DISCLAIMER: Hetalia: Axis Powers Hidekaz Himaruya

THE CALL OF THE WILD

LOST BOYS


ONE

THE ISLES

ONE WEEK AGO

Alfred stretched his arms overhead and yawned deeply, feeling as he always did after a Heat, exhausted and sluggish. I need a bath, he thought, absently re-buttoning his loose wool shirt. A button near his pectoral was gone, leaving a noticeable gap—immodest, his Omega-father chastised—but Alfred couldn't be bothered to fix it. Sewing was not his talent. If he asked nicely, Matthew would fix it for him, and hopefully he would do it before he went into Heat.

Alfred's Heat always came a week before Matthew's, which made Matthew's Heats easier to anticipate, but Matthew had been having Heats for almost a year longer than Alfred. Matthew had gotten his first Heat at thirteen-years-old, like their Omega-father had, but Alfred hadn't gotten his first Heat until he was almost of-age, which was late. At fifteen-years-old, Alfred was already taller and physically wider than the average Omega. He had inherited his Alpha-relatives' formidable size, which his uncles praised for strength, but which Alfred was secretly self-conscious of. As a young pup, he had indulged in the praise of his family, feeling superior to his smaller, weaker brother. He had taken pride in his accomplishments, reveling in the fact that he was more athletic than Matthew; braver and bolder, too. Unlike his timid twin brother, Alfred had begged his uncles to teach him Alpha skills so that he might work at something more interesting than needlepoint. He had learnt fishing and hunting; archery and hand-to-hand combat; stalking and tracking, even though his Omega nose was not as keen as an Alpha's. The only thing he hadn't learnt was craftsmanship. (It took too long and was way too sedentary for his liking.) Alfred had always been a fast learner when he enjoyed the subject, and he loved to show-off. More than anything, he loved seeing his Alpha-father's proud smile. His Omega-father had always been less enthused:

"Alfred is an Omega, not an Alpha," he argued, glaring at his Alpha-mate and four Alpha-brothers. "We don't need another bloody Alpha in this family!"

Despite his attempts to engage Alfred in domestic arts, however, the Omega-pup was helpless. He didn't want to learn how to sew and cook; he didn't want to tend a garden; or spin wool; or wait on his Alpha-relatives like a serf. He hated studying botany and biology texts. In truth, he barely saw the use in learning to read at all. He found it all exceptionally boring. And it was very discouraging to find himself inferior to Matthew for once, who was as obedient an apprentice as their Omega-father could hope for. ("Why can't you be more like Matthew?" he would say to Alfred, unaware of how his comment hurt Alfred's self-esteem.)

Be more like Matthew.

Matthew, who was meek and mild-mannered—skittish, Alfred thought—and never got underfoot. Matthew, who always did as he was told without hesitance or variation. Matthew, who had been spoiled by his Alpha-relatives since birth. Matthew, who was adept at playing the role that society had designated for him. Matthew, whom the pack's Alphas all adored.

Alfred had always been his brother's protector, shielding Matthew from the unruly Alpha-pups, who had liked to play mean tricks on the pack's Omega-pups. But as they aged, Alfred started to realize that those same joking Alpha-pups were no longer interested in toying with Matthew; rather, they had started vying for Matthew's attention. A few had even brazenly expressed their intentions directly to Alfred's face:

"Your brother is the most beautiful and perfect Omega in the pack, Al. I want him to be my mate when we're older."

Alfred couldn't deny Matthew's beauty, but nor could he deny that he had felt slighted by his Alpha friends' complete disregard for the fact that he, too, was an Omega.

"Why not me?" he had asked, to which they had all laughed.

"Come on, Al, really—? You're, like, practically one of the Alphas. You're our friend," they said, intending it as a compliment, but it had only made Alfred feel undesirable.

As Alfred walked from the storehouse back to the family's house, he spotted his brother in the vegetable garden. Since the Alpha-pups had started favouring Matthew, Alfred had been secretly jealous of his twin brother's good-looks. Matthew looked like an Omega should. He was quite tall, yes, but willowy. He had inherited the artistic features—long eyelashes, plump red lips, and soft curls—of their Alpha-father's bloodline; and if his delicate limbs, slender waist, and wide, pup-bearing hips weren't enticing enough, Matthew had a very pretty face. His best feature, in Alfred's opinion, was his eyes. Matthew had big violet eyes, a hue that rivaled spring flowers for vibrancy. Alfred had never met anyone with violet eyes before. It was just another thing that made Matthew special. Alfred had inherited his Alpha-father's blue eyes, and, despite his Omega-father's preference for them—"I'm so glad you got your Papa's beautiful eyes," he often said—Alfred hoped that his pups would inherit Matthew's eye-colour, not his own.

