'Family don't end with blood, boy.' - Bobby Singer
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Year 2358.
"Come on Alia, you're better than this!"
Alia scowls, her uncle Darian has been at her back all morning. She had been caught preparing a bag of essentials to take with her on her trip to the King's castle tomorrow morning.
Alia walks around the kitchen in athletic clothing, in the home that she shares with her uncle, and pulls out various vegetables, liquids and proteins and places them on-top of the island counter. She gathers the materials and begins to prepare a protein shake. Darian follows close behind.
Alia's head begins to ache. Why is he doing this? Why now? She knew Darian knew of her malice towards the King. Hell, even he hated him! She thought, that out of all people, he would understand and clearly, she was wrong.
"That's the thing, Darian." She sighs, turning to face the only family she has left. "I'm not."
Darian Stroy stood at five foot and eleven inches and was seventy five years old. Due to werewolf ageing, he still looks to be in his early-to-mid thirties; healthy brown hair, brown eyes and a very strong, built body. His sun-kissed skin complemented his physique, accentuating the large and powerful muscles adorning his body.
He is one of the strongest and most skilled Commander of the Throne, who's role in the Pack is to train the Warriors of the Throne for any oncoming battles. Due to rightly placed precautions, they trained daily and intensely, which she was no stranger to. Her Uncle's brown tousled hair and deep brown eyes gave the illusion that he was soft, but he definitely was not. Darian Stroy was a Machine, creating the strongest and most proficient Warriors that could slice through anything and everything thrown at them, prospering in battle. Granted, he is a non-ranking wolf, but he is granted just as much respect, if not more, as the five Delta's in the Pack.
The King, who is the Alpha of the Lycanthrope Kingdom, runs the pack Alia and Darian reside in, the Pack of Vasileís, and has Gammas running every other pack in the Kingdom. There is only one Gamma in each pack and they can appoint five Deltas as their advisors on what was going on in their located areas. Deltas can appoint many other non-ranking wolves with roles to help them manage their areas of the territory, yet they cannot rank another individual. Only Gammas, The Beta or The King can appoint ranks onto a wolf, but this is useless in nowadays terms of things as ranks are born into.
Most wolves live up to around one or two centuries and continue to look their prime; the body fully stops ageing at seventy years of age and it allows finding a Chosen Mate much easier as age differences are disregarded. This also means that when one half of the pair died of natural causes the other could go and search for another Chosen Mate.
Alia despises the idea of claiming someone who wasn't made for her. Chosen Mates cannot be marked, their bodies reject the claim and grant them excruciating pain for going against the Lunar Goddess' wishes. Alia will find her Fated Mate and she would love only Him, bearing His mark for the world to see.
Darian cared for her when no one else would and she is forever grateful. Alia understands that he is worried, every sane person would be. But, this was something she needs to do and she won't let him stop her now.
The King has to die.
Darian growls in frustration, his soul hurts at the thought of Alia dying by the slimy hands of the King. He has already lost his sister and he refuses to lose his niece too. Losing his sister pained him more than he could have ever imagined, he misses her dearly and can't possibly comprehend how harrowing it was for Alia to lose her mother and father on the same day.
"Can't you see that it's suicide!" Darian cries, slamming his palms against the cool, marble surface of the island. A sharp crack slices through the material, branching out like a bolt of lightening at the force of the action. His eyes lie trained on the impurity before closing them, taking a deep breath as he tries to reel in his volatile emotions.
He desperately wants Alia to change her mind.
Of course, he knew of her plans all those years ago, but her parents had just died! When he had found her, covered in her parents blood as she held them, she was in a delirious rage. Alia wanted-needed the King's blood and he, a man who had also just lost his twin sister, complied to her wishes to train her into the fighter that she is today.
A part of him unashamedly wanted to watch her ruin the King's life, tearing him from this existence he didn't deserve to stay in, and so he forcefully shoves that desire down to the deepest parts of his mind. He thought, hoped that her cravings to kill would diminish as she grew older and boy, was he wrong.
"And so be it." Alia responds, causing Darian to grab his chest and whine.
In the past four years, Darian has formed a very close bond with his niece and he loves her as if she was one of his own. Being mateless means that he doesn't have children and he cannot bare to lose her. "You can't leave me too, Alia."
Alia walks towards her uncle and places her hands on both sides of his face. "I won't." She says softly, looking into her uncle's pain-ridden eyes. She loves him and knows that he's hurting. "I will not let them kill me - not today, not tomorrow, not ever. I promise you that."
Alia releases her dear uncle after he nods, eyes slightly brightening.
