Post by Cole on Nov 12, 2006 20:14:08 GMT
Just posted this on my ficlet LJ, but I figured it belonged here too. This is something I've had in my head for a couple of days, and I wanted to get it out of my system, heh...
* * * * * * * *
By the middle of the seventeenth century, the pack had settled into an old manor house nestled in the trees on the outskirts of France. In essence, they were retracing their steps, as if working back through old territories they had ruled over, which, in turn, caused old problems to arise in new, dangerous ways. The world was changing, the landscape was shifting with each new decade, and the people… they changed just as much as the land they lived in.
The pack’s home was private and hidden deep enough in the trees to be a mystery to anyone who didn’t know of its existence, leaving the werewolves to live peacefully. But that peace hadn’t lasted, and their old territory was no longer as secure as it had been during their last stay. Since they had relocated, and returned, other lycanthropes had been moving in, to stake a claim on the land that had once belonged to a single group, large enough to defend it with ease, and keep others at bay. But now… now, their numbers were fluctuating, and their safety wasn’t as guaranteed as it had once been,
And Cole Stanton was starting to understand why.
He had had his doubts for a number of years now, since the untimely deaths of his parents; an event which had led to his rise to Beta male of the pack. His mate at his side, he had kept his concerns to himself, sharing them with only a small number of close, trusted friends. Oh, he trusted the entire pack, as any wolf would, but… he wasn’t sure how deep the troubles went, and how far they had spread through the ranks. How bad was it, really? He’d seen the signs, and kept note of them in his head, but it was only a matter of time before he said something… anything, to get it off his chest, and stop it weighing on his mind. It wasn’t good for the pack, and it certainly wasn’t doing them any favours when it came to security. They had already risked too much.
“Cole, wait…”
He didn’t stop. He listened, but kept going, angling his head to the side just enough to show Dia Mantenega that he had heard her; wasn’t ignoring her. The stench was heavy around them as they moved, a limping, battered unit that had left the manor strong and intact. Now they were fractured, and they had returned two members weaker than when they had left. The loss was like a lump in Cole’s throat; one that he couldn’t swallow. As Beta male, they had been his responsibility, and as the oldest fighter the pack possessed, outside of their leader, he had been in command of the unit.
The door banged open as he shoved against it, leaving a smeared print behind, the sticky red staining the wood. Members of the pack had emerged from their rooms when the fighters had returned, attracted by the smell, and the sounds of their arrival. They followed cautiously behind the group, muttering amongst themselves as they arrived in the main hall of the manor, where the Alphas often lingered while not in their private room.
There sat Gareth Van Tyle, with his mate and fellow Alpha, Alswytha, by his side. The old male was sat on a chair, and as Cole approached, Dia coming up on his left as if ready to grab him, he pictured the Alpha in a throne. It was all he could do to swallow a growl. Gareth’s eyes turned from Alswytha, his hand leaving her hair, and he looked down at the bloody group of fighters. After a heavy, tense pause, he asked, his voice reaching to the corners of the room in a strange echo, “Is it done?”
Another growl caught in Cole’s throat. When had the Alpha lost his concern for the fighters’ well-being? Could he see how badly they had fared? He paused for a minute, staring right at the dominant male, almost wanting to challenge him right then and there… but in his current condition, he knew he would lose. He’d taken his share of damage in the battle. A voice in his head told him it was the heat of combat making him so irritable, and that he should just sleep on it… again…
How many times had he told himself that over the years?
“Cole?”
Green-hazel eyes that wavered amber for only a heartbeat rose, and as a rivulet of blood trickled down his face, he reached around under his cloak, pulling free the one item that he knew would satisfy his Alpha. Pulling it loose, he tossed the customised, vicious dagger to the ground in front of Gareth’s ‘throne’, hearing several of the pack step back suddenly with the deafening clang that reverberated around the hall. The blade skittered, bloodstained and gore-encrusted, coming to a halt not far from the three steps that led up to the Alpha’s favourite seat.
I should have thrown it at his head, Cole thought darkly as Gareth looked down at the blade. Again, he swallowed that cynicism, and waited.
Gareth glanced to Alswytha, who was staring down at the blade, before he rose, and stepped down to retrieve it. In one hand, he took up the weapon. “Their Alpha was fighting?”
Steadying his voice, Cole answered, knowing it was his place as the fighters’ leader, “To his last breath.” And Cole had used the bastard’s own blade to cut that breath short. He met Gareth’s gaze with a firm one of his own. “And we lost two of our own in the battle.”
The pack’s leader was quiet. Again, he looked back at Alswytha, perhaps unwittingly breaking eye-contact with Cole. The wolf in the Beta male rebelled, telling him to leap and fight… but he pushed it down, into silence. Now was not the time.
“But they were all eliminated?”
A growl from somewhere behind him almost made Cole cast off his hesitation, but he fought to keep control. “Yes,” he ground out, covering the anger with a legitimate, pained wince. Dia stepped closer, holding her tongue, but her eyes blazed, even if they weren’t angled towards the Alphas.
