Born For The Throne
“Push, Athena! You’re slowing down. Move your feet!”
I’ve heard that same bark from my father, Alpha Conall, since before I could count to ten.
Sweat stings my eyes, but I dig deeper, pulling out the last bit of energy I’ve got left. Facing the top warriors of the pack, and even my father himself sometimes, I refuse to lose.
My leg swings around. The warrior braces high, expecting a head kick. Wrong move. I drop the strike low, slamming my heel into the soft spot above his knee. He hits the ground with a grunt, and before he can recover, I’m behind him, arm locked around his throat, legs around his body. I squeeze.
A whistle cuts through the air. My father’s signal. I let go before I break something.
I jump to my feet and grin at him. “Dad, I don’t know why you think you have to watch me train every day.”
We walk toward the house, and the smell of pine and dirt settles around us. For twenty-one years, this has been my home—the deep woods of Alabama, land enough to hold three hundred fifty people, schools, stores, everything. My ancestors built GoldPaw three hundred years ago to protect their own. My father and mother have built it into a legacy, with the business and tourism. It’s home to everyone—werewolves, witches, humans, and all the creatures in between.
“I know, my princess.” My father’s voice carries that rough warmth only years of leadership can give. “I just want you to be able to defend what’s rightfully yours, if anyone’s crazy enough to challenge you for it.” A smile tugs at his face. The sparkle in his eyes isn’t amusement; it’s pride, and something deeper. He’s remembering every training session, every bruised knuckle, every time I refused to quit.
I cross my arms and meet his gaze. “Let them come, Father. I’m dying for the day someone thinks they can take what’s mine. I’ll make an example of them.”
That earns me a low chuckle. But he doesn’t argue. He knows I’m not boasting. I’m promising.
I step forward, squaring my shoulders. “I, Athena Blackwood, accept any challenge. Let those who think they can claim what’s mine come forth. I am the daughter of the most notorious Alpha, Conall Blackwood, fated by the Moon Goddess herself to a Luna Warrior, Beth Blackwood, who struck fear into the hearts of her enemies. Strength and GoldPaw are my birthright, and I’ll defend them with everything I have.”
The air shifts around me, heavy and electric. My Alpha aura slips free before I even realize it. The ground itself feels alive, vibrating with power that’s older than words. Within seconds, I sense every presence around me bowing—warriors, pack members, even the elders near the house.
Five hundred feet of silence. No one dares breathe too loudly. Even my mother stiffens, her instinct fighting against the urge to submit. My father’s jaw tightens—he’s resisting too—but there’s pride in his eyes. He sees what I’ve become.
I pull the aura back slowly, the way he taught me, tucking it under my skin until the air feels safe again. When I look up, he’s still watching me with that same quiet pride.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The woods hum with the sound of cicadas and distant wind. Then I give him the faintest smile. “You trained me for this, Dad. And when that day comes, when someone’s foolish enough to test me…” I let the words hang, letting my confidence fill the silence. “They’ll remember my name long after they’ve fallen.”
He nods once, like a man who’s seen the future and accepts it. And deep down, I know he’s right to, because I would accept any challenge. And I would win.
“We need to talk,” my father says as we walk across the clearing, boots crunching against the dirt. His tone is calm, but every word carries the weight of the pack and of the centuries of Alphas before him.
I straighten my shoulders and meet his gaze. “About what?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“You can’t lead the pack alone, Athena,” he says firmly. “You need a mate, chosen or fated. Someone who can make you stronger, sharper, ready for any challenge. The pack deserves that strength at your side.”
I snort, shaking my head. “I don’t need anyone to make me stronger. I’ve trained my whole life for this, Father. I can take on the pack, any enemy, without a mate at my side.”
His eyes harden, blue steel against my defiance. “Strength alone isn’t enough. Leadership demands balance and control, support, someone who complements your power. You are the first Alpha Luna in over a century, Athena. Tradition isn’t just for show. I won’t hand over the pack without a mate by your side.”
