*Thousands of years ago*
Narrator’s POV.
Once upon a time, in a world where supernatural beings coexisted with humans, Warlocks and Witches held dominion due to their superior powers.
Residing in this realm was the remarkably beautiful werewolf princess, Arabella, whose father led a small pack as an Alpha. The news of her extraordinary beauty had spread far and wide across the world.
Just a month after her 18th birthday, numerous marriage proposals began pouring in from distant lands. Yet, like any caring father, Arabella’s father sought the most suitable match for her and declined each proposal that arrived.
“Arabella, quickly get ready. You have to leave for the mating ball,” her mother urged, entering the room with urgency. Arabella, lost in her thoughts while seated near the window, snapped out of her reverie as her mother approached.
“Why, Mother?” Arabella inquired, seeking an explanation.
“Because your father wanted you to go there,” her mother replied.
“Mother, I am tired of meeting people. They ultimately get rejected by Father,” Arabella complained.
“He is doing everything for your sake and good future. He and I love you, princess,” her mother reasoned.
“I know, Mother, and that’s why I don’t want to go anywhere leaving you and Father,” Arabella said, pouting as she hugged her mother from the side.
“Silly girl,” her mother chuckled, kissing Arabella’s forehead before placing the dress beside her. “Now quickly just get ready,” her mother instructed, not waiting for her reply as she left the room.
Arabella glanced at the dress. It was a peach-colored, long silk gown. She trailed her hand along the delicate fabric, feeling its texture. She liked it. Taking it, she made her way to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she changed into the clothing and wore the gown. Stepping out of the bathroom, she approached her vanity table, sitting on a stool. As she looked into the mirror, she was mesmerized by her reflection. The gown fit her perfectly, embracing her every curve and making her appear more feminine and mature than her age.
Arabella was deep in her own contemplation. Tonight, she was expected to choose a mate, yet an unexplained restlessness tugged at her heart. In those times, among shifters, the selection of a mate was intrinsically tied to their prowess. For a female with numerous suitors vying for her, the males would engage in challenges, where the mightiest among them could lay claim to her hand.
The concept of true mates existed solely in ancient tales, a notion merely spoken of in folklore and never substantiated by actual events. Among the Werewolves, the prevailing belief was that true mates were nothing more than fictional narratives, a figment of imagination never realized in reality.
The subject of true mates remained shrouded in mystery, even when inquired of the moon goddess herself. Instead of offering clarity, she responded with enigmatic smiles, perpetuating the confusion among the Werewolves. Yet, the very idea of having a true mate intrigued Arabella profoundly. Legends suggested that these unions were predestined by the moon goddess herself, forging an unbreakable bond between two souls. Even after death, they remained inseparable, destined to be reborn repeatedly, eternally seeking their mate in each new life.
“Bella, you’re not ready yet? You know the Alpha will be furious if he finds out you’re late for the mating ball,” scolded Gina, Arabella’s closest friend and the daughter of her father’s Beta, as she strode into Arabella’s chamber and discovered her lost in contemplation.
“Gina!” Arabella exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest in surprise, her wide eyes meeting her best friend’s. “Oh Goddess, you startled me!”
Gina merely rolled her eyes in response. “Miss Drama Queen, if you’re finished with your theatrics, can we proceed downstairs?” Crossing her arms, Gina narrowed her eyes at Arabella.
Seeing Gina’s expression, Arabella smiled and gestured toward her hair. Strands of her silky blonde locks were still unstyled, framing her face in a gentle cascade.
With an exasperated sigh, Gina took a hair comb and began to assist Arabella in setting her hair. She carefully pinned up Arabella’s golden locks on one side, leaving some strands to cascade freely, creating an elegant yet carefree hairstyle.
As Gina delicately applied the faintest touch of makeup to Arabella’s already exquisite features, the natural beauty of the princess shone through effortlessly. Her radiant aura scarcely required enhancement.
Once Arabella was prepared, she and Gina made their way down the ornate hall where Alpha Ralph and Luna Darcy stood in anticipation. A sense of importance lingered in the air, palpable in every stride as they approached the waiting couple.
“I’ve made arrangements for both of you to attend the Mating ball,” Alpha Ralph disclosed, his voice carrying the weight of responsibility.
The rules were clear – parents were forbidden from attending the ball, ensuring everyone had the freedom to make their own choices without familial interference. The event was exclusive, reserved for the elite royal families from the mightiest packs.
“Father, where exactly are we headed?” Arabella’s curiosity blossomed, her voice laced with intrigue and uncertainty.
“This year, the Mating ball is hosted by none other than the Warlock King, Zephyr Blackthorn,” Alpha Ralph revealed with a measured tone. “He’s earnestly seeking his Queen, and this ball presents an opportunity. Show your best behavior and charm the King. Should he choose you as his mate, you would ascend as the Queen, wielding unprecedented power over the realm.”
Arabella let out a heavy sigh, her apprehension palpable as she contemplated the daunting prospect of conversing with the Warlock king. Rumors had painted him as an intimidating figure, known for his cruelty and immense power, amplifying Arabella’s already mounting nervousness at the idea of initiating contact.
Feeling her friend’s unease, Gina tenderly grasped Arabella’s hand, offering a reassuring squeeze in an attempt to alleviate her worries. Gina was accompanying Arabella in hope to find a mate for herself as well.
Soon, the girls settled into a horse-drawn cart. Their anticipation and nervousness evident as they embarked on their journey toward the grandeur of the mating ball. The rhythmic clip-clop of hooves against the cobblestones echoed their mixed emotions as they made their way.