CHAPTER 92: CHAPTER 91. NEW ALPHA RULER

Roxanne sat back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, her eyes never leaving the scene before her. The soft glow of the room chandelier painted gold across the room, glimmering off the silken fabric of Vivianne’s gown as the maids worked carefully to dress her.

Layers of ivory and pale rose wrapped around her figure like water poured over marble. Every ribbon tied and every clasp fastened felt like a small act of worship.

"Wife," Vivianne said at last, catching Roxanne’s gaze through the mirror, her cheeks blooming with color. "Could you stop staring? "

Roxanne tilted her head, her smirk forming slowly. "Why should I? " she asked. "I’m your wife. It’s my right to stare."

Vivianne turned slightly, her blush deepening. "I’m shy," she murmured, lowering her eyes, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.

"Shy? " Roxanne echoed, amusement clear in her tone. "I’ve seen you far more exposed than this." She leaned forward a little, resting her chin on her knuckles as if she were admiring a painting only she owned. "You have no reason to hide."

Her words sent a ripple through the room. The maids paused for just a heartbeat, long enough for their faces to flare pink before they quickly looked away, focusing far too intently on adjusting a sleeve that needed no fixing.

Vivianne glanced at them and sighed, rolling her eyes in mock frustration. "You’re making them blush," she said softly, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her amusement.

Roxanne only chuckled, her voice low and teasing. "Oh, let them. They’ve already seen the marks I leave on you every morning. Consider it art."

The maids froze again, their faces bright as sunrise. One of them nearly dropped a hairpin. Vivianne gasped, spinning around to glare at her wife. "Roxanne! " she hissed, mortified.

But Roxanne only smiled wider, the mischief in her eyes dancing like flame. "What? It’s the truth," she said, utterly unbothered.

Vivianne’s lips parted in disbelief, torn between laughter and exasperation. "You’re impossible," she muttered.

"And yet," Roxanne said, rising from her chair, her tone softening as she approached, "you married me."

Vivianne turned her face away, though her blush only deepened. "Happily, yes," she said, but her smile betrayed the affection that lingered beneath the words.

Roxanne’s gaze softened as she reached for Vivianne’s hand. "Then let me look, just a little longer," she whispered.

-

The grand hall of Fenclade Palace shimmered like a dream carved out of moonlight and gold. From the high arched ceilings hung immense chandeliers woven with glowing crystals, refracting light in soft halos that danced across polished marble floors. Rows of banners in crimson, ivory, and deep blue fluttered faintly from the upper balconies, each embroidered with the royal insignia of the beastkin houses.

Music spilled gently from a group of elven musicians at the far end of the hall, strings, flutes, and drums blending into a melody that swayed like wind through summer fields. Roxanne and Vivianne entered through the grand doors, hand in hand.

The moment they appeared, the noise in the room softened, heads turned, and conversations halted. The Grand Duchess of Borgia, the North’s pride, and her omega wife, the Spirit King’s bearer, aren’t just guests tonight. They’re living legends.

Vivianne’s dress shimmered under the chandeliers like water touched by starlight. Layers of silk and lace framed her pale shoulders, her hair pinned elegantly with sapphire pins that mirrored the color of Roxanne’s eyes.

Beside her, Roxanne wore a dark military-styled suit, tailored sharply to her frame, with a silver crest of Borgia House pinned over her heart. Her every movement carried power and poise, yet her gaze never drifted far from Vivianne, as if the entire room ceased to exist when she’s near.

The air buzzed with energy, alive with the mingling of hundreds of beastmen from across the lands. Owls with silvery feathers stood tall in elegant robes, their golden eyes glinting with wisdom. They were the scholars and scribes of the empire, the keepers of history.

Lions and tigers, broad-shouldered and proud, dominated one side of the hall, their laughter deep and rumbling, each gesture radiating dominance and confidence. The bulls, steadfast and stoic, filled their goblets with dark wine, their horns adorned with polished metal bands.

Rabbits, delicate and gentle in pastel silks, moved gracefully among them, carrying trays of fruit and sweets, their long ears twitching nervously whenever a tiger’s tail brushed past. Despite their differences, the hall thrived in a rare harmony.

The herbivores, though smaller and gentler, were treated with visible respect. The carnivores, for all their power, knew the value of the ones who cultivated the crops and nurtured the land. Without them, there would be no harvest, no feast, and no balance.

Tonight, that respect shone in every interaction, the shared laughter over glasses of honeyed mead, the rhythmic clinking of goblets between predator and prey, and the subtle nods of mutual acknowledgment that transcended their instincts.

"Remarkable," Vivianne whispered as she looked around, her eyes shining with quiet wonder. The soft light from the chandeliers reflected in her gaze, making her look as though she had captured a piece of the ballroom’s glow within her. "I’ve never seen them all gathered like this before, not without tension in the air. It almost feels unreal, seeing the herbivores and carnivores sharing laughter and wine like equals."

"That’s because now there’s a new ruler," a familiar voice replied from behind.

Vivianne turned, and Roxanne shifted slightly to the side as Leonhart approached, his usual confident stride softened by exhaustion. The faint bruises along his jaw and the bandages hidden beneath his uniform were reminders of the brutal fight that had taken place only two days ago. Though the wounds had faded, the traces of it still lingered in his movement, the stiffness of his shoulders revealing that he was still healing.

