Mate 11 - Burden

Sage

The moment Damien left, the silence in the hut became deafening. The cold night air seeped through the wooden cracks, but nothing compared to the chill settling in my heart. It was as if the world had paused, as if time itself had stilled to mock my misery. I stood frozen in place, my wide, disbelieving eyes fixed on the door he had just walked out of. It felt unreal, like some cruel dream I would wake from at any moment. But the pain in my chest was too real, too sharp. He had left me. He had rejected me.

A choked sob tore from my throat, my knees buckling beneath me as I collapsed onto the rough wooden floor. My body trembled violently, wracked with the weight of my sorrow. The dam I had built around my heart shattered, unleashing a flood of emotions I had tried so hard to suppress. Tears streamed down my face in relentless rivers, my fingers clenching into the fabric of my dress as though I could physically hold myself together. But I was breaking—splintering like glass beneath the force of my anguish.

“Why?” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Why did you do this to me? Why give me a mate who loves another?”

My words hung in the empty air, a desperate plea directed toward the heavens. The only answer I received was the wind howling outside, indifferent to my suffering. The hut felt colder than before, as though the warmth Damien had once brought with his mere presence had been snuffed out entirely. I pressed my forehead against my knees, my sobs shaking my frail frame. He didn’t want me. He never had. He never looked at me the way mates were supposed to. He never felt the bond. 

When we first met, there had been no rush of emotions, no overwhelming pull that stole my breath away. The absence of the fated mark on our skin had been a warning, an omen that the bond was weak—forced. Destined. Not chosen. And now, Damien had made his choice.

Rosana.

The name alone sent another sharp stab of pain through my chest. The empress’s favored one. The perfect she-wolf, graceful and elegant, everything I was not. Rosana, with her effortless charm, her flawless beauty, maybe the one Damien had always loved. And me? I had been nothing but an obstacle. An inconvenience. A mistake of fate.

“You love her,” I murmured brokenly, my fingers curling into tight fists. “You love her, and I’m just . . . in the way.”

The realization was brutal. I had dreamed of love—of being chosen, of being wanted. But I had been foolish. Love had never been meant for me. Ever since I was a child, I had been an outcast, an unwanted shadow in the royal court. The emperor, my father, never spared me more than a glance, treating me as little more than a footnote in his grand empire. I had been tolerated but never cherished. The only love I had ever known had come from my mother, and even that had been taken from me too soon.

And now, the one person who was supposed to be mine, the one fated to stand by my side, had turned away just as easily as the rest.

“Am I that unworthy?” I whispered into the stillness, my voice hoarse with grief.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying to muffle the sound of my sobs, but it was useless. The loneliness clawed at me, swallowed me whole. How was this fair? How could the moon goddess be so cruel? Why had I been given a mate who wanted nothing to do with me?

Hours passed, but the ache in my chest did not subside. It grew heavier, pressing down on me like a weight I could never lift. My body felt drained, exhaustion creeping in, but my mind refused to quiet. Over and over again, I replayed the moment he walked away. The way his eyes had held no warmth for me. The way his voice had been so distant, so final. He hadn’t even hesitated.

Dragging myself up from the floor, I wiped at my tear-streaked face with trembling hands. I couldn’t stay like this. If Damien didn’t want me, then I would not beg. No matter how much it hurt, I still had my pride. Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I staggered toward the small wooden chest beside the bed, my fingers shaking as I put on my wet set of clothes. Even changing felt like a monumental task, every movement sluggish, heavy with heartbreak.

I caught sight of myself in the cracked mirror hanging on the wall. My face was blotchy, my eyes red and swollen. I looked pitiful. Weak. The sight of myself like this sparked something deep inside me—not just pain, but anger. Not at Damien. At myself. I had spent my entire life waiting for love, hoping that fate would finally be kind to me. But fate was never on my side.

I inhaled sharply, wiping the last of my tears away.

“I will not cry anymore,” I told myself, though my voice wavered. “I will not let him break me.”

