The northern territories of Aaris were unforgiving in winter. Snow fell in thick curtains that turned the world white and silent, and the cold could kill a wolf as surely as any enemy. It was in this season of ice and death that Alpha King Lucan rode through the borderlands with his guard, inspecting the outlying villages that looked to him for protection. He was a king who inspired both respect and fear.

 Tall and broad- shouldered, with hair the color of wheat and eyes like gray storm clouds. Lucan commanded attention wherever he went. He had ruled the northern kingdom for 15 years, ever since claiming his throne at the age of 25 after his father’s death in battle. Those 15 years had been marked by strength and justice, by expansion of territory and protection of his people.

But they had also been marked by loss. His mate Elena had died in childbirth 7 years ago, taking their unborn son with her. Since that day, Lucan had ruled alone, keeping everyone at a careful distance, letting no one close enough to hurt him again. The council pressured him constantly to remarry, to produce heirs, to secure the succession.

 He ignored them all. His heart had turned to stone the day Elena died, and he had no intention of breaking it open again. But fate, as it often does, had other plans. The village of Winterhold lay at the edge of his territory, a small settlement of farmers and hunters who worked the frozen land with stubborn determination.

 Lucan’s patrol reached it 2 hours past dawn, expecting to find smoke rising from chimneys and people going about their morning routines. Instead, they found silence. The village had been destroyed. Homes burned to ash and timber. Bodies scattered in the snow, frozen in their final moments of terror. The attack had come recently within the last day, judging by the blood that still stained the white ground red.

 Rogues, one of his guards said, kneeling to examine claw marks on a wooden post. A large pack of them, judging by the tracks. Lucan’s jaw tightened. Rogue attacks had increased in recent months. Packs of wolves who had abandoned civilization and pack bonds entirely, becoming little more than beasts. They raided villages for food and sport, killing without mercy.

 Search for survivors, he ordered, and prepare py for the dead. They deserve proper rights. His guards spread out through the ruins, checking every home, every building. Lucan walked through the destruction with a familiar weight settling on his shoulders. This was the burden of kingship, the knowledge that he could not protect everyone, that his borders were too vast, his enemies too numerous.

 He was turning to join the search when he heard it. A sound so faint he almost missed it beneath the wind. A child’s whimper. Lucan moved toward the sound, his boots crunching in the snow. It led him to what had once been a small home on the edge of the village. The roof had collapsed, but one wall still stood, creating a pocket of shelter against the elements.

 And huddled in that shelter, clinging to each other beneath a torn blanket, were three children. The oldest was a girl of perhaps 6 years, with hair so blonde it was almost white and eyes the color of a summer sky. She had her arms wrapped protectively around two smaller children, a boy who looked to be four and another girl who could not have been more than 2 years old.

 All three were covered in soot and blood, though Lucan could not tell if the blood was theirs or belonged to others. The older girl saw him and pulled her siblings closer, her small body tensing to fight or flee despite being half frozen and clearly terrified. Peace, Lucan said softly, crouching down to make himself less threatening. I am not here to hurt you. I am Lucan, king of the Northern Territories. You are safe now. The girl did not relax.

 The monsters came. They killed everyone. Mama told us to hide. We hid. Her voice was steady despite the trembling of her small body. And Lucan felt something crack in the ice around his heart. This child had watched her world end, had kept her siblings alive through the night in freezing temperatures, and still had the courage to face him with her chin raised. “Your mama was very brave,” he said. “And so are you.

 What is your name?” “Astred.” The girl hesitated, then added, “This is my brother, Eric, and my sister Freya.” The boy, Eric, peered at Lucan with wide eyes, but said nothing. The toddler, Freya, had her thumb in her mouth and was making small, distressed sounds. Lucan could see that all three children bore the scent markers of shifter blood.

 They would grow to be wolves like him, like all the people of Aaris, but they were years away from their first transformation, vulnerable and defenseless. “Are there others?” he asked gently. “Anyone else who might have survived?” Astrid shook her head and a single tear traced down her dirty cheek. Just us. Everyone else is gone. Lucan stood slowly, his mind working through options.

 The proper protocol would be to take the children to the nearest settlement, find distant relatives or pack members willing to adopt them, ensure they were cared for within the existing system. But as he looked at these three orphans, at Astrid’s fierce protectiveness, at Eric’s quiet terror, at little Freya’s innocence, he found himself making a different choice.

