Chapter 75: The Acceptance Ceremony
Three days had passed faster than Aveloria expected, almost as if the kingdom itself understood that something significant was about to happen. Lycanthria had never been this busy. Every noble house within the borders and even those from distant territories sent representatives. Inns were filled. The markets were full. People were talking about only one thing—Aveloria accepting her mates publicly.
She had tried to keep the ceremony small. She even went to her father’s study two days earlier to ask him to cut down the guest list. She explained again that it wasn’t her wedding, only the official declaration that she was accepting her fated mates and would be bonded to them in due time. But as usual, Alaric had already made his decision. He wanted the entire nobility present. He believed it strengthened the throne. He wanted witnesses. He wanted everyone to understand that his daughter was stepping fully into her destiny.
So the ceremony became large.
When the third day finally arrived, Aveloria tried to steady her breathing as she walked with her father toward the throne hall. Her arm was linked with his. The guards pushed open the heavy doors, and the moment they stepped inside, silence fell immediately. Every person in the hall stood, watching her.
The throne hall was enormous and filled. Nobles in their finest clothing turned toward her as she walked. Her father had made sure she wore something that matched the occasion. Her dress was fitted and elegant, making her look every bit like the future Queen she was. She walked carefully, keeping her expression calm even though hundreds of eyes followed her.
She heard some of the whispers.
"She looks stunning."
"She resembles her mother."
"She carries herself well."
She kept her focus forward, staying close to Alaric until they reached the high podium. They settled into their seats. Alaric rose and gave a short welcome speech, thanking everyone for honoring the invitation and acknowledging the presence of the high officials, the visiting nobles, and the clan leaders.
Aveloria kept her attention on him even though she could feel two very familiar glares from the side of the hall.
Rowena and her mother, Eirene.
They sat next to each other, dressed lavishly, but their expressions did not match the celebratory atmosphere. Rowena’s anger was visible. Eirene’s lips were tight, eyes sharp with resentment. They had been forced to sit in the same hall, listening to people praise Aveloria for hours, and neither of them hid their frustration.
Eirene leaned slightly toward Rowena, whispering something that Aveloria couldn’t hear, but she saw Rowena nod. They must be planning something, and despite Aveloria’s instincts telling her to pay attention, she pushed the thought aside for the moment. She had plans in place, too, and today wasn’t about finding out what they had in mind. She wasn’t going to let anything ruin today.
A loud knock echoed from the metallic door, shifting the attention of the room.
The High Priestess entered, followed by twenty attendants, all dressed in ceremonial robes. The hall bowed to them in respect. They walked in a straight formation to their designated space and settled quietly.
Another knock followed almost immediately.
Galen entered with his father and a group of elders from the Fenricson clan. They bowed respectfully before taking their assigned places. Galen, however, walked forward instead of joining the others immediately.
His eyes met Aveloria’s, and he couldn’t hide his reaction. He stood still for a moment, taking her in with a soft expression that made her smile. She remembered the past three days she had spent at his house—how relaxed she had felt around him, how easy it had been to laugh, and how he had done everything possible to make her comfortable.
He finally moved to stand in front of the people and waited quietly.
A third knock came.
Marek Thaleborn entered with his father, Eldric, and the elders of the Highmoor clan. As expected, they didn’t walk in quietly. Three guards followed behind, each carrying a massive chest. They placed them at the center of the hall and opened them.
Gasps filled the room. Each chest was filled with gold bars—stacked neatly and fully visible.
Marek stood proudly, wearing an expression that showed he expected admiration. Eldric looked even more pleased. With his hands behind his back, he stepped forward, bowed to Alaric, and began his short speech.
"Your Majesty," Eldric roared so that the entire hall could hear him, "we are grateful to be invited to this important day. I am pleased that the future Queen has chosen to accept her bond with my son. It brings honor to the Highmoor Clan."
