Maebh spend the following 3 days exploring the premises –which as it turned out, took up more time than originally anticipated.

Located in the souterrain, was a gigantic, indoor greenhouse that –according to one of the workers there– harvested enough fruit and vegetables to feed the entire valley. Some of the plants were tended to daily by the assigned gardeners, whereas others were left to run wild. 

Another chamber she had found particularly interesting was located deep under the ground, where fresh glacier water that streamed down from the mountains, was collected and filtered to provide every household in the valley with clean water for washing, drinking and cooking.

The more she explored, the more she saw a resemblance to a luxurious resort rather than the abode of a royal family. From an imax home theatre to a gym, a game room, a wine cellar, a bowling alley and a garage with millions worth of cars. The unmistakable evidence of their wealth made Maebh wonder what they did for a living. Obviously, most monarchs weren't short on money but it had to transpire from somewhere? Perhaps they had also bought their royal status?

Maebh had questions, a multitude of them. Whenever she attempted to get answers to those questions, however, she was met with demurral --fear appearing to be the common motive for it. She suspected the only person who would give her some clarity, was Hèmène. Regretfully, the queen just so happened to be absent from the castle's confines: her office door was locked and her seat empty during dinner.

One morning, she woke up feeling disorientated and with a blinding headache pounding at her brain like a ten tonne mallet. It took her a while to get her bearings and remember she wasn't in Haines Junction anymore. The hours after awakening dragged on forever, she had gotten bored of roaming from room to room and not finding anything to catch her attention. Sure, there were plenty of things to do but she wasn't about to go bowling on her own.

Deciding to go downstairs for a bite, she hopped out of bed and got dressed into something comfortable. With her head in the clouds, she did not realise she had missed the hallway that lead to the staircase and entered a different one, until she bashed into a hard body.

Zeff eyed her from head to toe, folding his arms over his chest. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I was just-"

"These rooms are strictly off limits."

Maebh titled her head. "Why?"

"They're private quarters."

She lifted a single eyebrow. "You do understand that you telling me not to go there, only makes me want to go more, right? It's like a red button, you know not to press it but you do it anyway."

Zeff stared at her, unblinking. "Get out of here."

"Yes sir."

She fast walked back in the right direction and raced down the stairs. The black haired man might not have physically threatened her, but it certainly felt like he was tempted to, had she overstayed her welcome.

Maebh came to a standstill when she noticed the kitchen to be empty, safe for one person. The king sat at a small table, reading something that looked like a newspaper.

Not even bothering to look up, the king was the first to break the silence. "The morning chef is sick but I left a plate of breakfast for you. It should still be warm."

With cautious movements and never taking her eyes from him she moved her trembling limbs from her spot in the doorway and to the table in the middle of of the room. A fork sat beside a plate which was filled with meat, eggs and some kind of boiled vegetable that defied identification. It didn't quite look like what she had in mind for her morning meal but decided not to complain.

"What are you waiting for, girl?" His voice was annoyed now.

Her traitorous stomach gave a loud protest as she edged closer to the table and sat down on the very corner of the chair, ready to bolt at the slightest provocation. It wasn't that the king had been explicitly unkind to her, but his presence certainly set her on edge.

"Thank you."

She ate in silence, the only sounds those of the fork scraping the plate and the occasional rustling of a page being turned. Maebh felt oddly flattered the king had saved her a plate.

In the wake of putting her dishes in the dishwasher, she turned back to the man at the table. "Thank you for breakfast."

The king surprised her by showing a subtle uptilt of the lips. "You're welcome."

Feeling much cheerier, Maebh climbed her way back up with a slight skip in her step. Zeff's words from earlier came back to chase her curiosity into a corner, where it outweighed her rational thoughts and lured her into pressing the red button.

She had not anticipated for the brown-haired man to still be there.

"I told you not to come here!"

Zeff growled, actually growled, as he attempted to grab a hold of her, but she was too fast. Instead of running back to the tower room, she rushed further into the hallway, hoping to shake him off, Maebh urged her feet to step up their game. She could still hear him screaming for her to stop as she ducked and dodged, eyes wildly seeking for a hiding place but finding none as most doors were locked and the hall carried on for forever.

