Enjoy!
One shot!
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I walked towards the King's palace in cautious steps. I was here to assassinate the Alpha King of all Werewolves.
Well, what was I?
I was the infamous Black Rogue. It wasn't everyday a rogue became famous among the werewolves. And I was.
My name, perfectly matched my heart... If I actually had one, that is.
These royal werewolf guards were pathetic. I was on a tree, so close to the palace, ready to jump into the magnificent castle balcony, yet no one detected me. Or maybe they didn't want to face the day that I would come. Rogues had a distinct smell, apparently so foul and putrid, it made the pack wolves want to dig a whole earth deep. So why hadn't any caught me when I was face to face with the golden palace?
I was very good at what I did, very.
I wasn't going to slip a kill pill in the King's midnight drink.
No, I was going to come face to face with the king, clutch my fist around his throat, slowly tighten my fingers and watch him choke. I was going to suffocate him.
I was going to watch him gasp.
I was going to watch his skin go from red to pale white.
I was going to watch him claw at my hand around his neck.
It was going to be so good watching the Alpha King, beg me to let go, so that he could breathe.
But I wasn't going to have any of that. The King was to die. And he was to die tonight.
I was to have my revenge.
My black cape flapped around the very cold night. It was pitch black and very foreboding. The castle was never foreboding and haunted. No, that was what my presence did when I went anywhere I wanted to go.
If you thought I was cruel, my wolf was worse.
He was frightening. And unforgiving.
He was the reason my 26 year old self was finally standing here, at the top of the castle, ready for murder.
The king killed my parents. I can still hear mothers screams, her pleads, her begging for the men to stop the torturing .
I watched my father struggle against the silver to save his mate. I watched the silver burn against his skin, creating scars – but that wasn't painful for him. No, watching his mates anguish was worse than death.
My father screamed for my mother, "I'm sorry flower. I'm so sorry!".
He roared and roared, begging for it all to be a nightmare.
But now it was. Now... every day, where I relive that night mare... in my dreams.
Soon after, I watch the King come down to the dungeon with a silver blade. He killed my mother first and the he killed my father – who was more than happy to die.
He then turned to me and made the biggest mistake of his life.
"Let him go"
Which is why I stand here today. I was going to kill him. Or maybe I was going to make him feel like wanting to die.
