Lycan King's POV 

I jolted upright in bed, chest heaving, sweat beading on my brow. The same dream had haunted me for eighteen years: my daughter's face, her tiny hand slipping from mine. The accident that stole her left me powerless, a king reduced to tears, unable to do anything but grieve day after day.

Perhaps I had been under more strain lately, because the dreams had intensified, dragging up memories I'd buried: the river's rush, the whisper of the forest, a distant wail of grief. I couldn't shake them. I climbed out of bed, steeling myself. I needed a walk to the forest, the place where my daughter went missing, where her absence still felt raw. For years, I'd visited that cursed spot, chasing her warmth, clinging to a hope long faded. It was my ritual, my way of feeling my baby's warmth, as though she were still there with me.

Today felt different. My heart raced, a restless throb pulsing through me. Unease gripped me, unusual for a Lycan King. As I strode through the forest, the air felt wrong, charged with something I couldn't name. Small animals darted past, colliding with my legs, foolish creatures that should've fled at the sight of me. Instead, they scurried in a frenzy, circling back toward the river. This wasn't normal. I followed. This was my territory. Nothing moved here without my say.

Pushing through dense bushes, a sharp lavender scent hit me. My blood froze. Only Lycans carried that scent, a gift from the Moon Goddess, marking my bloodline. No wolf, no matter how strong, could mimic it. Eighteen years ago, my daughter, our only child, disappeared, leaving my wife and me broken. We had searched endlessly, each day met with despair. Could this be her?

My head spun, thoughts racing wildly. The lavender trail pulled me to the riverbank. A beast loomed there, fangs bared, ready to lunge at a figure in the water. I didn't think, just acted, kicking the creature aside. It yelped, tail tucked, and fled into the forest.

I dropped to my knees beside the girl in the water. Her face was pale, almost translucent, her breathing so faint it barely stirred the air. Her lips were pressed tight, eyes closed, yet something about her felt achingly familiar. My heart slammed against my ribs, breath catching. If my daughter were alive, she would be eighteen. The lavender scent, weak but undeniable, clung to her.

"Please, Moon Goddess," I whispered, scooping her into my arms. "Don't let me find her just to lose her again." Her body was cold, limp, but I ran, legs burning, toward the pack's stronghold. I hadn't felt this drained since the war that nearly broke us, but I pushed harder, her weight a fragile hope in my arms.

The royal doctor met me at the gates, eyes wide as I thrust the girl toward her. "Save her," I rasped, hands shaking. Servants stared, shock etched on their faces, as if their king had lost his mind. Maybe I had.

"Your Highness, you need rest," a servant urged, guiding me to change out of my soaked clothes. I barely heard them, my gaze locked on the girl as the doctor carried her away.

"Go inform the queen now... No! Don't tell her yet," let's keep this quiet until I know who she is. I won't break her heart again." My wife had never recovered from our daughter's loss, her tears staining her pillow every night. I couldn't raise her hopes only to crush them again.

The doctor hesitated, glancing at the girl. "Your Highness, I mean no disrespect, but she appeared out of nowhere. Could she be-"

I cut her off. "Look at her. The scent, the face... even if appearances could be mimicked, the scent couldn't. The Moon Goddess marked our bloodline with lavender. No one else carries it." Her features mirrored my wife's delicate, strong, unmistakable features. I knew it in my bones: this was our daughter.

Eighteen years ago, an accident took her from us. My wife wept over her portrait day in, day out, and I carried the guilt of failing to protect her. I'd been a king, a warrior, but not a father who could save his only child. Now, here she was, a miracle delivered by the Moon Goddess herself. A second chance.

"Your Highness," the doctor called, "you may need to be intellectually prepared. She's not out of danger. She fell from a great height, which has caused-" The royal doctor's words abruptly ended the pleasant illusion. 

My heart lurched, the joy snuffed out. I'd been so caught up in hope that I'd ignored her condition that she was still caught in the claws of death. "Do whatever it takes," I begged, my voice cracking. "Name your price, but save her."

In that moment, I wasn't the Lycan King, ruler of a mighty pack. I was just a broken-hearted father, pleading for his child. The doctor nodded and ushered me out. "She needs rest, and so do you. We'll do everything we can to save her."

