Chapter Fourteen: Godric's Growing Affection

Chapter Fourteen: Godric's Growing Affection

Godric’s POV

I discovered her in the castle’s library at dawn, wrapped in an enormous chair with a book of pack histories perched on her burgeoning belly. Sunbeams poured through the high windows painting her golden hair with a halo of light as she read, that intense concentration that always seemed to mesmerize me.

"Researching your new position?" Very softly, I questioned her, not wishing to frighten her.

And when she glanced up with a smile that unfurled something hot and wordless in the space where my chest had been – not the polite mask she wore for people, but real pleasure at my presence. "Studying the traditions of the Obsidian Pack. I want to know what I’m a part of.”

I slumped down in the chair across from her, noting how pregnancy had softened her sharp edges and yet made her look stronger. Her hand cradled the bump of her belly protectively, and I found myself picturing our child growing just beneath her heart.

"And what have you learned?" I inquired, actually curious of her point of view.

"That your pack places strength over everything... not in a brutal way, in the way I expected. Your wolves obey you out of respect, not fear."

I liked the look more than I wanted to. "You sound surprised."

“I am, a little,” she confessed frankly. “The stories that were told about you were not the same as I was hearing. The Dark Alpha, uncompromising and blood thirsty; ruling with an iron fist of fear and carnage."

"And now?"

She put the book down and leaned forward a little, her emerald eyes scrutinizing my features with disconcerting focus. “Now I see a man who has been lonely for so long that he’s forgotten what it feels like to be truly known. Someone who erected walls so high that he can’t even look over them anymore.”

I couldn't breath at how dead right she was. In all my forty years of life, no one had ever gazed upon me and seen beyond the gossip to find the man beneath. “You observe too much, little wolf.”

"Not enough," she replied softly. But you're still the great unknown in so many ways. There are moments when I catch sight of the real you - and then suddenly there's that steel-shelled composure again."
She wasn't wrong. Years of leadership had taught me to protect my thoughts and feelings, never showing weakness or vulnerability. But with Freya, those walls were not just self-defence—they became barriers that stood between me and something I ached for.

"What do you want to know?" I heard the words leave my mouth, and we were both shocked by them.

“Both, everything,” she said at once then blushed at her own eagerness. “Your childhood, your dreams, what made you the man who chose to be. The genuine Godric, not the myth.”

So I told her. Growing up as the youngest son of a weak Alpha whose pack had suffered under bad leadership until I was old enough to fight for control. Of the loneliness of command, the burden of decisions that would influence the lives of tens of thousands. Of the women who had tried to claim me as a political prize, never getting beyond the power to those men who had power.

“I stopped believing in love somewhere along the way,” I confessed, surprised by the honesty of my words. “It turned into something other people have – something that makes them vulnerable and weak. I’ve convinced myself I didn’t need it anymore.”

“And now?” she asked, and it was almost my question from the morning repeated back at me. I watched her – a woman who sat opposite me surrounded by morning sun, carrying my enemy’s child but becoming more mine each day – and something shifted in my chest.

“And now I am starting to remember exactly what I threw away when I decided that natural emotion was a luxury I couldn’t afford,” I replied. She was quiet for a minute to let my confession take root. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she spoke again. “I’m terrified of believing this,” she stated. “Of believing you. The last time I gave my heart, it was returned to my hands in pieces.”

I reached forward to grasp her free hand. “I am not Ryan. I won’t package exquisite lies or turn my back on your happiness for the idea of duty. If something is mine, shield it with my teeth and my claws from every enemy.” She bit her lip and gazed at the leading hand that lay on her belly. “Even something that brings such a complication?” she demanded. “Even if it’s another man’s child, who would be obliged to kiss them on the brow and teach them trust?”

I shook my head, furious. “Above all else,” I stated emphatically. “Above all my children will never fear the depth of my love. And neither will you.” The tears that started to gather in the corners of her eyes were not bitter, as they had been so frequently in the previous days. These ones, at least, had a different flavor – they were shiny, grateful, and hopefully marked by the promise of starting over.

“I want to believe you,” she whispered.

"Then allow me to show you," I murmured, my taking her hand to kiss it softly. “Let me help you experience what it is to be loved rather than simply tolerated.”

