Aldrich
I don't want to leave her, but the alpha is expecting us.
I’m dragging my feet as I walk back, too tired to shift. I think Roark suspects I’m up to something.
When Roark walked into the hovel earlier this morning just as I’d finished packing the essentials to take back to the hut, he was too distracted to question me. I left when he fell asleep for a few brief minutes. But when I made my way back to our hovel the second time to get all those things to treat the princess’s wound, he looked at me questioningly. I fibbed; told him a Werewolf was badly injured during training earlier this morning.
I don’t know if Roark believed the lie or not, although it is very common for us Werewolves to sustain severe injuries during our intensive training sessions. What are we training for? I don’t know. All I know is all able-bodied
Werewolves gather in batches in the clearing nearly to hone their fighting skills. Myself, and Kimur, who is the other guard, oversee these training sessions. We practice hand-to-hand combat; fighting with weapons such as spears and cudgels, and we also practice fighting in our wolf forms.
It’s a tradition that has been going on for generations.
Roark doesn’t know that the training session this morning was canceled owing to how late the meeting went on last night.
Maybe Roark would have questioned me further about the injured Werewolf; he can always tell when I’m not being truthful; but just then, the alpha’s errand boy came around to tell us that the alpha has called a meeting; the entire pack, except for children and their immediate caregivers are expected to attend.
Seizing the chance, I left when Roark was still talking to the errand boy. All I said before leaving was I’d be back in time for the meeting.
The meeting has obviously been called to discuss the events of last night.
The person who gave the princess that thigh wound could possibly be one of my packmates. A chill runs down my spine. There’s too much at stake here, too much to lose if things go wrong.
I know the wise thing to do would be to turn her over to the Council, but how can I?
The wound on her thigh is nasty. I can't turn her away, can't take her to the Council before she recovers, lest they blame me for hurting her.
At least, that's what I tell myself.
Maybe it was wrong of me to take her in my arms and comfort her when the pain got too much. I don't want to think about how it felt to hold her against my chest. I don't want to think about how the wolf in me did not want to let her go. He wouldn't have harmed her, wouldn't even have thought about it.
I know the higher classes think we can't control our animal impulses, but it's as far from the truth as possible.
My wolf is as much a part of me as I am of him, but the beast in us Werewolves has evolved with us over several generations. It is true that the first Cursed One was unable to control his impulses, that he forcefully passed on the curse to other humans by infecting them with his bite, but we aren't like that.
Instead of the beast taking over the human in us, we have tamed the beast within us, made it more human, kinder, more compassionate. Werewolves are the most empathetic creatures in all of Altair–something the magical beings aren’t aware of.
It started as a curse, but us Werewolves wouldn't even dream of harming or trying to get rid of the beast within us.
Princess Avalea intrigues me. There is something about her that pulls me to her. A part of me can't help wondering if she has me enthralled with her magic.
I brush away the thought almost as soon as it forms. She was almost too weak to heat up the blade.
I hope she gets some rest. As a princess, I'm sure she is used to luxuries beyond my imagination, and the thought of her living in my humble hut embarasses me.
I force myself to brush all thoughts of her away. She isn’t what I should be thinking about right now.
There is trouble brewing within my pack. My pack is a thousand-Werewolves strong, and much of it is made up of youngsters like me. Many of the younger generation think that the alpha is weak.
If I’m being honest, I might have thought it a time or two myself, especially after how he allowed the Council to treat us following that incident with Connor. It still pains me to think about it. The alpha didn’t put up even a modicum of resistance. Last night during the meeting, it was evidently clear how most of the younger members feel. Perhaps it is because they are the ones that work at all the unpalatable jobs the magical beings consider to be beneath them.
The younger Werewolves see how the higher classes live at much closer quarters on a daily basis.
And the fight has gone out of the older generation. Alpha Tam, our alpha, belongs to the older generation. There is an obvious split between the older and the younger generations.
Despite the current divide within the pack, if any member of my pack so much as gets a whiff that I’m sheltering the princess, I’ll be banished. And what is a werewolf without his pack? Banishment is the worst thing that can happen to a pack animal. It is worse than death for a Werewolf. When a Werewolf is forced to give up his pack and live alone, he gradually devolves until he’s more beast than man. He turns into a deranged, crazed being, like the First Cursed One.
As all these thoughts churn around in my mind, I head for my hovel.
I’m tired as hell after a sleepless night, and I’m sure Roark needs his rest after all that he dealt with last night, but we cannot miss the meeting. Roark will have to share his suspicions about Connor with Alpha Tam and the entire pack.
It won’t be easy for him, going against his own brother, but Roark honors duty above all.
