The Alpha Slave

The air in the chamber grew heavy with tension, the weight of centuries of tradition pressing down on every word exchanged. Lines' roar echoed off the polished stone walls, resonating with the power of his position. The flickering light from the twin moons outside cast long shadows across the floor, accentuating the sense of imminent danger in the conversation.

"You have a choice!" Lines snarled, his voice an ancient growl, full of authority and frustration. His eyes, burning with the intensity of someone who had fought for power and honor for too long, pierced through Lexion, daring him to challenge his will. "The Solem knows that I have been more than patient with you! Choose by the next lunar light, or I will choose for you!"

Lexion's breath caught for a moment, his chest rising and falling with the force of his growing exasperation. He was not a boy to be commanded, not a son to be easily directed. His mind was sharp, and his will, tempered by years of political gamesmanship, could not be bent by his father's threats.

"That is not a choice," Lexion replied, his voice low but steady, laced with the calm of someone who had already decided he would not bow to this demand. "There is no connection, no link, and you know it. You know I can choose any of them if they are not compatible with both of us. Do you want us to lose all our power, our honor, our..." He trailed off, frustration creeping into his tone.

Rima, standing beside Lines, had watched the exchange with a quiet intensity. Her gaze was unwavering as she stepped forward, the weight of her position as the Mother Queen clear in every movement. Her soft, melodic voice was the contrast to Lines' booming command, but there was a coldness in it that silenced any trace of warmth.

"If you don't choose," she began, her words measured, each one deliberate, "our planet will die. All our glamour will dissipate. What will we have left to honor or protect then, my son?" Her eyes softened only for a moment, a fleeting flicker of motherly concern that disappeared as quickly as it came.

Lexion's jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The weight of his parents' expectations, their fear for the future, pressed down on him like a physical force. But he would not be so easily swayed. Not by threats, not by his mother's calculated softness, and certainly not by his father's ever-present, overbearing force.

"My son, my strongest Kit," Rima said, her voice softening again, though still carrying the weight of authority. "You have a choice. If none of the prospects or dames suit, there are always the femils..."

Lexion's gaze flashed toward her, a look of incredulity crossing his face. The word hung in the air between them, thick with its implication. Femils. A word used by their people for the most controversial of unions, the most controversial of choices. Femils were the outcasts, the ones not chosen by tradition or love, but by desperation. To consider them was unthinkable for someone of Lexion's status-unthinkable for anyone with ambition.

"You would wish a femil on our SON?!" Lines spat, turning his fury toward Rima, his massive form looming over her. "He is the Alpha King! He will choose the prospect of the Glaring tribe. They are fierce and will produce strong Kits! Kits worthy of..." His words trailed off as he seemed to lose himself in his vision of what should be, of what must be, in his mind.

Lexion, his patience now worn thin, stepped forward, placing himself between the two figures, his posture firm, yet regal. His voice was calm, but there was steel underneath.

"I thought you said that I... we have a choice." He cut his father off, the words sharp, but measured. "Mother Queen, we will examine and consider all entries and make our choice." He glanced over at the Supreme, his face unreadable. "Even the femils."

The room fell silent.

The weight of his words settled heavily between them. Rima blinked, her gaze flickering for the briefest of moments-a crack in her ever-composed exterior, a hint of disbelief. Lines, on the other hand, stared at his son with a mix of anger and disbelief, but underneath, there was something else. Something grudging. Something resembling respect, perhaps. It was hard to tell.

"You defy tradition?" Lines growled, though the challenge in his voice seemed more like a test than a command now.

Lexion met his gaze squarely, unflinching. "I do not defy tradition. I honor it by choosing what is right for our future. The Glaring tribe may be fierce, but we are not to be ruled by strength alone. And if the femils hold something that can bind us as a family, as a true clan... then that is the choice we must consider."

For a moment, the tension in the air was unbearable. It felt as if the entire room was holding its breath, waiting for a verdict, for the inevitable next move. Lines' fists clenched, his expression darkening, but Lexion didn't waver.

Rima, to her credit, did not flinch either. She was quiet, her lips pressed into a thin line, as though she were weighing her son's words with great care. It was the first time in years that Lexion had seen her so thoughtful, so vulnerable. But he had made his stand. There was no going back now.

Xiamen, standing quietly in the corner, shifted his weight slightly, his eyes darting between the three of them. He did not speak, but his gaze seemed to suggest that whatever decision was made next, it would ripple through the very fabric of their society.

After what felt like an eternity, Lines let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging slightly. His voice was lower this time, a growl instead of a roar.

