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Chapter Text

‘This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea. This is a VERY bad idea’.

That was the only thought going through my mind as I followed the rest of my werewolf pack right into Mirkwood forest.

There were so many reasons why this plan was likely to go straight to hell. The most obvious one being that, as everyone knew, a sickness blanketed this forest. And the sickness also infected the minds of those who traveled in the forest for too long, making them lose their way and lose their sensibilities, becoming forever lost and trapped in Mirkwood. And even if we did make it through the forest and reach our destination, Mirkwood palace was heavily guarded by strong, well-trained elves, so it was unlikely that we could get our paws on valuable loot.

Yes, that’s right. We were about to try to break into Mirkwood palace and steal resources from the Woodland elves. We were basically launching an attack—a raid—on the Woodland realm, right under the nose of its Elvenking.

Again, this was a very bad idea. I could feel it in my bones.

We werewolves lived a life that was far from easy. We were outcasts. Living on the fringes of society. Keeping to ourselves. Because other races wanted nothing to do with us. Humans and hobbits were fearful of us. Dwarves thought that we were beneath them. And elves… Our “relationship” with elves was the worst. Elves considered us to be little more than brutal, bloodthirsty animals. There had been too much blood shed—too many lives lost—in fights between elves and werewolves throughout history…

And as the other races kept us at arm’s length, we werewolves had no chances for decent work. No permanent homes, either. We roamed isolated areas. Poverty and hunger were our constant companions. We mainly survived by scavenging. Or hunting small animals in our wolf forms. And when push comes to shove, we stole. From farms. From shops. From inside the very homes of others. And if violence was necessary to get what we needed? Then, so be it. Many of my kind had come to resent other races. We were thought of and treated badly, so why should we not treat them the same way? Well, at least, that’s the thought process of many of my fellow werewolves. It was an inescapable cycle. The stigma against werewolves made just merely surviving an everyday challenge for us, which then pushed us to extreme actions in order to survive, which then made others hate us even more… Repeat this pattern over and over and over again.

We could not escape this horrible cycle. But I still wished that we could.

My pack had searched surrounding areas for days, but it was futile. There were no sources of food nearby. Nothing that we could get by hunting or even by stealing. Thus, our sights eventually fell on Mirkwood.

We were now going to a whole new level of extreme: a direct attack on elves in their own realm.

When our alpha had first mentioned this plan, most of our pack had readily agreed that we should do it. However, I had especially hated how this would just confirm in the elves’ minds that we werewolves were nothing more than petty thieves and no-gooders.

It was a move born out of desperation, and we really were desperate. Our pack was out of other options at this point. It was this, or we would all starve to death.

Nonetheless, I knew that it was still a foolhardy idea. It was very unlikely that we would succeed. And on the off-chance that we did succeed, there were going to be serious repercussions for us. Heck, even if we didn’t succeed, the Woodland elves would rain their vengeance on us for just even trying. I had never met nor even laid eyes on the Elvenking before, but I’d heard so many stories about him. And I knew that his power and wrath were not to be trifled with lightly.

But our alpha had already made up his mind.

As a werewolf pack, we were all bound to follow the commands of our alpha. No one could disobey a direct order from the alpha.

Therefore, I had kept silent, unable to voice my concerns and reservations. Unable and unwilling. I did not want to earn the ire of my alpha and packmates; it would not end well for me. So, I had held my tongue and just shoved my second-guessing to the back of mind.

We were told to attack the Woodland elves, and so, we would be attacking the Woodland elves.

As expected, the journey through Mirkwood was perilous.

For days, we kept running, panting as our paws continued to thud on the forest floor. There was nothing to eat—the sickness made this forest practically devoid of all wildlife. We couldn’t even drink as well—the river that flowed through Mirkwood carried an enchantment.

Worse, we were lost.

We had somehow drifted away from the elven path—the path that our alpha had assured us would lead us straight to our target. We now had no idea where we were. We could have been running in circles for all we knew.

I think the sickness of the forest was even starting to affect us. I was feeling a bit lightheaded. Thinking was becoming difficult.

‘Wait. What is that?’ one of my pack members suddenly said through our mental link.

We all froze on our tracks.

The scent was the first to hit us. Raising our muzzles, we sniffed the air. Yes, there it was. That unmistakable scent of elves.

Then, the ears on top of our heads started twitching. Footsteps. Elves were light-footed, barely making any sound, and even more, their footsteps now were somewhat into the distance. But our ears were exemplary.

Other races could criticize us as much as they want, but no one could deny that werewolves’ senses of smell and hearing were second to none.

‘We are near!’ our alpha roared triumphantly in our mental link. ‘Follow those elves!’

And using our superb and well-practiced tracking skills, we followed the elves, who must have just finished their patrolling duties. We kept our distance so that they wouldn’t sense that we were following them. And eventually, the elves unwittingly led to us right to their home.

To our target.

Mirkwood palace.

We had actually reached the Elvenking’s realm.

Oh, boy. Here we go.

Chapter Text

Upon the orders of our alpha, the pack spread out, circling the area outside the Elvenking’s Halls in reconnaissance, all the while still maintaining our distance to avoid detection. We were told to study the area and look for weak points that we could exploit. Our best chance for success was to sneak in unnoticed. Avoid getting the elves’ attention for as long as possible, to increase our likelihood of getting into their storage rooms to grab food and other supplies. Looting would be so much easier if we weren’t going to have to fight armed, well-trained, furious elves at the same time.

