When Tables Turn Sequel: His Fate

I was nestled in the library, completely absorbed in the enchanting words that pirouetted across the pages of my book. Each line spun a captivating tale, and I found myself lost in the realms birthed from ink and imagination. The aroma of age-old paper wafted around me, a warm hug that felt like home.

“Astrid,” my mother, Lucy, called out, her voice tinged with annoyance. “How many times do I have to remind you to put those books away and focus on your training?”

I let out a sigh, my gaze still glued to the page. “Mom, you know how much I love reading. Plus, I never asked to be a princess.”

Lucy’s tone hardened. “Astrid, you are a princess, and a hybrid one at that. You’ll soon have to protect yourself and your father’s pack. This isn’t a choice; it’s your duty.”

I tuned out her usual sermon, letting her words flow over me like a gentle brook, their impact lessened by constant repetition. “Yeah, yeah, duty, responsibility, blah, blah,” I mumbled under my breath.

Lucy must have caught my muttering because she swiftly plucked the book from my hands. My annoyance spiked, and I shot her a glare. She just didn’t understand—I despised being a princess, and being a hybrid only made it worse.

I felt like a prisoner, and it was infuriating. Yet, my mother made it a daily ritual to remind me just how miserable my life was.

“Young lady, this isn’t a game,” she admonished, her gaze stern and unyielding. “You’re turning eighteen, and your wolf is maturing. The time for childish distractions is over.”

I fought the urge to respond with sarcasm. Lucy, being human, couldn’t possibly comprehend the depth of my connection to these books. She couldn’t grasp the comfort I found within their pages, the escape they offered from the burden of my responsibilities.

Instead, I took a deep breath, my turbulent emotions swirling within me. I loved my mother, and I would never intentionally hurt her. My hybrid nature meant I had the physical strength to overpower her, but I didn’t want to be that kind of daughter.

Plus, she would definitely smack me with that book.

With a forced calm, I said, “All right, Mom. I’ll go for my training.” My voice was curt, my irritation barely concealed. It was amusing how she could push my buttons like no one else, despite her genuine concern.

Lucy’s face softened, a blend of relief and motherly pride washing over her features. “Astrid, it’s crucial that you accept your heritage and the responsibilities that come with it.”

I nodded, even though my heart yearned for the world of books and the peace of solitude. Duty beckoned, and I couldn’t avoid it any longer. As I stood up from my chair, I couldn’t resist muttering, “But why does it have to be so boring?”

Lucy chuckled lightly, her hand resting on my shoulder. “Because, my dear, sometimes the greatest adventures are found in the most unexpected places.”

With that, I left the library, my thoughts already on the training grounds where my future awaited—a path I had no choice but to tread, even if it meant leaving behind the worlds I cherished.

I stood in front of my full-length mirror, dressed in the unique attire befitting a hybrid princess. My outfit was a perfect blend of elegance and power, carefully selected to enhance my pale complexion, silver hair, and unique eyes.

My father, Alexander, had once said it mirrored the moon’s touch on me, but I couldn’t shake off the feeling of being an outsider in these royal combat clothes.

My dress, as white as fresh snow, swirled around me with a ghostly grace. The fabric seemed to twinkle, catching the light in a way that made it appear to glow. Delicate silver embroidery traced patterns along the hem and bodice, sparkling like moonlight on water.

Beneath the flowing dress, I wore fitted white pants designed for combat. They offered both flexibility and durability, hinting at the warrior within me. My long hair, the color of moonlight, tumbled down my back in loose waves, contrasting beautifully with the white attire.

My skin, as pale as the moon itself, looked almost translucent against the white garments. But it was my eyes that were the most striking. They were a mesmerizing shade of iridescent silver, like liquid mercury catching the light.

I definitely inherited those from my father—it was a testament to our hybrid lycan nature.

I made my way to the training grounds to meet with my mentor and my dad’s trusted right-hand man, Lewis. Since I was a kid, I had always called him “uncle” out of affection. Our training sessions were a mesmerizing mix of elegance and strength, a display of the speed and agility that came with being a werewolf.

We moved like a whirlwind, a clear demonstration of our werewolf prowess. My hybrid nature let me tap into both human and lycan traits, making me faster and stronger with each passing day. Lewis pushed me to my limits, and I embraced the challenge.

Today, he was testing my speed, which made this training a breeze for me. I loved how fast I was. I also loved running in the forest, but that was a secret. If my dad ever found out, he’d lose his mind and ground me for eternity—literally.

Our sparring was a silent dialogue, an unspoken bond between mentor and student. Dodges, parries, and counterattacks flowed effortlessly, a dance of skill and trust. We communicated through action, not words.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows, I felt a surge of pride. Lewis, his weathered features breaking into a satisfied grin, nodded in approval. In those moments, we weren’t just princess and beta; we were warriors, tied by fate and an unbreakable bond.

“You’re improving every day, little wolf,” he said, winking at me.

I grinned back. “Soon, I’ll be able to take you down in no time, uncle. You should be scared,” I said, crossing my arms. I couldn’t wait for that day. Maybe then, my mom would stop forcing me to do these things.