"Very well, Lexion. You have made your choice," he said slowly, as if the words were foreign to him. "But remember: the power of our people is not to be taken lightly. If you choose wrong, we will all suffer the consequences."

Lexion nodded, his jaw set firmly. He had not chosen lightly, nor would he. He knew the weight of his decision. But for once, he would not bow to the whims of tradition, no matter how heavy they were. He would shape their future on his terms.

"Then let us choose wisely," he said, his voice resolute, as he turned away from his parents, ready to face whatever path lay ahead.

The Queen Mother the Supreme left without another word. Their heavy footsteps echoed through the chamber, each step a reminder of the authority they wielded, but neither seemed willing to linger in the tension they had created. The door slid shut behind them with a finality that echoed in the stillness of the room. Lexion stood there, his body rigid, his mind turning over the weight of what had just transpired.

As the sounds of their departure faded, the silence seemed to press in from all sides. But it didn't last long.

Xiamen, Lexion's beta and bond mate, stepped forward, moving with a predatory grace. His tall form cut a sharp silhouette against the dim light from the twin moons, and his golden eyes glinted with a mixture of concern and frustration. He reached out, stopping Lexion before he could make his way toward the exit, grabbing his arm with a firm grip.

Lexion looked at him, surprised by the touch, his gaze flickering between his bond mate and the doorway his parents had just exited. He was used to Xiamen's directness, but there was something in his tone now that made Lexion pause.

"The next lunar is in twenty cycles!" Xiamen grunted out, his voice a low growl of frustration, barely contained. "We will choose by then?!" His hands were still clenched, the tension in his body evident as he pressed forward. "How will we find our link, our third, the perfect final to our circle by then?!"

Lexion's jaw tightened as he took a slow, deliberate breath. He met Xiamen's fiery gaze with calm determination. The weight of the future was pressing down on him more than ever, and while he knew Xiamen's concern was valid, this wasn't the time to lose control.

"By making sure that we have a very large sample to choose from," Lexion answered quietly, his tone calm but resolute. His eyes didn't leave Xiamen's, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft rustle of their breathing.

Xiamen's eyes narrowed, searching Lexion's face for any sign of doubt or hesitation. Finding none, he let out a breath, his frustration not entirely alleviated but redirected. Lexion had made his decision.

"I suggest that you send out all clowders not on duty to compile a suitable selection by the next Lunar light," Lexion continued, his words slow and deliberate, the weight of leadership in every syllable. "Or it's Sire's choice."

The finality of those words hit Xiamen like a physical blow. A Sire's choice-something both revered and feared, the ultimate decision, one that could tear apart what was left of their balance. The thought of it made Xiamen's stomach churn. If they didn't act quickly, they would be at the mercy of tradition, and the cost of that would be far too great.

Xiamen took a step back, his hands unclenching as he exhaled slowly. "I understand. I will make the arrangements. The clans will not be pleased, but they will obey." He hesitated, then met Lexion's gaze once more. "Do you believe we can truly find the one we're meant to bind with, in such a short time?"

Lexion's expression softened, the weight of the moment flickering in his eyes. There was an uncertainty there, a quiet acknowledgment of just how monumental this decision was. But there was something else too-an unshakable determination that he would see this through, no matter the cost.

"We will find her, Xiamen. We have no choice. Our future depends on it."

Xiamen nodded, though his face was still tight with worry. There was a deep bond between them, one forged in years of loyalty, shared purpose and something more. They had faced battles together, fought side by side in the name of their people, but this-this felt different. This was personal.

"As you say, Alpha," Xiamen replied, his voice firm, though the concern didn't leave his eyes. "I will send the word out immediately. The clans will know their task."

Lexion turned away from him, his footsteps silent on the stone floor. He paused before exiting, casting one last glance over his shoulder at Xiamen, whose gaze was locked on him, a quiet understanding between them.

"We have no time to waste," Lexion said, his voice low and resolute. "The next Lunar light is our deadline. Make sure that every possibility is accounted for. This cannot fail."

"Yes my King." Xiamen automatically answered, already his mind was on his mission.

"And Xiamen, don't forget about the femils."

With that, Lexion left the chamber, his mind racing as he stepped out into the cold, star-lit night. Every decision now weighed heavy on his shoulders-his people's future, his family's future, and the future of the bond that would unite them all. He couldn't afford to let it slip through his fingers.

Xiamen stood still for a moment longer, his thoughts tangled in the complexity of their situation. But soon enough, he turned and moved to do his part, the tension of the moment lingering in the air.

There was no going back now. The search for their third was on, and the clock was ticking.