Danganronpa Servant Novels & Stories

Brynn Ashwood survived ten years as a servant in Greymire, beaten, starved, and invisible. She learned to endure the whip, to swallow her screams, to become nothing. Survival meant silence. Freedom was a fantasy she'd buried alongside her slaughtered pack. Then he felt her pain. Torrhen Ashford, the ruthless alpha of the Northern Territories, wakes one night to agony that isn't his. A rare pain bond, the kind that hasn't surfaced in fifty years, has tied him to a girl he's never met. Every bruise she earns, he feels. Every lash she takes, he bleeds. And he's done pretending he doesn't care. When Torrhen storms Greymire to claim her, Brynn doesn't trust him. Alphas don't save servants. They own them. But the bond doesn't lie, his rage when she's hurt, his gentleness when she breaks, the way he'd burn the world down to keep her safe. For the first time in a decade, she dares to hope. But hope is dangerous. Rodrick Vale, the alpha who destroyed her pack, won't let her go. To him, she's property. Proof of his conquest. And when the council rules that Torrhen violated territorial law by taking her, Brynn is forced to make an impossible choice: let one of Torrhen's wolves pay the blood price, or return to Greymire herself. She chooses hell. One year of servitude in exchange for the pack's safety. One year of surviving Rodrick's revenge. One year of Torrhen feeling every moment of her suffering through the bond, unable to save her, forbidden from crossing the border, slowly losing his mind. Some loves are fated. Some are forged in fire. Theirs was built on pain. And when her year is up, Rodrick will learn what happens when you hurt an alpha's mate.

I have been bound to Ryan Hardin for nine years. He is pureblood, the Alpha of Silverfang Pack. And I… I was chosen as nothing more than a “temporary Luna,” a political pawn to steady the pack’s power. In those nine years, he betrayed me countless times. The first time, on my birthday, he announced that the celebration belonged to another she-wolf he had just met. The second time, I brewed medicine for his injuries, only to be accused by the Elders of bewitching the Alpha. He didn’t defend me—instead, he ordered me to be whipped in front of the entire pack. The third time, I was three months pregnant. He stood there, watching as his childhood sweetheart pushed me down the stone steps. I lost our pup that day. Nine years. Three thousand two hundred nights. I endured his indifference, his humiliation, his contempt. Last night, at the Silverfang Pack’s full-moon feast, he openly entwined his hand with a young Omega’s while I sat abandoned at the far end of the Alpha’s table. Every gaze cut into me—wolves whispering, mocking, savoring the spectacle. It was his 200th betrayal. When the feast ended, Ryan didn’t even look at me. His words were sharper than fangs: “Don’t forget, your Luna title is only temporary.” At dawn, he descended the Alpha’s staircase, his voice cold and commanding as if I were a servant: “Prepare the council’s tea. Now.” I met his gaze without flinching, my voice steady, stripped of all submission. “I’m sorry, Alpha. That is no longer my duty.” He seems to forget—we were never bound by a mark. Ours was an agreement, nothing more. And today marks the third-to-last day before that agreement ends. I gathered the Luna emblem, the wedding ring, and our only wedding photo—and burned them all. In three days, I’ll leave this pack. I will return to the secluded Herbal Academy, reclaim my research. And this time, when I walk away, I will never return.