If I ever have pups, he thought, feeling sulky. If I ever find an Alpha-mate.

Alfred eyed the yellow daffodil crowning a pile of carrots beside Matthew, no doubt a gift from an infatuated Alpha. Alfred had never received more than a high-five from his Alpha friends, certainly never a gift from a suitor.

Sometimes, he really hated Matthew.

Then Matthew looked up and saw Alfred approaching, and he disregarded the daffodil and a happy smile shaped his lovely lips. And Alfred's envy fled, replaced by undeniable affection. He loved Matthew very, very much. They were more than twin brothers; they were best friends. Alfred's insecurities weren't Matthew's fault, after all. In fact, most days Matthew was completely oblivious to his own appeal. He had never done anything to intentionally hurt Alfred (or anyone else). His view of the world was exactly what the overprotective Kirkland family had crafted it to be. I'm sorry, Mattie, Alfred apologized in secret. He would never wish ill upon his brother. He was Matthew's protector. Now that they were fifteen-years-old, of-age by clan-law, they needed to rely on each other now more than ever, especially with hungry (horny) Alphas sniffing about. Omegas, Alfred thought, should stick together.

"Al," Matthew greeted, smiling, "how are you feeling?"

Alfred shrugged. "Tired," he said.

"You've got something on your cheek." Without asking, Matthew licked the edge of a linen handkerchief and wiped Alfred's face.

"Ach—! Stop it!" Alfred protested, trying to dodge. "Stop mothering me!"

"Hold still," Matthew disregarded, scrubbing at Alfred's cheek. "Do you really want to go walking around with Heat-slick on your face?"

Reddening, Alfred conceded. "I need a bath," he mumbled.

"I'll heat the kettle for you," Matthew offered, leading Alfred toward the house. "Are you hungry?"

"No," Alfred lied. I'm not hungry, I'm starving.

"Al." Matthew's face twisted pitifully. If he wasn't so fragile, Alfred would have hit him. "You've been in Heat for four days, you've got to eat something to recover your strength."

"Mattie, I'm really not hungry," Alfred insisted.

The truth was, Alfred had started to limit his food intake at each meal in an attempt to lose weight. He was afraid of growing any bigger. He was already as tall or taller than most Alphas; he didn't want to be bigger than them, too. If he starved himself, just a little bit, then maybe he could slim down to a regular Omega size, like Matthew. The last thing Alfred wanted was to recover his strength. Sure, he constantly felt kind of sick and dizzy, but by now he had gotten used to the uncomfortable feeling of always being hungry.

As a change of topic, he pointed to the daffodil. "Who's that from?"

Matthew glanced at it, then tensed. "Oh, uh... Alec Frazier," he said sheepishly.

Alfred felt suddenly as if Matthew had punched him. He felt hollow; not so hungry anymore. Alec Frazier had been Alfred's best hunting-partner since they were pups, and Alfred had had a crush on the Alpha for nearly as long.

"Oh," he said anticlimactically.

"He asked if I would go with him to the Hunter's Moon Festival. I said no," Matthew added quickly, sounding guilty. Matthew knew how much Alfred liked Alec, because, like Francis, the blue-eyed pup had never been good at hiding his feelings.

Alfred swallowed. "I need a bath," he repeated. Then he stalked inside.


Alfred was glaring at his half-naked reflection in the copper looking-glass, trying to reshape his figure by force, when his Omega-father walked in.

"Alfred," said Arthur, frowning suspiciously. "What are you doing?"

Alfred faced his Omega-father, trying to blink the tears from his eyes, but Arthur saw. There was no point lying after that. "Alec asked Mattie to the Hunter's Moon Festival," he said dejectedly.

Arthur's critical look morphed into sympathy. "Oh, I'm sorry, love."

As soon as his Omega-father's skinny arms wrapped around Alfred, he broke down. Arthur was the only person whom Alfred cried in front of, trusting his Omega-father's discretion. He led Alfred to the bed, where they sat. (The mattress sunk beneath his weight, Alfred noted unhappily.) He clutched Arthur tightly, seeking comfort as he buried his face in an olive-green shift that smelled like wool and lye.