Finally, Maebh spotted a gap in the wall; behind a large oil painting, an opening barely visible. She quickly sneaked behind, mouth agape in amazement as it opened up to a hidden chamber. The space within held rows upon rows of mahogany bookcases that housed thousands of books. The room was deserted, dimly lit by the light of the afternoon sun and dozens of candles.

Stepping further into the library, she let her hand slide along the spines of several works, dust covering her fingertips. Maebh inspected the animal hide bound volumes and breathed in the scent of leather, allowing the distinct smell of old paper to tickle her olfactory. The titles in the shelves, displayed many war tactics and strategy volumes, among histories and a few scientific books. What interested her significantly were the medicinal volumes she found on an upper shelf. It was recently dusted and the books seemingly used in the past weeks. Books about herbal remedies, lists of poisons all the way to surgical methods and even midwifery.

The chamber had a high ceiling with strange symbols carved into it, rock floors covered with cream Berber carpet, and Persian rugs, interesting pictures woven as to tell old stories or legends of the past. The same drawings imprinted on the rugs matched the murals on the walls, images of wolves, howling at the full moon, eyes eerily aglow. Another of four wolfs circled around a bigger, pitch black wolf with flint-like eyes. With a flash, Maebh was reminded of the night she got lost in the forest

The images on the far east side of the wall were of wolves engaged in different stages of copulation. One in particular, was of a wolf with an almost humane look of lust crossing its monstrous head as it penetrated a human female from behind. Her legs spread wide, the beast bent over her with teeth clamped on her shoulder. Averting her eyes with heated cheeks, Maebh opted to inspect the rest of the room.

She climbed the mezzanine and discovered with a sinking sense of dawning, this wasn't merely a library. Pieces of clothing were scattered about, a large canopy bed stood against the wall, covered in a burgundy duvet. A strong masculine odour attacked her senses, making the goosebumps arise.

She was in Fillin's room.

Realisation almost knocked her over as she stared at the oil portrait near the bed. The artist had done an excellent job at bringing him to life, it could have easily been mistaken for a photograph had it not been for the clear sign of brushstrokes, littered across the canvas. Why anyone would want a portrait of themselves in their room was another matter entirely.

Though fascinated by the profusion of strange objects and art pieces in his room, Maebh's muscles had tensed at discovering she had involuntarily walked into the lion's den.

Maebh turned back towards the door, planning on leaving but halting in her steps when she spied marble statues in the corner of two half human, half wolves. Evidently male by the erect manhood shooting out from between both of their legs, their heads were raised in quiet howls.

Intrigued, she hesitantly walked up to one, fingers already seeking for a touch, mystified by how life-like they were. Their jaws were tensed, teeth razor sharp. Her hands slid around the ears, down the fur coated chest. Maebh was too distracted to notice the shifting of candlelight and a dangerous current forewarning her.

A low snarl pulled her out of her stupor, warm breath curling around her ears. She spun, facing her attacker with wide eyes. Fillin's body crowded into her own, trapping her as he slowly leant in and pressed his blazing skin through the fabric of her clothes.

"I-I-I... The door..." Swallowing nervously, Maebh attempted to give him an explanation but couldn't concentrate with him in such close proximity. "Fillin," she spoke his name for the first time, causing him to inhale sharply. "I'm sorry, I-"

Staring up at him, she met the steady topaz eyes that had the uncanny ability to send her heart racing. A loaded silence weighed down on them as all of a sudden, the mood, the air and everything seemed to just shift. The remaining space between them was electrified, filled with a million watts of pent up energy and tension. Her stomach rolled, the butterflies coming to life under the intensity of his gaze.

Fillin's hand came up, his finger trailing a heated path across the curve of her shoulder, up the sensitive slope of her neck and along the line of her jaw. His thumb lightly brushed across her lower lip, causing a shiver to run down her spine and a need she had never encountered before to rear its head.

He pulled away and she caught herself instantly missing his warmth. Seconds later, he returned only to push a heavy, leather bound book into her hands.

