Queen
I had always known my son as a man of iron.
Erick was not one to bend beneath the weight of life. He was not one to stumble when storms howled.
From the time he was a boy, he carried the crown of expectation with a kind of solemn pride, and though the crown had grown heavier with the years, he bore it still.
But now, sitting before me in the vast, cold emptiness of the throne room, my son looked nothing like the King I had raised.
His eyes, those sharp, piercing eyes that once mirrored fire and authority looked hollow, as though some vital flame within him had been extinguished.
His shoulders sagged beneath a weight I could not see, and for the first time in my long life, I saw the Alpha King of all packs, my dearest son appeared less like a ruler and more like a man hurting