Roxanne, in contrast, stood tall and unscathed beside her wife. The power of Undine’s restorative magic had left her looking as if the battle had never happened.

Leonhart stopped before them and smiled, a little crooked but genuine. "The herbivores are brimming with hope now that the throne no longer belongs to only the carnivores," he said, his voice rich and warm.

"For the first time in generations, they see themselves in the court, their voices finally heard instead of silenced," Leonhart said with a faint, weary smile. He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head as though trying to dismiss the weight of the memory. "I’ve been trying to make sure the herbivores didn’t feel forgotten, that they knew this kingdom was theirs too. But being a carnivore myself, I think they could never quite bring themselves to trust me completely."

Vivianne’s lips curved into a gentle smile. "Still, I can see the way they look at you. There’s respect in their eyes, even if it’s cautious. You’ve earned that much, Leonhart."

His amber eyes flicked toward her, warm yet thoughtful, the kind of look that carried both gratitude and a quiet ache. "Perhaps," he said after a moment. "But I think they see more than me. They see what stands beside me now." His gaze drifted to Roxanne, who stood slightly ahead, her silver hair glinting in the golden light of the chandeliers. Then he looked back at Vivianne, his voice softening. "They see a future where power doesn’t have to mean fear. Where strength isn’t something that devours but protects."

Roxanne tilted her head, folding her arms across her chest. Her tone was dry, but her eyes sparkled with humor. "I’m a demon and a werewolf, Leonhart. Not exactly the gentle kind the herbivores dream about."

Leonhart laughed quietly, rubbing the back of his neck as if to hide his grin. "True. You’re probably the last person they’d call gentle. But your wife..." He nodded toward Vivianne. "She carries something greater. She’s the bearer of a spirit king, bound with Terranova herself, the Spirit King of Earth. The spirit who blesses soil, commands the harvest, and whispers life into the roots beneath our feet. Every herbivore in this kingdom depends on that power."

Vivianne blinked, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. "Terranova’s blessing... She was strong."

Leonhart’s expression softened, admiration flickering in his eyes. "And that’s exactly why they trust you, my lady Borgia. You bonded with four spirit kings and didn’t try to exploit it. You embrace them."

Roxanne glanced at her wife with a quiet pride that softened her usual sharpness. "Terranova probably chose her because of it."

Leonhart chuckled, stepping back as if giving them space. "You two are going to make the poets jealous again." Then his gaze turned toward the great hall, where the laughter and music still carried through the air. "But that’s what they need to see. A ruler who’s strong enough to fight for them, and a queen whose heart can grow life from even the hardest ground. Together, that’s what gives them hope."

Roxanne raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into an amused smile. "You’ve gotten far too good at speeches, Leonhart."

He grinned and gave a small shrug, his amber eyes gleaming with good humor. "Maybe losing to you made me sentimental."

Their laughter mingled, light and genuine; the music dimmed slightly as the attention of the crowd began to shift toward them. Every gaze in the grand hall, from the sharp-eyed tigers to the gentle rabbits, from the proud bulls to the quiet owls, turned to watch the two alphas walk side by side.

The polished marble floor reflected the shimmer of their steps as Roxanne and Leonhart moved toward the center of the great hall. The sea of beastmen parted respectfully, forming a path lined with creatures of every kind, their differences forgotten beneath the weight of what is about to happen.

When they reached the dais, Leonhart raised his hand, signaling for quiet. "Beastmen of Fenclade," he called, his voice carrying with commanding warmth. "For generations, we have lived under strength and instinct. We fought, we conquered, we endured. But strength means nothing if it divides us. Tonight, we stand united, carnivore and herbivore, claw and hoof, tooth and horn, under one name, one will, one Alpha."

He turned toward Roxanne then, his expression calm but filled with the deep, instinctive respect of one predator acknowledging another. Roxanne’s black hair caught the light like spun moonlight, her crimson eyes glowing faintly as the spirits around her seemed to hum in silent recognition.

Leonhart stepped closer, and for a long heartbeat, the hall fell utterly still. Then, before all who watched, he bent his knee. His head bowed low, his voice steady but reverent. "I, Leonhart Fenclade of the Lionblood, once ruler of the beastmen, submit to Roxanne de Borgia, Alpha above Alphas. The true leader of our kind."

A low murmur rippled through the crowd, shock and awe mixing with reverence. Then, slowly, one by one, the others followed. The tigers lowered their heads, the wolves knelt, the lions roared softly in agreement, and even the gentle herbivores bowed with respect. The sound of submission filled the air, not born from fear, but from faith.

Roxanne stood tall at the center, her expression unreadable but her presence radiating strength. She lifted her chin slightly; her voice was clear across the hall. "Then rise," she said. "Not as followers, but as equals. Under my rule, none shall live in fear, and none shall be left behind. We will stand together, not by blood, but by will."

As Leonhart rose beside her, the hall erupted into applause and roars of approval. The harmony that had seemed impossible just years ago now pulsed like a heartbeat through the crowd.

Roxanne glanced at Vivianne, who stood at the edge of the dais, her smile warm and proud. For the first time in centuries, the world of beastmen is no longer divided by hunger or dominance but bound by something far rarer: unity.

Then, the music shifted into something livelier. Couples began to dance again, and the air filled with laughter, perfume, and the faint rustle of silks brushing against marble. Celebrating the unity, the new ruler, their new alpha.