"What's wrong with me?" he asked in self-pity. "Why am I like this?"

"Alfred," said Arthur sternly. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with you."

"Then why doesn't anyone want me?"

"Everyone loves you—"

"But nobody wants me," Alfred emphasized. He straightened, daring his Omega-father to disagree with him. "Everyone wants Mattie."

"You can't blame your brother—" Arthur started, but Alfred interrupted.

"Just once, could you take my side?" he snapped brashly. "Just once, could you forget how fucking perfect Mattie is and tell me that I'm just as good an Omega as him?"

Arthur was taken aback by Alfred's sudden aggression, and floundered. "Alfred, you know how proud I am of you, but you and Matthew are very different—"

Alfred snorted humourlessly and rolled his eyes. Abruptly, he stood. "Forget it."


Matthew took the yellow daffodil and chucked it out. He hadn't wanted to accept it, knowing exactly how Alfred would feel about it, but even though Matthew had rejected Alec's invitation, the young Alpha had insisted that he keep the flower as a gift. I don't want any more gifts! he thought, feeling ungrateful; then guilty. He hated rejecting the clan's Alphas, whom he had known since birth, and who always looked so crestfallen when Matthew refused their advances. But neither did he want to accept any of them. The thought of being alone with an Alpha whom he wasn't related to scared him. (Matthew had inherited Arthur's genetic affliction of panic-attacks.) His family might have thought him endearingly naive about it all, but Matthew knew what it was Alphas did to Omegas when they were alone.

That's not going to be me, he had decided long ago. He and his brother had been born from a Heat-induced union. If it could happen to their tough-fibred Omega-father, who had been guarded by four Alpha-brothers, what chance did shy, weak-willed Matthew have against an Alpha's desire?

Matthew wished that he was more like Alfred. No one would dare try to take advantage of Alfred like they constantly did Matthew. Alfred's size and self-confidence was intimidating. He wasn't an Omega the Alphas could order around or bully. It helped, of course, that Alfred was friends with most of the pack's Alphas, having spent his childhood playing together and learning with them. The Alphas respected Alfred in a way they respected no other Omega, and because of it they genuinely cared for him. He was more than just breeding-stock to them; he was their friend.

Matthew wished that he had the self-confidence to interact with the Alphas like Alfred did. It always looked like fun, but Matthew had been omitted from their games. He was too delicate, they said. He wasn't strong enough or fast enough to play with them. His Omega-ness would only slow them down. He might get hurt. His weakness was an opinion that his overprotective family stressed, as well. It wasn't that Matthew particularly wanted to learn Alpha skills like Alfred did, but it would have been nice to be invited at least. He hated being left behind every time his Alpha-father and uncles took Alfred on a long hunting or fishing trip, because they didn't think Matthew capable of keeping up. That's fine, he would think bitterly, watching them all leave, I'll just stay here and do laundry then. But he couldn't complain about it, not when they smiled and brought him gifts upon their return. Besides, with Alfred playing Alpha, their Omega-father needed Matthew to be an Omega. It was tough living in a house with five Alphas, who couldn't take care of themselves. His Alpha-relatives relied on Arthur and Matthew to be the Omegas of the house; otherwise, nothing would ever get done. Matthew had realized early that if he rebelled like Alfred always did, then Arthur would be stuck doing everything alone. It wouldn't have been fair. Arthur was right: the Kirkland family didn't need another Alpha, they needed Matthew. So Matthew had resolved to be exactly what they needed; what they wanted.

I'll balance Al, Matthew had thought. He would let Alfred choose freely what he wanted to be, and then fulfil whatever it was his brother lacked. It meant letting Alfred always choose, but it was easier than the alternative of trying to change Alfred. It wasn't fair, but it was necessary, and Matthew had resigned himself to it long ago.

Whatever he decides to be, I'll be the opposite.

If Alfred learnt to be a hunter, then Matthew learnt to be a homemaker. If Alfred learnt to be a defender, then Matthew learnt to be a caretaker. If Alfred learnt the feeling of pain, then Matthew learnt how to nurse it. If Alfred was loud and boisterous, Matthew was quiet and submissive. His family didn't need two rebels. His Omega-father would have a stroke if he had to deal with two unruly Omega-pups, and his Alpha-father would be heartbroken if he had no one to coddle and spoil. But most importantly—

If Alfred was brave, then Matthew wouldn't have to be.

