Claimed By The Cursed Alpha Monarch

Avery Morgan woke long before dawn.

It was not because she had slept enough, but because the clatter of porcelain from the kitchen below had shattered her rest. The noise rose in steady waves, like a relentless demand for her to get out of bed. Opening her eyes, she stared at the yellowed wooden planks of the ceiling, remaining still for a moment.

She knew what day it was.

Tonight, the Morgan Family would attend the Royal Banquet.

For Victoria, it was a grand opportunity to display her beauty, charm influential nobles, and elevate the family's standing. For Avery, it was merely another grueling shift—ironing her sister's dresses, serving refreshments, and bracing herself to endure everyone's volatile tempers.

She knew this all too well because every major gathering played out the exact same way. Victoria was the pristine princess meant to represent the family's glory, while Avery was nothing more than the servant tasked with ensuring the princess never made a mistake.

Footsteps echoed outside her door, followed immediately by her mother's sharp voice.

"Avery, aren't you out of bed yet? Victoria needs to try on her gown again."

Avery sat up, pulling back the thin blanket.

"I'm up."

"Then hurry. Don't keep the entire household waiting."

There was no warmth in Charlotte's tone, only a thin veneer of impatience. Her concern was never whether Avery was rested, but whether Avery might cause a delay in Victoria's preparations.

Avery reached for the worn grey dress draped over the bedside chair. The cuffs had already been altered three times with fine, meticulous stitching to conceal the repairs, but the threadbare fabric still betrayed its age. Pulling her sewing kit from the drawer, she quickly mended a loose thread along the hem.

She had no money for new clothes.

More accurately, the family saw no reason to provide them. Graham had once made it abundantly clear: only Victoria mattered at these gatherings. As long as Avery remained in the shadows behind her sister, no one would spare a glance at what she wore.

When Avery stepped into the corridor, Charlotte was waiting at the far end. Her gaze flicked toward Avery's faded dress for a fraction of a second before darting away, dismissing it as completely beneath notice.

"Go to Victoria's room. Her shawl is wrinkled."

"May I grab a bite of breakfast first?" Avery asked.

Charlotte frowned, her lips tightening into a displeased line. "You always think of yourself first."

Avery paused.

She had not eaten a thing, yet asking for a single mouthful earned her the label of selfishness. Every morning, servants carried lavish breakfast trays straight to Victoria's bedside, while Avery had to ask permission for scraps.

Yet she did not argue. Arguing was futile. It would only sour Charlotte's mood further and guarantee she went hungry.

"I'll go fix the shawl."

Victoria's bedroom door stood wide open. When Avery entered, her sister was seated before the vanity mirror, flanked by two maids who were meticulously styling her hair. Spread across the tabletop were three diamond necklaces, five pairs of ornate earrings, and a tiara encrusted with brilliant white gemstones.

The moment Victoria spotted Avery, she thrust out a hand.

"Where is my shawl?" Her tone was as demanding as ever, spoken as if to a common scullery maid.

"Right here."

Avery stepped forward and offered it. Victoria did not take it; instead, her eyes narrowed at the delicate hem.

"Wasn't there a tear here?"

"I mended it last night. It's completely invisible."

"And you think that's good enough?" Victoria asked sharply. "This is a Royal Banquet, not a quiet family dinner at home."

Avery looked down to inspect the seam. "If you're dissatisfied, I can redo the stitches."

"Of course you will. And keep close to me tonight. Father said you are responsible for attending to me."

"I know."

Victoria turned back to the mirror, admiring her reflection with satisfaction as she adjusted the tiara.

"I heard King Damon Black will attend in person."

Her voice lifted with sudden excitement, her eyes sparkling with an eager light Avery rarely witnessed.

Avery smoothed the creases of the shawl, keeping her head down as she answered.

"I heard the servants mentioning it."

"Do you have any idea how dangerous he is?" Victoria asked.

"I have an idea."

"Then stay far away from him tonight."

Avery lifted her head.

"Why?"

The smile vanished from Victoria's face. "Because someone like you has no business being near a man like that. That fragile, pitiful look of yours always stirs up men's protective instincts. If you do anything shameful and embarrass us, it's the family's honor that will suffer."

Avery understood immediately.

