Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, character names, nor anything pertaining to the X-Men universe. I profit in no way. Places are made up. Events and setting inspired by the book A Companion to Wolves written by Sarah Monette and Elizabeth Bear, and also my own fanfiction Wolves.
Warnings: Mpreg, M/M
Author's Note: Here it is. Happy reading!
Chapter 3
"Do you want to talk about it?" Alex asked Charles the next day. They, along with Sean and Raven were serving their time chopping wood for the fires. Charles hefted the axe again and swung, splitting a log in two.
"No, Alex, I don't want to talk about it," he huffed.
"I can smell him on you," Alex trudged on. "Charles, if he—"
Charles lodged the axe in the base stump with a growl. "He didn't, all right? Logan stopped him. I'm fine." He almost walked away then, but knew he did not really have anywhere he could go without running the risk of finding himself alone in Cain's grasp again. Aside from that Kayla would have his hide for shirking his duty. He sighed and turned back to his shield brother. Alex only meant well. He was an undeserving target for Charles' frustrations. "I am sorry, Alex," he said, returning to pry his axe out of the stump. "I just really don't want to talk about him."
Alex nodded finally after watching him closely for a moment. Of course—why discuss it when they both knew nothing could be done? Raven and Sean shared a worried glance between them before continuing their work.
Charles used to hate chopping wood. The action always seemed mindless and barbaric. Now, though, he was glad for the repetitive, rhythmic motion. He was feeling increasingly restless and irritable. His very flesh felt like it was crawling beneath his heated skin. He could sense the growing animosity amongst the dominant males in their pack—could feel their hunger amplifying through the pack sense. All were signs that his heat was very near. Gods, he couldn't believe this was happening to him.
A howl erupted in the distance and they all looked up.
"That's Hank, isn't it?" Raven asked, looking to where members of the pack were starting to gather at the main entrance to their village.
"Sounds like him," Alex said. "I think he and his shield brothers are patrolling today."
"What do you think it is?" She said, on the tip of her toes. All of them had stopped working.
Charles wiped the sweat from his brow, trying not to care. When Hank walked out of the trees with another man at his side, Charles turned away and hefted his axe again.
"Looks like Krafvlen's scout," Sean spoke up. Charles knew it was. The Krafvlen pack was due to arrive in the morning and the other packs very soon after that. He didn't care, or at least, tried to convince himself that he didn't.
"Mmm, he's handsome at least, Charles," Raven said, with a sorry attempt to lighten his mood.
Anger flared in his heart that his sister could say such a thing. As if it mattered who came. No one would be able to best Cain. Charles knew it, they all knew it. But he couldn't help but glance in the newcomer's direction, his curiosity piqued against his better judgment. The wolf speaking with his pack brothers was tall and slender. His hair was very light in color, and a strong chin displayed the scruff grown on his long journey. He was indeed handsome—a capable warrior, too, if the muscles of his arms were as strong as they looked. Charles remembered seeing the man briefly years ago at a wolfmoot, when all the packs had met together to renew good relations as was tradition. Charles had been much younger then and far more interested in meeting with all the wolves his own age than greeting and mingling with the warriors. This one had been one of those warriors, though fairly new to his stripes at the time. But Charles remembered those eyes watching him as he played with the younger wolves.
Almost as if sensing his regard the wolf looked over the gathered pack members and straight into Charles' soul. At least that's how Charles felt when that steely gray-green gaze hit him, searing him, leaving him feeling naked and vulnerable. Charles quickly wiped the sweat from his brow again to cover his insecurity, giving him an excuse to tear away from those eyes. Returning to his work he tried to ignore how he could feel the stranger's gaze penetrating his very flesh, tried to ignore the tension in his rigid shoulders and back until the Krafvlen scout was finally led away to meet their Alpha and partake of the pack's hospitality. Charles nearly collapsed with exhaustion when his muscles finally relaxed, the tension bleeding away leaving him limp and weak.
Raven looked at her brother with a knowing smile. "I like him," she said.
Charles scowled. "He is no different from any of them." He looked into the distance, into the thick forest surrounding their village, as if he could see them coming. The best, the strongest, the cruelest, the most arrogant that their brother packs had to offer were marching to Akkvar right that very moment. None of them cared for him; none of them wanted him, really. Charles was just the tool they needed to gain the power they craved. He imagined many of them would take one look at the size of Cain and decide neither Charles nor the position of Alpha was worth it.
Just as Charles was about return to his mindless task, Rogue came out of the Wolff Heallen and hurried over to them.
"Charles," she said. "Your father would like to speak with you."
Alex sent him a worried look. Charles sighed heavily. He knew this was coming. He and his father had not spoken much since the decision to offer Charles in a mating was made. He imagined his father wished to justify his decision.