 “Come with me,” he said, extending his hand. “All of you, I will take you somewhere warm and safe.” Astrid studied his hand for a long moment, and Lucan could see her weighing her limited options. Finally, she took his hand, her small fingers cold and fragile in his grip. Okay, she whispered. But I stay with Eric and Freya. We stay together. You stay together, Lucan promised. Always.

He gathered all three children, Astrid walking beside him, Eric on one arm, and Freya on the other, and carried them back to where his guards waited. The men stared in surprise at their king holding three filthy, traumatized children, but none dared question him. “We ride for the palace,” Lucan said. “Now.

” One of his senior guards, a grizzled wolf named Henrik, cleared his throat. “My lord, should we not seek placement for the children at the next village? There are proper channels for orphans.” “They come with me,” Lucan said, his voice brooking no argument. “That is my decision. Henrik bowed his head in acknowledgement, though confusion was clear in his expression.

 Lucan did not explain himself. He could not have explained if he wanted to. All he knew was that looking at these three children, seeing their need and their courage, had awakened something in him that he thought had died with Elellena. He lifted all three children onto his horse, wrapping them in his own fur cloak for warmth, and rode north toward his palace with the winter wind at his back, and three small hearts beating against his chest. Behind them, the ruins of Winter Hold smoldered in the snow. Ahead lay a

future none of them could have anticipated. But in that moment, as Astrid finally let herself relax against the Alpha King’s solid presence, as Eric’s trembling began to ease, as Freya fell asleep with her head on Lucan’s shoulder, something fundamental shifted in the Northern Kingdom. The Alpha King, who had sworn never to open his heart again, had just adopted three orphans, and the realm would never be the same.

 The royal palace of the Northern Territories rose from the mountainside like a fortress carved from ice and stone. It was a place of power and grandeur with great halls heated by massive fireplaces and windows that looked out over the entire kingdom. Lucan had lived there his entire life, first as a prince and then as a king, but it had not felt like a home since Elellanena died.

 The arrival of three small children changed everything. The palace staff scrambled to prepare rooms, to find clothing small enough to fit, to heat water for baths and prepare food that children would eat. Lucan’s housekeeper, a stern woman named Ingred, who had served his family for 40 years, took one look at the filthy, traumatized orphans, and immediately took charge.

 “They need baths, food, and sleep in that order,” she declared. already ushering the children toward the private chambers. “And you, my lord, need to explain to the council why you have brought home three strays like some sentimental farmer.” “They are not strays,” Lucan said quietly. “They are under my protection now.” Ingred’s expression softened slightly.

 “As you say, my lord, I will see them cared for.” Over the next few hours, Lucan watched from a distance as his household transformed to accommodate three children. Astrid was bathed and dressed in a simple wool dress that hung too large on her thin frame. Eric was given warm clothes and soup that he ate with the single-minded focus of a child who had been too hungry for too long.

 Little Freya cried when separated from her siblings for her bath, but calmed when assured they were just in the next room. By evening, all three were clean, fed, and installed in a suite of rooms adjacent to Lucan’s own chambers. Ingred had found beds, blankets, and even a few old toys from when Lucan himself had been a child.

 Lucan stood in the doorway of their room, watching as Astred tucked Eric and Freya into one of the beds, all three choosing to sleep together rather than in separate beds, seeking comfort in proximity. “Will you be here in the morning?” Astrid asked, her voice small and uncertain in the dim lamplight. I will be here, Lucan promised. You are safe now. No one will harm you. Mama used to say that, Astred whispered.

 She said we were safe. But the monsters came anyway. Lucan knelt beside the bed, meeting the little girl’s eyes. I cannot promise that bad things will never happen, but I can promise that I will do everything in my power to protect you. All three of you, that is my word as a king and as the man who brought you home.

 Astred studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. Okay, I believe you. She lay down between her siblings, and within minutes all three children were asleep, exhausted by trauma and travel. Lucan remained kneeling beside their bed for a long time, watching them breathe, feeling the weight of the promise he had just made.