In the days that followed, I watched her flourish in ways I never imagined possible. She started dropping in on pack meetings with observations that revealed her quick mind and acute political instincts. The wolves were being more and more respectful to her now, acknowledging the strength in her as well as knowing she truly did care for them.

“The farms at the eastern border are experiencing crop failure,” she said during one of those meetings, her finger following their location on our map of territory. “If we share some of our excess grain stores and provide agricultural experts to teach them soil husbandry, we could avert starvation in that region and cultivate loyalty instead.”

It was a brilliant suggestion – compassionate, but practical; an indication that she understood both the human cost of suffering and the political dividends of wise leadership. I caught Maya's nod of approval and noticed the way our older pack members straightened with interest.

“Proceed with Luna Freya’s plan,” I ordered, a swell of pride blooming in my chest at how effortlessly the name flowed from my lips. "Work with the agricultural council and have a report to me by the end of the week."

When I stepped out of the meeting, Freya was sitting on our balcony overlooking the sunset-tinted mountains in golden crimson. The wind caught her hair and the swell of her belly showed against her dress.

“You should be leading, you know,” I said, walking up to the railing beside her. “The pack is already turning to you for direction.

"It feels strange," she admitted. “With Ryan, I was always back, giving the nod but never my own. Here, you’re actually hearing from me.”

“Because what you have to say is worth hearing,” I responded, and I meant every word of it. "You have good instincts, Freya. Trust them."

And she leaned against me then, allowing me to bear some of her weight as we watched the sunlight vanish behind the peaks. It was such an instinctive, natural thing to do that I could feel the last of my emotional walls begin to dissolve.

“The challenge is tomorrow,” she added softly, articulating the thought that had crossed us both.”

"Yes." I tried not to let my voice waver, so she wouldn’t sense doubt or fear.
"Are you worried?"

"About the fight itself? No." I spun to stare directly at her, holding her face in my hands. “Ryan is courageous, but unseasoned and driven more by passion than strategy. He will fight with his heart not his head, and that will be his problem.”

"Then what worries you?"

I shut up for a good second or so, weighing just how much honesty I could afford. "I'm afraid if you see me kill him it will hurt something in you that is still trying to heal. And I’m afraid you’re going to take the responsibility of his death and bury it behind those walls that you’ve spent so long breaking down.”

I was worried – I had seen the way she watched Ryan at the naming ceremony, not with love any more but some kind of faraway pity. She hadn’t loved him then, not the way she’d loved him during those first two years of their relationship. To watch him die as a result of choices that circled back to her might open wounds I’d spent weeks helping heal.

“I won’t,’’ she replied, with subdued conviction. I grieved for what we were months ago, Godric. It is going to be a tragic death, but it won’t be my fault. He’s doing so, having weighed the consequences.”

I was just indescribably in awe of her strength. The broken-down woman who had thrown herself at my feet had become someone who could confront the most ugly truths without looking away. I had seen her grow with strength each day, physically as she was pregnant every passing week, but also mentally and emotionally.

“I love you,” I said, and the words came without my being able to halt them.

She lay completely still in my arms, emerald eyes searching my face for any hint of a trick or lie. Whatever she found there was reassuring, because her expression softened into something that made my chest ache with feeling.

“I’m starting to love you too,” she murmured. “It’s terrifying, but I can’t seem to get it under control.”

I kissed her then, all my emotion in the soft touch. She tasted of hope and jasmine and the future I’d never allowed myself to dream about. When we pulled away, both of us were panting.

"Once tomorrow is over," I murmured to her lips, "we'll have time for all sorts of exploration of what all this means. Time to make something real together, without the specter of your past hovering over us.”

"Promise me one thing," she said, her fingers knotting in the collar of my shirt. "Say you will come back to me. To us." Hand shaking, she pressed her hand to stomach and then hugged herself and child in a tallit.
"I promise," I said solemnly. "I have been looking for you all this time, Freya. Nothing and nobody will stop me from the life we're going to build together.”

And as we stood there in the fading light, I realized that my final remaining wall had fallen to ruins. I would fight for her tomorrow, not because of reputation or property, but love. Real, complex, transformative love I did not know how to classify but that had sprouted somehow in the space between us.

And when I triumphed — I would triumph — we’d have forever to explore what we discovered in each other.

To have that future was worth any risk and was better than any fight, had it been a price I’d had to pay.