She is a powerful fighter and that calms him greatly for he doesn't doubt her training for a second. Darian gently grabs his niece's arm, pulling her into him as he holds her for what, hopefully, isn't the last time.
After a few moments, Alia pulls away from the warm embrace and whispers, "I have to go train."
Darian nods and she turns and grabs her finished protein shake from the cracked counter. He can only watch as she walks out of the house and towards her local training centre.
The training centre is located on a large, open field and lies 20 minutes away from their home. Alia makes the journey through town with her wireless earphones in, bobbing her head to some music whilst sipping her shake.
The centre is huge. It holds hundreds of gym equipment, sparring mats and an unrestricted outdoors facility to be able to test speed and endurance. The outdoors section is basically the rest of the open field, surrounded by thick forestry.
The facility is thriving with wolves. The mats are almost fully occupied by sparring pairs and Alia notices that the pairs ranged from beginner to more experienced fighters. There are more experienced fighters than beginners and she observes the same premise with the many individuals using the gym equipment.
Alia frowns. During battles, the King would chose to not fight for his people and instead would make them fight for him whilst he hid in his castle like a coward. During those first battles, most of the Warriors of the Throne were extremely frightened and poorly trained. They would prosper every time due to their sheer numbers as the King used to force individuals to fight for him and would issue an immoral prison sentence to those who disobeyed. The Pack of Vasileís would suffer a huge loss as the majority of the wolves always lost their lives. This led to the newer Warriors of the Throne training more efficiently and excessively so to prevent their lives from also being taken from them out on the battlefield.
They refuse to die for a cowardly King.
They would survive and continue to train as loyal Warriors of the Throne, so that when an honourable King came along, they would be ready to make him proud.
Alia makes her way to one of the very few vacant sparring mats. There were no single individuals so she knew she will have to wait for one to show up. She had grabbed a clean towel on the way into the centre and places it onto the ground beside the mat. Her empty protein shake is placed next to the towel, along with her wireless earphones and phone. Taking a seat on the mat, Alia waits patiently for her opponent to arrive.
When a single individual occupies a sparring mat, the next person who wishes to spar will join the individual. They will not take a vacant mat. Opponents vary in experience and this has made training more efficient as the wolves can spar realistically, fighting both stronger and weaker individuals. This method allows for greater variation, resulting in a more diverse fighting capability.
"I was worried you weren't going to show up."
Alia looks up at her opponent and good friend Aeron Drey. His 6 foot frame and strong, muscular physique is only just a small indicator of the highly skilled fighter. He wears a pair of athletic, black shorts and a grey, form-fitting gym t-shirt. Aeron loves training and Alia realises that he had been previously using the various gym equipment scattered around the facility due to the glistening sweat slightly coating his muscles.
His skin is fairer than her uncle's as Darian, for many decades, is always out in the sun training others, whilst Aeron has only started training officially with other Warriors and an appointed Commander of the Throne. He is a relatively new Warrior but has been training long before his recruitment.
The pair have grown to be very close, ever since Alia began her training four years ago.
"When have I ever missed a training day." She smirks and grabs her friend's strong, outstretched hand, standing to her feet.
Taking a few steps back, Aeron stands at the other end of the mat. Alia bounces on her feet and shakes her arms, preparing her body for the fight to come. Her companion gets into a fighting position and stares are her with determination.
Before Aeron can say a single word, Alia swings her right arm towards his face. He blocks the attack with his left forearm and aims his right fist towards her ribs. Alia quickly jumps and raises both of her legs, ramming her feet into his chest before he can make contact. His back slams roughly onto the mat a few metres away and Alia rolls backwards on the floor, jumping to her feet.
She slightly bends her knees, with her fists in front of her face, as she watches Aeron spring back up with a small growl. He leaps forward and throws his right fist towards her face. She swiftly dodges the attack by running and sliding under his flying body, twisting herself so that she can get up quickly.
But, Aeron has already predicted her move. Landing onto the ground, he sends a 180 roundhouse kick her to her waist and, sure enough, Alia fails to move out of the way, the force of the kick sending her body to the left side of the large, square mat.
Forcing herself to ignore the stinging pain, Alia instantly kicks herself up and runs to her opponent. Aeron doesn't have enough time to react before Alia leaps into the air and wraps her strong, lean legs around his neck. She swings her upper body to the right, spinning and slamming Aeron onto the ground.
"That one's new." Aeron groans, slowly pushing his upper body off of the ground. The force of the attack has winded him and he's sure that a few bones have broken as a result.
"I've been experimenting." Alia grins, breathing deeply as she offers a hand to her defeated opponent.