I lingered, reluctant to leave. My hands still trembled, the memory of her faint pulse haunting me. I'd carried her once as a baby, her tiny fingers curled around mine. Now, she was a stranger, yet every bit my daughter. I couldn't lose her again. Each hour was testing my patience. I paced the halls, avoiding my wife's questioning gaze. I hadn't told her, couldn't bear to until I knew the girl would live. Her heart couldn't take another loss. Neither could mine.

Finally, the doctor appeared, her face weary but lit with a small smile. "She's stable, Your Highness. Out of danger, for now. But her recovery will take time; she fell from a very high place, and her body's weak."

Relief flooded me, my knees nearly buckling. "She's alive," I whispered, more to myself than her. "Thank you." I turned to leave, then paused. "Keep her safe, please. I'll tell the queen when she's stronger."

For the first time in years, I felt hopeful. My daughter, our daughter, was back. I'd failed her once, but never again. The Moon Goddess had given me a second chance to make it right, to be the father she deserved. I wouldn't waste it.

Ember Frost's POV

Pain slammed through my skull. I tried to open my eyes, but they wouldn't budge; they remained sealed shut like they'd been glued. Darkness pressed in, heavy and absolute. Had I hit my head on the cliff's edge? Or a rock in the river? Owen's sneering face flashed in my mind, his voice mocking: Useless human. I'd always been weak, hadn't I?

A rustle broke the silence, followed by voices, urgent, and overlapping. "Did she move?" "She's waking up! Fetch His Majesty!" The words swirled, unfamiliar and chaotic, spiking my headache. Confusion churned in my gut. Where was I? Who were they?

"Silence, please!" I croaked, my voice barely a rasp. The noise stopped instantly, a hush falling over the room. Exhausted, I sank back, the pain dragging me under. Sleep took me fast.

When I stirred again, voices hummed in my head, soft, almost musical, not a dream but real. They weren't grating, not like the pack's jeers back home. These were warm, alluring, like a lullaby I couldn't place. I wanted to see their faces, to match the voices to people, but my body screamed in protest. Every muscle ached, as if I'd been torn apart and stitched back together. My head throbbed like it'd been crushed under a boulder. If this kept up, I'd lose what little sense I had left.

"Why can't I see?" I mumbled, panic rising. My eyes still wouldn't open.

A gentle voice answered. "It's alright, Princess. You hit your head when you fell. Your vision will return soon."

Princess? The word jolted me. Was this a prank? A fever dream? Who were they calling Princess? My chest tightened, memories of that night flooding back, Owen's rejection, his cruel words slicing me open, the cold river swallowing me as I fell from the cliff. I'd wanted to die, to escape the shame, the pain of being a burden. Yet here I was, alive, surrounded by strangers. Why hadn't death taken me? Even the God of Death must've found me too pathetic to claim.

I tried my eyes again, willing them to open. A faint blue light seeped through, dim and hazy. I blinked, the effort searing, but the darkness held fast. My heart raced. Had the river blinded me? I'd fallen, the current dragging me, my body slamming against rocks. How was I still breathing? These people, whoever they were, had saved me. Kind, maybe, but they'd be disappointed. A weakling like me couldn't repay them, couldn't go to war with them, couldn't belong. They should've let me drown.

"They shouldn't have saved me," I whispered, tears pricking my sealed eyes. "I'm no use to anyone." Owen's voice echoed: You're pathetic. Stay in your hole. I'd brought humiliation to my family, to Elena, to the pack. I didn't deserve this second chance.

A gentle hand touched my forehead, soothing the ache. "Sleep, little one," a voice said. "Rest, and it will hasten your healing." Her tone was warm and kind, calming my fears. Weak as I was, I clung to it, too exhausted to fight. Sleep pulled me under again.

When I woke, my eyes fluttered open, just a crack. A soft blue glow filled the room. I blinked, wincing at the sting, and shapes began to form. My vision was blurry, like looking through fog. I felt relieved; at least I wasn't blind.

People surrounded me, their faces coming into focus. They wore sleek, yellow robes and moved gracefully. A tall woman stood in the centre, her long black curly hair piled high, her lips full, and her cheeks rosy. Her smile was beautiful, yet tears welled up in her eyes. The others fanned out around her, their eyes soft and welcoming.

