The Conquest - Alpha and King

Chapter One

“Why is he... like this?” Queen Sabine’s voice shattered the silence, trembling with a fear no one had ever heard from her before.

A scream followed , raw, guttural, echoing through the palace halls like a curse.

“Call the doctor!” one of the guards shouted, already kneeling beside the body.

“Now!” King Alaric Kincaid lay sprawled across his bed, pale and damp with sweat, his chest riddled with deep, inhuman scratches.

Sabine clutched the bedpost as her legs gave out beneath her. “No... No, no, no...” she whispered. “Not like this...”

***

In the days following the king’s death, grief hung over the palace like a storm cloud. But for Crown Prince Leonard Kincaid, sorrow was tangled with confusion , and something darker.

He sat at breakfast alone with his mother, Queen Sabine, both their plates untouched.

“I heard the palace cried this morning,” Leo said suddenly, pushing his plate aside.

“I was walking past the South Wing balcony when the first bell rang. He stood in the courtyard in his full ceremonial coat and yelled, ‘The king is dead!’ like it was scripted.” He paused, eyes narrowing.

“Then an hour later, I heard him again , this time in the East Garden. Same man. But this time, he shouted...” He repeated the words carefully, as if tasting their weight.

“’The Alpha has fallen. The Alpha is dead.’” He looked between his mother and the butler standing silently behind them. “So what is it? Did two people die?” His voice tightened. “Because if someone else important died, I think I should know.”

Queen Sabine didn’t move. Her teacup hovered just beneath her lips, her fingers trembling around it.

“No one else died, Your Highness,” the butler murmured. “Both announcements were for the king.”

Leo blinked. “Twice?” The butler shifted uncomfortably.

“Yes. One for the royal press… and one for the other office.”

“What other office?” Leo snapped. The butler lowered his gaze.

“I’m not permitted to speak on that.” Leo shot up from his chair, the screech of wood against marble slicing through the quiet.

“The entire palace is whispering like I’m too stupid to notice something’s off. What the hell is going on?”

Sabine flinched slightly but remained silent. Leo leaned forward, voice low.

“Tell me. What does ‘Alpha’ mean?” Silence stretched thick between them.

The butler clasped his hands so tightly they shook. Sabine finally placed her teacup down. The soft clink echoed like thunder. She exhaled slowly. “Leonard… there are things you were never meant to learn until the time was right.”

Leo barked a humorless laugh. “Well, bad timing, Mom. The king is dead. So I’d say now is pretty d*mn right.”

Her eyes met his, filled with something unreadable , fear, maybe. Or guilt. “The title ‘Alpha’ isn’t political,” she said softly. “It’s older than the crown. Older than this country. It’s passed through blood. Through instinct.”

Leo swallowed hard. “So… he was a king and an Alpha? Of what, some ancient frat club?”

“No.” Her voice cracked. “Of a lineage you’re part of.”

His mouth went dry. “I don’t understand.”

“You will,” she whispered. “Very soon.”

Leo left the dining room in silence, anger simmering beneath his skin.

On his way out, he ran a hand through his hair and turned the corner toward the east wing. Three men stood at the end of the corridor, draped in long black coats that shimmered faintly under the chandelier light.

“Uh… Can I help you?” he asked, voice sharp and defensive. The tallest stepped forward , and without a word, all three bowed deeply. As though he were already wearing the crown.

Leo stared. “Right. That’s not creepy at all.”

“We came to pay respect,” the man said. “To the fallen Alpha… and the rising one.”

Alpha.

That d*mn word again.

Leo’s jaw tightened. “So you’re bowing to me because… what? I’m the crown prince?”

“No.” The man’s voice was calm, unwavering. “We bow because your blood demands it.”

Leo took a step back. He didn’t like this , the way they looked at him, the way they stood too still, the way their words burrowed under his skin like buried knives.

“I don’t know who the hell you think I am,” Leo said, voice taut, “but I didn’t ask for your respect. Or your riddles.”

“You didn’t have to,” said the third man, speaking for the first time.