He looks up at her from the ground and chuckles, eyes filled with admiration. He is proud of how far she had come in regards to her training. Granted, she isn't a Warrior of The Throne but she sure as hell would be better than most. Aeron is sure of it.
Playfully slapping Alia's outstretched hand away, Aeron uses his right arm to push against the ground as he stands, all whilst his left arm is gently held against his midsection.
"Are you alright?" Alia questions, looking back at Aeron as she grabs her stuff from next to the mat.
Most sparring matches start and finish in under a minute and they took around 20 seconds. It is an impressive feat, but as she begins to notice her friend's stiff movements, the pride diminishes and instead she grows worried.
"Yeah, I'll be okay." He sighs, pausing and glancing at the facility entrance with hesitation. "I better head to the infirmary, just to make sure."
Alia walks over to her companion and grabs his right arm, carefully swinging it over her shoulders. She smiles, looking up at him and they slowly make their way out of the training centre.
Their local infirmary is connected to the facility and sits to the left of the centre's entrance. They make their way into the busy establishment and head into the waiting area.
"I'll go and tell them that you're here." Alia informs, helping Aeron into one of the vacant chairs. She unwraps his right arm from her shoulders and he abruptly grunts at the action, eyes tightly closed from the sharp pain. Hesitantly, she releases his arm and walks to the reception desk, her mind still on her injured friend.
The woman behind the desk looks up at the young female and smiles, "How can I help?"
Before Alia can get a word out, a loud voice shouts at her from across the room, "Miss Alia Cain, what on earth are you doing here?!" She turns to the voice and sees a very familiar Doctor, that always tends to her and Aeron's medical needs, rushing her way.
"Dr Frida, how are you?" Alia grins. The woman has always taken good care of the pair whenever they find themselves in need of medical assistance, which is almost weekly.
"How am I? How are you!? Are you hurt? Where's my dear Aeron? Is he hurt too? Oh dear goodness, you both are going to be the death of me." She frantically pats Alia's body to search for any injuries.
Alia laughs and gently grabs the Doctor's wrists, halting the woman's search and resulting in her looking up at Alia.
Dr Elizabeth Frida stands at 5'2 and looks to be in her late twenties, Alia isn't sure of the woman's age, but she knows for a fact that the Doctor is much older than her Uncle Darian.
The wolf has grown fond of the two friends and makes it her mission to fix them up whenever needed. Her voluminous, sandy blonde hair and kind, blue eyes are always the first thing they see after an injury. She has become a calming sight.
"It's Aeron this time. We were training and things got a bit rough." Alia leads the Doctor to the waiting room.
Dr Frida gasps when she sees Aeron. "Oh, you poor boy."
At the woman's voice, Aeron's eyes raise from the floor and he flashes her a toothy grin before frowning. "Alia hurt me." He sneaks a look at his companion.
Alia's arms are crossed and her left eyebrow is raised in mock anger. Aeron winks in response and she smiles, shaking her head and rolling her eyes at the male.
Dr Frida motions for Alia to grab his other arm whilst she wraps his left around her shoulders. Alia complies and Aeron is pulled to a stand, groaning painfully. The pain only started to develop when they arrived at the infirmary.
"Come on, let's go and take a look at you." Dr Frida leads the pair towards an empty bed surrounded by a single curtain.
Once Aeron is comfortably laid on the bed, the Doctor speaks, "It is fairly uncommon for a wolf to come in here with a broken bone. The fact that the two of you come in here multiple times a month - for a breakage - is quite astounding."
Aeron tries to voice a light-hearted joke, but the Doctor only purses her lips and hums, not amused.
Most wolves are unable to break another's bones as it requires a lot of force. Only trained wolves can exert enough power to cause serious injury. Highly skilled Warriors can even snap necks like a twig; Aeron and Alia have not yet reached that skill level.
But, fighting in primal (wolf) form is a whole different story. A wolf can easily break another's bones, but they cannot easily tear off limbs. By training and increasing the power of the non-primal (non-wolf) form, it also increases the power of the primal form. The pair, along with the majority of other Warriors of the Throne, have only trained in non-primal form due to this correspondence.
Alia looks down at Aeron from beside his bed. Being able to break bones reassures Alia of her fighting capabilities, but it doesn't make seeing Aeron in a hospital bed any easier.
She feels guilty for causing him pain, she always does and can't help it. Alia cares deeply for Aeron and seeing him in pain hurts her more than she will care to admit.
"Oh stop it, Alia" Aeron scolds, noticing her guilt-ridden expression.
She looks to the ground and slightly shakes her head, whispering, "You know I hate seeing you like this."