Matthew heard his Alpha-father's rhythmic footsteps at a distance before he entered the common-room. His ears were exceptionally sensitive, even for an Omega.

"Bonjour, Mathieu, chéri," said Francis cheerfully.

"Bonjour, Papa," Matthew replied. (He had learnt French because Francis had wanted them to, but Alfred had given up fast. He disliked studying, so Matthew had studied harder to compensate and please his Alpha-father.)

"Such sad eyes today," Francis noted. Gently, he lifted Matthew's chin and smiled in encouragement. "Smile for Papa, chéri. You look so beautiful when you smile."

Matthew had felt like smiling less-and-less lately, but he forced it.

"Ah! So lovely!" Francis kissed Matthew's pale-blonde head, then moved on.

Matthew saw his reflection in a copper cook-pot and cocked his head. He showed himself the same smile that pleased his family, but it looked false to his eyes. What is it about me that's so appealing? he wondered skeptically, turning his head from side-to-side. Compared to his brother, who was beautifully vibrant, Matthew looked leeched of colour. I look like a paler, shorter, weaker version of Al. Matthew knew that he possessed a desirable figure for pup-bearing: soft and supple with wide hips. He knew that he was exactly what society expected an Omega to look like; or rather, what society wanted an Omega to look like—which was physically weaker than an Alpha. I'm nothing special, Matthew thought, omitting the rarity of his eye-colour. In his opinion, Alfred was the exceptional Omega; Alfred was the one who looked like something exotic. There was something majestic about Alfred, like a lion, proud and fearsome and stunning to look upon. He was tall and lean and he could move his lithe body in a way that whispered of a secret strength. The Alpha who pair-bonded with Alfred would be very lucky, indeed. Not only would he get an Omega who actually wanted to be his friend, but an Omega whose beauty outshone everyone else's.

Why the hell—when Alfred was right there in front of them, looking like sunshine—would anyone want me?

Alfred looked warm; Matthew looked cold. Alfred's body was languid; Matthew was usually tense. Alfred was confident; Matthew was self-conscious. Alfred was healthy; no doubt, he could bear pups. Matthew looked faint, and was secretly terrified of letting an Alpha touch him, let alone mate him. Alfred was brave. Matthew was not.

I wish I was brave, he thought, staring out the window at a world beyond his reach.

He was still there when his uncles paraded loudly into the house. "Mattie, honey, you here—?" called Scott. "We're fucking starving! Make us something to eat—?"

Matthew glanced back at his pale reflection. He plastered that false smile to his lips, and called: "Of course! I'll be right there!"


That night, Scott called a meeting the Omegas were not privy to. "Al, Mattie," he said. Matthew was offering Owen a plate of shortbread, but paused. Scott gestured for his violet-eyed nephew. He took a handful of the biscuits and then patted Matthew's soft head. "Off to bed," he ordered, jutting his chin in the direction of the twins' shared room. Alfred wanted to protest; Matthew could see it on his face, but wisely he obeyed the family head. Together, the twins left the common-room, passing their parents on the way out. Francis smiled and kissed them, but Arthur's demeanor was anxious. He barely managed an absent, "goodnight, loves," before he followed Francis into the common-room. Alfred and Matthew were halfway up the stairs when they heard Scott's voice:

"Out, freckle-face. This is Alpha business."

"If it involves my pups then it is very much my business," Arthur retorted.

Alfred and Matthew exchanged a glance, their curiosities peaked. Silently, they climbed up the steep wooden staircase that led to the second-level of the house—the pack-leader's large house; it was the only two-level residential structure in their territory—but instead of entering their own bedchamber, they snuck into Liam and Patrick's, which was located directly above the common-room. At the foot of Liam's bed, Alfred had long ago discovered a hole in the floorboard big enough to spy on the room below. Quietly, they sat down. (Omegas could move very quietly when they wanted to.) Alfred leant down to see better, but Matthew stayed statuesque, letting his ears create the picture for him.

"—it involves our upcoming journey to the Mainland," Scott was saying.

Matthew wasn't at all surprised. He had been helping Scott and Francis prepare for the journey for weeks; so had Arthur. The Alphas had needed several articles of clothing dyed, altered, and embroidered. Alfred hadn't been recruited, because his hands couldn't be trusted with such delicate work, nor could his patience. Matthew's job was to do the laundering and sewing while Arthur spent long, tedious hours finely stitching a colourful crest to each item. As the Clan Leader's official envoys, Scott and Francis—the pack-leader and second-in-command—had been ordered to wear the crest as a representation of the clan while visiting the Mainland. Alfred and Matthew weren't supposed to know why Scott and Francis were travelling, specifically the Low Countries, but Francis had volunteered Matthew to help him translate some documents one night, which turned out to be trade agreements. It was delicate information, Francis said.

