Chosen Once, Fated Twice Chapter 3 Echoes Under the Moon
Centuries passed like shadows lengthening across the Fold.
Aleksander Morozova—still the Darkling to those who feared him, still carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken names—raised Aurelia alone in the early years. They moved from Novi Zem to Kerch and back again, always one step ahead of old ghosts and new threats. He taught her control over her shadows, how to hide her wolf, how to survive in a world that would sooner burn them than understand them. Baghra's warning echoed in every new safehouse: wait for the old King to die, return under a new nobleman's name when the time was right.
Aurelia stopped aging physically at nineteen. She looked eternally on the cusp of womanhood—black hair falling straight down her back, striking blue eyes sharp with inherited grief and quiet strength. She remembered Luda with a fierce, protective love that never dimmed. "She was our chosen heart," Aurelia would say on quiet nights, her voice steady. "No one will ever replace her, Papa."
Aleksander agreed. He honored Luda's memory in the small ways that mattered: keeping a lock of her dark hair woven into a silver pendant he wore beneath his kefta, telling Aurelia stories of their cottage days, and refusing to let grief turn him completely monstrous. Yet the rage that birthed the Fold never fully cooled. He built the Second Army in secret, gathering Grisha who shared their wolf nature in hidden packs, training them to fight as both summoners and beasts under the cover of night.
Soldiers came and went. Loyal wolves who fought beside him in skirmishes and wars, only to fall to drüskelle blades, old age (for the lesser-lived), or the brutal necessities of survival. One had retired six years ago—a steadfast Squaller who had earned his peace in a quiet corner of Novi Zem. The rest were new faces, younger Grisha eager to follow the Darkling's vision of a safe haven for their kind.
And through it all, the dreams never stopped.
Every night for nearly four centuries, the white she-wolf appeared. Sometimes alone. Sometimes with the silhouette of the woman whose long brunette hair flowed like a banner behind her. The visions grew clearer with time—Aleksander could now sense sunlight and water in her presence, a pull that made his wolf ache with restless longing. But he never approached. He never searched. The chosen bond with Luda, though severed by death, still anchored his heart. The fated one remained a distant promise he refused to claim.
387 years after Luda's death, the full moon rose heavy and silver over a secluded forest clearing deep in the wilderness outside Ketterdam. The air was crisp with salt from the nearby sea, the trees ancient and whispering.
Aleksander ran with his pack.
A small group of trusted Second Army Grisha—wolves all—moved silently through the moonlit woods. They had shifted together after leaving their hidden camp, needing the freedom of their true forms under the moon's pull. Aleksander's massive obsidian-black wolf led them, muscles rippling beneath dark fur that drank in the moonlight. Aurelia ran at his flank, her own black wolf sleek and powerful. A handful of others followed: Tidemakers, Inferni, and Heartrenders whose coats ranged from deep browns to stormy grays.
The run was ritual. Under the full moon, their wolves could breathe without the constant weight of secrecy. No humans were near. Only Grisha. Only pack.
Aleksander's wolf breathed deeply, the wind carrying scents of pine, earth, and distant water. For a few precious moments, the endless grief eased. Then a new scent cut through the night—clean snow and sunlight, impossible in this season.
His ears pricked forward. He slowed, the pack instinctively matching his pace. Ahead, in a small moonlit glade bordered by a gentle stream, three young wolf pups played.
A pure white pup with a single striking blue tip at the end of her tail bounded through the snow-dusted grass, nipping playfully at a bluish-gray pup of similar size. Both were young—five years old at most, their movements still carrying the joyful clumsiness of pups. A third, older pup—a squaller gray with storm-cloud coloring—watched over them from a nearby rock, seven years old and clearly protective. The gray pup's ears twitched constantly, scanning for danger even as the younger two tumbled over each other in mock battle.
Aleksander's wolf froze. The white pup's blue eyes flashed in the moonlight as she leaped, tail flicking with that unmistakable blue tip. Recognition slammed into him like a physical blow. His wolf surged forward with a low, yearning whine that he barely contained.
Her. The one from the dreams. Not yet grown, but unmistakably hers. The fated mate. The white wolf who had haunted him for centuries.