 What had he done? He was a king with a kingdom to run, enemies to fight, responsibilities that consumed every waking hour. He had no time to raise children, no experience with caring for anyone who could not care for themselves. But as he looked at Astrid’s small hand curled protectively around Freya’s at Eric’s troubled expression even in sleep, he knew he could not have made any other choice. These children had lost everything.

 They needed someone to stand between them and a cruel world. And Lucan, for all his faults and losses, was still a protector at heart. He stood finally dimming the lamp and leaving the door cracked so they would not wake in complete darkness. Then he made his way to his own chambers where he knew difficult conversations awaited.

 His council had already assembled in his private receiving room, their expressions ranging from confusion to barely concealed disapproval. They rose as he entered, bowing with the respect due their king, but he could sense the questions building like a storm. Explain, said Lord Matias, his chief adviser and oldest friend. Please tell me there is some strategic reason for bringing three orphaned children to the palace that I am simply not seeing.

There is no strategy, Lucan said bluntly, pouring himself wine from the sideboard. There is only necessity. My lord, another council member spoke up. A younger man named Oscar who managed the kingdom’s military forces. With respect, there are proper channels for dealing with orphans.

 Foster families pack adoptions, settlements that specialize in caring for displaced children. Why bring them here to the royal palace? Because they needed protection, and I was there to provide it. But you are the king, Oscar protested. You cannot simply adopt every orphan you encounter. Your duty is to the realm, to securing the succession. Do not, Lucan said softly, but with enough steel in his voice to make every man in the room fall silent.

 Presume to tell me what my duty is. The council exchanged uneasy glances. Matias cleared his throat diplomatically. Lucan, no one questions your authority or your compassion, but we must think practically. These children will need care, education, protection. They will need a family. You are a king first, and I am aware of what I am.

” Lucan set down his wine glass with more force than necessary. I am also aware that those three children watched everyone they loved die, that they survived a night of freezing temperatures huddled in ruins, that they have no one left in this world. When I looked at them, when I saw what they had endured, I could not simply hand them off to strangers and walk away.

So, what do you intend? Mathias asked quietly. To raise them yourself? Yes. The word hung in the air like a challenge. They will live here in the palace. They will be educated, trained, and protected as if they were my own blood. They will want for nothing. And anyone who has a problem with that decision is welcome to voice it now.

 so I can dismiss you from my service and find advisers who understand that a king’s power means nothing if he cannot use it to protect the innocent. No one spoke. No one dared. Finally, Matias sighed and rubbed his temples. You realize the realm will talk. The nobles will question your judgment. There will be those who see this as weakness or who will try to use these children against you.

 Let them try. Lucan’s expression was cold. Anyone who threatens those children will answer to me personally. Another council member, an elderly woman named Silva, who managed the kingdom’s diplomatic relations, spoke up thoughtfully. If you are determined to do this, my lord, then we should frame it properly.

 Announce that you have taken the children under royal protection, that they are wards of the crown. It will make their position official, give them status that prevents casual challenges. Good, Lucan said. Draft the proclamation. It will be announced tomorrow. The council continued to discuss logistics, tutors, guards, protocols for integrating children into a royal household designed for adults and affairs of state.

 Lucan listened with half his attention, the other half still focused on the room down the hall where three small children slept. He had not planned this, had not wanted this. Since Elena’s death, he had carefully constructed a life built on duty and distance, on being the king his people needed without letting anyone close enough to cause him pain. But tonight, listening to his council debate the practicalities of caring for three orphans, Lucan realized something had fundamentally changed. He was no longer just a king.

 He was a guardian, a protector. Perhaps even though the word felt strange even in his thoughts, a father. The ice around his heart had not melted, but it had cracked. And through those cracks, something warm and alive was beginning to grow. The first weeks were difficult. Astrid, Eric, and Freya struggled to adjust to their new home.

Everything was too big, too grand, too overwhelming. The palace had more rooms than the entire village of Winterhold. There were servants everywhere, nobles who stared at them with curiosity or disdain, routines and protocols they did not understand. Astrid bore it all with her characteristic fierce determination, acting as both sibling and protector to Eric and Freya.

 She made sure they ate properly, that they stayed together, that they did not wander into places they were not supposed to be. But Lucan could see the weight of responsibility crushing her small shoulders. could see the way she never quite relaxed, always watching for the next threat. Eric was quieter, more withdrawn. He spoke rarely, and when he did, it was usually only to his sisters.

