Help! Five Beast Alphas Want To Breed Me!!(BL)

Koda;

A crack in stone that I thought was solid... Rigid against any circumstance.

That’s what I’m seeing now.

She moves with the same careful diligence she’s always had. Her steps are gentle, her back straight, and her head bows at the right angles.

She speaks when spoken to, keeps her hands busy, and her eyes lowered just enough to be respectful without appearing fearful.

If someone asked me what was wrong with her, I wouldn’t know how to answer.

That is the problem. That is exactly the problem!!

She is not acting wrong, but there’s just something.

I notice it in the spaces between things. In the pauses that last just a breath too long. In the way her gaze skims past people like she’s making headcounts... In the way her presence no longer settles into a room but seems to hover, as though she’s ready to leave at any moment.

I feel it most when she isn’t aware that she’s being watched... When she thinks she’s alone.

Her aura used to be soft and warm... Like candlelight.

Now, she feels like a caged storm.

I’ve learned long enough to know when my instincts are stirring.

And I hate that they are stirring over her.

Alana has always been... ever useful and reliable.

She stayed at Gravemaw to help after Elián left, and not once did she complain.

I could sense her worry. See her sadness... feel the way she missed him, but she worked alongside us like nothing was amiss.

I know Alana. Maybe not personally, but I know her. She’s practically family now.

And that’s why something in me keeps asking the same question, over and over...

What happened to her?

What changed? 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

I watch her from the shadows as she helps reorganise the stores.

She listens carefully as one of the stewards explains the inventory, nodding at the appropriate points, as she commits everything to memory.

Anyone else would see efficiency, but all I keep seeing is restraint.

She smiles when someone makes a small joke... but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

There is something she is hiding. Something that has changed her.

The thought twists mercilessly in my heart.

I don’t want to suspect her. I really don’t. And neither do I want to interrogate her.

I don’t want to become the kind of ruler who sees shadows where there are none.

But I have been taught that ignoring my instincts could cost way more than listening to them.

Rhydian has been colder with her lately... Sharper. He doesn’t even try to disguise it.

When I asked him about it, he refused to give me a reason beyond a flat,

"I don’t trust her."

Rhydian is not careless with words like that... And neither am I careless with my feelings.

And yet, I keep circling the same conclusion, trying to soften it into something that at least makes sense.

She’s hiding something. And whatever it is, it’s weighing on her.

I watch as she finishes her task and steps away, hands clasped together as she heads toward the inner hall. For a moment, she pauses, as if sensing something.

Her gaze lifts, and our eyes meet.

There is no panic. No... guilt flashing across her face.

It’s just a brief, unreadable stillness. Then she bows softly to me and continues on her way.

The feeling that settles in me then is not anger.

It’s a decision I can not sway from.

I cannot protect my people, my kingdom, or Elián by pretending this unease doesn’t exist.

If Alana is carrying something alone, she shouldn’t have to.

And if she is hiding something that could hurt us... Then silence is not kindness.

I exhale slowly. As I stand up and dust my Krompa.

I will speak to her.

Soon.

And when I do, I will listen carefully.

Not just to her words, but to everything she does not say as well.

Maybe I should inform Mother of my worry and decision first.

******

Igma💙

I wake up screaming as I jolt into a sitting position.

My eyes fly open, and for a moment, I don’t know where I am.

The dark presses in too tightly, and my heart hammers so violently it hurts.

My hands clutch at the sheets as I try to regain full control of my trembling body, but it barely works.

"Help me..."

The whisper echoes in my head, raw and painfully familiar.

Tears instantly well up in my eyes as I recall my dream.

"Help me, Igma... Please..."

My nightdress clings to my skin, which is now damp with sweat. And I can not stop the tremble of my lips.

I saw her.

I saw Alana.

She was not... wearing that gentle smile and healing aura.

She was... She seemed broken. And she was... reaching for me.

Her hands were glistening with something dark... something I refuse to believe was blood.

