royalty by fate

one | royalty by fate.

a/n: i've had bad experiences w/ wattpad so i'm not active on here anymore. this'll be primarily updated via my writing tumblr, and if you have any comments or feedback, you can send them at: qkenwrites.tumblr.com/ask + also recommend reading this there if you don't like ads! that link is qkenwrites.tumblr.com/rbf

depending on the vibe here (i.e. receiving rude / disparaging comments & nitpicking), i'll update the chapters but if you're interested enough, you can stay up to date there. this is also my attempt at nanowrimo21. not good at writing the whole 1667 words a day but still trying!

one | royalty by fate.

"Do you know why you're here?"

A mahogany desk away, the royal advisor stares at her. His frosted blue eyes may not be able to process the physical world but it doesn't make his gaze any less intimidating. There's no discernible emotion on his face, only a cocked eyebrow.

Raquel Miller resists the urge to squirm. "No, sir," she answers respectfully, even-toned despite the anxiety churning in her gut. "My affiliations are registered and up to date, and I haven't moved residence."

Andreas—no last name on record for the immortal's historical existence—purses his lips like he's surprised. "This is about the Webb-Allens treaty." He picks up braille-ridged paper off his desk, running his fingertips over it. "You were involved, no?"

So that's why she's here.

When she received the summons, printed on papyrus and signed in cursive ink and stamped, it only indicated the specific date and time, leaving her to speculate—with great worry—the reason. All she knew was it had to be spectacular for a hybrid to be allowed on royal grounds, and matters concerning the first treaty between a human and lycan territory in nearly thirty years surely qualifies.

But it has nothing to do with her. She relinquished her ties to either side, politically withdrawn from either since the age of eighteen and renewed every year since. Although she does reside in the area between the Arlington county and the Chanco pack and respectively consults on befuddling medical issues, she has no say or power within her status.

So she's confused why he's asking her about it. But onto his question, she confirms and clarifies, "I was present but my involvement was minuscule. The proposal was drawn up and signed at my home due to the fact it's neutral territory."

He goes silent for a moment, the subtle waves of power making it that much more unsettling. "I don't believe that," he finally says, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. "In fact, I know not only that you played a major role but that the treaty wouldn't have been signed without you."

The claim bulges her eyes wide, and she shakes her head, forgetting he can't see her. "Sir—"

"Alpha Webb and Mayor Allen both agreed on the treaty on the condition you facilitate the exchange of resources," he continues, and his voice is deep, reverberating, and smooth. "They cited your reputation and its goodwill as the reason they met up in the first place."

That catches her off-guard. She does have personal connections with both leaders. Regardless of the stigma surrounding hybrids, they've known her since she was fourteen and now twenty-seven, they value her input. Which is why she offered her home for mediation and volunteered her services to see a productive conclusion to their increasing issues—a treaty of peace and mutual aid.