# They Sold Their Albino Daughter in Shame — Only for the White Alpha King to Choose Her as His Luna 🐺❄️

Smoke billowed into the crystal-clear northern sky as rogue mercenaries and traitorous human lords stormed the outer gates of Frostpeak. Armed with enchanted iron weapons forged to pierce Lycan hide, the attackers breached the lower courtyard, clashing fiercely with Stellan’s guards.

Inside the throne room, Giselle stood tall, her white-fur cloak billowing behind her. She did not cower. The frightened attic girl was gone forever; in her place stood the true heir of the Frostfang bloodline.

The heavy bronze doors of the throne room blasted inward. A rogue commander, wielding a glowing rune-blade, marched inside followed by a dozen heavily armed mercenaries.

"The Northern King falls today!" the commander roared, scanning the room.

Stellan stepped forward, his fists clenching as his eyes blazed gold. But before he could shift, Giselle raised her hand.

A sudden drop in temperature swept through the grand hall. Frost crawled rapidly across the stone floor, racing toward the intruders. The air grew impossibly cold, shimmering with crystalline energy that radiated directly from Giselle’s crimson eyes.

The mercenaries stopped dead in their tracks, their boots frozen solid to the marble floor.

Giselle stepped forward, her voice echoing with ancient, royal authority. "You dare bring war to my doorstep?"

Before the commander could swing his rune-blade, a surge of pure frost energy burst from Giselle’s outstretched palm, blasting the blade from his hand and shattering it into a thousand glittering ice shards. The shockwave threw the commander backward, slamming him against the stone wall where he slid unconscious into the snow-drifted doorway.

The remaining mercenaries dropped their weapons, falling to their knees in absolute terror. They had expected a weak human girl; they had found a wrathful queen.