But even as I lay down on the small, creaky bed, curling beneath the thin blanket, a single tear slipped down my cheek. The silence pressed in on me, suffocating in its vast emptiness. Sleep claimed me eventually, but it did nothing to ease the pain.

In my dreams, I stood in an endless field bathed in silver moonlight. The wind whispered through the tall grass, carrying my desperate plea into the night.

“Please . . . let someone love me.”

But there was no answer. Only the echo of my loneliness, stretching endlessly into the void.

The night stretched on, cold and unrelenting, but something in me shifted. I was tired of waiting. Tired of begging fate for something it would never grant me. The world had never been kind, and perhaps it was time I stopped expecting it to be. My heart ached, but I knew I would survive. I had always survived.

When I woke up, I was no longer in that cold, empty hut. Instead, I was back in my chambers in the palace, the familiar scent of lavender lingering in the air. My body felt weak, exhaustion clinging to my limbs like a heavy shroud. For a moment, I lay there, staring up at the ornate ceiling, my mind struggling to piece together what had happened.

Had Damien brought me back?

A bitter smile curled on my lips at the thought. No, that was impossible. Damien had walked away from me without a second glance. He wouldn’t suddenly care enough to bring me back. It must have been the palace guards. Perhaps they had found me and deemed it unfit for a princess of another empire to be left outside like discarded trash.

A soft knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. Before I could respond, the doors creaked open, and a group of maids stepped inside. Their expressions were careful, eyes darting to one another as if unsure of how to approach me.

“My Lady,” one of them said hesitantly. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine,” I murmured, my voice raspier than I had expected.

The maids, though still visibly uneasy, stepped forward and began their morning routine. They helped me sit up, their hands gentle as they worked to dress me in a fresh gown. But as they pulled the fabric over my shoulders, I shivered involuntarily. A sudden wave of cold crept up my spine, and I stifled a cough before they could notice.

Or so I thought.

“My Lady, you’re burning up!” Lea gasped, her fingers brushing against my forehead.

The others immediately panicked, their voices overlapping as they debated what to do.

“She has a fever! Should we summon the physician?”

“I’ll fetch a warm blanket—”

“We should prepare a herbal remedy—”

“It’s fine,” I interrupted, my voice firmer this time. “It’s just a cold. Nothing to fuss over.”

But the concern in their eyes didn’t fade, and it was unsettling. I wasn’t used to people worrying over me. It reminded me too much of something else—something painful. The maids from where I came from didn’t care this much. Maybe because I was the responsibility of the Angentha’s Empire now, that’s why they reacted this much.

Memories from my childhood crept in, unbidden and unwanted.

Back in my father’s empire, in the grand halls of a palace much colder than this one, I had fallen sick once before. A child left to fend for herself. I had been bedridden for an entire week, feverish and weak, yet no one had come to check on me. Not my father, not my caretakers, not even the maids assigned to me. I had woken up each day in an empty room, my body aching as I struggled to move.

No one had brought me medicine. No one had asked if I was okay.

I had crawled out of bed myself, dragging my fevered body down the halls in search of food, rummaging through the kitchen like a beggar. I had fed myself whatever I could find, swallowing down stale bread and cold broth. I had found the medicine box on my own, reading the labels with blurry vision and forcing myself to take what I hoped would help.

I had survived, but I had done it alone.

And now, as I sat here, with a handful of maids fretting over my well-being, I realized how foreign it all felt.

The physician was summoned despite my protests. He checked my temperature, examined my pulse, and after a long moment of silence, he finally nodded.

“You’ll be fine in two days, My Lady,” he assured me. “It’s only a minor cold. Plenty of rest and warm fluids will do the trick.”

I nodded absently, already knowing that. It wasn’t my body that ached the most—it was my heart. A ridiculous part of me hoped that Damien would visit, that he would at least pretend to care. But as the hours passed, the door never opened for him.

Instead, it was Greyson who arrived.

Damien’s younger brother strolled into my chambers, a bouquet of white lilies in hand. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief as he plopped down on the chair beside my bed, completely at ease.

“You look terrible,” he teased, setting the flowers down on the bedside table.