"The Clan Leader wants a free-trade treaty with a clan on the Mainland," he had explained. "He wants Scott and I to broker it, but nobody else knows about it. Nothing has been confirmed yet. The last thing we want is for the other clans to get word of what we're trying to do and offer the Low-Landers a better deal. That's why it has to be kept quiet, Mathieu. Don't tell anyone, s'il vous plâit."

Matthew had promised to keep the diplomatic trip within the family, which technically gave him liberty to tell Alfred.

Alfred had been excited upon hearing the news, and Matthew had had to make him swear not to brag to his friends. "Do you think Papa will bring us back presents from the Mainland?" he hoped.

As long as Papa and Scott come back from the Mainland, I don't care, Matthew had thought.

As far as the Islanders were concerned, the continent across the Channel was a place better avoided. Only a handful of pack-members were mated to Mainlanders, Arthur included; the rest pretended it didn't exist. (The North, of course, was a different story. Reports of Northern invaders were becoming more and more frequent, and had been since Alfred and Matthew's birth.) Arthur called the Mainland dangerous, and, despite his birth-right, Francis didn't disagree. Their Alpha-father had been chased away from his homeland when he was only fifteen-years-old, which, incidentally, was how he had come to be on the Isles in the first place. But despite his having had a happy childhood, Francis preferred not to talk about his former affiliations. Matthew realized that asking about it drudged-up hurtful memories for his Alpha-father, so he stopped asking. Because of that, everything that he and Alfred knew about the Mainland was poisoned by rumour and Islander prejudice.

There were really only two things that Matthew knew for certain:

First, that the Mainland was a vast continent, which stretched farther across the world than anyone had ever been, and that the tens of thousands of clans who lived there had unified long ago into three distinct Empires.

And second, that those three Empires were constantly at war.

But the clans of the Low Countries lived individually from the Empires—for now. And it was there that Scott and Francis were journeying.

They'll be perfectly safe, Matthew thought. They were the pack-leader and the second-in-command, after all, positions requiring no small degree of capability. In two days, the duo would board a ship to the Low Countries, where they would broker a free-trade agreement; then, business concluded, they would return. The whole journey was not supposed to take more than a fortnight. There's nothing to worry about, Matthew knew. Owen would be left in charge as acting-leader of the pack and of the Kirkland family. And if he wasn't enough, Liam and Patrick had become two of the fiercest and most reputable fighters in the whole clan. The Kirkland Omegas would be well taken care of in their Alpha's stead.

I shouldn't fret. I'm not even supposed to know about it, Matthew reminded himself. And it doesn't have anything to do with me—

"I want to take Al and Mattie with us," said Scott.

Matthew's stomach dropped. His initial reaction was shock, closely followed by fear. Quickly he pressed his hand to Alfred's mouth, silencing his brother's gasp. Alfred's eyes looked like bejeweled saucers. He stared at Matthew in disbelief. His face harboured an element of excitement that Matthew did not share. Tactfully, he lifted a finger to his lips to indicate silence. He didn't want to miss the exchange that followed:

"You what?" Arthur yelled. He sounded just as scared as Matthew felt, but angrier. "Alfred and Matthew are not going to the Mainland!" he proclaimed sternly.

"Chéri," said Francis beseechingly, "Scott and I have already agreed that it's in everyone's best interest to bring the pups with us—"

"No, you can't!" Arthur refused.

"Sit down, freckle-face," said Scott. "The pups are of-age now, and—"

"That's exactly why they shouldn't go!" Arthur argued, ignoring Scott's order. "Alfred and Matthew have only just turned fifteen! They should be going to the Stones to find mates, not across the bloody Channel!"

"Sit down!" Scott barked.