So, we all started searching for an entrance point that wasn’t so well-guarded.  However, as I had already expected, there was no such entrance. Instead, all entrances into the palace were well-guarded. Well-defended. Well-secured.

Gates. Fortified doors. Armed guards.

The Elvenking certainly knew how to keep his kingdom protected.

I slowed my running, eventually coming to a stop. I kept my distance, but from my vantage point, I could clearly see the river gate. Even this water entrance to the palace was well-guarded. The barrier gate was currently dropped into the water. On top of the gate as well as right by the entrance inside the gate, there were plenty of guards.

I connected to our mental link and informed the pack of what I had observed in this location. As soon as I relayed the information, I retreated into my own mind again. I didn’t want the rest of the pack to sense my unease. That wouldn’t be well-received.

Even as I watched the guards on their patrol, I uneasily shifted my weight, my tail wagging slowly and lowly, almost touching the ground, and my claws repeatedly scratching at the dirt underneath my paws—all nervous ticks, physical and visual signs of how uncomfortable I was with the situation.

I knew that my pack was on the verge of starvation. However, Mirkwood palace was so well-guarded. I feared that in our desire to avoid starving to death, we were choosing to fight to our deaths instead. Vastly different ways, but still, both leading to our deaths in the end. And yes, those who were starving and so desperate would fight to the death, but I still hoped that my alpha would change his mind and call off this plan.

If I were to die, I’d prefer that it wasn’t for burglary. Failed burglary, at that.

Unfortunately, my wish was not granted. Because soon enough, Alpha was reaching out to all of us through the pack’s mental link, calling for us. Feeling hopeless and with no other choice now, I immediately took off running to where our alpha was. We were to gather around Alpha so that we could discuss what would be the next step in our raid.

…But I already knew what would have to happen next. As did everyone else in the pack, probably.

There was no way that we would get into the palace by stealth.

We would have to fight our way in.

As I neared my alpha and pack, my sense of foreboding increased. We would already be fighting before we even got into the palace. Not fighting inside the palace. Not fighting as we looted their storages. Not fighting to get out of there. Nope, to just even get inside in the first place, we would have to fight. Fight and win.

Alpha was waiting for us some distance away from the front entrance of the palace. The trees were densely packed together here, providing a perfect cover from elven eyes. He then started coordinating our plan of attack. Where our attacks would be launched from. The intervals of our charges. Which pack members would attack as a unit for the most armed guards.

Honestly, our alpha’s plan was as strategic and coordinated as it would ever get. It’s not like this was our first raid, after all—we were quite experienced and knew the best strategies.

But Alpha was ignoring some crucial facts:

1.) These were elves whom we were going against now. We had plenty of raids under our belts, sure, but those were mostly against humans and hobbits, with a few occasions against dwarves. Our pack had never tried stealing from elves before.

2.) We were so outnumbered. One measly pack of about a dozen werewolves, against a kingdom-full of elves.

3.) The elves had homefront advantage. This was their home—they, of course, knew the place like the back of their hands, whereas we were going in completely blind. We had been able to observe the outer gates and grounds, but we had no idea what the cave system that made up the Elvenking’s Halls was like on the inside. We would have to search for their storages and cellars with angry elves right at our tails.

4.) Our pack was severely weakened. Technically speaking, an elf and a werewolf should be more-or-less evenly matched in a fight—the natural litheness and the weapons of an elf vs. the incredible strength and the sharp claws and teeth of a werewolf. But we were malnourished, weak from hunger. We hadn’t eaten in days. Additionally, we were exhausted from running through Mirkwood. Our minds were also still foggy from being exposed to the sickness that infected the forest. Our severely weakened werewolf pack was about to fight against our strongest—our worst—enemy race.

This was not going to go well for us.

However, the alpha had already made up his mind.

Fight to the death, it was then.

This was it. We were all in our positions. All tense, hackles raised. All just waiting for the command of our alpha.

Then—

‘CHARGE!’ the alpha bellowed into the pack’s mental link.

We burst out of our hiding spots, running at full speed toward the closest elven guards.

Despite our element of surprise, however, the elves had their fast reflexes to their advantage. Their swords were already drawn and ready before we could reach them. And the archers among the guards were already firing arrows—some of my packmates had to break away from the attack formation to avoid the arrows.

Nonetheless, we kept running toward them.

“ENEMY ATTACK! ENEMY ATTACK!” one of the elven guards yelled. “WEREWOLVES ARE ATTACKING US!”

Just as we were reaching the closest guards, biting onto their limbs and scratching at their armor, elven horns—warning alarms—started blaring from all over the place.

Great, now, the whole kingdom was already aware of the attack.

We still kept fighting, though. The elves slashed their swords at us. Fired their arrows at us. Yet we were undeterred. We weren’t allowed to retreat. Alpha’s orders were crystal clear—we were going to break into the palace. No matter the cost to our pack. Some might die, but when we get our paws on those resources, others could continue to live.