The bluish-gray pup—perhaps a sibling or close playmate—tackled the white one, and the two rolled closer to the stream, water curling playfully around their paws as the white pup instinctively summoned faint Tidemaker sparks. The older squaller gray pup barked a gentle warning, herding them back from the water's edge with patient nips.
Aleksander took one involuntary step forward, shadows flickering at the edges of his vision even in wolf form. His heart thundered. Four centuries of dreams, of denial, of clinging to Luda's memory—and here she was. Alive. Real. Now.
The white pup suddenly lifted her head, blue eyes locking directly onto the shadows where Aleksander's pack watched from the treeline. For one breathless moment, their gazes held.
Then she vanished.
Not in the way of dreams, but with the startled speed of a wild pup spotting danger. She yipped once, and the other two pups immediately followed her lead, the three of them melting into the underbrush on the far side of the glade with surprising coordination. The older gray pup brought up the rear, glancing back once with wary eyes before disappearing.
Aleksander stood motionless long after the forest had swallowed them. His wolf howled silently inside him, desperate to give chase, but he held firm. He would not pursue. Not yet. Not like this.
Aurelia nudged his shoulder with her black muzzle, concern clear in her blue eyes. The rest of the pack waited in respectful silence, sensing the shift in their leader's mood.
The Darkling turned away from the glade, leading his wolves back toward camp under the indifferent full moon. But the image of the small white pup with the blue-tipped tail burned behind his eyes.
She existed. She was here—somewhere close. And one day, she would grow into the woman with the long brunette hair who had watched him from the shadows of his dreams for centuries.
For the first time in nearly four hundred years, the wall Aleksander had built around his heart around Luda's memory cracked—just slightly—under the weight of fate.
The pack continued their run in silence, the full moon casting long shadows through the trees. Aleksander's massive obsidian-black wolf moved with powerful grace, but his mind was no longer on the rhythm of the hunt or the freedom of the night. The image of the small white pup with the blue-tipped tail burned behind his eyes, pulling at something ancient and restless deep within his chest.
Aurelia stayed close to his flank, her black wolf occasionally brushing against him in quiet concern. The rest of the Second Army wolves followed without question, their paws silent on the frost-covered ground.
They had nearly circled back toward their hidden camp when Aleksander slowed again, ears pricking forward. The same clean scent of snow and sunlight drifted on the breeze, stronger now. He veered off the main path, the pack instinctively following. They crested a low ridge overlooking another moonlit clearing near the stream.
There they were.
The three pups had rejoined a small group of adult wolves. The white pup with the unmistakable blue-tipped tail and the bluish-gray pup bounded playfully toward a sleek blue-gray adult female wolf. The female's coat carried subtle oceanic markings that shimmered faintly under the moonlight—calm, watchful, and protective. Aleksander recognized her immediately: Amara Cortez-Silina, a noble Tidemaker whose family had quietly aligned with certain Grisha interests over the decades. Her blue-gray wolf form matched the intelligence and grace he remembered from rare court reports.
Beside Amara stood a powerful white wolf with subtle golden undertones in his fur, noble and commanding even in repose. The white wolf lowered his head and gently nudged all three pups in turn—first the white one, then the bluish-gray, and finally the older squaller-gray pup who had been watching over the younger two. The gesture was clear, universal among wolves: these were his pups. All three carried his blood.
The squaller-gray pup leaned into the white wolf's nudge with easy familiarity, while the two younger ones yipped and tumbled around their parents, the bluish-gray pup nuzzling against Amara's side as water droplets playfully danced around her paws in a small, controlled Tidemaker display.
Aleksander's wolf stood frozen on the ridge, hidden in the shadows of the trees. Four centuries of dreams crashed into this single, living moment. The white pup—Amira, he now realized, piecing together the Silina family name—was real. Not a distant future vision, but a five-year-old child playing under the same moon that had haunted his nights for hundreds of years.
His wolf surged with a deep, possessive longing that nearly pulled a whine from his throat. The fated bond thrummed faintly in his chest for the first time outside of dreams—subtle, undeveloped, but undeniably present. The pull toward the small white wolf was magnetic.