I let out a small, dry chuckle. “Well, I feel terrible, so that makes sense.”

He grinned before leaning back in his seat. “I figured as much. My dear brother wanted to come, but alas, he’s terribly busy.”

Liar.

We both knew that wasn’t true. Damien wasn’t too busy—he simply didn’t care enough to come. But I wasn’t about to embarrass myself by showing how much that hurt.

“It’s fine,” I said, forcing a smile. “I didn’t expect him to.”

Greyson studied me for a moment, his usual playful expression dimming slightly. “You’re stronger than I thought,” he murmured. “Most people would be furious, demanding an explanation.”

“Why waste my energy on something I already know the answer to?”

Greyson sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know how you do it.”

I shrugged, not trusting myself to answer.

After some idle conversation, Greyson eventually left, leaving me alone once more. I had barely settled back into bed when another visitor arrived. This time, it was Elder Hedwig. His sharp eyes studied me as he approached, his hands clasped behind his back.

“You seem well enough,” he noted. “Can you resume your duties soon?”

I nodded. “I can continue tomorrow.”

Elder Hedwig tilted his head slightly. “Good. In that case, would you be willing to visit the temple in Angentha? I believe a prayer might do you some good.”

The temple.

A place of peace, of reflection. A place where I could lose myself in the silence and perhaps find some semblance of comfort.

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “I can do it.”

“Then we will go tomorrow.”

With that, Elder Hedwig left, leaving me to rest in my bed. I stared up at the ceiling once more, my chest heavy with thoughts I wished I could silence.

Damien would never care for me. I had always known that.

But for some reason, it still hurt all the same.

The cold night air wrapped around me as I stepped out of the palace halls, seeking even the smallest bit of solace in the stillness of the evening. The moon hung high, casting a pale glow over the stone pathways. My breath curled in the air, misting with every exhale. The ache in my chest had not lessened, and I doubted it ever would. I just needed a moment to breathe, away from the suffocating walls of my chambers.

But fate was unkind, as always.

I barely took a few steps before I collided into a firm chest. I looked up and my heart stilled. 

Damien.

He stood there, tall and imposing, his blue eyes cold and unreadable as they flickered over me. I could feel my pulse quicken, not out of excitement, but dread. His mere presence was enough to unearth all my insecurities, my pain, my longing for something he refused to give me.

He narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing out here?” His voice was sharp, laced with irritation. “Shouldn’t you be in bed, resting? Or do you enjoy making yourself sicker just to gain my attention?”

I flinched at the accusation. “I just needed some fresh air,” I answered quietly, my hands gripping the fabric of my dress.

Damien scoffed, stepping closer, his gaze piercing through me. “Is that really it? Or are you so desperate for my acknowledgment that you’d risk your own health just to get it?”

His words were a dagger to my chest, twisting cruelly. I swallowed hard, willing myself to keep my composure. He didn’t know—no, he refused to understand. I didn’t come out here for him. I wasn’t seeking his pity or his attention. But trying to explain would be useless. He had already made up his mind about me.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, forcing a small smile despite the pain constricting my throat. "I didn’t mean to be a burden to you. I won’t bother you anymore."

Something flickered in his expression, but it was gone in an instant. He exhaled harshly, shaking his head. “Stop apologizing, Sage. Don’t always act as if you’re some pitiful, forsaken creature that I should feel sorry for. It’s pathetic."

The words hit harder than I expected. I clenched my fists, but I refused to let the tears show.

Damien continued, his voice colder now, cutting deep. “Do you think fate means anything to me? That just because we were ‘destined’ to be mates, I have to accept it? I don’t owe you anything, Sage. You’re just an inconvenience.”

Each syllable was like a lash against my already battered heart. I could barely breathe through the agony swelling inside me, but I kept my face neutral, my expression unwavering. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how deeply he wounded me.

“I understand,” I whispered. “I won’t force anything on you, Damien. I never have.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Then stop acting like a kicked puppy every time I so much as look at you. Just stay out of my way.”

I nodded slowly, stepping back. "I will."