"I heard you were looking for this." the deep, hoarse tone of his voice announced.

That snapped her out of whatever state she had been in. As opposed to replying, Maebh shot him a questioning look, not trusting herself enough to speak up without stuttering. But he ignored her and exited the chamber.

Maebh was left behind to wonder what had just happened. With the book tucked under her arm, she managed to find her way back. 

Along the route, a highly displeased-looking Zeff appeared in front of her, blocking the path to the main hallway.

"You little-"

Maebh raised up a hand, silencing him and shuffling past him without having to vocalise how much she did not want to socialise. As the door to the tower came into view, the familiar sight filled her with relief.

Automatically locking the room from the rest of the castle, she tossed the book on the bed and snagged the remote from the nightstand, about to flick on the telly when she hesitated. Forcing her eyes back to the book, she did a double take.

It was the book, the one about Greek mythology and the myth that Alexandria had called Lycanthrope. Jumping onto the mattress, she placed the leather bound volume in her lap and succeeded in finding the page she had left off. Finding that this copy didn't have the page ripped out or smudged lettering, she allowed her eyes to trail over the words.

"...Still, there was no guarantee the human mate would survive child birth.

At that point, Maccon had been crowned the King of Lycanthropes –the rare, completely obsidian shade of his fur distinguishing him from the rest. But unlike his wolf brothers, he did not care for the concept of love, he cared about his pack and that alone. And so, the druid presented him with a separate gift: a childbearer.

A human woman selected on the basis of her bodily capability to carry and bear the strongest of Lycanthrope-infants; to ensure the royal bloodline will never cease to exist. Similar to the soulbond female, the childbearer –too– would be chosen by fate. And was identifiable by the violet colour of her eyes.

For generations, they lived in harmony alongside the Celts. The soulbond mates, as well as the childbearers a grand success. Although, Maccon's descendants came to discover the druid had not been completely truthful with their ancestor, for the royal heirs were able to love; platonic and familial love. Instinctual affection, such as the love of a parent towards offspring and vice versa.

Their lives were peaceful, until a terrible war between the Celts of Hibernia and the powerful Roman occupiers of Britannia broke out. The era of torches, pitchforks and misery had returned and the Lycanthropes were once again, forced to flee.

Over the centuries, there had been stories of Lycanthropes from communities all over the world. And yet, up to the present day, nobody knows their whereabouts; whether they have gone extinct or have managed to blend in with human crowds."

Knowing the story to contain a great element of truth, Maebh felt like she had been doused in ice cold water. All the puzzle pieces fell into place. She stared down at the words that had just revealed werewolves were real and that she was to become a breeding cow. And of course, feeling absolutely horrified by the revelations, her first reaction was to promptly scream her head off. But she was frozen in place, her eyes glued to the book with a look of complete mortification.

Dismissing the cursed bundle of misery with a swipe of her hand, she left the room and trembled all the way down to the dining hall --where she was met with a maid clearing out the remaining dishes of the evening meal Maebh had clearly missed.

A maid approached her with a pleasant smile. "Miss Maebh! What can I-"

"I need a drink." she retorted, walking into the direction of where she remembered the liquor cabinet to be.

There was a wide variety to choose from including an earthenware bottle with a red wax seal, one with a flower symbol embossed on the glass and another that nearly screamed hangover. Instead, all rational thoughts flew out of the window and she went for the open bottle that she had seen the king drinking from every night during dinner.

She poured a small measure into a tumbler and the maid jumped up, stretching her hand out in protest.

"I would not recommend that one, it is really potent liquor for..."

She took a sip and her words became hazy as her head began to spin. She swayed and put the glass down in a hurry but it was too late. She felt herself crumple to the floor, had the fleeting thought that she really had to stop doing this, and blacked out.

The next thing she knew, movement entered her frame of vision, though what she saw were only snapshots of colour between black periods. Men's boots, getting closer. A familiar, handsome face flashing by. Shouts. Then the sensation of rising and swinging, something that made her slightly nauseated. She closed her eyes. Swinging, lowering and then the soft feeling of a mattress against her back.