Her voice was hoarse and breaking as she screamed my name nonstop.

The sound in her voice wasn’t just fear. It was pleading.

The kind that comes when hope is already slipping away.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, and I feel my whole body tremble.

"Please, no," I whisper in helpless misery.

"No, no, no..." Tears begin to leak from my eyes.

The door bursts open before I can stand.

"Igma!" Father calls urgently, rushing into the room, with his robe half-tied and with worry deep in his face.

"What’s wrong?" He questions as he takes in the state I’m in, and the moment I see him, everything spills out of me.

I break. Shamelessly.

Not with quiet, or dignified tears. I fold into myself, gasping as though my lungs can’t even remember how to work right.

My father crosses the room in three strides and gathers me into his arms, holding me tightly as I break apart.

"Something’s wrong," I choke out.

"Something is wrong with Alana," I add, and he stiffens... just slightly.

"She hasn’t written back," I continue, with my words tumbling over each other.

"Not once. I’ve sent letter after letter, and there’s nothing. And now—now I dreamed of her, Father. She was screaming. She was begging me. Begging me to help her... To save her... but I don’t know what from! I can’t just sit here. I can’t—" I begin, but Father cuts in, stroking my hair.

"Igma, breathe... Please." He begs, and I pull back just enough to look at him, my eyes burning.

"I need to go to her," I whisper to him. Hoping he’ll understand.

"I need to see her with my own eyes. I know something is wrong." I add, and Father’s face tightens.

"You can’t leave Howleroot. Not right now." He says, and the words land like a slap.

"What!?" I whisper, and he lets out a breath.

"You are the one in charge right now, Igma," he says gently as he holds my hands, and my jaw drops.

"King Wilhelm entrusted this land to you. If you leave—" He begins, but I can’t stand what he’s implying.

"Then you’ll take over," I interrupt fiercely.

His eyes widen in disbelief.

"Igma—" He tries to speak, but I don’t let him.

"You can," I insist.

"You can. You know this land. You know its people. You know the rules better than anyone. You’re wise. Many times you’ve told me better ways you’d handle situations, Aunt Liandria fumbles, and you even give me advice from time to time! You don’t have to hide in the shadows forever." I try to convince him, but he shakes his head as though I’m speaking an abomination.

"Igma, my whole life, I’ve stood beside rulers," he says quietly, and I fall silent to listen to him.

"I’ve tried to advise, support... and even protect. However, I’ve never led. That kind of weight—it’s not something I know how to carry. It’s not something I was made to carry." He replies, and fresh tears blur my vision.

"I don’t know how to carry this either," I break down, with my tears spilling again.

"I’m being forced to choose, Father. Between my kingdom and the person whom I love with everything in me. It’s already torture being away from her for this long." I begin, and Father falls silent.

"When Gravemaw got attacked, I couldn’t go to her. When she was off to Nagari, I still couldn’t see her. When informing about her trip to Nagari was the last letter she ever wrote to me, I couldn’t go to investigate. I could only keep writing to her while hoping that she’s okay." I continue, and Father’s gaze drops.

"And now she’s appearing in my dream.. begging for my help." I croak, and his arms tighten around me.

"If something happens to her," I sob,

"If something happens to my mate, and I stayed here because duty demanded it... I will never forgive myself. Never." I swear to him, and silence stretches between us, thick and heavy.

Finally, he presses his forehead against mine.

"I understand. I really do, my dear. But this is the torture that comes with being a ruler." He whispers, and I shut my eyes.

"Whatever this is, if I am pushed to the wall," I whisper hoarsely, "I will leave. I will abandon everything for her. I’m not proud of that... But it’s the truth." I confess, and this time, he doesn’t argue.

He simply holds me.

And in his quiet acceptance, my fear does not ease.

Because deep down, I know the truth that neither of us is saying aloud.

Something terribly wrong is going on. Alana needs me.

Probably now more than ever.