The Lycan's Queen : A tale of fate

When Queen Elara first stepped out of her chambers, dressed in her regal attire for the tournaments, the entire court was left breathless. Even the most stoic of knights couldn't help but stare, captivated by the transformation.

As she took her seat next to King Theron in the grandstand, the atmosphere buzzed with murmurs. The tournaments had not even begun, but the Queen was already the center of attention. Lords, generals, and courtiers alike whispered among themselves, stealing glances at her as if she were a goddess descended to grace them with her presence.

Yet, as Given sat several rows behind her, his thoughts were not of admiration but unease. He couldn't take his mind off the "new Queen." Her behavior was a stark contrast to the Elara he had once known. The former Queen of Lunareth was a paragon of strength and wisdom, dedicated to her role and her people. This Queen, however, seemed more absorbed in her appearance, her children, and the King. It wasn't that she didn't deserve moments of personal joy, but this change was too drastic - too foreign.

And then there was the unsettling truth.

She has no idea that an imposter has taken over her body.

Given shook his head, forcing himself out of his spiraling thoughts. This was no time for dwelling on the past or the bond they had once shared. His gaze shifted to the arena below, where confusion rippled through the crowd. Lords and generals from neighboring kingdoms exchanged puzzled looks as knights lined up , ready to face the beast the King had chosen for the tournament.

One of the high ministers from a neighboring kingdom craned his neck to look up at King Theron, his brows furrowed. "Your Majesty," he began, his voice cautious but curious, "why are the knights preparing to face the beast all at once? Is this not a one-on-one duel?"

King Theron turned his piercing gaze toward the minister, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. His expression betrayed his contempt for the lesser men around him, though his words were measured. "I have decided to wrap this up swiftly. The beast is no ordinary foe. One knight would hardly be enough to handle it."

The way he emphasized the word "handle" sent a ripple of unease through those listening. It was impossible to discern whether it was arrogance, amusement, or something else entirely that laced his tone.

"Handle?" scoffed another minister, his pride swelling as he stepped forward. "Your Majesty, our knights are not so easily outmatched. Sir Gregory of Ormoor, for instance, has bested ogres in his prime! His swordsmanship is unrivaled, his strength unmatched." The minister gestured toward a burly knight clad in gleaming armor, who stood tall and imposing near the arena's edge. "Sir Gregory has defeated enemies twice his size and with half the effort. No beast, no matter how formidable, could bring him to his knees."

There was a murmur of approval from the surrounding nobles, and the Ormoor knight's pride was palpable. The minister puffed out his chest, clearly enjoying the attention.

King Theron, however, remained unmoved. He leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening into something almost predatory. "Impressive," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "But the man I have chosen is no ordinary man. He is a shifter."

Gasps erupted from the crowd. The ministers exchanged bewildered glances, their earlier confidence shaken. A shifter? The term itself was enough to spark whispers of disbelief and curiosity.

"Man?" one of the ministers finally managed, his voice tinged with skepticism. "Your Majesty, dare I say you referred to him as a beast, not a man. Surely, this is not a mistake?"

The man glanced around, hoping for agreement, but the other ministers were too stunned to respond. The idea of a shifter in the King's service was beyond anything they had anticipated.

King Theron said nothing at first, allowing the weight of his revelation to settle over them. Just as the silence grew unbearable, another minister—one who had been quiet and mysterious throughout the exchange—spoke without turning his gaze from the arena. "Shifter or not," the minister said in a low, deliberate tone, "you did say your champion was highly skilled. If that is the case, then surely, even with the other knights combined, they can handle the beast."

The word hung in the air, a deliberate echo of the King's earlier statement. The minister's lips curled into a faint, smug smile as he finally turned to meet King Theron's cold, unyielding stare. The tension between the two men was palpable, and before it could get any thicker and more suffocating, the tournaments started .