I bite back the retort that wants to spill out. “And I won’t choose just anyone to fill that role. I want my pack on my own terms, my way. If I have to find a mate, it will be because I choose them — not because tradition demands it.”
He stops walking, turning to face me fully. “And I respect your independence… but your pack comes first. A fated mate is rare, yes. A chosen mate, one you trust, can still make you stronger and protect the pack while you grow into the Alpha you were born to be.”
I glare at him, stubborn as always. “I don’t want protection. I want to lead. Alone. If anyone thinks I can’t… let them come. I’ll prove them wrong.”
He studies me for a long moment, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re my daughter,” he says finally. “Headstrong, fierce, unyielding. I see the fire in you, Athena. But even fire needs a steady hand. One day, you’ll understand why.”
As I walk toward the house, the adrenaline from training starts to fade, replaced by the calm hum of the pack grounds. The scent of earth, pine, and faint woodsmoke sits heavy in the air. I slow near the garden, already knowing who’s waiting for me.
My mother stands among the rows of herbs and wildflowers, hands buried deep in the soil. She doesn’t have to look up for me to know she’s angry — I can feel it, that quiet pressure that settles in the chest when a Luna’s patience runs thin. Still, I lean down and press a quick kiss to her cheek.
Her lips twitch, but her face stays fixed in that calm, deadly expression. Yeah, I’m in trouble.
My mother, The Luna Warrior, isn’t the kind of woman who needs to raise her voice to command respect. She’s the storm that rolls in quiet and leaves the ground trembling. She stands about five-foot-six, with chocolate-brown curls that fall to her waist and a round face softened by high cheekbones. Her light-brown eyes could read every secret I ever tried to hide. Freckles dust her button nose and cheeks, and her caramel skin glows with a red-gold undertone, as if she carries the sun beneath her skin. Her build is strong but graceful, wide hips, narrow waist, the kind of shape the elders say was made for bearing warriors, not just children.
I’m a spitting image of her, though the universe sprinkled in a few of my father’s features for balance, the sharper cut of his jaw, and those glacier-blue eyes that seem to hold lightning when I’m angry. My hair’s the same wild brown as hers, though it catches the sun with a bit more red. Whenever we walk side by side, people see the reflection of my mother’s beauty in my face… and my father’s power in the way I carry it.
“Athena,” she says, voice low and sharp as a blade’s edge. “What have I told you about letting your aura out when there’s no danger near?”
I wince, caught. “A warrior’s best asset is to stay undetected,” I recite quietly, bowing my head. “Let them think I’m weak. Then I show them who I am. I’m sorry, Mom. I just got caught up in the moment.”
She wipes her hands on her apron and studies me for a long moment. “Your power is a gift, but control is what makes it sacred,” she says. “Without control, power just makes enemies.” Her gaze softens, but only slightly. “Even your father forgets that sometimes.”
At the mention of him, my eyes drift toward the porch. Alpha Conall stands there, tall and broad-shouldered, a silent observer. His skin is tan from the sunlight, weathered by years of battle and leadership, and his once-black hair now streaks with silver at the temples, the only thing that betrays his age. His sharp blue eyes take in everything, nothing escapes him. When he smiles, it’s rare, but it hits you like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. And when he’s angry, even the wind seems to pull back.
He’s power wrapped in calm, a man who’s built an empire with his hands, yet still finds time to laugh with his Luna in the quiet hours. My mother’s patience steadies him; his fire fuels her. Together, they’ve built more than a pack, they’ve built a legacy.
I glance back at my mother, whose anger has softened into that steady, knowing look. She loves him, but she’s never feared him. That’s what makes them unstoppable; his strength, her strategy.
“I know, Mom,” I say, straightening. “I’ll be more careful.”
She sighs and brushes a loose curl from my face. “You will learn, Athena. Just don’t let your father’s pride become your temper.”
Behind her, I catch his small, proud smile, the kind that says he’s been listening the whole time.
And standing there, between the two of them, her calm and his fire, I understand exactly who I am. A perfect blend of both. A reflection of their power. And the next name the world will learn to fear.