 He had nightmares that woke the entire wing of the palace, screaming about monsters and blood and darkness. Ingred would sit with him until he calmed, humming old lullabibis. But the boy’s trust was slow to return. Freya, being only 2 years old, adapted more easily in some ways and struggled more in others.

 She cried for her mother in moments of confusion, reaching for someone who would never come. But she also laughed when the palace dogs played with her and gradually began to recognize Lucan as someone safe. Lucan himself was learning as he went. He had no experience with children beyond his own brief tragic attempt at fatherhood.

 He worked with his counsel during the day, managing the endless demands of kingship, but he made sure to take meals with the children, to check on them before they slept, to be a constant presence, even if he did not always know what to say. “It was Matias who suggested the training.” “They are shifterorn,” his old friend said one afternoon as they watched the children play in the palace courtyard under Ingred’s watchful eye. They will need to learn to fight, to defend themselves, to understand pack dynamics.

 If you are truly going to raise them as your own, you should start their education early. Lucan had nodded slowly, seeing the wisdom in it. Find a trainer, someone patient, skilled, and absolutely trustworthy. The man they found was named Torsten, a retired warrior who had served Lucan’s father in his youth.

 He was gruff and scarred with hands like tree trunks and a voice that could carry across a battlefield. But he also had grandchildren of his own, and he understood how to teach young wolves without breaking their spirits. He started with Astrid since she was the oldest.

 Lucan watched from the training hall balcony as Torstston worked with the six-year-old girl, teaching her basic stances, how to move her feet, how to balance. Astred threw herself into the lessons with intensity that was almost frightening, as if learning to fight might somehow prevent another tragedy. She has warriors instinct, Torston told Lucan after the first week. She does not fight for sport or glory. She fights to protect.

 That makes her dangerous, my lord. In a good way. Over the following months, Eric and eventually even little Freya began training as well, each at their own pace. Eric showed an aptitude for strategy for thinking three moves ahead. Freya, despite her young age, had speed and fearlessness that both amused and terrified her instructor.

 And slowly, carefully, the three children began to settle into their new life. They still clung to each other, still slept in the same room despite having their own chambers available. But Astrid’s shoulders began to relax slightly. Eric started to speak more freely, even managing occasional smiles.

 Freya began calling Lucan Papa King in her small voice, a title that made his council wse and made Ingred hide a knowing smile. 6 months after arriving at the palace, Astrid approached Lucan in his study. one evening. “May I ask you something?” she said, standing in the doorway with the formal politeness that Ingred had drilled into all three children.

“Always,” Lucan said, setting aside the reports he had been reviewing. Astrid came closer, her hands clasped in front of her. “Why did you bring us here?” “Really?” It was a question Lucan had asked himself many times. He could give her the diplomatic answer, the one he gave his counsel, but Astred deserved the truth.

 Because when I looked at you in those ruins, fighting to keep your siblings alive despite being terrified and freezing, I saw courage that most grown warriors never show. I saw loyalty. I saw love. He paused. And I saw three children who deserved better than to be passed from family to family, always knowing they were burdens, never knowing home. But we are burdens, Astred said matterofactly.

Everyone says so. The nobles whisper about us. They say you should have left us behind, that we are distractions from your real duties. Lucan felt anger flare in his chest, though he kept his expression calm. The nobles are fools. You are not burdens, Astred. You are my children now. And anyone who suggests otherwise will answer to me.

 Astrid blinked rapidly, fighting tears. Your children, if you want to be, if that is acceptable to you. The little girl was silent for a long moment. Then she did something she had never done before. She ran forward and threw her arms around Lucan’s waist, burying her face in his tunic. “Thank you,” she whispered.

 “For saving us, for keeping us together, for being our Papa King.” Lucan wrapped his arms around her small, fierce form, and felt the last of the ice around his heart finally shatter. “You saved yourselves,” he said quietly. “I just gave you a place to be safe while you healed. But Astrid, you should know something. You did not just find a home here. You gave me one, too.

 The years passed and the children grew. Astrid became a force of nature. By the age of 10, she could beat warriors twice her size in training bouts. By 12, she was accompanying Lucan on patrols, learning to lead, learning to strategize. She was fierce and loyal and utterly uncompromising in her defense of her family.