Yet he did not move.
Aurelia pressed closer, her blue eyes questioning. She had noticed the shift in him, the way his entire focus had narrowed on the Silina family below. The rest of the pack waited in disciplined silence, unaware of the personal storm raging in their leader.
Aleksander watched a moment longer as Alejandro Silina—Amara's mate, the Solar Patriarch—gathered the pups closer with a low, rumbling sound of affection. The family was whole. Protected. Hidden from human eyes, just as his own pack remained.
He turned away, forcing his wolf to retreat from the ridge. The run resumed, but the night air now felt heavier. The dreams had prepared him for a woman grown. Seeing her as a pup—joyful, innocent, surrounded by a loving family—only deepened the fracture in the walls he had built around Luda's memory.
Back at camp, as the wolves shifted back to human forms under the cover of their tents and illusions, Aleksander remained quiet. He sat by the fire in his black kefta, staring into the flames while Aurelia settled beside him.
"You saw her," Aurelia said softly, no question in her voice. "The white one from your dreams."
Aleksander nodded once, jaw tight. "She is only a child. Five years old. With siblings. A family."
Aurelia was silent for a long time. "Then fate has been patient," she finally murmured. "As you have been."
He did not reply. The white wolf pup with the blue-tipped tail danced behind his closed eyes long after the fire burned low.
The fated mate had a name now. Amira Silina.
And for the first time in centuries, Aleksander Morozova wondered—not with resentment, but with a quiet, aching curiosity—what the Saints truly intended when they finally brought her into his life.
Back at the hidden camp, the pack slowly shifted back to human forms. Lanterns glowed softly beneath illusion wards, and the night air carried the low murmur of Grisha unwinding after their moon run. Aleksander remained in the shadows near the central fire, his black kefta blending into the darkness. He sat on a fallen log, elbows on his knees, staring into the flames as if they might reveal answers.
Aurelia approached quietly and settled beside him, her long black hair still slightly tousled from the shift. For a while, she simply watched the fire with him.
"You've sort of met her now," she said softly, her voice barely above the crackle of the wood.
Aleksander's head snapped toward her, nearly obsidian eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"
Aurelia met his gaze steadily, the same striking blue as her mother's. There was no fear in her expression—only quiet understanding. "The white pup. Amira Silina. You've sort of met her now."
He stared at his daughter for a long moment, shadows flickering restlessly at his fingertips. "You knew?"
She nodded slowly, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. "Last year. I was on a solo scouting mission near the coast—nothing major. I got careless with a drüskelle patrol. Took a bad hit to the side before I could shift and escape properly." She touched her ribs absently, as if the memory still lingered. "Amara Cortez—Amara Silina now—found me. She recognized the shadow signature in my blood immediately. She didn't ask too many questions, just healed me with her Tidemaker abilities and got me to safety."
Aleksander's jaw tightened. "Amara Cortez retired six years ago."
"Yes," Aurelia confirmed. "She's been living quietly with her family. She introduced me to her children that day—Aiden, Amira, and Sierra. Aiden is the older squaller-gray pup you saw tonight, the protective one. He's seven. Sierra is the bluish-gray pup, five years old like Amira. They're twins, or nearly so. The whole family was kind. Protective. They didn't pry into who I was beyond the fact that I was Grisha in trouble."
She paused, glancing toward the fire. "Amira... even as a pup she had this quiet curiosity. She kept trying to 'help' her mother heal me with little splashes of water. I didn't realize the connection to your dreams until tonight when I saw her white wolf with that blue tip. But I suspected something when I met her."
Aleksander exhaled slowly, processing. The fated mate he had resented for centuries had been within reach of his daughter a full year ago. A child. Innocent. Playing with siblings under the protection of powerful parents.
"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice was low, rough with centuries of guarded emotion.
Aurelia shrugged lightly, a small, sad smile touching her lips. "Because you weren't ready to hear it, Papa. You still carry Mama with you every day. I didn't want to force the white wolf into your life before you were ready to face her. And... they're a family. A real one. Amara and Alejandro are devoted to their children. I didn't want to bring danger to their door by mentioning it."
She reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "But fate has brought her across our path again. Under the full moon, no less. Maybe the Saints are trying to tell you something."
Aleksander remained silent for a long time, the firelight dancing across his sharp features. The image of the small white pup bounding toward Amara's blue-gray wolf replayed in his mind, alongside the centuries of dreams where that same white wolf watched him from afar.
"Amira Silina," he murmured, tasting the name. "A Dual Summoner, if the rumors about the parents' powers hold true. Sun and water... light and tide."
Aurelia nodded. "She's going to be extraordinary one day."
Aleksander did not reply. He simply stared deeper into the flames, the faint pull of the undeveloped fated bond now humming more insistently in his chest. For the first time, it did not feel like a threat to Luda's memory.
It felt like a quiet, inevitable dawn after four hundred years of night.
Aleksander's brows drew together as he turned the new information over in his mind. The fire popped and crackled, sending sparks drifting upward into the night sky. He stared into the flames for several long seconds before speaking again, voice low and thoughtful.
"Wait... Aiden is seven?"
Aurelia nodded. "Yes. He's the oldest. Very protective of the twins."
Aleksander did the math quickly, centuries of strategic thinking making the calculation instinctive. "Amara retired six years ago. If Aiden is seven now, he would have been born a year before her retirement... but that timeline doesn't align with her settling into family life with Alejandro. He's not biologically hers, is he?"
Aurelia's lips quirked in a small, knowing smile. She had always admired how quickly her father's sharp mind worked, even when it came to personal matters he usually kept at arm's length.
"No, he isn't," she confirmed. "From what I gathered last year, Aiden is Alejandro's son from a previous relationship. Amara has raised him as her own since she and Alejandro married. She treats all three children the same — fiercely protective, just like her wolf. The family doesn't make distinctions. To them, Aiden, Amira, and Sierra are all Silina pups. All theirs."
Aleksander leaned back slightly, shadows curling idly around his fingers as he processed this. The white wolf pup — Amira — had a blended family. A stepmother who had chosen her role with the same devotion Luda had once shown. A father whose white wolf had gently nudged all three pups under the moonlight. It painted a picture of chosen love layered over blood bonds, something that resonated uncomfortably close to his own past.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw, the stubble there rough under his palm. "Alejandro's white wolf... strong. Noble. And Amara's blue-gray one carries the ocean in her markings. Their pups reflect both — sunlight and tide in the twins, storm in the older boy."
Aurelia watched him carefully. "It's a good family, Papa. Stable. Hidden from humans, just like we are. Amara recognized me as one of yours the moment she saw my shadows, but she still helped without hesitation. They value pack. They value protection."
Aleksander was quiet again, the fated bond in his chest giving another faint, insistent tug. Seeing Amira as a real, living child — laughing and playing with her siblings under the full moon — had cracked something inside him. But learning the shape of her family only deepened the conflict.
He had spent centuries refusing to search for the white wolf. Now she was here, five years old, with a devoted mother (by choice), a protective older brother, a twin sister, and a powerful father who clearly cherished his pack. Approaching her now would risk shattering that peace. It would risk bringing the danger that followed the Darkling straight to their door.
And yet...
"She's only five," he said finally, almost to himself. "There is time. I will not disrupt her life. Not yet."
Aurelia placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "When she's older... when she understands what a fated bond means... maybe then. For now, we watch. We wait. Just like you've been doing for four hundred years."
Aleksander nodded once, but his nearly obsidian eyes remained distant, fixed on the flames. In his mind, the small white pup with the blue-tipped tail bounded through the snow once more, blue eyes bright and unafraid.
The dreams had finally given her a face, a family, a name.
Amira Silina.
And for the first time, the thought of her did not feel like a threat to Luda's memory. It felt like the beginning of something he had long since stopped believing he deserved.
Aleksander absorbed the information in silence, the firelight casting sharp shadows across his face. The fated bond thrummed faintly in his chest — not demanding, not yet, but undeniably present now that he had seen her with his own eyes.
Aurelia continued gently, sensing his need for the full picture. "Amira and Sierra are Alejandro and Amara's girls. Their biological daughters. Twins, born five years ago. You can see the blend of their powers already — sunlight and water in both of them. Amira's white wolf is striking, just like her father's, but with that blue tip and those bright blue eyes from her mother's side."