He looked at his shield brothers.
"I will be right back. This won't take long."
Charles headed inside. One glance into the Heall told him his father, along with nearly all the dominant wolves of their pack had gathered to welcome the Krafvlen scout and hear what tales he brought with him across the ice lands. Kayla Silverfox, Moira, and the young wolves were all serving meat and ale to the nearly always hungry males. Charles met the eyes of his step-brother immediately. The cruel smirk on Cain's face made his skin crawl. The hulk of a man was sitting next to his father, knowing perfectly well that Charles would have to walk past him. On the other side of their Alpha sat the newcomer. Charles quickly avoided his gaze when the man looked up at his entrance.
Walking further into the Heall toward the long tables where the males were beginning to feast felt like walking into a den of sex and hormones. He could sense their physical desires and his own body's response. His blood heated and his body began to ache. By the time he reached his father he was panting for breath and struggling for the sake of his self-respect to stay under control. It was a task made nearly impossible as he could sense every set of eyes on him. A new scent filled his lungs and Charles nearly moaned out loud. The Krafvlen man's alluring scent was maddening. Sweat slid down the side of his face and he felt light-headed. His eyes were drawn to the dominant wolf against his will and Charles had the fleeting thought that the man was much more beautiful up close.
"Father," he practically gasped, ripping his eyes away from the newcomer, away from all of them to focus on the one wolf who did not desire him. He could feel the lust in Cain's eyes raking over his skin like a physical torment. Being so close to him more than any of the others nearly threw him into a panic.
"Please…you wanted to speak with me." Charles clenched his jaw and silently begged his father to take him away from them all.
"Charles, yes, of course," Brian Xavier stood and clapped a hand on his son's shoulder. "Charles, I would like to introduce you to our brother from the Krafvlen pack. This is Erik Lehnsherr," Charles' eyes widened, "son of Jakob Lehnsherr(1), the Krafvlen Alpha. He honors us with his presence."
Son and heir to an Alpha. Why in the gods' world would he travel to take part in a mating when he could challenge his own father for the right of Alpha? If Erik were the strongest in his pack he could even inherit the right of Alpha without any challengers once his father began to weaken with age. Heirs usually did not risk the increased danger of a mating when their rise to Alpha—being born and bred from the strongest wolf in the pack—was practically assured within their own pack.
"For all the tales we hear of Charles the Witch-cleaver, I'm surprised to find him," Erik pointedly looked him up and down, "rather small." Chuckles of laughter sounded around the table.
Charles' cheeks flushed. His usual hot-headedness would have had him striking the man with his own snarky insults, but this room was driving him mad. He needed out.
"The pleasure, of course, is mine," Charles said quickly, looking to his father again. "Father, please."
"Yes." Brian stood from the table and all who were gathered bowed their heads in deference. "I will only be a moment, brothers."
Charles had never felt such relief as when his father put an arm around his shoulders and led him away from the Heall and up the stairs into the Alpha's private living quarters. Once the heavy door closed behind him Charles felt he could breathe again.
For the first time in a very long time Charles found himself alone with his father. They did not dislike each other necessarily; they simply had very little in common. The strongest, most dominant male warrior in the pack did not know how to treat his uke son when he was born. When Charles did not express much interest in his training, Brian felt the last thread that kept them together as father and son had been severed. This was why the night when Charles slayed the trellwitch to save himself and his mother had reawakened Brian's pride as a father. They hoped their relationship would grow from that undeniable bond between warriors. But by then Charles was old enough for dominant wolves to begin expressing their interest and Brian yet again found himself in a realm of the unknown. It was difficult to talk when the two did not understand each other at all and were too prideful to try.
Brian turned and looked at his son. "Charles," he paused. "We have not had a chance to speak since all of this ugly business began." Brian sighed and turned away sinking down into a chair with a weariness Charles did not know his father bore. "I can only hope one day you will forgive me."
"Father," Charles began, but the Alpha held up a hand.
"I never asked you what you thought—how you felt about all this. But," he put a hand over his heart, his face pained. "Your sister…"
"There is no need," Charles interrupted. The thought of his dear twin sister being offered up was unthinkable. "You made the only choice you could. There is nothing to forgive." As much as Charles hated the position he was in, he would never give up his sister to save himself. Knowing that with all his heart made it impossible to hate his father, even knowing Cain would be the one to win him.
Brian looked on his son with a new pride in his eyes. It seemed there was something they could see eye to eye on, and though it did not erase all the bitterness or quench the fear, Charles felt he finally had his father's respect.
Endnotes:
According to the comic book fiction, Erik Lehnsherr was actually born Max Eisenhardt. His father's name was Jakob Eisenhardt
