Frostbite

Will rule for 58 1/2 months in-game (4 years and 10 1/2 months) and 117 days irl assuming I roll over every day.

Wardrobe Link: Frostbite

A Mother's Bloody Reign
The moon hung low in the night sky, casting an eerie red glow over the clearing. Bloodmoon stood on the rocky ledge overlooking the gathered pack, her crimson eyes gleaming with fierce determination. The wind ruffled her dark fur, adding to the aura of power that radiated from her.

"Tonight," Bloodmoon began, her voice commanding the attention of every wolf present, "marks the dawn of a new era. An era where our pack will rise above all others. We will be strong, we will be feared, and no one—no one—will dare challenge us!"

The pack erupted in howls of approval, their voices mingling in a chorus of blind loyalty. Frostbite, standing at the edge of the crowd, watched with a sinking feeling in her chest. She knew the truth. Her mother was not the savior she portrayed herself to be; she was a tyrant, hungry for blood and power.

"Under my leadership," Bloodmoon continued, her eyes scanning the crowd, "we will eliminate weakness. Only the strongest will survive, and those who fall short will be left behind. The time for mercy is over!"

"Bloodmoon!" a young wolf named Mink called out, stepping forward. "What if we don't want to abandon our packmates? What if we want to help them grow stronger?"

Bloodmoon's gaze snapped to Mink, and the air grew tense. "Help them? And what do we gain from dragging along the weak? Weakness is a disease, and it spreads. We must cut it out before it infects us all."

Frostbite clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to speak out. She wanted to defend Mink, to challenge her mother's twisted logic, but the memory of her last act of cruelty silenced her. She had seen what her mother was capable of, and she wasn't ready to face her wrath.

Mink lowered her head, intimidated by Bloodmoon's glare. "I… I understand, alpha."

"Good," she replied, her tone softening only slightly. "Remember, I do this for the good of the pack. We will be stronger, more united, and we will thrive like never before."

The pack howled in agreement, but Frostbite could see the unease in a few of their eyes. They were drawn to Bloodmoon's strength, blinded by her promises of glory, but deep down, they sensed something was wrong. Yet, like Frostbite, they stayed silent, too afraid to challenge her.

As the gathering dispersed, Frostbite turned to leave, her thoughts racing. She couldn't keep quiet forever. Bloodmoon's reign would bring nothing but suffering and death, and she knew she had to stop her. But how? She was just one wolf, and her mother was a force to be reckoned with.

"Frostbite."

She froze at the sound of her mother's voice. Bloodmoon had appeared beside her, her eyes narrowing as she studied her. "You've been awfully quiet tonight. Do you have something to say?"

Frostbite forced a smile, shaking her head. "No, Mother. I was just listening."

"Good," she purred, leaning closer. "Remember, my daughter, strength is everything. Never forget that."

"I won't," she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Bloodmoon smiled, satisfied, before turning and walking away, leaving Frostbite alone with her thoughts. She watched her go, her heart heavy with the knowledge of what she had to do.

"I won't stay silent forever, Mother," she whispered to the night. "Your reign will end, one way or another."

Challenge for the Throne

"Mother,"

Queen Bloodmoon whipped her head around at the sound of Frostbite's voice. "Yes, dear?"

"I challenge you for the throne." Frostbite met her mother's gaze as she tried to decide whether or not Frostbite was joking.

"You, my daughter, challenge me for the throne?" Bloodmoon echoed, laughing. "What have I done so wrong that would make you think you have to take the throne from? Or is it just for power?"

"Our pack is starving!" Frostbite cried out, tired of playing the role of the 'obedient' daughter. "And you slaughter anyone who stands up to you in cold blood!"

"Very well, then, Frostbite." Queen Bloodmoon dipped her head, staring at her daughter coldly. "Let's begin."

The two she-wolves circled each other, looking for a weak spot to attack. Queen Bloodmoon lunged at Frostbite's throat, and Frostbite knocked her aside with a paw. She sent her mother skidding across the ground, and she was very still. Had she done it too hard? Frostbite knew her mother was old. She shook herself, reminding herself she was supposed to kill Queen Bloodmoon.

Frostbite crouched over her mother, checking for a pulse. Suddenly, the queen lunged up, grabbing Frostbite by the throat, flipping her over, and pinning her down. Frostbite gasped in surprise, panting for breath.

"Never let your guard down," Her mother wheezed. "Prepared to say your last words?" When she stayed silent, Bloodmoon added, "I would've never expected that I'd have to kill my own heir. But, alas, I do think I'm young enough to have one more litter. "

Frostbite's gaze hardened and she smacked Bloodmoon across the face, drawing blood. Her mother snarled in anger and disgust.

"Show your elders some respect!" She shrieked, letting go of Frostbite and putting a paw to her face. Frostbite leaped towards Queen Bloodmoon, grabbing her neck and biting down hard. There were muffled cries of fury from her mother as she continued to struggle against her grip, eyes rolling wildly in their sockets. Frostbite searched for the artery that pumped life into her mother, finding it and puncturing it. She held on until Queen Bloodmoon went still, and then a few more seconds. She had killed her mother.

The Worthy Heir

Queen Frostbite lay in her den, watching over her latest litter of newborn pups with a mixture of hope and regret. Tiny and helpless, they nestled against her, their small bodies radiating warmth as they slept soundly beside their mother. She felt a surge of pride, but beneath it, doubt gnawed at her heart. She'd had many litters over the years, each one sent away as quickly as they had arrived, dismissed for one reason or another. She had always hoped that one day, a pup would emerge who matched the throne's expectations—a wolf worthy of breaking the chains of her family's ruthless legacy.

As she studied their small, sleeping forms, Frostbite couldn't help but wonder: had she already sent away the perfect heir? Perhaps, among her daughters and sons she had discarded, there had been one who might have proven themselves, who would have grown to embody the ideals she so desperately sought in a ruler. Her thoughts swirled with unease, and she chastised herself silently. *Am I just chasing perfection the same way my mother and grandmother did? Am I just as blind as they were, casting out those who didn't fit some imagined standard?*

The question plagued her, driving her to consider the Enclave—a last, bold hope. It was filled with orphaned pups, some with rough origins and uncertain bloodlines, yet each one brimming with potential. But no sooner had the thought settled than a familiar, chilling sensation crept over her.

In the dead of night, Cynthia appeared, her form shimmering with the silver light of the moon. Her eyes bore into Frostbite's, carrying not only the silent authority of the heavens but also the unspoken will of Queen Luna. "Your decision insults your legacy, Frostbite," she spoke, each word a stinging reminder of her bloodline's expectations. "The throne is only for those of my blood. A pup from the Enclave is no heir of mine."

The weight of Luna's disapproval crashed over her, stifling the spark of hope that had kindled in her heart. Alone again, Frostbite closed her eyes, wrestling with the tension between duty and desire. *Am I simply repeating their obsessions, casting my own pups aside? And if not from the Enclave, if not among the daughters and sons I've dismissed… could one of these newborns finally be the heir I've been waiting for?*

The answer lay somewhere in the space between tradition and rebellion, a path she would have to carve out on her own—if she dared.