Magnus

Antiope, Antiope, Antiope, Antiope. That's all I can think about. A constant prayer that I foolishly believe it could become a magic spell to make her appear before me. No!

I would never wish for Antiope to see me like this ever. It would break her heart and I would die seeing her hurt once more because of me. One night together. That's all we got. If I never see her again, I will always remember her spread on that shore after the night we spent together. I will die with the memory of that soft, sated smile on her lips.

"We are going to see them again," Henrar refuses to give up and I thank him for that.

I look around once more in despair. I have no way of knowing where exactly we are but I know we are North. The dark cave is hidden deep but I would recognize that sharp cold anywhere in the world. Maybe norther than my borders, in the territory of the Rogue King perhaps. Though I have smelled no rogues. I am up against an enemy I do not know and that makes him the greatest threat I have ever faced.

The rattling of chains stops my wonderings. I am proud to say that Sigvard is holding up better than I thought he would. He has been brutally beaten and tortured but he is still standing and keeps that defiant look on his eyes and that sharp tongue of his.

"Sig?"

"Morning," he says in a hoarse voice.

I flinch. He may not be giving up anything but that doesn't mean that at some point he didn't reach his pain breaking point and screamed. My hands tighten around the chains that have us secured on the cold stones of our prison. They are not silver but there is no way to be freed from them. I do not know what kind of animals or monsters these chains held, but it was something worse than a werewolf. And there are not a lot of things crawling in the night that are worse than werewolves.

"It sure is a glorious morning," I smile at Sigvard.

We don't have a chance to say anything more. Heavy steps come down from where a sliver of light is coming, the opening of this cave perhaps. So close to freedom yet so far. But this time, there is something different in the air. Something that makes my skin crawl, my senses revolt and Henrar growl in the back of my mind.

First come the guards that we have come to know too well. All naked as they have just shifted. We have never seen them wear clothes and they seem perfectly fine with it. Six of them. They don't talk, not with their mouths at least. Only once they have asked Sigvard where the Vault of Memory is and from that point on they let their fists do their work.

The Vault of Memory. Nothing precious in there. Just priceless. All the memory of our kind is kept there, from the first werewolves to this day. Our history, the names and families and deeds of each of us. No one really knows how that memory is kept and stored, but we all know it's there. What would these thugs need of the Vault?

I have no time to ponder on that because my senses revolt and I am going crazy. I hear someone approaching but I smell nothing. Not one thing. The air is as if it's empty. That's unnatural. Every living thing has a smell, faint as it may seem or subtle. But whoever or whatever is coming gives off nothing.

"Danger!" Henrar screams I'm my head.

A man comes, draped in the shadows of the cave. I cannot see his face but he is a big strong man. And then he moves to the faint light that forms a circle to where I and Sigvard are kept. No! It cannot be!

"What is this?" Sigvard yells looking at the face of the man standing between us.

The stranger looks straight into Sigvard's eyes.

"Hello," the voice coming out of that man is deep and almost animalistic, "brother."

And there is no questioning his words. Because he might be slightly wider and more muscular and with a crazy glint in his eye but that man is a spitting image of Sigvard.

"Who are you?" Sigvard demands. "What sorcery is this?"

The man throws his head back and barks. A bark I have only heard from my wolf when hunting a prey. And when that man looks back at both of us with a smile that shows his sharp teeth, he reminds me more of a wolf than a man.

"What a nice family reunion," he snarls.

"Who are you?" Sigvard demands though we both see the answer clear on that man's face.

"Your twin brother," he spits.

"No, I have no twin. Mother-"

The growl that poured out of that open mouth made the walls of the cave tremble and our fierce tormentors take one step back.

"Mother," The man says with malice as if that word is an insult, "chose you because you were a sound sleeper. I was too demanding, too whinnying."

"Chose? What are you talking about?"

The man draws closer to Sigvard and stands before him. Sigvard is the strongest of our kind. Underneath his royal exterior, he hides a powerful wolf. But as that man, that mirror image of our King, stands before him, he seems smaller, paler, weaker.

"There cannot be twin princes, brother. Not since..."

"Remulus and Remus," I add.

The mythical founders of Rome. The tradition says they were raised by a wolf and they were half right. They were raised by a wolf because they were wolves. But the twins fought for power and finally, Remulus killed his own brother.

The man turns to me with that same, wicked smile.

"That's right, cousin," he says and turns to Sigvard. "You were the weak, meek one and they chose you."

Sigvard doesn't utter a word. How can he deny what his own eyes see? He looked deep into the same eyes he has and searched the face that mirrored his.

"And what...?" Sigvard finally asks.

The man snarls.

"What did our dear parents did with me?" The smile turns cruel. "Father wanted me dead. Mother, on the other hand, had read a lot of Dumas."

Unable to hold still anymore, the man starts pacing on the stone floor like a trapped animal. His whole body is coiled and seems like an arrow ready to be released.

"Where is the Vault of Memory, brother?"

"What did they do to you, brother?" Sigvard asks with a heavy load of pain in his voice.

The man stops pacing and pins him with a cold look.

"They let my wolf take over and they left me out in the cold alone to die."

Both me and Sigvard inhale sharply. It takes some serious and dark magic to suppress the human in a werewolf. When the wolf takes over, the man goes crazy. Such a sinister act is forbidden. To think that the Royal Family would do that to their own...

"It sounds like something Father would do," Sigvard spits.

The man takes one step forth and looks at his brother. Yes, I can see it now. The wolf has been in control for far too long. He is less a man and more animal.

"I am sorry this happened to you," I try, "but-"

"Such nice words from the Butcher," he snarls. "Almost makes me feel sorry to take your pack. And your mate."

My-? Rage takes over me. I pull on the chains that keep me here, away from Antiope. If he has hurt one hair from her hair, there are no chains strong enough to keep me from killing him.

"Ah, you want the female," his face into mine and I am fighting with my chains still. "I can understand why," he smiles. "She sounds like a wild she-wolf. I am wondering how she will howl when I will be fucking her, my teeth in her neck to keep her submitted to me."

The chains give, my left hand is free and I hurl into his smug face. No one touches my mate!

"Antiope is mine! Mine!"

The man looks back at me and the torn chains in shock. He even takes one step back scowling. He licks the blood from his torn lip and growls. Before I get the chance to free myself completely, the guards fall on me and I am pinned against the wall though it takes all six of them to keep me there.

"You are lucky, cousin, that she said it's better to present you whole to your pack."

"Stay away from them. And stay away from her!" I yell.

"Do not worry about your little mate, cousin. She will be taken care of. After all, all this is her plan."

Her plan? I tilt my head in surprise.

"Betrayal. It stings, doesn't it?" the man hisses.

"Not our mates," Henrar hastens to say.

"Oh, I know," I agree.

So, I say nothing. And I struggle to keep from smiling. Antiope has a plan. That man is truly fucked.