Just then, an elven guard swung at me with his sword. I dodged. I wasn’t fast enough—the sword slashed at my right flank, making me howl in pain. Still, my dodge helped me avoid the worst of it. Instead of the sword going right through me, I was only cut.

In retaliation, I shouldered this elf, using my greater size and strength to knock him off his feet.

The pack kept persisting. Soon, we were gaining ground, getting nearer and nearer to the palace’s front doors.

But more elves were running out of the palace to join the fight. My packmates and I were now fighting not only the guards posted at the entrance, but also other elven soldiers who had come as reinforcements. As I had anticipated, we were quickly outnumbered. And quickly surrounded.

The strange thing, however, was that despite the droves of elves surrounding us, we weren’t really losing the ground that we had gained. The elves were unrelenting and unyielding in their counterattack, but from what I could see, my packmates were using the superior strength of our wolf forms. Tossing elves away from them. Bowling over elves. Breaking those flimsy wooden bows and arrows with their teeth.

But more than those, my packmates’ claws and teeth were delivering serious damage on the elves themselves. Scratches and bites were rained down on the elves. One elf got scratched right across his face. Another elf had her arm caught in my packmate’s mouth, and with a strong head swing, my packmate threw her several feet away. Then, the werewolf nearest me lunged at the leg of an elven soldier. There was a resounding crunch, and the elf screamed in pain—my packmate’s razor-sharp teeth and powerful bite force clearly broke the elf’s leg.

My pack was actually holding up well. Yet I was sick in my stomach.

The sheer desperation of our situation made my packmates so much more vicious. The brutality from my packmates was at a whole new level that I’d never witnessed before. But that’s probably because we had never been so desperate before.

There’s that saying that an enemy with nothing more to lose is the most dangerous kind of all.

Well, my packmates certainly felt like they had nothing else to lose. If this raid was unsuccessful, we would likely die anyway, so they felt that they might as well die trying to get their paws on the elves’ resources.

Another elf charged at me with his sword, aiming right at my neck. I ducked just in time, the blade swinging harmlessly less than an inch above the tips of my ears. The missed swing threw off his balance, and I pounced on him, making him fall onto his back and sending his sword flying out of his hand. My heavy paws were on his chest, my weight keeping him pinned down.

Looking down at him, though, I could clearly his eyes. Anger was present, of course. But there was also panic. And fear. He didn’t see me as a sentient being, capable of control and self-regulation. All that he saw was a savage, bloodthirsty monster on top of him. So, of course, he was fearful.

I hated that fear. I hated it when other races feared us werewolves.

I now hesitated. The elf was helpless beneath me; I could easily “end” him. But wouldn’t that just prove that he was right to be fearful of me?

I paid a price for my hesitation, though. The elf took advantage of my hesitation. Before I knew what was happening, the elf had pulled a dagger from out of nowhere, and he slashed at one of my front legs. Yelping in pain, I pulled away from him, falling down to the ground.

Now, the elf was the one above me instead. He raised his dagger again. However, just as he brought the dagger swinging down toward my chest, one of my packmates lunged at him, catching the elf right at his throat.

I quickly stood up again.

‘What are you doing?!’ my packmate chastised me through our mental link once he had gotten rid of this immediate danger. ‘If you don’t fight them with everything you’ve got, you’re going to get yourself killed!’

I knew that he was right. My hesitancy to “deal with” the elf had nearly cost me my life instead.

We were in a battle for our lives. It was clearly no longer about fighting to get into the palace and steal food and supplies—that fight was clearly already over and lost. It was now just a fight to keep our lives, plain and simple. We were in a situation where it was “kill or be killed.” And these were our mortal enemies whom we were currently up against.

However, I never really felt that “natural antagonism” that most of my race felt against elves. I knew the sordid and bloody history between elves and werewolves, yet hating elves “by default” never made sense to me. Even now, in my pack’s own bloody fight against the Mirkwood elves, I couldn’t show the brutality and bloodlust against elves that the rest of my pack was showing.

I didn’t have the chance to respond to my packmate, though, as more elves came at us again, and we were back to fighting.

I’d lost track of how much time had passed. All I knew was that my body was nearly at its limit, and the rest of my pack must surely be in the same state that as I was in. Eventually, the pack’s sheer brutality was no longer enough to keep the elves at bay. We were losing ground. We were sustaining more wounds. Growls and snarls of bloodlust were turning into howls and whines of pain.

How much longer could we go on like this? Not much longer, of that I was certain.

Just then, I heard one elf nearby shouting triumphantly, “The king has arrived!”

The other elves also cheered, then went back to fighting with renewed strength and vigor, bolstered by the presence of their monarch.

Oh, great—now, even the Elvenking of Mirkwood was also in the fight? My pack was really doomed at this point.

Dodging and weaving through my assailants, I turned around, wanting to check out this new and deadly threat to my pack.

There. There he was.

Protected only with light armor. A thin yet elegant band of silver crown on his head. His cape and his long, platinum blond hair swinging with his every movement. Piercing, ice blue eyes. A sword in each hand, fighting several of my packmates at the same time.

I’d finally laid my eyes on the infamous Elvenking.

And right away—

It happened.

It was like it was no longer the pull of the earth beneath me that was keeping me grounded.

