*Unknown person's POV*

In the shadowed corners of the grand throne room, a figure cloaked in darkness whispered urgently with a cluster of loyal guards and a veiled advisor. The air was thick with secrecy and the faint glow from the torches cast flickering shadows over their faces, concealing their expressions.

"Has there been any word from the northern border?" the figure's voice was tense, barely above a whisper, tinged with urgency yet measured, betraying no hint of her royal status.

"Not yet, my lady. Our scouts have been combing the area but she seems to have disappeared without a trace," one guard responded, his voice equally subdued.

The veiled advisor stepped forward, his voice a soothing contrast to the crisp responses of the guards. "We will continue our search discreetly, as per your instructions. We understand the sensitivity required for this matter."

The cloaked figure nodded, her posture rigid with concern that was masked by the shadows. As the conversation unfolded, it became increasingly clear that this was no ordinary inquiry. This was a personal mission, laced with a sense of betrayal and urgency that suggested much more than political interest.

The veiled advisor continued, "From what we have gathered, she was last seen being taken to the Tower under distressing circumstances, directly by the Prince's order."

At this revelation, a subtle shift occurred in the demeanour of the cloaked figure. The mention of the Tower and her son's involvement drew a sharp intake of breath from her, finally revealing her identity as the queen by the shimmering hint of her jewelled crown under the hood.

"Ensure that no word of this reaches the king or my son. This inquiry must remain between us," the queen commanded, her voice now laced with a steely resolve. "Nemesia deserves better than this—she is not only my daughter-in-law but a woman of strength and valour, fit to be queen one day."

The guards bowed, their loyalty unwavering, as the queen's tone softened, "Keep your eyes and ears open. Anything you learn about her condition or whereabouts, I need to know immediately."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the veiled advisor assured her, his voice firm. "We'll use every resource at our disposal to locate her and ensure her safety."

As the group dispersed, the queen stood alone for a moment, gazing out of the towering windows at the vast kingdom she ruled. Her thoughts turned bitterly to Melody, the young woman who had momentarily displaced Nemesia in her son's affections. The queen's lips curled in distaste as she considered the girl's lowly origin and lack of any noble qualities that Nemesia possessed in abundance. The idea that her son, the future king, could forsake his formidable wife for such a transient and insubstantial fling disgusted her deeply. Melody, with her unremarkable background and undistinguished demeanour, was hardly the material of queens. The queen felt a surge of protectiveness for Nemesia and a renewed determination to rectify the situation, ensuring that the rightful future queen was restored to her place by her son's side.

*Third person's POV*

In the soft light of dawn, Nemesia and Evar set out on their journey to the rebel camp in the mountains, through the rugged wilderness that lay sprawling before them, a land of untamed beauty that Evar had long called home. The morning was crisp, the air filled with the scent of pine and the distant murmur of a waking world. They moved a lot in their human forms to be able to talk, and sometimes when they needed to move quicker, they would change into their wolf forms. Evar's bag proved very useful, and he even gave a small sack for Nemesia's clothes, so she could carry them when in her lycan form.

As they traversed the uneven terrain, their conversation flowed like the streams they crossed—light, refreshing, and occasionally probing deeper currents. Evar, with his easy charm and a roguish smile, shared tales of his life as a rogue wolf, revelling in the freedom it afforded him.

"You see, Nemesia," he began, gesturing expansively to the sprawling landscape around them, "out here, it's just you and the elements. No politics, no betrayals, just survival and freedom."

Nemesia listened, her stride steady, her eyes scanning the horizon. She appreciated the simplicity in his words, but her mind wrestled with the shadows of her past, the intricate dance of court life she had been thrust out of so brutally. Every step she took into the wilderness seemed to loosen a chain around her heart, yet the weight of her former life pulled at her with the gravity of a looming storm.

The duo occasionally paused to hunt, their styles markedly different yet impressively effective. Evar moved with a wild grace, an extension of the forest itself, while Nemesia's approach was more calculated, honed by years of disciplined training. Together, they brought down a deer, their movements synchronized through unspoken communication. As they feasted, Evar pointed out, with a hint of pride, how living wild sharpened the senses, a subtle nudge for her to embrace the raw and primal aspects of her nature.

Later, as they resumed their journey, Ragnar and Athena, in their respective wolf forms, ran close by. The two animals mirrored the burgeoning connection between their human counterparts, with Ragnar occasionally brushing against Athena in a playful, almost protective manner even if he was a bit smaller than her. These subtle interactions, a swish of a tail or a gentle nudge, went largely unnoticed but spoke volumes of the silent bond forming among them.

As the sun climbed higher, painting the sky in hues of gold and azure, Nemesia found herself increasingly lost in thought. She pondered the twists of fate that had led her here, running wild through unknown territories with a man who had been a stranger not long ago. Her thoughts were abruptly cut by a sharp pain that clenched her heart—a physical manifestation of betrayal. Somewhere, far behind in the civilization she had fled, her fated mate was likely sealing his betrayal with the wolf-shifter he had taken as a lover.

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Nemesia pushed forward, her pace unrelenting. She would not let this weakness define her. Not now. Evar noticed her sudden pallor and the slight stiffening of her posture.

"Everything alright?" His voice was laced with concern, yet he kept his gaze forward, giving her the space to compose herself.

Nemesia breathed deeply, letting the cool air fill her lungs and steel her resolve. "Just a reminder of what I've left behind," she responded, her voice steady, though her heart raced with a cocktail of pain and rage.

Evar nodded, understanding her need for privacy in her struggle. He admired her strength, her ability to bear such agony in silence—a warrior not just in battle but in life's crueller fights.

As they made camp that night under the starlit sky, Nemesia felt a subtle shift within her. The wilderness, with its unforgiving beauty and raw challenges, was beginning to seep into her bones, filling the cracks left by her shattered past. She watched the fire flicker and dance, the flames casting shadows that played across Evar's thoughtful face.

"Out here," he said, breaking the silence, "you get to write your own story, Nemesia. No one else holds the pen."

Nemesia looked into the fire, considering his words. The pain of betrayal still throbbed in her heart, but alongside it stirred a newfound desire for freedom—the freedom to forge a path defined not by destiny or duty, but by her own will.

"I think I'm beginning to see the appeal," she murmured, a slight smile touching her lips, her eyes reflecting the fire's wild dance.

That night, as they lay under the vast canopy of stars, the wilderness whispered its ancient secrets, and Nemesia listened, her heart slowly aligning with the untamed heartbeat of the world around her.