 Eric, quieter but no less formidable, developed into a tactical genius. At 11, he was helping Lucan’s military advisers plan defensive strategies. At 13, he single-handedly redesigned the palace guard rotations to be more efficient. He spoke rarely, but when he did, people listened.

 Freya, the youngest, grew into a wild spirit who refused to be contained. She learned to shift before either of her siblings, her wolf form appearing at the young age of nine. She was fast and clever and completely fearless, which gave both Lucan and her siblings regular heart attacks. The realm watched the three orphans with interest, and in many cases, growing respect.

 The nobles who had initially sneered at Lucan’s soft heart began to see the value in what he had done. These were not weak children who needed coddling. They were warriors in training, loyal to their king and utterly devoted to protecting him. And they called him father. Not Papa King anymore, though Freya still used it sometimes to make him smile.

 Just father or papa, or occasionally when they were being formal in front of the council. My lord, father. Lucan had never officially adopted them in the traditional sense. They were still technically wards of the crown rather than acknowledged heirs. The council kept pressuring him to marry to produce legitimate children to secure the succession properly. He ignored them all.

 These three were his children in every way that mattered. He had raised them, trained them, loved them. If the realm expected him to cast them aside in favor of bloodline purity, the realm was going to be very disappointed. But not everyone was pleased with the situation. Lord Draos, a powerful noble from the southern territories, had been quietly building opposition to Lucan’s rule for years.

 He believed in old ways, traditional power structures, bloodline supremacy. The idea of three commonborn orphans being raised as potential heirs to the throne offended every principle he held, and he decided it was time to do something about it. The plot came together slowly, carefully. Draos recruited other nobles who shared his views, warriors who could be bought, rogues who cared nothing for honor. His plan was simple.

 challenged Lucan’s right to rule by proving he had gone soft, that he cared more for orphans than for the strength of the realm. The attack came on a winter morning, 15 years after Lucan had first brought Astred, Eric, and Freya home. Astrid was 21 now, a fully trained warrior and her father’s most trusted adviser.

 Eric was 19, the mind behind many of the kingdom’s defensive strategies. Freya was 17, wild and fierce and loved by the common people who saw her as a symbol of hope. Proof that anyone, no matter their birth, could rise to greatness. The three of them had ridden out with a small patrol to inspect border fortifications, a routine exercise they did regularly.

Lucan had remained at the palace to meet with foreign ambassadors. The ambush hit when they were miles from reinforcements. Draos had sent over 30 wolves, rogues, and mercenaries, all to eliminate the three orphans and send a message to their king. The battle was brutal and one-sided. Or it should have been.

 What Draos had not counted on was 15 years of training, 15 years of fighting together, learning each other’s movements, becoming more than siblings, becoming a unit. Astred fought with the ferocity of a mother wolf protecting her cubs. Her blade singing through the air as she cut down enemies with precision born of endless practice. She was her father’s daughter in every way that mattered.

 A warrior queen in the making. Eric coordinated their defense with calm strategic brilliance, positioning their small patrol to maximum advantage, using terrain and timing to even the odds. His mind was as deadly as any blade. Freya was everywhere at once. Her white wolf form a blur of fur and fangs, striking from unexpected angles, leading enemies into traps, making herself impossible to pin down.

 She fought with joy and fury in equal measure, and her laughter rang out even in the chaos of battle. The royal patrol held, but they were still outnumbered, still slowly being overwhelmed. Two of their guards fell, then three. Astrid took a sword cut across her ribs that made her stumble. Eric’s left arm hung useless from a bad break.

 Freya bled from a dozen wounds, but refused to slow down. They fought on back to back, protecting each other the way they always had, the way they always would. And that was when the howl split the winter air. Lucan had felt it the moment his children were in danger.

 The bond between them, built over 15 years of love and trust and shared life, had screamed a warning that something was wrong. He had shifted immediately, his massive gray wolf erupting from his human form, and had run faster than he ever had in his life. His royal guard followed, struggling to keep pace with their king’s desperate speed.