But before I could turn, my resolve cracked. I couldn't let it end like this—not without trying, not without at least making him see me, if only for a second.

“Damien, please,” I whispered, my voice trembling, barely audible in the cold night air. “Tell me what I did to deserve this. Tell me why you hate me so much.”

His jaw tightened, his blue eyes darkening. “You didn’t do anything, Sage,” he said, voice lower but no less cruel. “That’s the problem. You expect something from me that I can’t give. I never asked for this bond. I never wanted you.”

Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. “You’re my mate. You are the only one I have. Why is that not enough for you?”

Damien ran a frustrated hand through his hair, his breathing uneven. “Because I love someone else, Sage!” he snapped. “And every time I see you, all I feel is resentment. You are nothing but a chain around my neck, a reminder that fate is nothing more than a cruel joke.”

A sob caught in my throat. The words cut deeper than any blade ever could. “Then why don’t you reject me?” I choked out. “Why do you keep me here, making me endure this, if you despise me so much?”

He was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, he exhaled, shaking his head. “Because I don’t need another scandal. And because the elders would never allow it.” His voice was hollow now, devoid of the earlier anger.

A bitter laugh slipped past my lips, raw and broken. “So that’s it? You keep me around for convenience? To avoid a scandal?” My voice wavered, but I didn’t care. “Not because you feel anything for me? Not even a shred of guilt?”

Damien’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “Don’t twist my words.”

“I don’t have to,” I whispered. “They’re already cruel enough.”

The wind howled through the trees, whipping my hair across my face, but I barely felt the chill anymore. The ache in my chest was far colder, carving its way through me like frostbite.

Damien sighed, his expression unreadable. “Go inside, Sage.”

But I didn’t move. I couldn’t. “Say it,” I demanded, my nails digging into my palms. “Say you feel nothing for me. Look me in the eye and tell me I mean nothing.”

His lips parted, but no words came.

For the briefest moment, I thought I saw hesitation, but I crushed the foolish hope before it could take root. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t doubt. It was guilt. And guilt was not the same as caring.

My voice cracked. “You won’t say it.”

Damien exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. “Because it doesn’t matter, Sage. It never did.” His gaze turned colder, sharper. “I love someone else. I always have. This bond—this thing between us—it’s a curse, not a choice. And if I had a choice, it wouldn’t be you.”

The words sliced through me, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake. My knees threatened to buckle, but I forced myself to stand tall, to swallow the sob clawing at my throat.

I reached for his hand, desperate for something—anything—but he stepped back as if my touch would shatter him. “Don’t do this, Sage.”

A hollow laugh escaped me. “I’m not the one doing anything, Damien. Fate did this. And I’m the only one suffering for it.”

His silence was answer enough.

I let my hand fall to my side. “You can lie to yourself all you want,” I whispered. “You can tell yourself this bond is nothing. That I am nothing. But one day, you’ll feel this emptiness, too.”

He turned away, shoulders tense. “No, Sage. I won’t.”

And just like that, he was gone.

I watched his silhouette disappear into the night. I stood in the quiet ruin of his words, the night stretching endlessly around me. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the echoes of a love that would never bloom. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called—a lonely sound, hollow and haunting.

My fingers curled around the fabric of my dress, as if holding myself together, as if keeping the pieces of me from unraveling right here beneath the cold, indifferent moon.

I had always believed in fate. In the idea that we were bound to someone, that love—true, undeniable love—was written into the very fabric of our being. But standing here, looking at the space where Damien had been, I realized how cruel fate could be.

It had given me a mate who would never be mine.

It had tethered my soul to someone who felt nothing but resentment in return.

A tear slipped down my cheek, but I let it fall, unashamed. Not because I wanted to beg, not because I still clung to the foolish hope that he would turn back—but because this was mourning.

The death of something that had never even had the chance to live.

I tilted my head back, staring at the stars scattered across the sky. They were beautiful, distant, untouched by the sorrow of the world below. Had they ever ached for something they couldn’t have? Had they ever been forced to shine on lovers who could never be?