"My Princess," she whispered, voice trembling with excitement. "Thank the Moon Goddess you're awake."

I stared, my head spinning. Princess? This had to be a joke. Maybe Elena, my best friend back home, had planned this; her wild pranks always caught me off guard. She would tease me, laugh, then hug me tight. But the room was too grand, its walls carved with intricate patterns, the air heavy with a scent I couldn't place, sweet, like vanilla. No one would waste this effort on a nobody like me.

"I'm sorry," I said, clearing my throat, my voice shaky. "You've got the wrong person." I braced for Elena to burst in, giggling, but the woman's smile didn't falter. 

"No mistake, Your Highness," she said, stepping closer. "You're our royal princess. We nearly lost you, but the Moon Goddess guided us to you in time."

My heart raced, confusion crashing over me. Royal princess? I was Ember, the wolf-less human, rejected and humiliated. "You don't understand," I said, trying to explain. "I'm no one. I fell from a cliff, I-" I stopped, my headache flaring, making me wince.

A brown-haired woman in a simpler robe, maybe a maid, spoke up, her voice soft but tinged with awe. "The Moon Goddess spared you, Princess. You survived that fall by her grace."

My head spun, the room tilting. What was this place? Had I died and woken in some strange afterlife? Or had the river carried me somewhere new? The pain, the voices, the title, they overwhelmed me. I gripped the edge of the bed, nails digging in, trying to anchor myself. "I don't understand," I whispered. "What's happening?"

The tall woman knelt beside me, her hand gentle on mine. "You're safe now," she whispered, her voice soft as a mother's. "You're home. We'll explain everything, but you need to rest first." Her kindness disarmed me, but it only deepened my confusion. Home? I'd left my home, Klaus, my parents, and the pack behind. I'd jumped to free them from my shame.

"I'm not a princess," I said, shaking my head, the motion increasing the pain. "I'm useless to your pack." Owen's words echoed again, cutting deep. Useless. Pathetic. Tears burned my eyes, but I fought them back, refusing to break here.

"No, child, you are everything," the woman said, her voice fierce now, eyes blazing with conviction. "You're our hope, our future. The Moon Goddess brought you back to us." She squeezed my hand, her touch grounding me despite my doubts.

"Rest, Princess," the maid said, her voice soft as a lullaby. "We'll be here when you wake."

I wanted to argue, to tell them they were wrong, but exhaustion hit hard. My vision blurred again, the pain in my head intensified. I sank back, too weak to fight.

Ember Frost's POV

When I woke, the pain had subsided, but their words still echoed in my head, Princess. Home. Moon Goddess. I felt that sharp ache in my head again, wincing I held my head.

"Easy, Princess," the tall, slender woman said, her voice soft but firm, the same soothing tone I'd heard in my fevered sleep. "The royal doctor warned against overthinking. It will slow your recovery." She hovered near my bed, hazel eyes kind but piercing.

"Don't worry," she added, "I've sent for your parents. They've been here, waiting while you were unconscious, but Lycan duties called them away. They'll be back soon." Her words tumbled out, warm but unhelpful, dodging the questions clawing at my mind.

My head throbbed, a dull ache flaring with each thought. Parents? Lycans? Was Klaus a prince now? How long had I been out since I jumped off that cliff? Why did their words make no sense? "What are you talking about?" I asked, voice hoarse. "How long was I unconscious? What year is it?"

The women around her, maids in yellow robes, giggled, their laughter light, like I'd asked something absurd. "Not long, Your Highness," one said, her brown hair tucked neatly under a cap. "Just a day since we found you. No need to fret about the year."

Their answers twisted my confusion tighter, a maze of half-truths. My temples pulsed. "Leave," I said, clutching my head. "I need space. Please."

They hesitated, but the slender woman nodded, handing me a glass of dark liquid. "This herb will ease the pain," she said, her gaze steady. "Drink it. It'll help you feel better." She pointed to a blue-threaded pattern on her dress, a Lycan symbol, one I'd seen in my old pack's house, a symbol of their glory. Only Lycans or their trusted ones wore it. She had no reason to lie to a nobody like me.