 He arrived to find his children still fighting, still alive, but surrounded and bleeding. Rage unlike anything he had felt since Elena’s death consumed him. The Alpha King entered the battle like a force of nature. He tore through the enemy ranks with savage efficiency, his jaws closing on throats, his claws ripping through flesh, his power as king and alpha overwhelming the rogu’s crude strength.

 His guard followed, turning the tide of battle in moments. But Lucan’s focus was on reaching his children. He fought his way to Astrid first, placing himself between her and three rogues who had been closing in for the kill. She sagged against his wolf form in relief, still gripping her sword, still ready to fight.

 Eric rallied at the sight of his father, shouting orders to regroup, to press the advantage. Freya let out a howl of pure joy and threw herself back into battle with renewed vigor. Together, father and children fought side by side, and the remaining rogues broke and fled. When the battle ended, Lucan shifted back to human form and immediately pulled all three children into his arms, checking their wounds, making sure they were alive, that they would heal.

 “We are fine,” Papa, Astred said, though she was swaying on her feet. We held them. We protected each other. You should not have had to,” Lucan said, his voice rough with emotion. “This was an assassination attempt. Someone sent these wolves after you.” “Draos,” Eric said quietly, his analytical mind already piecing together the evidence. “It has his signature all over it. The timing, the location, the use of rogues to avoid direct connection.

” Lucan’s expression went cold. “Then Lord Draos will answer for this betrayal.” But Freya shook her head. her young face serious despite her wounds. He will claim ignorance, deny everything. We need proof. She is right, Astred agreed. We need to be smart about this. If we move against him without evidence, we risk civil war. Lucan looked at his three children, wounded, exhausted, but still thinking strategically, still protecting him even now, and felt pride swell in his chest. Then we will be smart, he said.

together. The investigation took three weeks. Eric coordinated intelligence gathering with the efficiency of a spy master, tracking payments, interrogating captured rogues, building an undeniable case. Astred managed the military response, reinforcing defenses, ensuring no further attacks could succeed.

 Freya in her own inimitable way charmed information out of servants and soldiers who would never have spoken to official investigators. Working together, the three siblings uncovered a conspiracy that went deeper than any of them had suspected. Draos had not just sent assassins after the children.

 He had been planning a coup, building support among nobles who resented Lucan’s progressive policies and his elevation of commonborn orphans. When the evidence was complete, Lucan called a great assembly of all the noble houses. Lord Draos stood before the throne, confident and arrogant, certain that a king who had gone soft over three orphans would not have the will to act against a powerful lord.

 He was very wrong. Lucan presented the evidence coldly and methodically. testimony from captured assassins, financial records showing payments, letters in Draos’s own hand discussing the orphan problem and how removing them would weaken the king. The noble houses listened in growing horror as the depth of the betrayal became clear.

 You sent 30 wolves to murder my children, Lucan said, his voice carrying across the great hall. You plotted treason against your rightful king. You endangered the realm itself with your ambition and your prejudice. What defense do you offer? Draos’s confident expression had crumbled. They are not your children.

 They are commonborn orphans with no claim to royalty. I was protecting the proper succession, the sanctity of bloodline. They are my children, Lucan interrupted, his voice like iron. In every way that matters. I raise them. I train them. I love them. and they have proven themselves a thousand times over as worthy of the name they bear. He stood from his throne and descended the steps to stand before Draos.

You speak of bloodline as if it determines worth, but I have seen more honor in three orphans than in a dozen nobles born to privilege. They fought for each other. They protected their people. They stood against overwhelming odds and refused to break. Lucan turned to address the entire assembly.

 I will say this once so that all may hear and understand. Astrid, Eric, and Freya are my acknowledged heirs. They are princes and princess of the Northern Territories by my decree, and anyone who threatens them, anyone who plots against them, anyone who questions their right to stand beside me will answer for it with their life.” The hall erupted in murmurss, but Lucan was not finished.

 He looked back at Draos, his expression cold. As for you, Lord Draos, I strip you of your titles, your lands, and your place in this realm. You are exiled. Effective immediately. If you ever return to these territories, you will be executed. Draos stared at him in shock. You cannot, the council, the council.

 Matias spoke up from his position among the advisers. Fully supports the king’s judgment. Your actions were treason, Lord Draos. Be grateful you are being allowed to leave with your life. Guards moved forward to escort the disgraced lord from the hall. As Draos passed Astrid, Eric, and Freya, who stood together near the throne, he spat at their feet.

