The Unfavored Daughter

Chapter 1: The Unfavored Daughter

Fiona’s POV

I was greeted with the kindest term my family ever granted me, "Unfavored." 

My footsteps echoed through the shadowy corridors of our Alpha's residence, a place that felt more like a mausoleum than a home. The call to dine with my family was as rare as an eclipse, and I couldn't help but wonder if the invitation had anything to do with my 18th birthday just around the corner. 

I entered the dining hall, where golden light spilled over the long table set with gleaming silver and crystal. My family was already seated, their expressions ranging from indifferent to slightly curious – none of the warmth I’d hoped for on such a personal milestone. 

"Happy birthday, Fiona," my father said, his voice holding the same tone he'd use to discuss pack strategies. "Please, sit." 

"Thank you, Father." I slipped into my designated seat at the far end of the table, noting the empty chair beside me. The absence of my mother, who had passed when I was just a child, lingered heavily in the air.

"Let us not delay," my father began, his gaze sweeping over his kin before settling on me. 

"The reason we've gathered is to celebrate my ascent into full adulthood. And with that comes certain... responsibilities." 

"Responsibilities?" I echoed, my fork pausing midway to my mouth. 

"Yes, my dear," my Aunt Marlene, who has taken the role of my mother quite seriously and would not be questioned for it, interjected with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. 

"You are to be wed." 

"Wed?" My heart thrummed against my ribcage. The joy of being included in a family dinner evaporated. 

"To whom?" 

"Alpha King Quinton," my elder brother, Marlene’s son announced, as though speaking of a business transaction rather than my life. 

"Quinton?" I could barely hide my disgust. "The tyrant?" Memories of the ruthless leader filled my mind: his cold, calculating eyes, and the rumors of his cruelty that whispered through many packs.

"Your union will bring strength to our pack," my father stated flatly.

"But I don't want strength," I shot back, pushing my plate away, my appetite gone. "I want—"

"Want has nothing to do with it," my father interrupted, his tone final.

"Actually, it does." I stood up, feeling the weight of their stares. "I refuse this marriage."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the table. Refusal wasn't something my family dealt with well. Especially if you are the unwanted member.

"Refusal is not an option," my father growled.

"Then make it one," I retorted, my hands trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. "Because I have someone else in my heart, someone I wish to be with, not some tyrant king."

"Silence!" my father thundered, slamming his fist on the table, making the silverware jitter.

I flinched but held his gaze. It was the first time I had dared to stand up to him, and the act laid bare the gulf between us. I may be the Alpha's daughter by blood, but in that moment, I felt more like a stranger—or worse, a pawn in a game of power I wanted no part in. "Love is for the weak," my mother scoffed from across the table, her voice dripping with disdain. "Duty to your pack is paramount."

"Is duty all you ever think about?" My words were a whisper, but they carried the weight of years of feeling like an outcast within my own family. "Can't you see I'm not just a piece in your strategy?"

"Enough!" My father's command cut through the room like a blade.

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs. I knew arguing was futile; my parents saw me as nothing more than a vessel for their ambitions. But I wasn't ready to surrender my dreams so easily.

"Quinton is not my future," I said quietly, my resolve hardening. "I won't marry him."

My family exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. I braced myself for the onslaught I knew would come. The Alpha's will was law, and defying it was akin to treason.

"Very well," My father said after a moment that felt like an eternity. His calm was unsettling. "You may leave the table."

As I retreated from the dining hall, the dread that had settled in my stomach coiled tighter. I knew this was far from over. They would never let me be with my boyfriend, the one person who made me feel seen, valued, loved.

"Happy birthday to me," I muttered under my breath, the taste of betrayal bitter on my tongue. My footsteps echoed hollowly as I fled down the corridor, my heart a tempest of defiance and fear. The grandeur of the family manor, with its polished stone floors and ancestral portraits lining the walls, felt more like a prison than ever before, is this what a pack is supposed to feel like? I longed for the simplicity of my boyfriend's embrace, the promise of a life chosen rather than imposed.

"Marriage is not a choice, Fiona," Marlene's voice rang out behind me, sharp as the edge of a knife. "It is a duty."

I didn't turn back. "And what about happiness?" My voice cracked, revealing the well of emotions I tried so hard to conceal.

"Quinton will offer me power and protection," my ‘mother’ replied, as if reading from an ancient script that justified trading me for political gain. 

"Power I never asked for. Protection I don't need," I retorted, my pace quickening. I could almost feel the cold walls whispering secrets of countless other reluctant brides who had passed through them, urging me to break the cycle. 

Reaching the sanctuary of my room, I closed the door with a thud, leaning against it as if to keep the world at bay. My eyes fell upon the small photograph on my nightstand – a candid shot of my boyfriend and I, laughing under the summer sun. It was a moment of pure joy, a stark contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the Alpha household. 

I snatched up the frame, clutching it to my chest. "I won't let them steal my future," I vowed, my determination rising like a phoenix from the ashes of my disillusionment.

I wrapped myself in the quiet resolve that had seen me through years of solitude and rejection. Tomorrow, I would face my father again. But tonight, I allowed myself to dream of a life where love, not lineage, dictated my destiny. 