He glanced at Aveloria briefly before continuing, "We have accepted Aveloria wholeheartedly, and I must say," his voice lifted a little, "I am looking forward to seeing my grandchildren running around our mansion soon."
Some people laughed politely.
Alaric nodded. "Thank you for the gesture, Eldric. Your gift is acknowledged." He turned slightly toward the guards. "Take the chests away."
The guards carried them out. Marek moved to stand next to Galen, adjusting his posture as if competing for attention.
The next knock shifted the atmosphere.
Theron’s arrival didn’t come quietly. Rhythmic marching footsteps filled the hall, echoing off the stone. About a hundred armed soldiers entered in coordinated steps. Their presence alone grabbed everyone’s attention. Even Eirene and Rowena exchanged uneasy looks, unsure whether their plan would hold in the face of such a strong display.
The soldiers stopped in formation and performed a brief showcase of their combat skills—sharp movements, clean strikes, controlled discipline. Then they split to create a path for Theron. He walked in steadily, wearing full armor that made him look every bit like the commander he was.
His soldiers shouted in unison, voices strong and steady:
"We declare our loyalty to our leader, Theron Duskbane of Moonveil Pack and our respect and protection for the future Queen!"
Aveloria felt warmth rise in her chest. She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. Everything about the moment was strong and sincere. When her eyes met Theron’s, she felt that familiar tug between them, and without thinking, she lifted her hands and clapped along with the crowd.
Theron dropped to one knee. His soldiers followed immediately.
"My pack stands ready," Theron said, voice deep and clear. "We offer our strength, our armory, and our protection to Lycanthria and to the Queen." He raised his head slightly. "You have our full support, Your Majesty."
Alaric looked genuinely pleased. "Theron, your dedication honors the kingdom," he said. "Lycanthria appreciates your loyalty and the loyalty of your men."
Theron moved to stand next to Marek.
Marek leaned in and whispered, "Impressive, but your soldiers don’t change the fact that gold holds more value."
Theron didn’t look at him. "My men can protect a kingdom," he replied bluntly. "Your gold can’t."
Marek’s mouth snapped shut.
Then the door opened again, but this time without a knock. Everyone’s head turned.
Lucien stood at the entrance. He wore leather pants and nothing covering his chest except a few straps from his belt. His tattoos were prominent, the wolf head on his left side and several others that represented his role as an adventurer and warrior. He carried a full animal-fur jacket in his hand, clearly not having bothered with formal attire.
He walked with certainty, ignoring the whispers that filled the room.
Aveloria couldn’t stop staring. Her mouth parted slightly. Lucien looked different. Stronger. Wilder. More confident. He carried himself like someone who had survived things most people would never experience.
The room erupted in murmurs, some nervous, some curious.
Alaric lifted a hand to silence them. He asked, "Where is your father?"
Lucien bowed slightly. "He sends his greetings. Aurevulf Lands is currently dealing with external threats. He couldn’t leave but said he would make it up to you, Your Majesty."
When Lucien’s eyes found her, a smile beamed across his face. "Aveloria," His voice had her body reacting immediately. The bond pulled with a sharp intensity. Heat moved through her so quickly she shifted in her seat, embarrassed by the sudden sensation in her lower body.
"I’m sorry I didn’t arrive in grand style. I was away on one of my expeditions. I returned to Aurevulf only yesterday and didn’t have time to prepare."
His tone carried the relaxed charm he always had, and some noble daughters in the hall were visibly affected.
"I’ve missed you," he said openly. "And I’m sorry that my last visit led to your confinement. That wasn’t my intention."
The hall stirred with murmurs, but Alaric raised his hand again to silence them, but Lucien wasn’t finished.
"I’m glad I made it in time today," he added. "I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this."
He bowed once more and moved to stand next to Theron. Marek snorted quietly, annoyed, but Lucien ignored him completely.
Alaric rose from his seat. "Let the ceremony begin."
