Chosen Bride of the Seven Dark Princes

It was daybreak on Erenveil, 5 AM Galactic Standard Time, when Slate got the word that his mother wanted to speak with him in person.

He took off in his transport pod, straight for Erenveil but didn't get there until noon.

He called her the moment he touched down.

"I'm here Mother. I just arrived." He took the steps two at a time, down to the ground from his hovering craft. "Give me a few more minutes and I'll fly to you."

He flexed his pecs and his wings unfurled behind him.

FWOOOOMPH!!!

Slate took off at a run, flapping his wings for lift. Within seconds, he was airborne. Mother sounded distressed. He hoped nothing terrible had happened.

Ten minutes later, Slate had landed inside his mother's courtyard. He retracted his wings as he traipsed with long strides to his mother's bed chambers.

"Son." Slate heard his mother calling out to him.

"Mother." He turned to see Gwendolyn's stricken face and his heart pounded in fear.

His mother's normally lustrous long black hair was matted and dirty with vomit that smelled like alcohol. Her usual brilliant blue eyes were bloodshot and sunken into deep dark pools of misery.

He ran to her and picked her up into his arms.

"Mother." He took her into the bathroom and gently placed her into the tub. An attendant followed him in.

"I will take care of her, Your Royal Highness. Please wait out in the sitting area." She pushed him out of the bathroom and closed the door.

Slate sighed and turned towards the sofa, feeling anger and hurt, wrapped within a huge blanket of resignation.

This was not the first time Mother had called on him for help.

He remembered growing up seeing her broken and grief stricken over his father's rather callous treatment of her. As a man, he understood the situation in a rational manner.

The Emperor had five current wives after all, and Mother had always had a hard time sharing her husband with them all.

It should have been a time-share, where each woman got a fair amount of days with the Emperor. If Mother had her allotted days, she would have been absolutely fine with it, but it never really worked out like that.

Life happened, and sometimes, the Emperor could not fulfill his scheduled husbandly duty days because he was with one of his other wives.

As a son, he had grown up seeing her filled with grief and rage at what she felt were his slights. He had vowed to himself that he would never treat his woman like that, and what had he gotten himself into?

He'd become just like his mother, having to share a single lover with six other men.

Slate was still sitting there on the sofa, sipping on a soda water when Mother came out of her bath.

She was once again, regally dressed. Her long black hair fell in a thick lush waterfall down her back. Her blue eyes sparkling once again, like a summer day.

"Son." She smiled. "Thank you for coming to my rescue."

"Mother. What happened?" Slate stood up and came to her side and led her to the seat by the window.

"Your father abandoned me last night after he promised to have dinner with me. I waited for him until midnight."

"And drank all that wine by yourself." Slate raised an eyebrow.

"Why not? It was there and available to comfort me."

"Mother. It's not good for you to imbibe that much."

"It's also not good for me to hang onto this wretched hope and dream that one day I will be loved by my husband."

Slate narrowed his eyes. What was she saying?

"I'm throwing in the towel, Slate. I give up. I can't do this any more."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm leaving him, Slate." Mother stood up and stared out into the royal courtyard filled with oleander and roses. "I'm calling you to let you know that I've made up my mind to move forward and separate myself from the Emperor."

"Mother." Slate swallowed. "This is your decision. You must do what you feel is best for yourself. All I can do is support whatever you decide."

"Thank you, Son." Gwendolyn smiled bravely. She wrapped her arms around herself, as if she was hugging and comforting herself.

Slate stood up and folded his mother's thin body into his arms. He loved this woman so very much. She had been a stalwart force in his life growing up.

She was the one who taught him how to give without reservation, without demands, without strings, all his love to the woman who held his heart.

"What can I do to help you? Do you need help to pack and move your things?" He asked.

"I don't need your help to move away from here. I will not take anything of his. I will leave with what I came with."

"Mother, after twenty-five years, you deserve to take everything with you and much much more." Slate snarled.

"Son. Our family is hardly poor. In fact, I am the wealthiest Royal Consort and I am still a Princess of the wolven world Kratoria."

"That's not the point. He owes you at least that much."

"If I take all the things that he's given me all these years, then he gets the comfort of knowing I've been paid off for twenty-five years of giving him love." Her eyes hardened.

"I refuse to give him that peace of mind. He can keep it all, with my grace."

Slate sighed. He understood her thought process but he could not help feeling sorry for his mother.

"What can I do at this time? Do you need help with transport? Finding a new place to stay? I will do anything you ask."

"Son." She turned back to face him. "I want you to talk to your father. Explain to him, man-to-man, why I am leaving. If I talk to him, he will simply think it's just jealous rage. If it comes from you, perhaps he will understand better."

"Where will you be going to?" Slate asked. She was a full-grown woman but he was still very worried about her.

"For now, I will travel throughout the galaxy, explore places I've never seen, and truly live for myself." She turned to him with a smile.

"Then you will need one of my warships. We will turn it into a beautiful luxurious touring ship filled with everything you need, and staffed with all the people who will take care of you so you can live on it indefinitely."

She nodded gratefully. That was an enormous gift her son had just given her. She knew how much those warships meant to her son.

"And what of Lyra?" He asked.

"She doesn't know yet. She's still so young, she needs to be here where everything is stable for her."

"She needs her mother." Slate insisted. "If you leave, you must take Lyra with you. What do you think will happen to her if she remains here?"

"Her schooling…"

"Bring the teachers along."

"Her friends…"

"She will make new friends. If you give her the choice between her mother and her friends, she will absolutely choose you."

"Her father…"

"Will always be her father. She will simply be living in a different place than her father, just as all of us children will. Once we grow up, we leave the nest and find our own way in the world. That's just how it is."

Gwendolyn's eyes grew cloudy with worry. Finally, she nodded.

"I will go talk to Lyra about my decision, and I will give her the choice to remain here with her father or to leave with me."

She turned back to Slate with unwavering eyes.

"Please go to your father and tell him of my decision. Be my strength and my determination."

Her eyes teared.

"I know that if I talk to him myself, I will fold before his male strength and then I will hate myself for not following through with what I need to do for myself."

Slate nodded and pulled his mother back into his arms.

This was going to be one of the most difficult conversations he would have to make with his father, but it was one that he was more than willing to make.

He was more than capable of being his mother's shit umbrella.