 “Commonborn pretenders,” he hissed. “You will bring ruin to this realm. Freya just smiled at him. Sweet and dangerous. We brought ruin to you. The realm will be just fine. When Draos was gone, when the assembly had been dismissed and the great hall had emptied, Lucan remained with his three children. That was a risk, Astred said quietly.

 Proclaiming us as your heirs. Some of the noble houses will resist. Let them. Lucan placed a hand on her shoulder, then on Erics and Freya’s. I meant every word I said. You are my children. You are my heirs. And I will not hide that truth to plate men who measure worth by bloodline alone. Some will say you only proclaimed us heirs because we are useful, Eric pointed out, because we can fight and strategize and serve your interests.

Some will say many foolish things. Lucan smiled. But the truth is simpler than that. I proclaimed you my heirs because you are the finest people I know. Because you embody everything I hope this kingdom can become, and because quite selfishly, I cannot imagine anyone else I would rather trust with the future I have worked to build.

 Freya threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him over despite being 17 years old. We will make you proud, Papa. We promise. You already have, Lucan said, embracing all three of them every single day. 10 years later, the Northern Territories had never been stronger. Alpha King Lucan still ruled, but he had begun gradually transferring power to his children.

 Astrid commanded the military forces with brilliant efficiency. Eric managed diplomatic relations and strategic planning. Freya had become the voice of the common people, beloved for her fierce defense of anyone in need. Together, they were preparing for the day when Lucan would step aside and Astrid would take the throne.

 The realm, which had once questioned the wisdom of elevating three orphans, now celebrated them as heroes. Songs were sung about the king who chose compassion over protocol, about the three children who became the fiercest protectors of the realm. Other kingdoms sent envoys to study their system, curious about how common children raised with love and proper training could become such formidable leaders.

 Lucan stood on the balcony of his palace one winter morning, watching his children train in the courtyard below. They moved together with perfect synchronization. A unit forged not by blood but by something stronger. Choice, love, loyalty. Matias joined him, older now, but still sharp. You did well, his old friend said.

 Against all advice, against all tradition, you did well. I got lucky, Lucan corrected. I found three remarkable children and had the sense not to let them slip away. You gave them a home when they had nothing. You believed in them when the world saw only orphans. That was not luck, my friend. That was wisdom.

 Below, Freya executed a perfect takedown of a training partner three times her size, and her siblings laughed and applauded. The sound rose through the cold air like music. They saved me as much as I saved them,” Lucan said quietly. After Elena died, I thought I would never feel whole again. But those three taught me that family is not about replacing what you lost.

 It is about making room in your heart for what you find.” Matias nodded, understanding. “The council wants to discuss the formal succession next month. They want to make sure everything is properly documented before you step down. Good. Let them document what the entire realm already knows. Astrid will be queen and she will have Eric and Freya beside her and this kingdom will thrive under their leadership.

No doubts, no worries about bloodline complaints. Lucan smiled. The bloodline that matters is not the one written in birth records. It is the one forged in love, tested in fire, and proven in loyalty. My children have that bloodline, and that is all I need to know.” He watched as Astred called for a break in training, and his three children walked toward the palace together, talking and laughing, still inseparable after all these years.

 The Alpha King, who had lost everything, had found it again in three orphans huddled in ruins. And those three orphans had become the fiercest protectors, not just of their father, but of an entire realm. They had started as throwaways, children no one wanted. They had become legends, and they had transformed a kingdom in the process.

 Lucan descended from the balcony to join them, to share breakfast with his children, to listen to their plans for the day. His heart, once frozen solid, was now full to bursting. He had been a king when he found them, but they had made him a father, and that he knew was the greatest title he would ever hold. Did this story touch your heart? Have you ever experienced the power of chosen family or known someone who defied expectations to become something extraordinary? Share your thoughts in the comments below. And if you want more stories about love, loyalty, and the families we

choose, hit that subscribe button and join our pack. New tales drop every week. Each one celebrating the courage it takes to open your heart to others. Remember, family isn’t about blood. It’s about who you’d fight beside, who you’d die for, who makes you whole.

 Stay fierce, stay loyal, and never underestimate the power of choosing love over tradition.