There was this new, inescapable, all-consuming force pulling at me. Pulling my soul—my very essence—toward the Elvenking himself.

Chapter Text

The pull—the connection—was there. It was undeniable.

My priority was no longer the pack nor myself. My priority was now him.

My world was no longer the ground beneath me nor the environment around me. My world was now him.

My heart was no longer the organ beating in my chest. My heart was now him.

It was the strangest feeling ever. But it also felt right. Perfect. Like it had always been meant to be this way.

Mate.

I finally found my mate. The Elvenking was my mate.

I was frozen, shocked and in disbelief that I had finally found my mate. I was also overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by that strong pull to my mate. And also overwhelmed by the intense emotions that were in a chaotic storm inside me.

At this point, it was like my immediate surroundings had faded. I paid no mind to the elves—they could have been hacking at me with their swords, and I wouldn’t have noticed. I also couldn’t pay any mind to even my own packmates.

The Elvenking alone held my gaze and my attention in this moment.

However, my packmates wouldn’t go unnoticed and ignored for long.

In our wolf forms, we were all mentally connected to each other. While “speaking” to each other telekinetically needed to be done with deliberate action and intent, there were some things that just flowed through the pack’s mental connection regardless of whether we wanted it do so or not. Things like being in extreme pain. Or being in mortal peril. Or feeling very strong emotions, such as intense fear or anger. Even if we didn’t deliberately share these things through our connection, as members of a wolfpack, we still sensed them.

And a strong, world-rocking feeling such as finding one’s mate would definitely flow through a pack’s connection, resonating in each of the pack members.

Now, I was no longer the only one who had frozen. My pack members also halted on their tracks—all suddenly pausing in mid-fight—their heads whipping away from the elves to turn and look at me instead.

Though “look” was probably not a very accurate description.

Some turned to gawk at me. Others turned to glare at me. And Alpha’s glare was particularly scorching.

The pack’s mental link was a complete chaos, with everyone yammering at the same time and talking over each other—

‘What on earth was that?!’

‘PLEASE tell me that you did NOT just—’

‘Mate?... Your mate?... HIM?!’

‘An elf—That elfling is—'

‘WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!!’

That last roar was from Alpha, of course, and it jolted me back to my senses, making me aware of my surroundings again. Aware of the pack. Aware of Alpha and his towering anger.

My gaze was reluctantly pulled away from my mate, meeting the glaring eyes of my alpha instead.

‘I-I don’t-don’t know’, I stammered, quaking under the weight of my alpha’s immense anger. ‘It-it just… happened…’

And that was the truth. I didn’t understand why Alpha asked me “what I thought I was doing”—experiencing the mating bond was immediate and involuntary. Alpha knew that perfectly well.

We werewolves didn’t actively choose who our mates would be. It just happened.

I didn’t actively choose for the Elvenking to be my mate. It just happened.

But for some reason, Alpha seemed to be blaming me.

As were the rest of my packmates.

My entire pack then broke away from the elves that they were fighting—one wolf using her paw to shove away an elf, another wolf releasing the elven arm that his teeth had been biting into. My packmates all turned their backs on their enemies… to encircle me instead.

‘You cannot be serious!’ one packmate snapped at me.

‘He is not our kind! Worse, he is an elf!’ another one said, disgust coating his tone.

‘This is a disgrace…’

‘This is INSANITY’.

‘You cannot mate with an enemy!’

The rebuke and judgment were coming at me nonstop. From literally all around me, since the pack had surrounded me. The anger, disbelief, and revulsion that they were sending to me through our mental link were adding even more to the already intense emotions that I had already been feeling. I was now so overwhelmed that I felt like just collapsing underneath it all.

The worst part, of course, was Alpha’s reaction.

Alpha was continuously growling, his teeth bared, his ears flat back against his head. His shoulders were tense, as though about lunge at any moment. As though about to lunge at me at any moment.

‘An elf?! You mate-bonded to an elf?! And as if being mated to an elf isn’t already bad enough, you had to go for their KING, of all people!’ Alpha snarled at me. ‘You would consort with our enemy?! What kind of werewolf are you?!’

I didn’t know what to say. I probably couldn’t even say anything at this point, overwhelmed as I was.

And even if I could have replied, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to, because just then—

“What is the meaning of this?!”

A furious yet melodious voice rang out. And this time, it wasn’t telekinetically through the pack connection. The words were actually spoken. And they came from none other than the Elvenking.

My mate was speaking.

And hearing his voice for the first time was a surreal experience for me. His voice was music to my ears. His voice lifted my spirits, despite the intense, tumultuous emotions threatening to overwhelm me. His voice made my heart thrum and flutter uncontrollably, but in a very good way.

Unfortunately for me, though, these new feelings—although positive—were very strong. Strong enough that they also flowed through the pack’s connection. Upon feeling this new torrent of emotions from me, my packmates growled and snarled, totally outraged. Here they were, furious at me and at the situation, yet here I was, feeling happiness. And this stark contrast in our emotions enraged my pack—enraged my alpha—even more.

But no matter how offended my pack was for my “inappropriate” reaction when they were so mad at me, I couldn’t really be faulted for this. It was my first time meeting my mate. This was a huge moment for every wolf. When a werewolf found their mate, it was just natural that the wolf would take in everything about the mate. The mate’s appearance, their voice, the way that they moved… It was only expected that the wolf would be entirely captivated by their mate upon first meeting. This was a world-altering moment for me—my “world” had just changed from the physical world around me to my mate instead.