Arthur flinched; so did Matthew. He leant forward to peer through the hole. He saw Liam and Patrick share a weary look. He saw Owen purse his lips, keeping quiet. He saw Scott's cheeks flush, holding back his temper. He saw Francis rise in concern for his Omega-mate. He saw Arthur standing in a circle of firelight surrounded by the Alphas, refusing to comply. He looked distraught, but determined. Matthew didn't know many Omegas intimately—he didn't really know anyone intimately, to be honest—but his Omega-father was one of the bravest people on the Isles. Arthur might have been outnumbered by Alphas who were bigger and stronger than he; he might have been frightened, but it didn't matter, because Arthur Kirkland didn't abandon his arguments. It was something that his violet-eyed pup had always admired about him. It was something that Alfred had inherited, his stubbornness. (It was why Alfred and Arthur didn't always get along. They both had such bold personalities.) Matthew watched his Omega-father engage in a stare-down with Scott, whose equally-green gaze glared at his younger brother in threat. Matthew felt the force of that glare, even though it was not directed at him. Matthew loved Scott, and he knew that Scott would never hurt him, but even so the timid Omega couldn't imagine ever disobeying the family head, the pack-leader. Even though Arthur eventually did lower his gaze in compliance, he had lasted much longer than any Omega, or many Alphas, could have.

It was then that Arthur changed his tactic and glanced helplessly at Francis, who extended his hand. It was a subtle order—come here, Arthur—but Arthur accepted and sat down beside him, squeezing the Alpha's hand between his own. The plea in his eyes seemed to say: Please, Francis, don't let Scott take our pups!

Though Matthew admired his Omega-father's tenacity, seeing fear in Arthur's eyes scared him.

His attention flickered nervously to Alfred, who was watching the exchange hungrily.

"It's okay, chéri," Francis said softly, kissing Arthur's temple. His sinuous voice had a calming effect, like the smooth flow of undisturbed water. Matthew felt it instantly and took comfort in his Alpha-father's words.

Scott, having diluted his—rather explosive—temper, said: "Art," regaining the attention of everyone present. He eyed his Omega-brother carefully, and diplomatically said:

"It's because Al and Mattie are of-age now that I want them to come with us to the Low Countries. The Clan Leader's hope for a free-trade agreement with the Low-Landers is not a simple thing," he explained. "If Francis and I can broker a deal with their leader then the benefits will be invaluable to our clan. It could change our whole way of life. It'll mean not endangering dozens of pack-members every year on long hunting trips. It'll mean not starving to death if we can't store enough food, or if the crops fail, or are burnt, or are stolen. It'll mean a profit for the goods we sell, not only for us but for the Low-Landers, too. Francis and I have spent the past six months working on a contract; this visit is the pivotal point. If their leader rejects our contract, we won't get a second chance. There will be dozens of other clans who can afford to offer the Low-Landers a better deal than we can. That's why we have to make our first offer the best possible offer. We need to offer their leader something he can't refuse."

"I understand all that," Arthur allowed. He sounded testy. "What I don't understand is what you need Alfred and Matthew for."

Scott hesitated.

Delicately, Francis said: "The Clan Leader of the Low Countries has an Alpha-pup who just turned nineteen and he's not yet pair-bonded."

Matthew saw his own disbelief mirrored on Arthur's face. It took Alfred a moment to comprehend, but when he did, Matthew felt him exhale a curse. As a precaution, Matthew pressed his hand tighter to Alfred's lips.

Arthur's eyes widened, staring at Francis as if seeing him anew. Suddenly, he wrenched his hands free from the Alpha's grasp and stood, glaring between his mate and four brothers despite Scott's blatant disapproval. "You're talking about selling my pups!" he accused them, his fire rekindled. He stared dangerously at Francis, shocked at his Alpha-mate's gall. Matthew had never seen him glare at Francis so openly before. The Omega's eyes blazed with a green spitfire that neither of his pups had inherited.

"Arthur, no." Francis stood too, but Arthur stepped back, avoiding his touch. "We're not selling them. Do you really think I would even consider involving Alfred and Mathieu if it wasn't the best possible option for everyone?" Earnestly, he said: "I love them, Arthur. You know I love them more than anything in the world, which is why I want only the best for them. This contract—" Arthur grimaced; Francis started over, changing his word-choice. "Scott and I aren't trying to sell the pups, we're trying to negotiate a very, very good match for one of them."

