The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

His voice is pained, “I do not want it, Queen Namora.”

Stopping just shy of the edge of the forest, she turns to him; hesitantly, she reaches her hand out and touches his cheek before letting it fall back to her side, “And because of that, you are the only person worthy of it.” He gazes into her eyes, his longing for her evident. She swallows hard, dropping her view down to his slender chest, “Irving, I will not force you into this, but you must trust me when I say that you are the only one with the power to change that country into a good place. I’d like you to come back to the castle with me, so that we can talk about this more freely, with council. In one week, I ride to Geofen to meet with the others to determine the fate of Alumenia. It is my hope that you will come with me and claim your place. I realize what I ask of you is a lot, a selfless sacrifice to promote peace, something only a true Derven wouldn’t hesitate at. I’d like to think you are one of us but I will not hold it against you if you cannot make this choice.”

Not waiting for Irving to respond, she exits the forest with him in tow. Franklin and Jackson quickly dismount upon seeing the tiger.

“Are you injured?” Franklin asks quickly.

“I am fine, just covered in blood and dirt. It will no doubt give Eunice something to gripe about for a while.

Tightly, he grips the hilt of his sword, though his voice is gentle, “What do you wish to do with the tiger, my Queen?”

She can tell by his tone that he is furious. Holding his gaze, she waits until he drops his before she speaks, “We will give it to the village; they can decide what to do with the pelt and feast on the meat tonight.” Turning to Irving, she says, “Do you have a horse?”

He replies softly to her feet, “No, Queen Namora. I’ve never had much need for one.”

“I am sure that we could borrow one from the village,” Jackson offers, “Or he could ride with me.”

Nodding, Mora starts walking towards the village; though they have horses, Jackson and Franklin remain on their feet and walk behind her out of respect.

“May I grab a few things, Queen Namora?” Irving hesitantly asks.

“Of course,” she replies over her shoulder, “catch up to us once you are finished.”

Irving soon disappears into his cabin, the remaining three heading down the road towards the village. The walk will take them almost an hour but it provides Mora some time to clear her head. For the first time since she met him, she finds herself doubting her love of Rick. She didn’t think she would ever have reason to but after their conversation last night she realizes that she knows very little about him. Never did she consider that they weren’t meant for one another, in fact, she still whole heartedly believes that they are destined to be married; yet she can’t ignore the way her heart had the same reaction to Irving. It is unnerving, looking at him and seeing the face of his father but thankfully he doesn’t share the same dark eyes as Irron.

Mora doesn’t feel right about keeping secrets from Rick but something in her feels like she can’t trust the knowledge of the immortal metal to anyone. Sheynne has done nothing but plot and connive from the moment she met Mora, trying her best to manipulate everyone around her; for that reason, if for none other, Mora questions the royalty of Sceadu. Perhaps in time, once she has learned more about both Sheynne and her son’s natures, she might be able comfortable sharing the entire truth with them.

She is drawn out of her thoughts when Franklin appears walking beside her. She can sense his unsureness of their relationship now that she has become the Queen; while he has always been more formal with her than a friend, the dynamic has taken an odd turn. “Something on your mind, Captain Franklin?”

He snorts, but doesn’t otherwise say anything.Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

Mora glances at him for a moment before turning her gaze forward, “As Advisor Laren is indisposed for the time being, I am promoting you to occupy his position in his absence. Until further notice, you will be the interim Advisor of War.”

Franklin looks at her, clearly surprised, “Thank you, Queen Namora.”

She nods, “Now, what is on your mind, Franklin?”

“I-I don’t know,” he sighs, “Things have changed so drastically, it is hard to grasp. Why is Irving the spitting image of King Irron?”

“Irving is his son,” Mora confesses, “one that he never knew existed.”

“And you wish him to rule Alumenia?” He looks at her doubtfully, “He is… not cut of the same cloth as you, Queen Namora.”