Even if my pack was furious enough to tear me apart, all that I could truly focus on in this moment was my mate.

Unfortunately, though, I didn’t have much time to admire the Elvenking and his melodious voice.

The elves had, of course, been completely confused by the sudden shift in the pack’s behavior. Mere moments ago, the elves and the wolves were engaged in a bloody battle, but out of nowhere, the wolves just turned their backs on the elves—completely ignoring the elves—to surround and snarl at one of their own instead.

Of course, the elves couldn’t hear what we wolves were saying in the pack’s mental link, but I supposed that it was quite obvious to the elves that we were arguing amongst ourselves. Werewolves and elves never truly understood each other (nor did they ever want to), but our pack’s behavior now must be quite bewildering to the elves on an entirely different level. So, the elves were now also looking like they wanted clear answers.

Case in point, the Elvenking now strode toward the pack.

“King Thranduil, you must be careful not to get too close to those savage beasts!” an elven soldier cautioned, worried about how their king was just nonchalantly walking toward the enemies.

…So, that was his name. Thranduil. Elvenking Thranduil.

My mate, Thranduil.

Thranduil dismissed the soldier’s worry with a wave of his hand, continuing his approach toward the pack members.

I admired his bravery. Yes, I was admiring practically everything about my mate at this point, but still, his bravery was truly commendable. It took a lot of bravery for an elf to just casually stride toward a pack of huge, angry, fresh-with-bloodlust-from-battle werewolves. Wolves whose teeth and claws could easily tear into an elf.

And my mate didn’t even have his weapons pointed at us as he approached. Yes, his swords were still in his hands, but the swords were just held loosely at his sides as he walked toward us, eventually stopping only a few feet from where the pack was gathered together.

The Elvenking now seemed more focused on figuring us out rather than fighting us. His brows were furrowed, and he was intently eying the pack members, seemingly surveying and assessing us, trying to make out the reason behind our sudden change in behavior.

And as his eyes took in each wolf in turn, his gaze seemed to keep coming back to me.

He would glance at my packmates, but his eyes kept returning to me.

My heart skipped yet another beat.

I then wondered if this meant that Thranduil felt the mate bond, too. Technically speaking, he should also feel the connection. When the mating bond formed, it was felt and experienced by both wolves in the mating bond. But that was where my uncertainty now came from—it was felt by both mated wolves. What happened when one side of the mating bond was a wolf, but the other side was an elf? As far as I knew, there had never been a wolf being mate-bonded to an elf before. I was unsure whether the usual rules of the mating bond applied here. The Elvenking was my mate—there was no doubt about that. But did he know this? Did he also feel the mate connection? Did he also feel a pull toward me?

I was hopeful, though. The way that his gaze kept returning to me made me hopeful that he did feel the connection as well.

And while there was uncertainty about whether he also felt the mate bond, what was certain right now was that Thranduil was furious. Nearly as furious as Alpha and my other packmates.

“What are you playing at?!” the Elvenking demanded at the pack. “You sought a fight with us! But then, you just turn your backs on us and ignore us?! Is this just some kind of sick joke to you wolves?!”

Since we were in our wolf forms, we couldn’t verbally answer him. However, he still received a reply—in the form of threatening growls. I could feel my pack’s anger toward the Elvenking growing and growing with each passing second. There was their “default” anger that he was an elf—a “natural enemy”—and even a king of an elven realm. Then, there was their greater anger that he was apparently the mate of one of their pack members. And now, there was also their anger about how Thranduil was speaking to us.

But my packmates’ growls, in turn, seemed to just further incense the Elvenking. He continued his tirade at us.

“You werewolves really have no moral principles, do you?! You invaded our territory, yet you do not even have the decency and honor to continue the fight?! The fight that you started, if I might remind you! However, I suppose that I should expect nothing more from you uncouth beasts,” the Elvenking practically spat at the pack.

And that did it.

That last insult from the Elvenking was the trigger.

Alpha’s bottled-up rage exploded then. Thranduil’s words caused the loose lid that had barely been containing Alpha’s anger to just pop off, and Alpha’s anger was let loose. Let loose on Thranduil.

Alpha sprang forward. The battle had been paused, but now, without any warning, our alpha attacked again, running right toward the Elvenking!

Lunging right for Thranduil’s throat. Lunging right for the kill.

‘NO!’, I shouted.

Thranduil’s fast elven reflexes had his swords up and ready in a second, but he had been standing too close to the pack. Alpha was nearly upon him.

I acted instinctively.

I bolted after Alpha, trying to get to him before he got to my mate.

I was nowhere near as strong as the alpha of my pack, but I was definitely faster. In no time at all, I caught up to Alpha and launched myself at him. The unexpectedness of my attack caught Alpha off guard, and I was able to knock him aside. Knock him down to the ground. Knock him away from Thranduil.

I then firmly planted myself between my alpha and my mate.