Victoria was not worried about her safety; she was terrified of having the spotlight stolen.

Avery placed the shawl onto the table in silence, offering no reply.

At breakfast, Avery arrived earlier than anyone else, yet she was still the last to take a seat. She had to ensure not a speck of dust clung to Victoria's dress, and then place the banquet invitation neatly beside Graham's plate for Charlotte.

When Graham finally looked up and noticed her, his first remark was clipped: "Why are you still wearing that old dress?"

Avery glanced down at herself. "Mother told me to wear it."

Charlotte intervened smoothly. "The lights in the grand hall will be dim. No one will pay attention to her anyway."

Graham did not press the matter. His focus shifted back to Victoria almost instantly.

"Remember what is at stake tonight. A Royal Banquet is unlike any ordinary gathering. Do not drink too much, and do not speak with strangers alone. Above all, when the King makes his entrance, maintain absolute poise. You cannot afford the slightest breach of etiquette."

Victoria nodded with practiced grace.

"I understand, Father."

"If any nobles approach you, evaluate their status carefully before engaging. Your performance tonight will dictate whether the Morgan Family secures royal favor."

Avery listened in silence.

She had once believed their father was strict with Victoria out of high hopes for his eldest daughter. Only over time had she come to see the truth: Graham was not teaching Victoria how to protect herself, but training her to become the family's most prized bargaining chip.

As for Avery, she was not even considered a chip.

She was merely the servant responsible for polishing it.

In the afternoon, Avery went to the courtyard to collect the fresh blossoms needed for the evening. Passing by the outer wall, she overheard two young maids speaking in hushed, nervous tones.

"Is the King truly coming tonight?"

"Without a doubt. They say his curse has flared up again recently. He reportedly tore straight through the stone walls of the palace's west tower with his bare hands."

"Then why hold a banquet at all?"

"A king requires an heir, and he needs a mate strong enough to withstand his terrifying power."

"What happened to the women before this?"

"Shh, keep your voice down!"

Catching sight of Avery, the maids instantly clamped their mouths shut.

Avery did not ask them to explain. As she passed the gate, she looked toward the horizon, where the Black Wolf King Standard had been hoisted high above The Capital.

The banner stood out starkly against the pale grey sky, casting a deep, ominous shadow over the horizon.

Before dusk fell, Graham made one final round to inspect their preparations. Seeing Avery standing quietly beside Victoria, he gave a stern command: "Stay at your sister's side throughout the night. If she requires wine, needs her shawl adjusted, or enters conversation with high nobles, you must remain right there to assist her."

"May I have some time to myself?" Avery asked.

Graham stared at her with genuine bewilderment, as if unable to comprehend how she could utter such an absurd question.

"You have no business of your own tonight. Your sole duty is to serve Victoria."

He delivered the line with utter naturalness.

In this household, everyone had long grown accustomed to the idea that Avery had no life or desires of her own.

When the carriage finally departed, Victoria sat in the center, accompanied by Charlotte. Graham sat across from them, his fingers clutching the banquet invitation with tense firmness.

Avery sat tucked away by the door.

Her reflection gazed back from the carriage window—a faded dress, an unadorned neck, and hands coarsened by needlework. She looked far less like a noble daughter attending a grand celebration and more like a servant dragged along to clean up after others.

Suddenly, Victoria reached out and gripped her hand tightly.

"Avery, you have to help me tonight."

Avery turned to her. "Help you with what?"

"If the King speaks to me, you must whisper how I should answer. If I get frightened, you must stay right beside me. And if anyone asks about my constitution, you must explain on my behalf."

"Why are you so afraid?"

Victoria's fingers dug in harder. "Because he is Damon Black."

For the first time, she made no effort to disguise her raw terror.

Looking at her sister's pale, trembling face, the guard Avery had put up began to soften. She still believed Victoria was merely overwhelmed and genuinely in need of her support.

She had no idea that after tonight, Victoria would push all of that terror entirely onto her shoulders.

The carriage rolled steadily toward the palace beneath the fluttering standard.

Avery looked at the distant banner, and a strange, inexplicable chill settled deep within her chest.

She did not know what she was about to lose.

Nor did she know whose eyes were about to claim her.