Sighing, I say a silent prayer for Connor as I near my hovel. A part of me is somewhat relieved, knowing that he’s already banished. What more can they do to him? I’m not condoning what he did, but as a brother, I care for him. I know what he did was beyond redemption, but who can blame him for being angry?
All I can hope now and pray for is that he wasn’t the one who did the actual killing. My stomach twists at that thought as I push the door to my hovel open. Roark is already dressed in his breeches and doublet.
Roark arches one blond brow at the blood on my clothes. I swear under my breath. I should've gotten rid of my clothes.
I look at him and shrug. “It’s from the injured male…”
I don’t know why I bothered coming up with this feeble excuse. Roark knows I’m lying. The scent of the blood on my clothes does not smell like a Werewolf. He refrains from saying anything, probably deciding it’s not worth the trouble, but I see the worry in his eyes nonetheless.
I rub a hand over my face. “I can’t tell you where the blood came from, but I promise I haven’t done anything wrong.” Or have I? Guilt claws at me.
He searches my face, a deep line running between his brows. Finally, he nods in a resigned sort of way.
Roark, Connor, and I are triplets. We are very similar to look at, except for our coloring. I’m dark, whereas Roark is fair, and Connor has light brown hair. And we each have different colored eyes–mine are silver-gray, Roark’s are blue, and Connor’s are tawny, almost golden.
Roark, being the eldest amongst us by a few minutes, considers himself responsible for taking care of both Connor and I, after the death of our parents. And he takes his responsibility very seriously.
I wish I could tell him about the princess, but there is no way he will keep it from the alpha. He is as strait-laced as they come. Connor is the rebel, and I am somewhere in between, although I try to walk the straight and narrow path most of the time.
“You might have time for a wash.”
I nod and head towards the stream. I can’t help thinking back to our house in the city where we could bathe indoors, and even heat water when the weather was bad. Our houses in the city had self-renewing spells placed inside them which ensured we had running, hot water indoors.
I tell myself there’s no use thinking about it, but that doesn’t stop the sudden surge of rage for one brief moment.
The Council has wronged us. They treat us like animals, like filth, like second-rate citizens, and we put up with it. What’s worse, I am sheltering the person responsible for perpetrating all those atrocities against us. A part of me wants to rush back to my hut, to drag her back to Council and claim the reward.
But then I remember the look of utter helplessness, the fear and dread in her eyes as I tended to her. I can't turn her in.
It feels like I’m being pulled in two different directions. My heart and gut are warring with my brain.
I bang my fist against a rock on the banks of the stream, splintering it. It leaves my hand raw and bleeding, but I welcome the pain. At least, it provides some distraction from the rage and the confusion.
A quick wash later, I bundle my blood stained clothes, change into my wolf form, shake off the water, and after grabbing the bundle of ruined clothes in my mouth, I rush back to my hovel, where I know Roark is bound to be waiting impatiently.
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Aldrich Roark and I head for the alpha’s cave in silence. I glance at Roark a time or two, wondering if he will question me, but he seems to be lost in his own thoughts. He is no doubt thinking about the testimony he’ll be giving. There will be uncomfortable questions thrown his way. I wish I could stand by him and support him, but I cannot break protocol. As the alpha’s personal guard, my primary duty today is to maintain order during the meeting and make sure that the alpha is safe. Today more than ever, I think the younger members might actually become disruptive. We head upstream, walking briskly along the hard rocky surface. Up ahead, we can see some other members of the pack heading for the cave. Since both of us are keen to avoid conversation, we maintain our distance. The alpha’s cave is located in a small hillock at the edge of our settlement. It’s not a single cave, but a series of interconnected caves with some of them extending underground. The largest cave is large enou
He takes another deep breath. This next bit is going to be especially difficult for him. “I cannot be absolutely certain, but I thought I recognized one of them. It was Connor.” The pack erupts, and several members even take a few threatening steps towards Roark. “Isn’t your brother done with ruining our pack?” somebody demands. “We should have known it was your family responsible for this trouble again.” “Banish them both and be done with it!” My hackles rise as I prepare to leave the alpha’s side in a gross breach of protocol, to stand with my brother, but before I can, the alpha stands up, drawing himself up to his full height. His shoulders are hunched, his eyes glowing, and his canines have lengthened into sharp, pointed, gleaming fangs. He has partially shifted, and looks positively menacing. I see a hint of the strong alpha that he once was. A hush falls over the entire pack. “Anybody who interrupts will have to deal with me. Personally. Have I made myself clear?” Nob