I stood protectively in front of Thranduil, keeping my wary eyes on Alpha—the new “enemy.” The one whom I considered to be the threat in this situation. I had never thought that I would ever consider my own alpha as an “enemy,” but he tried to attack my mate…

Everyone was frozen still, their eyes all on Alpha and me.

Everything was silent, except for the deep panting from Alpha and me.

Alpha stared up at me from where he lay on the ground. He seemed to be struggling with the idea that one of his own packmates had just knock him—the alpha and rightful leader—aside.

My packmates also looked gobsmacked, unable to believe what I had just done to our alpha.

And the elves were just as flabbergasted. The elven soldiers had been ready to counterattack when one of the wolves had made a run toward their king, but before they even got the chance to do so, another member of the pack had defended their king instead. The elves seemed to be in disbelief. Disbelief that I would fight my own alpha to defend their king.

Thranduil broke the silence. Perturbed, he asked me, “…What exactly are you doing?”

My mate was directly speaking to me for the first time!

I glanced back at him. I couldn’t speak to him in my current form—and this frustrated me—but I tried to reassure him with my eyes. I didn’t want him to be worried. I wanted to let him know that I would protect him. Yes, I knew that the Elvenking was perfectly capable of defending himself—after all, my first sight of him had been when he was fighting several of my packmates at the same time. But still, he was my mate, and it was my duty to protect him from any and every danger.

Thranduil, however, didn’t seem to understand what I was trying to tell him with my eyes. I tried to think of another way to get my message across, but just then, my attention was caught by some movement in my peripheral view. I looked away from my mate and faced the threat again.

Alpha stood up and shook himself, overcoming his shock. Regaining his composure. Regaining his anger.

‘You dare?!’ Alpha snarled at me. ‘You actually dare?!’

And the anger and weight of alpha dominance swept over me, causing my legs to buckle and fail. I fell flat on the ground, pinned down not by anything physical but by the sheer power and dominance of my alpha’s will. The immense weight of the alpha’s dominance was unleashed on me, and it felt like my body was being crushed, practically melding with the earth beneath me. I could barely even breathe.

I was done for now.

Because I did dare. I dared to act against my alpha.

I actually attacked him. Launched myself at him and knocked him over. And it was not only a physical attack, but also a direct challenge to his authority and dominance. Such an act of transgression was unforgiveable in a werewolf pack.

‘Your list of offenses against our pack—against me—just keeps getting longer!’ Alpha continued to berate me. ‘You’re a werewolf, yet you would defend an ELF?! Defend an elf from your own alpha?!’

I knew that it was preposterous to think that a werewolf would defend an elf—our “natural enemy”—from a fellow werewolf. But Thranduil wasn’t just an elf. He was my mate. I had no choice. It was instinctive. It was ingrained in a wolf to defend their mate.

‘I will deal with you later. For now, get out of my way’, my alpha demanded.

Pinned down by the alpha dominance as I was, Alpha could have just tossed me aside or even just jumped over me. But no, he was giving me an order, and he expected me to follow the order. This was also an assertion of his authority over me. I was to follow his order—no questions, no protests—just as every wolf in a pack was meant to follow the alpha’s order.

But I wouldn’t do it. Not this time. If I moved out of the way, Alpha would have another clear shot at Thranduil.

So, once more acting in complete defiance to the pack hierarchy, I shook my head.

Alpha let out another snarl of outrage. Outrage that I was resisting his order.

‘Get out of my way!’

The power of the alpha’s command rocked my body like a seismic shock. Normally, a pack member would be compelled to follow their alpha’s order, their body moving in accordance to the order, whether the wolf wanted it or not. A wolf’s ties to their alpha and pack were the strongest connections… until the wolf found their mate. Mate bond was more powerful than pack bond.

When a wolf found their mate, the mate became the main priority above all else. Above the wolf’s own self. Above the wolf’s pack.

While a mated wolf was still bound to their pack and to their alpha, if there was ever any conflict between the mate and the pack, the wolf would unequivocally side with their mate.

And with this power of the mating bond, I was able to resist my alpha’s order.

I remained where I was, serving as a last barrier between Alpha and Thranduil.

My defiance caused Alpha’s anger to reach an apoplectic level. He let out another wave of his power and dominance, and I was crushed down further, my body indenting a wolf-shape into the ground. And though this wave was only directed at me, the rest of the pack felt it as well, causing their legs to also buckle down beneath them.

‘This is your last warning. GET. OUT. OF. MY. WAY’, Alpha thundered out each word of the command.

I literally couldn’t do this command, though.

I did feel the alpha command trying to pull my body—to make me follow the order. However, the pull to my mate was now also present, and this pull was instead making me remain where I was and defend my mate at all costs. It was like two opposing forces were in my body, fighting against each other to gain control over me.

And the pull to my mate won. As such a pull would always win. No matter how much the pull to follow the alpha command tried to fight, it was just futilely shoving against a solid brick wall that could not be moved. The pull to my mate was unyielding.

This was the last straw for Alpha.

He now lunged at me.

I yelped and howled in agony as my alpha’s claws slashed at every part of my body that he could reach. As his teeth clamped onto my leg. I tried to get away, but his claws dug even deeper into me, keeping me in place. Alpha tore at me without mercy. He finally had the chance to let out all of his frustrations—frustrations at the pack’s dire situation, at the failed raid, at the losing battle that we had fought against the elves, at my unexpected mating bond, at being thwarted from attacking the Elvenking, at my stubborn defiance—and I was now going to be the punching bag that took the brunt of his frustrations.

