush on Tobias since I was eleven; with just a two-year age difference, our dynamic was appropriately balanced. We began courting when I turned sixteen and wed months after my eighteenth birthday. I adored my husband. I relished the fact that I had fallen in love with him rather than being forced into an arranged union dictated by my family—a fate many princesses faced in the name of producing male heirs. As the carriage rolled through the courtyard of my father’s castle, memories of our wedding washed over me, magical and enchanting. "Till death do us part," our vows echoed in my thoughts, bringing with them an unsettling sense of dread. He wouldn’t die; neither would I. It’s a peculiar thing humans say, a phrase I had read in a book my uncle gifted me after returning from an assignment in the human world. I had admired those vows then, but they felt painfully inappropriate now, with my husband out fighting for our pack. Upon stepping out of the carriage, I notice an eerie silence—a stark contrast to the usual sounds of bustling activity. The guards bow their heads at the entrance, and there are no maids in sight. Suddenly, a loud roar cuts through the stillness, disquieting me as Dora grips my hand for support. "What is happening?" I manage to ask, confusion threading through my voice. A woman rushes toward me, wailing and clutching her head. She collapses at my feet, heedless of the scuffed stones beneath her knees. "M-mother?" I stutter, recognizing my mother-in-law as her hat tumbles away. She seizes my dress tightly, panic etched across her features. "Dora, quickly. Let’s help her up—” "He’s dead. Tobias is dead. The Lycan king killed him, and he’s coming for us too."E L E A N O RI clutch the fabric of my dress tightly, the soft folds bunching in my trembling hands as Perseus’s hand gently envelopes mine. His fingers intertwine with mine in a reassuring grip, warm and steady—almost too steady. It’s been less than two days since I made the proposal, yet here we are, already kicking off the ceremonial visit to Gray Helm. I’ve spent so much time there recently—more than I care to admit—since it’s where Eleanor’s Court is located.I dove headfirst into research about Bloodthorn as soon as the plan was set in motion, tracing its geography, its history, origins I should have studied long ago instead of scrambling at the last minute. But somehow, I managed to gather enough knowledge to keep up appearances, to speak confidently. It feels like a small victory in a storm of uncertainty.Perseus has been unwaveringly supportive—too supportive, almost. His eyes hold a softness I’m not sure I deserve, and now I find myself unable to meet his gaze without feel
P E R S E U S.I walk down the staircase, my footsteps echoing faintly against the marbled floor, the morning light barely filtering in through the stained glass windows. My hand brushes against the polished banister, my thoughts ahead of me. Eleanor left a note saying she’d be in the dining room, and for a brief, irrational second, my heart stutters.What if she’s left?What if she decided to go without warning?But the moment I step into the dining room and spot her sitting gracefully at the table, sipping from a glass with that unbothered elegance only she can pull off—my heartbeat slows. Relief floods through me, warm and grounding.I make my way toward her, the corners of my mouth lifting. I lean down, kiss her forehead, then her lips.“Good morning, darling,” I murmur.“Good morning,” she replies with a soft giggle, taking another sip of water. Her voice is still thick with sleep, light and sweet.“You’ve got all day for that,” Severus groans from further down the table, draggin
P E R S E U S “I'm pregnant." Her words replay over and over again in my mind, like a stubborn echo I can’t shake free from. She’s pregnant. I’m going to be a father. The weight of those words hits me all at once, yet I find myself unable to respond right away. Maybe I’m afraid I’ll say the wrong thing or that my voice will crack. My wife is pregnant. She’s carrying my child. And all this time, I’ve been so wrapped up in work, in politics, in everything else that I barely noticed. I’ve been so caught up with the chaos of my life that I failed to see her, truly see her. I realize now how little attention I paid her lately. She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her posture tense, her hands folded in her lap. She continues, her voice steady but trembling just beneath the surface. “I found out this morning. I went to William’s house.” She hesitates, then adds, “If all of this is about a child, then you have a child now. Just stop pushing me away and having someone else replace
E L E A N O R.One week.I step out onto the balcony as the maids bustle behind me, helping to pick a dress for the day—yet another tedious ritual in this hair-pulling routine. For the past seven days, this has been my life: waking up to get dressed, lounging in heavy silence, reading books to pass the hours, taking long, sleep-ridden naps, eating when I remember to, and walking in quiet circles within the castle walls like a ghost haunting her own tomb.I tried, genuinely tried, to distract myself by watching the guards train. I noted their sword techniques, counted their steps, even memorized the way they held their blades. I planned to practice those techniques myself, if only I could catch a moment without the guards trailing behind me like my own shadow. They don’t speak—not to me, at least. I’ve started to believe they’re mute or sworn to some sacred silence.Every night, I fall asleep just minutes before Perseus returns. He slips into the bathroom, takes his bath, then crawls