I swallowed the bitter liquid, grimacing as it burned down my throat. The women filed out, the slender one dimming the room's light. "Your eyes aren't ready for bright light," she said. "Is this okay?" I nodded, and she offered a faint smile before leaving.

Alone, my thoughts raced, each one a spark igniting my headache. They called me their lost princess, but my adoptive parents weren't royalty. Were they? Klaus, my parents, were they coming here? How could I face them after what I'd done? I'd jumped, humiliated the pack, left them to clean up my mess. Owen's voice echoed: You're useless. Pathetic. I was weak, a stain on everyone I loved. I didn't want visitors, I didn't want their pity.

"Princess is awake!" a voice called outside. My heart sank. Had I jinxed it?

A soft knock followed. "Come in," I said, licking my dry lips, nerves twisting my gut.

The door swung open, and a woman stepped in, young and radiant, her grace commanding the room. Her dark hair flowed in waves, her eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears. Something about her felt familiar, like a half-remembered dream. Behind her, another woman urged her forward, patting her shoulder. "Renee, don't just stand there."

I heaved a sigh of relief when I saw it wasn't my adoptive parents that came. How would I have faced her? But this woman wasn't her. Relief mixed with dread. How could I face anyone after what I'd done?

Renee's eyes locked on mine, reddening instantly. She moved slowly, as if afraid I'd vanish, and grasped my wrist. Her touch was warm, trembling. Tears broke free, streaming down her cheeks, hot against my skin. "My baby girl," she choked, pulling me into a tight embrace. "My poor child." Her voice cracked, repeating the words like a prayer.

I froze, overwhelmed. I had imagined meeting my birth parents but never envisioned our reunion this way, maybe a handshake, a stiff nod, but not this. Her arms were frail, her body so thin I feared she'd break. Yet her hug was fierce, her Lavender scent soothing, stirring something deep inside me. Hesitant, I lifted my free hand, patting her back softly. Her sobs shook us both.

"I thought the Moon Goddess punished me," she whispered, tears soaking my shoulder. "It was my fault and sin to lose you. Why did you have to suffer?" Her voice broke, raw with guilt. I couldn't breathe, her pain mirroring my own.

I opened my mouth to speak, but she kissed my cheek, hard and desperate. "It's okay, my child," she said, pulling back to cradle my face. Her hands turned my head gently, studying me like I was a puzzle she'd lost. "You're home now. Mummy and daddy don't care what you've endured. We'll protect you, shield you with our lives. We're never losing you again."

Her words crashed over me, warm but bewildering. Home? Parents? I'd left my home, my pack, to spare them my shame. "I don't-" I started, but my voice faltered. How could I explain? I was Ember, the rejected wolf-less human, not their princess. Owen's rejection still burned. 

"You don't have to say anything," she said, wiping her tears, her smile fragile but bright. "You're here. That's enough." She stroked my hair, her touch grounding me despite the chaos in my head.

I glanced at the other woman, her eyes kind. "She's been waiting for you," she said softly. "We all have." The maids stood near the door, their faces soft with relief. Their warmth was real, but it only deepened my confusion. Why did they care about me?

"I'm not a princess," I said, voice shaking. "I'm Ember. I... I jumped off a cliff. I don't belong here." My headache flared, and I winced, gripping the bed.

Renee's eyes widened, pain flashing across her face. "You belong with us," she said fiercely. "You're our daughter, taken away from us. But the Moon Goddess brought you back." She squeezed my hand, her strength surprising in her frail frame.

My head spun, questions piling up. How was I their daughter? What about my adoptive parents, who'd loved me despite my weakness? Klaus, who'd defended me? Had they known I was Lycan royalty?

"I need answers," I said, voice barely above a whisper. "I don't understand any of this."

"You will," Renee said, her voice steady now. "We'll tell you everything, your birth, your loss, your return. But rest first. You're healing." She brushed a strand of hair from my face, her touch tender, like my adoptive mother's once was.

Exhaustion hit, my vision blurring. I wanted to argue, to demand clarity, but my body betrayed me. "Okay," I mumbled, sinking back. The room's light faded, Renee's face visible as sleep pulled me under.