The wolves and the elves alike were shocked by the fury and brutality of the alpha’s attack on his own pack member.

I was in a haze of pain, but I vaguely heard the other wolves calling out through the pack’s mental link, asking Alpha to stop. I supposed that even though my packmates were mad and disgusted by my mate bond, this brutal attack on me was too much for them. After all, a wolfpack was meant to act as one unit. Packmates looked out for one another; hurting each other was out of the question.

My packmates’ pleas were ignored, though, and Alpha just continued ripping at me. Then, his gaze went to my neck. And I knew it then—Alpha was really going to kill me!

His bared teeth now went for this most vulnerable part of my body. I braced myself, expecting to have my throat torn apart, but—

It never came.

Instead, Alpha let out a howl of pain.

Just as Alpha’s teeth were inches from my neck, Thranduil had slashed at Alpha’s side with one of his swords! Then, with a swift, strong kick, the Elvenking sent the pack alpha down to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Thranduil… saved me. My mate saved me.

I looked up at him, and our eyes met once again. I let out a low, soft woof, hoping it would convey my gratitude. Thank you. You saved me. I tried to protect you, but you ended up having to save me instead. I definitely needed to get better at this whole “protecting my mate” thing.

And though being in my wolf form prevented me from properly saying “thank you” to Thranduil, the pack clearly felt the gratitude emanating from me. And this made Alpha growl again, causing Thranduil’s gaze to shift to Alpha instead.

The Elvenking and the alpha glared at each other with equal hatred.

“This kind of barbarity is distasteful. And I will not allow such barbarity to happen right in front of my palace,” Thranduil declared.

Apparently, the Elvenking considered Alpha’s attack on me—his own packmate—as “barbarity.” Thranduil coldly looked down at Alpha, clearly repulsed by him and his “barbarity.”

The Elvenking continued, “You are in my kingdom, and you will answer me. What exactly is going on here?”

The elves wanted answers for why we wolves had been acting so strangely—acting so strangely in their kingdom. We were obviously going to be interrogated, but I saw this an opportunity to finally talk to my mate.

However, Alpha was, of course, unwilling to “talk things over” with elves. Despite the massive wound on his side that was dripping blood, Alpha forced himself to stand again, growling the whole time.

By this point, though, even more elves had come out of the palace, and they had surrounded our pack. And this had my other packmates seriously thinking about our options.

‘Alpha’, one of my packmates said tentatively. ‘Maybe… maybe we should… consider it? Talking to the elves, I mean?’

‘Absolutely not!’ our alpha immediately shut her down.

‘But they only want to find out what’s been going on’, another wolf said. ‘And honestly, we ourselves also need some clarity here’.

‘We are not talking to our natural enemies!’

‘Alpha, under this… this circumstance—’ my packmate glanced at me as he tried to reason with our alpha ‘—what choice do we really have?’

Alpha snarled and angrily pawed at the ground. His pride would not allow it. He would rather die than be civil with elves. He would rather have the entire pack be massacred by a horde of angry elves than be civil with our “natural enemies.”

But my packmate had a point. This circumstance was far from normal.

Alpha now had a pack member who was mate-bonded to an elf.

Alpha’s paws were tied.

Realizing this, he snapped at me, ‘You. You’re coming with me. We’re shifting’. My eyes widened in surprise. But before I could say anything in response, he turned to the others. ‘The rest of you. You stay here and wait for us’.

And the alpha ran off.

I was reluctant to let my mate out of my sight. Even if we were only going some distance away, I didn’t want to be apart from my mate. Not when I had just found him. Not when he was going to be left with my other packmates who were hostile toward him and his people. But I had to go after Alpha, and shifting really was the best option right now.

Before I followed Alpha, though, I looked at Thranduil, letting out a short bark and raising one of my front paws. Wait for me, okay? I’ll be right back!

I just had time to see Thranduil frown in confusion before I also got up from the ground (it was painful with all my injuries, but I managed) and took off running, following Alpha.

As Alpha and I reached the “barricade” of elves, they looked like they were considering whether they should stop us or not. However, the brutality that they had just witnessed from Alpha made them second-guess themselves. And since their king did not order them to stop us, they ended up just quickly moving out of the way to avoid being trampled over by two huge wolves.

Alpha and I ran into the forest. Just as we were out of range from the palace grounds, we reached a huge, old tree. Beneath its roots were the pack’s clothes.

The most inconvenient aspect about being a werewolf was clothing.

Our clothes didn’t just pop in and out of existence when we shapeshifted back and forth between our wolf and human forms. If we didn’t want to rip apart our clothes when we shifted from human to wolf, we had to undress first. However, there were instances when we had to shift instantly—such as if we were in danger—and had no time to undress, and our clothes would end up being shredded into pieces. As a wolfpack with no resources, losing clothes was a huge problem for us, and we had to be careful not to destroy the only set of clothes that each of us had… Then, on the opposite end of the spectrum, if we didn’t want to be prancing around naked when we shifted from wolf to human, we had to carry our clothes with us wherever we went (holding them in our wolf mouths for short distances or tying them to the back of a pack member or two on long travels).