Aldrich It is late evening by the time I am relieved of my duties. Roark left immediately after the meeting, but since I serve the alpha, I couldn’t leave, no matter how badly I wanted to get back to the princess. I have been distracted and half sick with worry. What if my pack members chance upon my hut? What if they find her? I have to hope that the Werewolves won’t venture that deep inside the forest. I have made up my mind to spend the night in the hut so I can guard her. I reach my hovel just as Roark is about to leave for his night duty, and I’m forced to wait until he leaves before I grab some more bread and cheese, wrap it up in a piece of cloth and head for the forest. I’m not going to be able to keep my nightly wanderings hidden from Roark forever. He’s also going to notice the missing food. We’re only allowed to keep meager amounts of dry rations in our individual hovels since we all gather in the community kitchen for meals. I missed breakfast this morning, being
Avalea When I wake up, it’s evening. I have been drifting in and out of sleep throughout the day. A couple of hours ago when I woke up briefly, I ate the bread and the cheese the Werewolf had left for me. The bread was stale, the cheese was almost moldy, but with hunger gnawing at my innards, it was the most delicious thing I had ever eaten. The light is now fading and temperature has begun to drop. I’ll have to find a way to keep myself warm. I realize now that I could have frozen to death last night. While I can use my magic to alter my body temperature, it doesn’t last too long. I know there are spells that can keep a space cool when it’s hot, and heat it up when it’s cold. They’re self-renewing spells, which means they feed on the magic in the environment once installed. Even the thought of attempting those complex spells makes me anxious. They’re beyond my magical capabilities. Last night, I survived because the Werewolf found me. Once sleep steals over one’s senses, it is
AvaleaBy the Goddess, what have I done? I have actually gone ahead and kissed the Werewolf. My first kiss. I never thought my first kiss would be with a Werewolf.Temporary insanity. That’s the only reason it must have happened. Except… I want to do it again. And I don’t particularly regret it. Earlier when his lateral incisors got all sharp and the muscles in his shoulders bulged impossibly, it sent an arrow of something hot, something molten and delicious right down to my core. And I felt something else too–a knowing, an awakening, a forgotten memory trying to break through to the surface of consciousness. Something inside me is telling me I know this Werewolf. But how is that possible? I’ve never met him before. My belly quivers as my desire for him intensifies.I press a hand to my lower belly to make the sensation go away. It doesn't help. If anything, I want to kiss him more than ever when he fixes me with a hot, intense look.I swallow.I want him to take me into his arms
AldrichI feel myself drowning in her molten gold eyes. The discs of her pupils are growing larger. I think I scent a whiff of her arousal, but I’m afraid to inhale deeply. Going down this path is dangerous.When I’m looking at her, it’s so easy to forget about the class difference, the rules of the land, the law… just about everything. Our warmth breaths mingle and our lips part. She leans in, conveying without words what she wants. I want it too, want it so badly that my hands are trembling as I let go of her chin and extend my fingers to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. In doing so, I lean forward, my knee accidentally brushing against her injured leg, causing her to wince.I come crashing down to reality. She’s a beautiful princess, delicate like a flower. She’s probably been sheltered all her life and told to stay away from the likes of me. I’m rough, uncouth Werewolf who doesn’t know the first fucking thing about how to behave in the presence of a princess. Just now w
AvaleaAldrich stepped out after ordering me to get out of my bloody clothes. The man’s moods are unpredictable. One minute he's so kind, so warm, and the next minute, he’s gruff. I want to think it’s because of the beast inside him, but I know that’s not the reason. After spending merely a few hours with Aldrich, I know with an unshakable certainty that Werewolves are not the wild, dangerous monsters we’ve believed them to be.What is more surprising is I do not fear him, or his beast. In fact, I find both his forms utterly fascinating. Just this morning when I saw the beast’s nail pop out to cut away the bit of my gown stuck to my thigh wound, I was afraid. I now know that I was afraid because I didn't know any better.What I now feel for him is… desire.My cheeks heat up as I hobble toward the sack and retrieve some clothes. Knowing what I now know, I feel a lot more sympathetic towards the witch who gave herself to that Werewolf. There’s something almost magnetic about the raw po
AvaleaAldrich expertly lights the fire, even though there’s no kindling, with the help of a tiny burst of my magic. Although it’s a small fire, I place an invisible dome around it so that the smoke from it doesn’t fill up the small room. We share the bread and cheese, and finish the remainder of the water from the waterskin. He insists I have the larger share of our meager meal, disregarding all my protests. He has so much kindness in him, it's making my heart melt.“Don’t worry about it, Your Highness. You need to build your strength. The sooner you recover, the sooner you can leave.”He speaks the truth of course, simply putting into words what I have been thinking all along, but his words make me feel sad. He wants me gone. Of course he wants me gone, I scold myself. I would want me gone too, if the roles were reversed.“I’m sorry. I’ve imposed upon you without meaning you. I’m sure you’d rather be doing anything other than babysitting me. I’m so sorry, Aldrich,” I sniffle, tryin