As usual, Alswytha remained silent, blindly obedient to her mate. Cole wondered what had happened to the powerful, compassionate female he remembered…
“Their fighting rank, and their Alpha… against our two.” Gareth angled the blade, and then looked back at Cole. “A painful loss to the pack… but a small price to pay for the destruction of our enemy.” Before anyone could shout out their protests, Gareth added in a near-bellow of an announcement, “And our territory is secure once again.” Alswytha’s gaze rose up to her mate’s face. The light from the blade caught across Gareth’s features in a way that made the Beta male growl to himself.
“And who will tell Bryan’s mother?” he heard himself ask. Gareth’s eyes lowered, and Cole saw in them an animal that was not truly caged… the wolf glowed in the gaze as surely as if the Alpha male was about to change. Still, he didn’t flinch back. He held firm, even with the blood that stained his shirt, and seeped out of his right side. The gash had cut deep under his ribcage, leaving him in agony with each step and breath he took, but his job wasn’t done yet. He couldn’t give in right now.
After another long delay, a voice from Cole’s right spoke, soft, but not fearful… she simply sounded hesitant of Gareth, as if she was interrupting the Alpha’s wishes. “I will.”
Gareth looked down at Heidi Fischer, lifting one brow, not coldly but instead curiously. The blonde female was still new to the pack, all things considered, but he seemed almost amused by her willingness to step forward and accept the task. Cole kept silent, wondering if Gareth would deny her offer, and allocate the task as he would have originally. The Beta male had seen the Alpha’s gaze, knowing what the answer would have been if Heidi hadn’t stepped up.
“Very well.” Gareth looked down at Heidi as he responded. “Tell her we are sorry for her loss, but that her son died protecting our home. He will be remembered.”
Cole doubted that. He stared up at the Alphas, catching Alswytha’s attention for a moment. They locked gazes, and he saw her wolfen white flash for a moment, almost as if she were reading his mind… knew he doubted them… doubted Gareth.
Let her tell him, then, Cole thought, wavering slightly on his feet, and feeling Dia’s hand land in his back to steady him.
“You are all injured,” Gareth finally said, as if this was news to the fighters. “Go and rest; tend to your wounds.” He might as well have simply said ‘you are dismissed’, Cole mused darkly. He had heard no lingering concern, or compassion… did their Alpha truly not care about them? Or had the combat really affected his own mind so much, that he couldn’t recognise such things?
As they all turned, leaving the room, Cole tried to push it from his mind, laying a hand under the fold in his cloak to cover the vicious wound. Dia walked alongside him, sporting her own injuries. He wanted to check she was all right before he let her tend to him, but he knew she wouldn’t accept that… and he had enough experience with her temper to know it was practically pointless to try.
Heidi walked to his other side. “Who else did we lose?” she asked in a low, worried tone.
“Wilhelm,” Dia told her, when Cole didn’t speak. The blonde female nodded wearily and sadly, opening the door to their room for them, so they could step in.
Before she could leave, Cole turned to her; “Thank you.” There was a pause. “For—”
“I know what for,” Heidi said to him gently. “It is the least I can do.” With that, she walked away, her footsteps seeming almost weighed down by melancholy. The Betas watched her leave, and then stepped into their room. Dia shut the door, and then helped Cole to the edge of the bed. Before he’d even sat down, Cole unleashed the growl that had been building in his chest since he’d seen the Alpha in that hall, his eyes flashing intensely as his hair became increasingly wild. Only when Dia’s hands went to either side of his bloodied face did the wolf calm, and sink again. His eyes closed, and he let out a deep, shaking breath. His head bowed forward, his brow touching to Dia’s as she stroked her hands back through her mate’s dishevelled hair. Cole swallowed the foul taste in his mouth.
“We might as well have lost,” he murmured in exhaustion, only now starting to feel every ache and burn from his various wounds. The shirt that had once been white was now red and sickly brown from blood and gore, and he had failed to catalogue all of his wounds. They had paid more than a heavy price… Cole hated Gareth for seeming so indifferent.
“Ssh…” Dia soothed, but he heard the anger and sadness in her own voice. “He suffers the loss like the rest of us,” she continued, but Cole doubted she believed her own words. “He just… refuses to show it.” She sighed, pressing her lips to Cole’s in a brief kiss. “But you’re wounded… put it out of your mind.”
“I can’t…” His right knee buckled. Dia caught him as easily as she would have caught a pup, under the arms, before lowering him to the ground carefully. Cole’s head rocked back against the bed, and he pulled in a deep breath as Dia unfastened her mate’s cloak, peeling it away from the wound that was weakening him. She cursed, her words no longer English, and he tried to smile at the slip, managing only the briefest of smirks, before the pain overwhelmed it.
As Dia tended to the wounds, one by one, ignoring her own, Cole ran his mind back over the years, reliving each mistake their Alpha male had made.
Just one more, he promised himself. One more mistake like this… and I’ll end it myself…
~fin~