When the pack had first arrived at Mirkwood palace earlier, we had hidden our clothes under this tree. Alpha and I now shifted from wolves to humans, grabbed our own clothes, and hurriedly dressed.

As Alpha put on his shirt, he let out a hiss of pain. The wound that Thranduil had inflicted on Alpha’s side looked bigger and more awful now that he was in human form compared to when he was a wolf before. Even with the fast healing of werewolves, the wound was serious enough that it still hadn’t fully closed, and blood was still slowly dripping from it.

“Look at what that filth did to me!” my alpha yelled furiously.

There was no time to treat the wound, though—nor did we have any medical supplies for treatment in the first place—so Alpha just pulled his shirt down his torso and over his wound.

I kept my face carefully blank; I didn’t want to anger the alpha even more when it was just the two of us together. But I was offended in behalf of my mate. Alpha called my mate “filth”? We weren’t in any position to call anyone “filth,” given how filthy the pack had gotten. Our bodies were dirty and grimy. Our clothes were threadbare, smudged with all sorts of stains, and patched in places. And since we often didn’t even have the materials to patch up our clothes, some of the rips and holes remained unfixed.

The Elvenking—regal and majestic as he was—was far from being filth. If anything, I felt like filth at the moment, and I was ashamed about showing my human form to my mate for the first time when I was such a filthy mess.

Despite my embarrassment about my bedraggled appearance, though, I was eager to return to my mate’s presence, and I quickly followed Alpha again as he headed back to Mirkwood palace.

When we got back the palace grounds, an odd sight was awaiting us. The elves were still circled around the pack. Still poised for battle. Still looking very confused. The pack, on the other hand? Half of my packmates were sitting down on their haunches, and the others were actually lying on the ground. They had made themselves at ease while waiting for their alpha, perplexing the elves even more.

Upon our return, though, the wolves immediately stood, tension returning to their bodies.

And as Alpha and I approached the mass of elves and wolves, Thranduil’s and my eyes met again.

One would expect that as our “enemies,” elves’ eyes would immediately go to the bigger threat, and between me and Alpha, that bigger threat—literally and symbolically—was the alpha, of course. And most of the elves’ gazes indeed immediately went to Alpha, assessing his human form and wondering how much danger he posed in this form.

Thranduil’s eyes, however, remained on me as Alpha and I approached.

My heart leapt. I hoped that this was another positive sign. Another sign that just as I was pulled to Thranduil, he was also pulled to me. That Thranduil also felt the mate bond between us.

Alpha and I only stopped walking when we were right in front the Elvenking again. At the same spot where I had been pinned to the ground… and where Alpha had been kicked to the ground by Thranduil.

And being this close to my mate seemed to make my body burn.

It was unnerving to be in my more vulnerable human form when we were surrounded by hostile elves who had their weapons drawn. However, being in human form meant that I now had hands instead of paws. Hands that could actually hold my mate. Hold his hand… Touch his face… Wrap my arms around him…

But no matter how much I longed to touch my mate, I had to refrain from doing so. I reminded myself that my mate was a king. The Elvenking. I didn’t really know much about elven society, but I was quite certain that in any society, no stranger should just be touching a monarch out of the blue. And we wolves were worse than just strangers right now. The elves considered us as enemies—enemies who had invaded their kingdom. As part of the invading wolfpack, I had no right to touch the king.

I tightly clenched my hands into fists at my sides. To resist the temptation of reaching out to my mate.

Thranduil now glanced back and forth between me and Alpha, his eyes ice cold and piercing. “I am assuming that you changed into your human forms because you have agreed to talk?”

Alpha simply glared fiercely in response.

And I? I… just meekly nodded.

I was in my human form, and I could finally talk to my mate. I no longer had to rely on the very ineffective nonverbal cues that I had been using before in an attempt to communicate with him. Yet I couldn’t find my voice now. I was now in a form that could actually talk, but… I still couldn’t.

Being in the Elvenking’s presence was overwhelming… and, frankly, intimidating.

Thranduil carried himself with all the dignity and poise of the monarch that he was. Meanwhile, I was wounded and disheveled, covered in blood and dirt. I was not making a good first impression on my mate. (Not that my first impression on him could in any way be good now, given how I had been involved in a raid on his home. What an awful first meeting of mates.)

“Well?!” Thranduil said impatiently when neither Alpha nor I actually spoke. “What are you werewolves up to? Apart from your unsuccessful raid on my palace, that is.”

At the mention of our failed raid, Alpha growled, even though he was in human form, and he cracked his knuckles threateningly.

But the Elvenking just gave him a disparaging look, not impressed and definitely not threatened.

“You attacked my kingdom. Attacked my people. Yet you suddenly stopped and fought among yourselves. What is happening here?” the Elvenking demanded to know.

I had to talk. I had to let him know. He had to know.

I unstuck my throat, forcing myself to find my voice and actually speak.

“Mate,” I said in barely above a whisper, but elven ears would have no problem hearing it.

Thranduil turned from staring judgmentally at Alpha to look inquiringly at me. “…I beg your pardon?”

“Mate,” I said again, this time more firmly. Locking eyes with Thranduil, I told him, “You’re my mate.”