The morning sun was bright, its rays casting golden streaks across the dusty town square. The air buzzed with tension, thick enough to choke on. A makeshift table had been set in the middle of the plaza—nothing fancy, just a few planks and chairs—but the importance of what was about to happen made it feel like a throne room.
The crowd had already gathered, spilling out of alleyways and doorways, lining the edges of the square with eager eyes and hushed whispers. Word had spread like wildfire that the Snow Leopard Clan and the Lion King were about to negotiate face-to-face, with the mysterious wolf mate of Alpha Ronan acting as the wolf clan’s representative.
Most of the townsfolk had never seen Riven before. They had imagined soone... Softer. Weaker. Rumours painted him as a quiet, delicate mate, Ronan had hidden away. So even whispered he was just a pretty face—soone kept for show, not politics.
But as soon as Riven stepped forward to take his seat at the table, those whispers turned to stunned silence.
He wasn’t tall like Leon or broad-shouldered like Soren, but he carried himself with unmistakable resolve. His eyes were sharp, his steps steady. He was dressed modestly in the wolf clan’s formal greys and dark blues, but it was the way he stood—chin up, posture firm—that struck people the most.
Riven was always dressed in a simple white shirt and simple black trousers, they were the easiest to remove... And not too expensive that he would regret if it was ripped off- Cough. Anyway, he decided to wear sothing formal, he was representing the wolf clan after all. He wondered where Ronan was.
He looked like he belonged there.
Still, the people weren’t convinced. Their loyalties had shifted over ti. Despite being wolves by blood, and despite they themselves requesting not to be under the governance of any clan, they held resentnt towards Ronan for not giving them the sa benefits as their people did. Though they did not want him as a leader, they wanted the benefits just because they were wolves.
Leon, on the other hand, radiated confidence and fire. His charisma and ambition stirred sothing in them—sothing that craved power, dominance, and glory. They were tired of living like this. They wanted to jump ships, to sothing far more glorious.
Riven and Soren made their way to the negotiation table first. Leon was still tired, annoyed and experiencing a mix of emotions. But as he made his way over, he saw a painful scene.
Leon’s fists clenched at his sides as Soren leaned in, whispering sothing to Riven that made her laugh. Each chuckle felt like a knife twisting in Leon’s gut. He couldn’t stand how close they were—Soren’s hand casually resting on Riven’s shoulder, a gentle rub that felt like a taunt.
Leon stood tall across from him, his cloak fluttering slightly in the wind, golden eyes flashing with restrained fury. For a mont, it had seed like he was ready to back down. His arms were crossed, and his jaw was tight, but there was sothing different in his posture—his pride had been bruised, and he was about to do sothing reckless.
"If it were up to ," Leon said finally, his voice low but carrying across the quiet square, "I would’ve left this town last night. But clearly, this town deserves better than what you have to offer. So, I will kindly take it under my wing? If you have a problem with that, we can settle things the old-fashioned way." Leon basically declared war.
Riven was stunned, they did not even begin to negotiate. He bit his lip, he knew it, that arrogant bastard did not change at all. He was as egoistic as he always was.
Soren—who had been silent behind Riven this entire ti—stepped forward.
He didn’t speak right away. He simply reached down and took Riven’s hand into his own. His touch was gentle, but the gesture was anything but. He looked at Riven briefly, possessively, before lifting his gaze to Leon with a faint smirk that practically dripped with smugness.
Soren’s voice was calm. Cold.
"If you’re going to start a war," he said evenly, "we’ll be the ones to end it."
Leon’s eyes darkened imdiately. He stiffened like a blade has pierced his back, that was how he felt when he saw Riven act that close to that damned snow leopard.
Riven tried to pull his hand back, but Soren didn’t let go.
The crowd fell dead silent at the declaration, but they rejoiced on the inside, they could finally get what they wanted.
That look—Soren’s hand on Riven, that smug expression—was the final blow. It wasn’t just a threat. It was a declaration. It was a deliberate taunt.
"You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?" Leon asked through gritted teeth, his voice shaking with rage. "Parading around with him like you’ve already won." Soren was very similar to him, and he knew exactly what that damned leopard was doing.
"I don’t parade," Soren said simply, still holding Riven close. "I claim what’s mine."
Leon’s hands clenched at his sides. His nails dug into his palms.
Riven could not follow the conversation at the beginning, but he finally understood what was happening, what Soren was doing and what Leon was doing. Leon... Was jealous? Did he like him?
"Wait-" Riven planned to interject and perhaps ask Leon to talk to him alone, without Soren.
But Leon wasn’t listening anymore.
"Fine," he spat, eyes never leaving Soren. "If it’s war you want, war you’ll have. I was planning on leaving this place with my n, but not anymore." He laughed dangerously.
Riven blinked, stunned. He was going to leave?
Leon turned slightly, shouting orders. "Get into formation! Begin securing the outer roads and double the n at the west gate!"
Soldiers who had been lounging in the shade monts ago snapped to attention, moving swiftly. The townspeople scattered as the square began to shift into preparation for a battlefield.
Reviews
All reviews (0)