She paused, a faint smile touching her lips. "They're also very well integrated into society. The Silina family maintains a respectable noble facade. Analise Silina — Alejandro's sister — married Lord Dean Volkov several years ago. That connection has helped the whole family move in higher circles without drawing too much unwanted attention. It gives them protection, alliances, and a public identity that keeps the drüskelle at bay. Amara and Alejandro are careful. They've built something solid for their children."
Aleksander's expression darkened slightly at the mention of noble ties and marriages of convenience. "A Volkov alliance," he murmured. "Clever. It shields the pups while allowing them to grow up with some semblance of normalcy."
"Exactly," Aurelia replied. "From what I saw last year, the children are being raised with both their Grisha heritage and their place in Ravkan nobility. They know how to hide their wolves from humans, just like we do. Amira was shy but curious when I met her. Sierra is a bit more bold. Aiden... he already acts like a little alpha, watching over his sisters."
Aleksander leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. The math and the family structure now painted a clearer picture: a blended, chosen, and blood family that had created safety in a dangerous world. Amira — his fated mate — was not some isolated wanderer from his dreams. She was a protected daughter of powerful parents, part of a larger noble web.
It made approaching her even more complicated.
"I will not interfere," he said at last, his voice low and resolute. "Not while she is this young. She has a mother who chose her. A father who claims all three pups as his own. Siblings. A life. I refuse to become the shadow that disrupts it."
Aurelia studied him for a long moment. "And when she grows? When the dreams start calling to her as well?"
Aleksander's nearly obsidian eyes met hers. "Then fate can do what it wishes. But I will not hunt a child, Aurelia. I have waited four hundred years. I can wait longer."
He rose from the log, the firelight outlining his tall frame. The pack had mostly settled for the night, but he could feel their quiet loyalty in the distance. "Get some rest. We return toward the main camp at dawn."
As he walked away toward his own tent, the image of the small white pup with the blue-tipped tail lingered. Amira Silina — daughter of the Solar Patriarch and the Tidal Matriarch, tied into Volkov nobility through her aunt.
The white wolf of his dreams finally had roots.
And for the first time in centuries, Aleksander felt the weight of that knowledge settle over him not as a curse, but as a fragile, distant promise.
commitment issues. trauma reference. implied sexual abuse. fluff. fem!reader. au where Billy never betrayed frank. slight angst.
welp. I like this one. at least for now, lol. just a bit of fanfic that isn’t too deep. it’s 335 words. thank you to anyone who reads and enjoys it. this is just my little hobby.
Billy was endeared by the way you were drunk after only three glasses of wine, and a shot of vodka. You pressed against his side on the lift, teetering on your three inch heels, clumsily digging in his coat for the caramel candies you loved, he usually kept some just for you. And giggling when he told you there was a candy tax. “What kind?” You asked.
His mouth turned up, but he never answered, fingers wrapped around your waist. He teased you, and it made you crave him more.
You never found the candy, but maybe Billy would taste sweeter than any candy you could ever have. It made you burn at the thought of having him, even knowing his aversion to commitment. You loved your best friend.
And the smell of cologne teased you as the elevator doors opened, and he pulled you along, his calloused fingers wrapped around yours. A reminder of the marine who had 134 kills under his belt. You wanted to see that marine.
He pulled you into his bedroom, and you stumbled.
You kept trying to kiss him, as he helped you shimmy out of your dress, getting you ready for bed. Your fingers digging into his hair, as you licked into his mouth, eager for him. He tasted better than you imagined. He had seen you undressed before, but fuck, if his mouth didn’t water for a taste of you. For the sweet sounds you'd make. Your taste.
You kissed him again, and he indulged it because he was desperate to be wanted. You pulled on his belt, and he pulled back from your lips, "Not when you're drunk." He groaned with effort.
You whined low, "Wanna make love to you Billy." You said, kissing him again.
The boy who had never been loved burned for you at your words. But the boy who had been sexually taken advantage of, stopped.
"In the morning, if you still want me." He said, tracing your lips with his finger.
