The rightful Luna

Chapter 47. Torn between choices

Some centuries ago

Becoming a young twenty year old man, Fenrir had learned the truth the harsh way. He was confident when he was little that he would become a great werewolf, his father had made him think so.

But the cruel reality had become more evident as time passed.

Living with his father who had no way of fending for himself, life became more and more difficult to bare. Without the backup of the royal family, and by not being around his kind, the werewolf was changing to worse with each passing day.

He also no longer had his mother's love and support, as the latter had left them long ago.

The night his father returned, announcing to them that they could not move to the royal palace, had enraged his mother completely. As a small child he thought their simple life was happy, the only problem being that he had expected to become a full werewolf, but apparently for his mother it had not been her dream life.

She cursed his father in anger, telling him that it was not what he had promised her, not the life that she should have. The meager insufficient lifestyle had only been the means to convince his father of their difficulties, making him finally take them to the royal palace. But with his father being exiled, any hopes she had at that time died.

Giving up on his father and him, his mother had left them in the dead of night. The only reminiscence of her presence, remaining the clothes and small things she could not take with her, and Fenrir himself... she had abandoned him.

This crushed Fenrir and changed his life completely, his father was not capable of taking care of himself, much less of a pup. It made him mature overnight, as he had to give up on all of the things that made him a child.

But if there was one thing that he had not let go of throughout the years, even though he knew it would be impossible, it was the hope of becoming a real werewolf. A hope his father no longer held, even in his madness.

"Father!!!" He called desperately, after one of his outings to the village's market.

"Yes." Replied hoarsely his father, getting up from bed. The former young prince full of life looked nothing like his old self. Only a shell that resembled his older brother, the king of the werewolves, vaguely remained, although he looked much older than he normally should have, considering his werewolf nature.

"I found it, I found a way for us to return to the royal palace." He exclaimed happily, bursting through the door of his father's room.

"How?" The man asked without any expression, he knew his son had kept asking around and had thought of different ways over the years, but he knew there was no way to transform a human into a werewolf, a person who did not have at least the aura capable of changing the color of the rose to any color.

"They were saying in the village... I heard a group of hunters speaking. They were talking about how some werewolves had bitten some of them, trying to transform them into werewolves, to make the humans stop hunting them. Can't we try that? If I knew it was that easy, we wouldn't have suffered so much!" Fenrir hopefully informed, all this time the answer had been so simple, it was just they had been oblivious to it.

"No." His father denied, standing up from bed and reaching for a bottle of whiskey. It had been the only liquid that entered the unshaved ruffled man's throat these days.

"Why? We could go back! Do you not want me to become a werewolf? Do you want me to rot away like you?" Fenrir spat spiteful, losing his temper towards the father for whom he had long lost any respect.