Chains to Crowns

Marc swept through the palace, all had been quiet for seven years. Well… almost quiet.

Giggling reached his ears before he heard his brother growling, “Right you two ratbags, are you behaving?” Marc had to shake his head as he made his way through the Gamma suite. More giggling and shouting ricocheting around. He ran his hand through his hair, a tiny flicker of grey at his temples that he couldn’t deny his pups were giving him. He watched for a moment as Chris threw his four-year-old to Trey.

“My children are not footballs,” he allowed his deep powerful rumble to fill the room.

“No, I was going for a rugby ball,” Chris replied, shrugging.

“Daddy!” Alice leapt up to him, dislodging a blanket that was draped around her human form.

“Having fun, sweet girl?” he asked as he lifted her into his arms, wrapping the grey blanket around her again.

“Yes, daddy!”

“Dad, dad, dad!” Arthur, Alice’s twin, scrambled from Trey’s hold and ran across the room, transforming halfway. Marc chuckled, scooping to pick up the young raven wolf. “You need to let your skin side to the front,” he told the pup with the slither of a scold.

Arthur yapped, snuggling into his father’s neck.

“He’ll learn, Hunter’s nearly there,” Sophie spoke warmly of her son, ruffling Alice’s hair.

Marc turned his attention to his youngest sibling, “Chris, I need a word. My office in twenty minutes?” His brother was turning nineteen the next day, Chris had been struggling. To the outside world, he was merely the quiet royal… to Marc… he was damaged, broken. He’d never truly been right since he came back from the Blackwood Pack, from his jail, but the last few years had been hard for the youngest sibling.

Chris sighed, looking over to Trey a moment who gave Chris an encouraging nod. “Fine.” Chris stood from his place on the floor.

Marc carried his young back through the palace to his wing, half-listening to their babble about their day with their nanny then playing… well, tormenting Trey’s son, Hunter. While Alice happily stayed in human form, Arthur was a boomerang of transformation. He could tell his son’s Alpha wolf would be strong… he just hoped not so strong he overtook his human.

“We’re home!” he called, clutching the pups to him for them not to jump on Klara as he entered the living area. Her belly slightly protruding with their pup. “How you feeling?” he asked protectively.

“I’m fine, stop fussing. The doctor said I’m fine.”

He set the two pups down, “No climbing on your mother,” he admonished before setting them free, they dutifully climbed onto the sofa, careful not to jostle her. “We have to be careful. You know the danger of being pregnant so soon after the twins. Mother still wishes to wring my neck.” He settled on his knees before her, kissing her belly.

“I’m all for that suggestion.” She smiled mischievously.

“Oh you minx!”

“What’s a minx?” Alice asked innocently.

“Your mother. Go play, you two.” They happily scampered off, leaving the two adults alone. “I’m going to suggest Chris goes on that pack tour.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think he should find his mate sooner rather than later. He needs someone to steady him… to heal him.”

“So you’re sending him away straight after he comes of age?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

“Not straight away... next week.”

“He just needs time,” she countered, knowing Chris wouldn’t be happy with being ordered off the royal packland… away from home. “He’s fine, Marc. So what if he’s quiet?”

“He’s not right. He’s had nine years. I’ve already set up his guard detail.”

Klara sighed deeply, tugging Marc to sit next to her to be enveloped in his strong protective embrace. “He won’t like it.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“If you say so.” She winced and shifted in her seat.

“I’ll get the doctor!” Marc stated immediately, about to rise to his feet.

“He’s just kicking, stop your fussing, here-” She grabbed Marc’s hand and placed it on her belly. He smiled adoringly down as he felt the movement before looking back up to his mate, his life, his Queen. “Love you little one.”

“Love you too.”