Bound By Destiny - Thorian and Emmeral

[Thorian Thalric]

The icy wind howled through the peaks of the Blackfrost Range, carrying with it the scent of blood, fear, and something far more insidious... dark magic. The massive iron gates of Eboncrest Citadel stood firm against the elements, but within its walls, unrest stirred.

A Frostclaw warrior burst into the grand hall, his breath heaving in white puffs. He dropped to one knee, fist over heart in deference. “My King, survivors from another pack have stumbled into our lands... wounded, desperate. They bring warnings.”

Thorian Thalric stood from his seat, broad shoulders squared, piercing frostfire eyes narrowing. His presence alone was a force of command, the weight of his crown heavy but never wavering. “Where?”

“The eastern border, near the Veilwood. Our patrol intercepted them, but they refused to be turned away. They demand to speak to you.”

Without hesitation, Thorian strode past his warriors, his long cloak swirling behind him. His boots crunched against the frozen earth as he emerged into the open courtyard where a small group of battered werewolves had been held back by his warriors.

One of them... a grizzled male, barely standing, his fur streaked with the crimson of battle... lifted his head. “My King,” he rasped, bowing as best he could. “Please... you must listen. We are all that’s left.”

Thorian stepped forward, his towering form casting a shadow over the trembling wolves. “Speak.”

“They came at night. Rogues, but... they were not themselves. Their eyes, their movements... it was as if they were something else entirely. Dark magic turned them into monsters.” He swallowed hard. “They slaughtered everyone. Our Alpha fell, our Luna…” His voice cracked. “We barely escaped. And she...”

Thorian’s gaze sharpened. “Who?”

“Emmeral,” the wolf croaked. “She fought harder than any of us, held them back so we could run. If she lives, it is only because she is too stubborn to die.”

Something stirred in Thorian, a whisper at the edge of his mind, a pull deep in his bones. But he dismissed it for the moment.

His voice was cold and commanding. “Beta, gather warriors and meet me at the front gates. Now.”

Through their mind-link, his Beta responded immediately. As you command, my King.

Thorian turned back to the battered wolves. “You’re safe now. Tend to your wounds.” Without waiting for a response, he strode towards the gates.

Minutes later, his Beta and a dozen warriors arrived. With a sharp nod, Thorian shifted.

Bones snapped, muscle expanded, and in mere seconds, the man was gone... replaced by a towering beast of dark silver-gray fur, streaked with the faint, ethereal glow of blue that shimmered under the moonlight. His piercing eyes burned with a frostfire glow as Draco took full control. Without hesitation, the rest of the warriors followed, shifting into their wolves and taking off into the night.

Through the snow-laden pines they raced, silent shadows moving with purpose. Thorian led the charge, the scent of blood thick in the air. But then... something else. Faint, yet unmistakable.

A scent that sent a jolt through his entire being. "It can’t be." Thorian says confused. Draco growled, the sound raw and possessive. "Mate."

Thorian’s breath hitched, his powerful strides faltering for a mere second before instinct took over. His pulse thundered, denial warring with primal need. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now. Not like this. They pushed harder, running at full speed toward the source of the scent. Every second mattered.

They found her at the base of a jagged rock outcrop, half-buried in the snow, blood soaking into the ice beneath her. Even in ruin, she was striking... dark hair tangled with frost, her body battered but unbroken in spirit. Shadow clung to her skin, shifting like living tendrils, fighting to keep her hidden from the world. Thorian shifted back, kneeling beside her. His hand hesitated only for a moment before he touched her, fingers brushing against her ice-cold skin. A force unlike anything he had ever known surged through him.

The air around them crackled. A blinding pulse of silver-blue energy erupted from where their skin met, sending a shockwave through the clearing. Frost spread outward in jagged veins, the ground beneath them quaking. For the first time in his reign, Thorian felt powerless against something greater than himself. Her body shuddered, and with a gasping breath, her eyes fluttered open. The moment their gazes met, the tether locked into place. Silence stretched between them, the weight of the moment sinking in. Disbelief warred in his chest, the reality of what had just happened pressing down like an iron weight.

His Beta’s voice cut through the frozen air. “Is she alive, my King?”

Thorian blinked, the spell of the moment breaking. He exhaled sharply. “She is.”

“No other survivors were found,” his Beta added grimly.

Thorian’s jaw clenched. “Send the trackers to the border. See if they can pick up any remaining trails.”

His Beta bowed his head. “And what of her?”

Thorian glanced down at the unconscious female in his arms, his emotions a storm of chaos. He should have felt victorious, relieved. Instead, rage simmered beneath his skin.

"Why now?" he thought bitterly. "Of all times, why now?"

Draco’s voice rumbled in his mind. "The Moon Goddess has decided. She is ours."

"She is a burden I cannot afford right now." Thorian responded. 

The wolf growled lowly. "She is fate."

Thorian exhaled sharply. This wasn’t a battle he would win. Not against destiny itself. With a final glance at his Beta, he made his decision.

“I’m taking her back to Eboncrest.” he said to his Beta without taking another glance back at him. Lifting her effortlessly into his arms, he turned and began the long trek back through the forest. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on him harder than ever before. 

As Thorian approached the gates of Eboncrest, he mind-linked his best healer "I need you in the infirmary now!" without waiting for the healer to respond Thorian made his way through the courtyard towards the infirmary. Without having to say a word the path was cleared for him. As he laid her down on the bed in the private room, Thorian couldn't help but stare at her. "Is Lunara serious right now?" he asks in a barely audible whisper. 

"The moon goddess knows what is best. And when." Draco responded. 