My heart hammered against the confines of my chest, each beat a silent rebellion. The grandeur of the dining room, with its polished silver and crystal chandeliers, felt like an ornate cage. I could sense the eyes of my family upon me, their gazes heavy with expectations I never wished to carry. Finally, I was 18! 

"Happy birthday, me," my mother said, her voice as smooth as the silk tablecloth, yet devoid of warmth. It was a perfunctory greeting, one that seemed to echo off the walls with a hollow sentimentality. 

"Thank you," I replied, my words measured, betraying none of the turmoil within. I settled into my chair, the fine upholstery offering little comfort. My fingers traced the intricate patterns carved into the armrests, a distraction from the sinking feeling in my gut.

"Your father has something important to discuss," my mother continued, casting a pointed look towards the head of the table where my father sat, an imposing figure shrouded in authority.

The Alpha cleared his throat, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that left no room for dissent. "Fiona, your eighteenth year marks not only your passage into adulthood but also a new chapter for our pack. It is with great pride that I announce your betrothal to Alpha King Quinton." The words hung in the air, a decree that threatened to suffocate me. 

My fork clattered against my plate, the sound piercing the silence that had fallen over the room. "Father?" I echoed, my voice barely above a whisper. Yet, it carried the weight of my shock, my disbelief etched into every syllable. 

"Indeed," my father affirmed, a note of satisfaction in his tone. "This union will solidify our alliance and bring peace and stability to our pack." 

"Peace? With that tyrant?" I couldn't contain the bitter laugh that escaped my lips. My hands clenched into fists beneath the table. 

"You can't be serious." My father's expression darkened, his patience fraying. "You will address him with respect. He is your future husband and Alpha."

"Respect is earned, not commanded," I shot back, rising from my seat. Defiance flared in my eyes, a spark that refused to be extinguished. "And I refuse to marry a man known for his cruelty. I already have someone I love, someone who sees me for who I am, not a pawn in some power play." A heavy silence descended upon the room, the tension palpable. 

My father's jaw tightened, and my mother's lips pressed into a thin line. I knew the consequences of my words, yet I stood unflinching, the unfavoured daughter refusing to bend to a fate I did not choose. 

"Sit down, Fiona," my father's voice was a low growl, a warning wrapped in velvet. "This is not a matter open for discussion. Your duty—"

"My duty is to my own heart," I interrupted, my resolve unwavering. I looked around at the faces of my family, searching for an ally, finding none. "I won't be sold off like some piece of property."

"Enough!" My father thundered, standing with a presence that filled the room. "You will do as I say. You are my daughter, and you will follow my decision." I met his gaze, my own eyes alight with the fire of my spirit. 

"Father please, you cannot do this, I have my own path." With those final words, I turned on my heel and strode from the room, leaving behind the shattered expectations and the life I was meant to lead. 

My footsteps echoed through the hallowed halls, a testament to the choice I had made—a choice that would change everything. My heart pounded in my chest as I hastily retreated from the dining hall, the clinking of silverware and the low murmurs of my family fading behind me. The cool night air greeted me as I pushed through the heavy doors that led to the manor’s gardens, a sanctuary where I had spent many hours in solitude.

"Is this what I had planned all along?" I thought bitterly, my breath forming small clouds in the crisp air. "A birthday surprise woven with chains?" 

The moonlight cast long shadows across the path, mirroring the dark thoughts that twisted inside me. I felt betrayed, cornered by the very people who were supposed to protect my desires and dreams. All the years of feeling like an outsider, the unfavoured daughter—it had led to this moment. 

"Married to Quinton? That tyrant?" I whispered to myself, the mere thought sending a shiver down my spine. I remembered the stories that circulated among the packs, tales of his ruthlessness and cold-hearted reign. How could my family expect me to bind myself to such a man? 

"Because they don't care about what I want," I answered my own question, my hands balling into fists at my sides. "They never did."

I thought of my boyfriend, the one whose laughter was a balm to my soul, whose touch ignited stars in my darkest nights. The thought of being torn away from him made the decision sharp and clear in my mind.

"No," I resolved, my voice barely above a whisper but fierce as a storm. "I refuse." No matter how much I tried to assure myself that standing strong on my opinion was better, I knew in my mind that I was weak.

“He did what?!” Philips ‘eyes widened as I recounted what happened to him.

“Phillip, what am I to do? I really don’t want the king, my heart belongs to you alone.” I pleaded as though Philips was a powerful man with doings, but no, he was just a man in love with the Alpha’s daughter.

“Let’s run away,” he suddenly declared, “I know of a pack in the east that take in strays, perhaps we could settle there, get mated and start our own family where no one knows us.” His suggestion was anything short of wonderful to me that I found myself nodding enthusiastically.

“Let’s do it.” I threw my arms around my beloved’s neck as we sealed our promise with a kiss.

"Quinton may be king," I thought as I looked up at the stars, seeking the constellations that had always seemed like silent guardians. "But he will not be my Alpha. My heart is not a throne for a tyrant."