His voice was soft, yet something about it made Leo’s bones tense. “The moon already has.”

Leo gave them one last look and walked away, heart pounding.

***

Later that night, in the dim warmth of the east wing laundry chamber, Leo’s hands gripped the curve of Ella’s waist, pulling her close as her back pressed against the wall of folded linen.

The scent of jasmine and starch clung to the air. Ella gasped softly as his lips brushed along the side of her neck.

Her hands trembled , one clutching his shoulder, the other fisting the edge of his shirt. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered. “You already are,” Leo murmured, voice low and rough.

She looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. “It’s just… with everything that happened , your father , maybe this isn’t right.” Leo paused, forehead gently pressing to hers.

“Nothing feels right, Ella. Not one d*mn thing.” His voice cracked. “Don’t ask me to feel guilty for needing a moment that isn’t about death.”

She didn’t respond , just reached up and kissed him. Soft at first, then deeper, her lips moving with uncertain urgency. Leo’s hands moved up, fingers grazing the hem of her blouse. She didn’t stop him. She let him explore , slow, unsteady , until he cupped her breast through the thin fabric, thumb brushing over her skin as she gasped into his mouth.

“I’m not doing this just because you’re the prince,” she whispered. “I’m doing this… because you looked so broken today. And I thought maybe… this could help.”

Leo pulled back just enough to see her face. “You think I’m broken?”

“No.” She hesitated. “Just… bent. Like something heavy’s pressing down on you, and no one’s helping lift it.” His chest tightened. He kissed her again, trying to forget everything else. But the emptiness remained. He stopped her gently and said they’d meet again another time. He needed space.

He stepped into the hallway, his shirt half-buttoned, breath uneven. His chest rose and fell as he walked, the rush of adrenaline not quite enough to quiet the storm in his head.

The palace was dim, its walls too quiet, too hollow. Even the portraits along the corridor seemed to stare at him differently. He moved quickly through the hall, guilt and longing warring inside him. He slowed, turned the corner, and saw the faint glow of candlelight slipping out from beneath the study door.

His mother’s voice. He paused and pressed himself quietly against the wall, just near the study. The door was slightly ajar.

“He’s just seventeen!” she said. “He’s still in high school!”

Leo froze.

“We warned you,” came a cold male voice. “You both made a mistake not telling him what he is.”

Another voice , deeper, older , spoke next. “The shift will happen. Whether he’s ready or not.”

“He can’t run from this,” added a third.

Queen Sabine’s voice cracked. “You don’t understand. He’s not like Alaric. He’s wild. Rebellious. If he finds out too soon, ”

“It’s too late,” the first man interrupted. “The blood has already been triggered. His instincts will begin to surface. You’re running out of time.”

Leo’s heart hammered in his chest. What the hell are they talking about? He leaned closer, straining to see through the gap in the doorway.

Inside stood three tall, pale men, dressed in charcoal robes that shimmered slightly in the candlelight , exactly like the ones he’d seen earlier that day.

His mother’s face was pale, tight with fear. She nodded slowly, like she had no choice. Like she’d been overruled. Leo backed away from the door, breathing hard.

Chapter Two

The rapid clack of plastic buttons echoed through the room, broken only by sudden bursts of laughter and muttered curses.

“F*ck sh*t!” Leo cursed as he tries to manuveur the disruption from the game.

On the velvet rug, two controllers tangled between legs and wires. The big screen lit up with explosions and digital chaos as Leo leaned forward, brows furrowed, jaw tight.

His fingers moved fast, his posture tense, not the carefree kind, but like someone trying to forget something. Desmond, lounging beside him on a beanbag, let out a frustrated groan.

“Bro, you’re playing like your life depends on this round.”

Leo’s character dodged, struck, fired.

A flawless kill.

He didn’t answer right away. Then, “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Desmond’s character grunts. He glanced sideways. “About your dad?”

Leo nodded once, eyes fixed on the screen. “None of it makes sense. The way he died, they announced it as though... It