[Emmeral Langley]

A glint in her gaze, thankful for his council, his offering to remain by her side in honouring those he held no connection with than species definition.

The importance to her was enough of an importance to him.

To give meaning to her reasoning.

And she was grateful.

"He is a man of great sorrows; war, blood and loss feed within his darkness, be his light, keep him safe" Andarna brushed her words forward, knowing both of them would protect their mate. Already in understanding fair well that their counters would take such action as well.

"He'll know of our inextinguishable flame. Be what he needs. Lunara had gifted us a second life, let us not waste it" Emmeral mentally spoke in agreement as she remained in silent awe beside her fated.

In truth, Emmeral hadn't any travels to Eboncrest as Gideon had, remaining as acting leader in his absence. But Emmeral was aware of Thorian by name, a natural born leader shoved into title after the fall that had claimed her parents as well, his rule strong and his strike swift. An ally potential Gideon was in discussion with meeting before he took time away from duties outside of pack grounds as he was readying the birth of his son.

Her stride matching his naturally with little faulter, an ease within their closeness that was more familiar than anything.

The surge of power beneath the bond hummed in presence, every action had a reaction but every time it felt fed, Emmeral felt stronger, more whole, an indescribable feeling of body and being.

There was much to investigate about the Oath that once could of been their demise, was now their paths calling.

Discussion shifted to supper, Marta's remark making her laughs as it echoed down the silent halls, sigils glowing in statement as she spoke "In that case, I'll ensure to keep Marta happy to ensure you continue your ruling. Though Marta as Alpha, i can see it" she amused as she pressed her lips together.

Her wander as they navigated back through the familiar walkways retained longer, finding recognition in passing as before soon the beginnings of ache to stride as it slowed ever so slightly the closer to her chambers they drew near.

As if her body recognised what laid behind the large wooden enforced doors before them "I will thank the gods for when I am back to my full self, this feeling riddles me in irritation" Emmeral admitted as she sighed in dissatasfactional means "Andarna's driving me up the wall with need to stretch her legs as well" a soft hearted laugh slipped past her lips as she peers to Thorian at her side, where he belonged.

[Thorian Thalric]

Thorian watched her, quietly absorbing the subtle shift in her expression... that flicker of amusement beneath the fatigue, the glow in her eyes born of something more than simple gratitude. There was weight to her silence, not the kind born of absence but of reverence. And as her laughter trailed after Marta’s name, light and fleeting like falling snow, he found himself memorizing the sound.

“She laughs easily with you,” Draco murmured. “It means she feels safe.”

Thorian’s reply was instinctive. “She shouldn’t feel safe. Not here. Not yet. Not with me.”

And yet… her presence at his side was no longer an anomaly. It was becoming natural. Expected. A low chuckle rumbled in his throat. “Saints preserve us,” he muttered with a smirk, glancing sideways. “If Marta ever ascended, even I wouldn’t be safe from her wrath.”

Draco’s amusement was tangible. “She’d have you gutting potatoes for war crimes against seasoning.”

But Emmeral’s steps faltered, just slightly. The shift in her gait didn’t escape his notice. The proud line of her shoulders began to ease, just barely, as the looming weight of her chamber’s threshold neared. As if her body remembered what his mind had already marked... this was where her limits began to show. She masked it well, better than most warriors he’d commanded, but he’d seen the exhaustion curling at the corners of her strength.

His gaze flicked to her from the corner of his eye, measured and thoughtful. “You’ve pushed further today than most in your condition. No one would fault you for slowing.” But she didn’t slow because of weakness. She slowed because of memory. Because something in the stone beneath them, the shadows on the walls, the ache in her limbs... recognized the journey’s end. He gave a single nod, firm and knowing. “That edge never dulls, no matter how many battles you survive. Being caged by your own recovery… it burns hotter than any wound.”

Draco stirred, gentler this time. “She is a flame trying to find her wind.”

Thorian’s voice lowered, pitched for her ears alone. “Your strength is returning, Emmeral. Not by force. By will. And that’s what makes it unshakable.” She mentioned Andarna, her wolf, with a laugh that sparked something warm in the hollow of his chest. That sound again.... unburdened, unarmored. He liked it far too much.

“Andarna may have to settle for pacing your chambers tonight,” he replied, lips curving faintly. “If she shifted now, the walls might not survive it.” His tone was dry, but the undercurrent was real. He knew what it was to feel a wolf coiled beneath the skin, desperate to move, to hunt, to breathe wild air. Draco had been pacing since the moment Emmeral arrived. Now, he simply circled with a quieter kind of hunger.

“She’s not just recovering,” the wolf said. “She’s awakening. Same as you.”

They reached the doors... tall, reinforced, carved with sigils that pulsed faintly in the flickering torchlight. He halted just outside them, gaze slipping down to her once more. “You’re nearly there,” he said, voice a low timbre, something in it almost reverent. “Another day or two, and the ache will shift. Not vanish... just become part of the rhythm again. Like breath. Like memory.”

He didn’t reach for the door. Didn’t usher her in like a king dismissing a guest. He waited, standing as a sentry beside her, present in a way he seldom allowed himself to be. The silence that hung between them now was softer... less edged, more understood. The kind of silence shared between two predators who had stopped circling and started watching the stars instead. Thorian looked at her, really looked, and said quietly, “If there is a second life in all this… let’s not waste it.”

Draco’s approval was a hum against his ribs. “You speak like one who’s ready to live again.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he inclined his head toward the doors. “Rest. Let Andarna prowl in dreams if she must. Tomorrow will be waiting.” And then, softer, more human than royal: “And so will I.”