Aeron grabs her hand. She looks away from the floor and into his honey brown eyes. "This." he pauses, using his right hand to motion towards his upper body, "Is inevitable. We will always injure each other and that's okay. It comes with the territory and you know that."
Alia raises her face to the ceiling and closes her eyes. "Yeah." She sighs. "I know."
Her hand tightens around Aeron's and the Doctor, who had been forgotten about, speaks "well, aren't you two quite the cosy pair."
Alia's mood lightens and she laughs, before looking back down at Aeron. He smiles at her and rubs his thumb against the back of her hand. "I'll be okay, Alia."
During their conversation, Dr Frida has been sitting on a chair next to the bed and filling out paperwork to send Aeron to get a chest X-Ray. "Alright, I will now be taking you to go and see Dr Margot, a Radiologist who I'm sure you've already met. A chest X-Ray will be carried out and that will take roughly fifteen minutes." She informs, unlatching the wheel brakes of the bed. Dr Frida looks over at Alia. "I'll come and get you when it's all over. After the X-Ray, he'll have to stay here for a few hours until his body heals itself enough to be able to walk on its own."
Alia nods and releases Aeron's hand. He looks up at her and she grins, raising both of her hands to her face, giving him two thumbs up.
"Don't miss me too much!" He calls as the Doctor pushes his bed towards the Radiology Department of the infirmary.
Alia chuckles, crossing her arms. What would i do without him?
She goes and sits back in the waiting room, patiently waiting for Dr Frida to come and retrieve her.
The infirmary holds individuals with varying injuries, from snapped tendons to broken bones and gaping wounds. It is a lot, but she knows that it is better to be safe than sorry when it comes to one's health. And sure, fast healing did wonders as most patients will be discharged right after seeing one of the Doctors, getting right back to their daily agendas.
The rate of healing varies within the Lycanthrope Kingdom. Higher ranking and more powerful wolves tend to have faster healing properties than weaker wolves. It helps them through battle as they fight to protect those who don't have enough power to protect themselves.
Well, that's what it used to be like. Now, the greedy, high-ranking wolves force those weaker than them to fight for their protection. It is irritable, and Alia has a feeling that those 'high-ranking' wolves are truly the weakest of them all. She knows that they don't deserve their ranks. They are unfit to hold them and it only makes her desire to complete tomorrow's plan grow.
Sure enough, the Doctor stays true to her word and after twenty minutes Alia is taken into a different room.
The bed that Aeron lays on is tilted upright so that he can sit up comfortably. His shirt has been removed and he isn't connected to any machinery as they are unnecessary, the Doctor can hear his vitals just fine and he isn't in a critical enough condition to require the continuous monitoring that the machines would allow.
She walks over and stands next to his bed. He looks up at her and she ruffles his hair.
"Want to know what you broke?" He smirks, wiggling his dark eyebrows after a moment of silence. "It's quite impressive, if you ask me."
She narrows her eyes at him, they shine with amusement. "Enlighten me."
"Basically, you managed to break my fourth right rib and my fourth and fifth left ribs. The fifth one on the left is a tiny, hairline fracture and Dr Frida says that should heal within the hour. The other two, however, should heal completely after around 6 hours, which is pretty decent, considering." He states, motioning to different areas of his torso as he describes them.
Alia shifts her weight onto her left foot and leans against the hospital wall. She crosses her arms as she ponders the information. That extent of breakages, from just one move, has Alia reeling with determination.
She is ready for tomorrow.
Four years of training has helped her become the fighter she needs to be to be able to take down the King.
She frowns, eyebrows furrowing as she considers what would happen after she succeeds. Will she be the new Queen? Isn't that how they determined ranks in the old ages, a fight to the death? Or would she be hunted and killed for treason?
She wasn't sure if she wanted the Throne of Vasiliádes. Not only did she feel unworthy of the Throne, but she also felt like she was not the one who should sit on it. She only wants the King's death, not an entire kingdom.
Alia eventually comes to the conclusion that if the former outcome occurs she will allow anyone who wished for the Throne, of who she deemed fit to rule, to fight for the Throne of Vasiliàdes respectively against another challenging individual. The last remaining individual would be crowned King, breaking the imbalance within the Kingdom and finally granting wolves their rightful positions in the Hierarchy.
Alia is pulled out of her thoughts when Aeron says her name and she looks down at him, eyebrows raised in question. He continues to stare into her eyes, his face completely serious.
Aeron's breathing becomes deeper before mind-linking her. Do not die tomorrow.
She smiles gently and takes a seat in the chair next to his bed. I won't, I promise.
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~L