E L E A N O RThree Days.I rise from the bed slowly, peeling Perseus off me with careful fingers as I run both hands through my tangled hair. His arm slips off my waist, and he stretches, yawning, his eyelids fluttering open in a lazy haze.“And where do you think you're going?” His voice is thick with sleep, a husky rasp that momentarily makes me pause.“I need to clean up,” I whisper softly, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He puckers his lips childishly and I smile, indulging him with a playful kiss on the lips before pulling away with a grin tugging at my mouth.We’d just made love again. It had started in the main room after dinner—an evening that was meant to be simple until it turned into something deeper. He was painting me, the canvas still standing outside, unfinished but beautiful. I’d been sitting on his lap while he added the final strokes. That quiet intimacy morphed into soft kisses, and one thing led to another until he brought me here. For a brief moment, I forgot
[mildly erotic scene ahead:]E L E A N O RI'm standing in the middle of a white room. It's stark—bright, cold, and deeply unsettling in a way that claws at my nerves. My legs tremble slightly as my eyes catch movement just a few steps away. There's someone lying on the floor in a pink dress, her back turned to me.“Hello?” I call out cautiously. No response.I rush toward her, gathering the hem of my dress in my arms so I don’t trip. I drop to my knees beside her and gently tap her shoulder. Her skin is cold. A chill races down my spine. I turn her over and gasp sharply when her half-open eyes meet mine.“Marina?”“Eleanor.” Her voice is a weak rasp, barely audible.“Oh God, Marina.” I choke out, tears already burning behind my eyes.“I’m sorry, Eleanor. I really am. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did to you. I deserve this.” Her voice is brittle, fading with each word.“It’s okay,” I whisper through trembling lips. “It was about Margaret and Dolores… You did what you had to do
E L E A N O RThe thought of his words keeps me awake for the rest of the night. Even when the first light seeps softly through the window, sleep refuses to come back. I quietly slip out of bed, carefully disentangling our bodies so I don’t wake him. I stand and move slowly, tying my hair into a loose bun as I step away from the bedroom and gently shut the door behind me.The main room is small but warm. A low shelf holds a stack of books, and a brown rug, soft, worn covers the wooden floor. Several paintings hang on the walls. One shows a little boy who looks just like Perseus, but younger, much younger. A knitted cardigan lies draped over the sofa, next to a ball of yarn and knitting needles. I’m tempted to pick it up and finish the work, but I don’t know whose it is, and that holds me back.There are many paintings. One shows the boy sitting on the edge of a mountain, laughing freely, an orange butterfly resting delicately on his nose. The painter’s style is incredibly realistic, ca
[mildly erotic scene ahead]E L E A N O RI stir in my sleep just as his arms slide gently around my waist, holding me close. A warm kiss lands softly on my forehead, and it prompts a small, involuntary smile to spread across my lips.The faint glow from a lantern perched on the bedside table casts a soft, amber light throughout the room. It’s cozy, intimate, and so very different from the grand bedrooms of the palace I’m used to. The bed beneath me is smaller, but somehow feels just as comforting. The entire space has its own quiet charm—simple furnishings, nothing extravagant, but somehow enough to make me feel safe.The last thing I remember before waking here was losing consciousness in his arms after minutes of silent crying pressed against his shoulder. Ravon, with all his cold schemes, kept toying with my life. Rogues? That was his grand plan all along—to send me off to Perseus and have him track me down.Admitting I’d sleepwalked was the only plausible explanation I could offe
P E R S E U S “Get out!” I roar at the guard. He stumbles backward, hits the floor hard, then scrambles out of my office like his life depends on it — and maybe it does. It’s been three days. Three horrible, endless, miserable days. Sleep has completely abandoned me, and the evidence is all over my face — the black circles under my eyes, the stubble I haven’t even bothered to shave, the bloodshot stare in the mirror that barely looks alive anymore. I’ve looked everywhere. The food court. Clawford. All the Bloodthorn factions. Every neighboring pack. Every damn corner I could think of. She’s nowhere. Vanished. And none of the guards have a single clue. I never should’ve left the room that night. Never should’ve said those things. Maybe she left me. But her clothes are still in the closet. What if she really did leave? What if she’s with someone else right now? The thought shreds through me like a blade. Rage bursts from my chest as I lurch forward and overturn my desk, the l