Turning her head over her shoulder, she sees Irving trotting towards them; speaking softly to Franklin, she says, “Given the choice, Franklin, I would choose wool over velvet any day. While velvet is smooth and rich, warm and fancy it takes a lot of effort to keep it pristine. Wool, on the other hand, is just as warm though more versatile, it can take a beating and remain just as durable and dependable as the day it was made.”

Franklin turns to look at Irving as he approaches, “I will defer to your wisdom in this matter, Queen Namora. Whatever I can do to help, I shall.”

After the gift of the tiger meat, the mayor more than happily offers his horse for use, stating that he will collect it the following day. With Irving by her side and their two guards bringing up the rear, the four of them make their way back to the castle in silence, arriving by midday.

Jackson bids them fair well, going to meet with the Advisor of Trade to make sure that everything has been taken care of. Franklin follows behind them, Mora walking slowly beside Irving while he takes in the wonder of the castle.

“I have seen it from the outside, my Lady, but never from within,” there is a small wondrous smile on his face while he looks around at the richly carved wood and the vibrant tapestries, “It is far nicer than the castle in Geofen.”

Leading them towards the small dining room for lunch, Mora eyes him curiously, “You’ve been to the Geofen castle?”

“A few times,” Irving replies, gazing at her. “On occasion we would take the children from the school there to see things.”

Mora nods, though she thinks it odd-children in Derven grow up being taught by their parents until they find someone to apprentice to. Stepping into the dining room, she is surprised to see Lucas, Sari, Eric and Rick seated at the table already eating. She didn’t think they would be up for another few hours.

Rick’s bright blue eyes find hers and he offers a warm smile-but that smile fades when he sees Irving stepping into the room beside her. His face grows dark and angry quickly and he rises out of his chair so fast that it makes a loud scraping noise over the wooden floor, almost toppling in the process. The rest of the group looks completely shocked upon seeing Irving, no doubt unnerved by his uncanny resemblance to his father.

When Rick starts to step around the table, his fists clenched, it becomes clear he means to attack Irving; Mora quickly glides in front of him and up to Rick, her voice strong and firm, “Prince Varickan-I’d like a word with you in the library.”

He comes to a halt, mere inches from crashing into her; his jaw is clenched as he looks past her to Irving. Franklin, having also stepped in front of Irving, tightens his grip on his sword, unsure if he will have to use it or not.

The tension in the room is thick; Mora extends her hand out to the side, motioning for Rick to skirt the table and leave through the further door. His eyes flicker down to catch her gaze once more, the adoration now gone, pure hatred replacing it instead. Mora’s entire body tenses, preparing to defend herself, her adrenaline pumping while she looks back at him, seeing someone she doesn’t know.

When Rick turns on his heels and walks out of the further door, a collective sigh of relief is exhaled by everyone, but Mora. Instead, she follows him into the room across the hall, shutting the door behind him.

Rick is so enraged, he can’t even find words-standing at the far end of the room, he glares at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Mora remains by the door, her eyes locked on his; her voice comes out level even though she is almost trembling in shock, “Please calm down, Rick.”

“Explain yourself,” he growls, stepping forward only to stop before he makes it half way.

“His name is Irving,” Mora offers.

“Irving,” Rick repeats, voice low. “Why does Irving look exactly like Irron?”

“Irron raped his mother,” she says softly, never breaking eye contact. “She managed to evade a death sentence and escape Alumenia. She remained in hiding until she passed away, a decade ago.”

His slow, silent footsteps bring his large form closer, Rick stalking towards her, “He has been in Derven the entire time and you didn’t think it was important enough to mention it to me?”

Mora’s anger starts to rise, the fire burning hotly inside of her. She draws in a deep breath, attempting to keep her rage under control, “No. I didn’t know about him until yesterday. My father brought him here, after his mother died. Until this morning, Irving had no idea who his father was.”

Stopping so close that she can feel the heat from his body on hers, Rick’s wide muscled frame fills her entire line of sight. His eyes seem to be almost glowing, his voice threatening, “You would see him ascend to the throne in his father’s footsteps? Is this what you were trying to talk to me about, last night? How can you think that anyone who shares the same blood as that man could be fit to rule?”