The Moon's Decree

Luna woke to moonlight on her skin and the worst case of pre-transformation jitters she'd ever experienced. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking, and she'd already knocked over a glass of water trying to take some Tylenol for her pounding headache. The change always gave her migraines, something none of the fancy werewolf romance novels had ever mentioned.

Alexander was already gone, but he'd left a slightly coffee-stained note on his pillow:

*Meet me in the garden at moonrise. Wear whatever makes you comfortable. I love you.*

*P.S. There's Excedrin in my desk drawer if you need it.*

She smiled despite her headache. Trust him to remember her pre-transformation migraines even in the middle of ancient werewolf ceremonies.

Victoria was waiting in Luna's chambers, looking deeply unimpressed with Luna's plan to wear her old running shoes instead of going barefoot like tradition demanded.

"You'll step on a rock," Victoria warned. "Or a stick. Or someone's tail."

"I stepped on a bee last time I shifted outdoors," Luna countered. "My foot swelled up like a balloon. I had to hop everywhere for three days."

Victoria's professional facade cracked slightly. "I remember. You knocked over that priceless vase."

"It was ugly anyway." Luna tied her shoes with shaking fingers. "How many people will be watching?"

"Just the Inner Circle and immediate family. James asked permission to attend."

"Not father?"

"No." Victoria's tone softened. "Not after yesterday."

Luna nodded, relieved. "What about Mrs. Chen?"

"Someone has to keep the kitchen running." But Victoria smiled. "She sent these though."

She held up a familiar set of clothes – the same soft cotton pants and worn t-shirt Luna had worn on her first day in the palace kitchens. They'd been carefully mended, the holes patched with tiny, precise stitches.

"She even got the coffee stains out," Luna said, throat tight. "I never could."

"That's because you were using regular detergent like a heathen." Victoria handed over the clothes. "Now change before I reconsider letting you wear those atrocious shoes."

The clothes still fit, though differently now. Luna had more muscle from training with Alexander, more confidence in how she carried herself. The girl who'd first worn these had been terrified, desperate to please. The woman who wore them now...

Well, she was still terrified. But at least she had comfortable shoes.

She found Alexander in the garden, looking distinctly un-kingly in worn jeans and a faded t-shirt that had definitely seen better days. He was also wearing running shoes, which made Luna love him even more.

"I thought I was the only one breaking tradition," she said, gesturing at his feet.

His smile was sheepish. "I stepped on a bee once too. Couldn't wear dress shoes for a week. The Council was scandalized."

Luna laughed, some of her nervousness easing. "At least I'm not alone in my sacred ceremony-related footwear trauma."

"Never alone," he said softly, touching her cheek. "How's the headache?"

"Better. I found the Excedrin." She leaned into his touch. "You remembered."

"I remember everything about you." His thumb traced her jaw. "Even the coffee stains you somehow get on everything you own."

"Says the man who literally has coffee in his veins at this point." Luna kissed him quiet. "I'm ready. Even if I do look ridiculous in running shoes."

The change took them as the moon crested the trees. It wasn't graceful – transformation never was, despite what the romance novels claimed. There was a lot of awkward stumbling and embarrassing noises and that weird moment where you had too many limbs and none of them worked right.

But then it was done, and Luna shook out her fur, grateful that at least she didn't have to worry about being graceful in wolf form. Alexander's wolf was huge and black beside her, his golden eyes holding the same warmth they did in human form.

He was beautiful, even with his fur sticking up in weird places like his human hair always did.

Luna knew she was smaller, her pale gold fur already collecting leaves and bits of grass because apparently she couldn't stay clean in either form. But when Alexander bumped his nose against hers in greeting, she felt their bond pulse with so much love it made her wolf-eyes water.

They ran together through the palace grounds, Luna occasionally tripping over her own paws because coordination issues apparently translated across forms. Alexander always waited for her to catch up, even when she got distracted by a particularly interesting rabbit trail or stopped to investigate what turned out to be a very offended squirrel.

When he left to hunt, Luna flopped down in a clearing to wait, idly trying to get burrs out of her fur. Fireflies danced between the trees, and she definitely did not try to catch them with her mouth like some kind of overgrown puppy.

Much.

The deer Alexander brought back was impressive, though he had leaves in his fur and what looked suspiciously like mud on his nose. He laid it at her feet with such earnest pride that Luna's heart melted despite the mess.

This was love, she realized. Not the perfect, pristine kind from stories, but the real kind – the kind that wore running shoes to sacred ceremonies and got leaves stuck in its fur and remembered what kind of painkillers you needed when you had a headache.

They shared the kill together under the moon, and Luna only got a little blood on her fur. When the moon began to set, they made their way back to the palace, both of them limping slightly because apparently running shoes could only help so much.

The change back was just as awkward as the first one, but Luna found herself laughing as she pulled leaves out of her hair. Alexander wasn't much better, his usually perfect hair sticking up in every direction.

"Your shoes are ruined," she pointed out, pulling him close.

"Worth it." He kissed her forehead. "Though I think I stepped on a pinecone."

"Poor baby." Luna grinned. "Want me to kiss it better?"

His eyes darkened. "Yes, please."

They didn't make it to breakfast the next morning, but Victoria just rolled her eyes and had coffee sent up. Mrs. Chen sent muffins too, still warm from the oven, with a note that said "Congratulations on not stepping on any bees."

"I love you," Luna told Alexander as they sat tangled together in sheets that didn't feel too slippery anymore. "Even with leaves in your hair."

"Good thing," he murmured, stealing a bite of her muffin. "Because you've got grass stains on your neck."

Luna touched the spot, laughing. "Romantic."

"Always." He pulled her closer, kissing the grass stains. "Forever, my queen."

The sun painted everything gold through the windows, and Luna's muscles ached in the best way. She was wolf and woman both, queen and mate and absolute disaster – and somehow that was exactly right.

It wasn't what her father had wanted for her. It wasn't what anyone had expected.

But it was real. It was perfectly, wonderfully imperfect.

Sometimes that was everything.