Chapter 301

Chapter 301
【Elsa POV】

The alpha cottage buzzes with activity as everyone prepares for tonight's ceremony. I can hear Edda's voice from the main room, directing someone—probably Karl—through flower arrangements. His occasional grunts of acknowledgment drift through the thin walls.

A soft knock interrupts my pacing. "Come in."

Linnea enters, wrestling with a large garment bag that seems determined to catch on the doorframe. "Elsa," she says, still stumbling over the title, "Edda sent this for tonight."

I eye the bag warily. "What is it?"

"Your ceremonial dress." She unzips it with a flourish, then immediately looks like she regrets the decision.

What emerges is a flowing white creation made of fabric so sheer it might as well be mist. The neckline plunges dramatically, and strategic cutouts reveal more skin than clothing.

"You've got to be kidding me." I grab the dress, holding it up to the light. "This looks like lingerie, not formal wear."

Linnea winces, letting the garment bag fall to the floor. "Maybe it's supposed to be... symbolic?"

"Of what? My complete lack of dignity?" I ball up the offending dress and shove it back into the bag. "Leif won't like it, and neither do I."

I storm over to my dresser, yanking open drawers with more force than necessary. My fingers find the familiar weight of soft denim and pull out my favorite jeans, followed by a grey wool sweater that actually covers my body.

"Elsa..." Linnea perches on the edge of my bed, worry creasing her brow. "This is kind of a big deal tonight. Maybe you should consider—"

"Consider what? Dressing like some male fantasy instead of like myself?" I pull the sweater over my head, immediately feeling more grounded. "This is who I am, Linnea. This is real."

She watches me tuck my hair behind my ears, smoothing down the sweater. "You're really scared about this, aren't you?"

The direct question catches me off guard. I sink into the chair across from her, suddenly feeling the weight of everything pressing down.

"Terrified," I admit.

Stop borrowing trouble, Freyja's voice whispers in my mind. Be yourself. You underestimate what you bring to this.

"What if I make everything worse for Leif?" The words spill out before I can stop them. "I can't speak through the pack bond during ceremonies. I don't have a wolf form to show off. And I'm a Svartskogens—everyone knows we're supposed to be enemies."

Linnea leans forward, grabbing my hands. "Hey. Look at me."

I meet her eyes, seeing determination there.

"I may not understand werewolf politics," she continues, "but I know Leif. You think he'd risk everything for someone who'd weaken his position?"

I straighten in my chair as a new thought occurs to me. "Freyja has an idea."

"Oh?" Linnea raises an eyebrow.

"She thinks I should introduce her to the pack tonight. Publicly reveal that I do have a wolf."

Linnea's eyes widen. "Is that... safe?"

I can protect myself, Elsa, Freyja says with amusement. I'm older and more powerful than you realize. And now that you're mated to Leif, Ragnvald can't touch you without consequences.

"She says she can handle herself," I relay. "But it would solve the 'wolfless' problem while potentially creating new ones."

Before Linnea can respond, a firm knock echoes through the room. This time, whoever's outside doesn't wait for permission.

The door swings open to reveal Leif, his broad frame filling the doorway. Behind him, Vetle, Grand Sage, and Saga file in, making the small room feel suddenly cramped.

Leif's amber eyes immediately find mine, scanning my face with gentle concern. He moves to the bed, sitting close enough that our knees touch when he takes my hands.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Nervous," I admit. "But ready."

Saga steps forward, her movements fluid and purposeful. She wraps me in a brief hug, her arms surprisingly strong. Warmth spreads through me at the contact, and I feel Freyja perk up with interest.

She's showing support, my wolf observes. Building alliances. This helps.

"Edda's putting finishing touches on the decorations," Vetle reports, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall. "Everything should be ready soon."

Grand Sage adjusts the formal robes he's wearing—apparently even dwarven leaders dress up for pack ceremonies. "We wanted to offer our support before things begin. Tonight carries... potential for complications."

"What kind of complications?" I ask, though part of me already knows.

Leif's jaw tightens. "Pack politics. Questions about leadership. About... irregularities."

There it is. My irregularities.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "Actually, there's something I want to discuss with all of you."

Everyone's attention sharpens.

"Freyja thinks we should introduce her to the pack tonight. Publicly reveal her as my wolf."

The silence that follows is deafening.

"No." Leif's response is immediate, his accent thickening with tension. "Absolutely not."

But Saga tilts her head, considering. "That's actually quite clever. Well-timed, too. It would control the narrative before rumors spread."

Vetle pushes off from the wall, his gaze fixed on where Freyja lies curled between Leif and me on the bed. "Why now?"

We're elevating Elsa to Luna to strengthen Leif's position, aren't we? Freyja's mental voice carries clearly to Vetle, making him stumble backward in shock. This is the right moment.

"What the hell—" Vetle stares at Freyja like she's grown a second head. "Did she just talk to me?"

"If she wants you to hear her, you can," I explain. Leif's grip on my hands becomes almost painful before he catches himself and loosens it with a muttered apology.