Scott nodded in agreement. He said:

"Don't make the mistake of thinking you're the only one who loves Al and Mattie, Art. They're my kin, too. They're my only heirs, remember? They're the closest thing I've got to pups of my own," he admitted, showing a pinch of vulnerability. "Do you really think I'd let an Alpha touch either one of them unless I knew for certain that they were going to be taken care of? And they will be," he continued, before Arthur could interrupt. "The Low-Landers are very wealthy, and the leader is a good Alpha. I haven't met his pup, but I've been promised good things; I've heard good things. The pup will inherit his Alpha-father's position someday, the highest position in the whole clan. You urged me once to make the clan-whelp here"—he jutted his chin at Francis—"my second-in-command because he had been bred to rule; because he had been given the best of everything, remember? Well, this Low-Lander pup is the same. He's already an accomplished Alpha. He has everything he could want, except an Omega-mate. That's why I need Al and Mattie," he said bluntly. "I—we," he included Francis, "are going to give him the choice between the two of them in exchange for signing the treaty. Whichever pup he chooses, Al or Mattie, will be well provided for. He'll live in luxury compared to this. It's a good match. And it's necessary, Art. If the Low-Lander chooses one of them to pair-bond with, then the treaty gets signed and everybody wins."

"Except that Alfred or Matthew, whichever one he chooses," Arthur mocked Scott's tone, "will have to stay on the Mainland. He'll have to live in a foreign clan with a stranger for a mate, knowing that his uncle, his Papa," he spat angrily at Francis, "sold him for a trade alliance. It doesn't matter how you phrase it, Scott, I'm still losing one of my pups."

"They're Omegas, Art."

Everyone turned to look at Owen, who had been quiet until then. He cocked his head, chocolate-brown curls falling into his face, making him look younger than he was. He didn't look as weathered as the others, having retained a significant portion of his teenaged beauty. His voice was soft in sympathy, but it harboured a stony undertone that indicated a degree of seriousness rarely shared.

"There was always a chance that Alfred and Matthew were going to have to leave the clan," he said logically. "Omegas belong with their Alphas, and yours are of-age now. They don't belong here in this house with us anymore. It's time for them to start their own lives, their own families. It's natural," he said, as if that softened the blow. "You'll always be their Omega-father, Art, but it's time for you to let Alfred and Matthew go."

Arthur's shoulders trembled, wanting to argue, but he didn't. Slowly, he bowed his head in defeat; or—

The green-eyed Omega suddenly inhaled, swallowing a gasp. In horror, Matthew saw him press a hand to his mouth to stifle a sob. He had never seen his Omega-father cry before. It was shattering.

Immediately, Francis collected Arthur into his arms, and this time Arthur didn't protest. He leant into his Alpha-mate's embrace to hide his face.

"You're not losing both of them, Art," Scott said. It was an awkward attempt to soothe his brother's distress, but he soldiered on. "One of them will come back with us. He'll mate a local Alpha, who will inherit my position as the next pack-leader and live here in the clan—"

"Scott," said Francis authoritatively, "I think we're done for tonight."

Quietly the party disbanded, leaving Francis alone with Arthur. Matthew stared unblinking at his parents. He didn't even realize his hand was still pressed to Alfred's mouth until Alfred pulled gently down on his twin's wrist. Matthew's whole body had gone rigid, like prey in the face of danger. He tensed at Alfred's touch, then lifted his eyes slowly to meet those of his blue-eyed brother. Alfred's expression was puzzled, but not afraid. Alfred never looked afraid. Despite his confusion, his expression was readable, and in those sapphire-blue eyes Matthew read excitement. It was muddied with apprehension and disbelief, but there was no mistaking the glow of eager enthusiasm. Alfred had always liked the challenge of trying new things—the riskier, the better—and there was no doubt that he felt the same about this unexpected opportunity. A journey to the Mainland was novel. Alfred and Matthew would be the first pups of their generation to leave the Isles and cross into that unknown territory across the Channel. Matthew doubted if Alfred was even thinking of why they were going, focused only on the fact that they were, indeed, going. The reality of their purpose would hit him later, but just then Matthew saw adventure in his brother's smile.

Matthew, however, felt suddenly ill. His chest tightened and his temperature heated, making him perspire as his heartbeat laboured. He clawed at his shirt buttons, feeling constricted. Only when Alfred grabbed his hands and pulled him against his chest in a hug did Matthew realize he was having a panic-attack. He clutched his brother tightly as Alfred rubbed his back, whispering words of reassurance that Matthew didn't hear. Matthew bit his bottom lip, drawing blood, trying to stay quiet, but Alfred's presence offered little comfort. As much as he pretended otherwise, Alfred was an Omega, like Matthew, which meant that he was just as powerless.

"It's okay, Mattie. It's going to be okay," he said. "Papa's not going to let anything bad happen to us."

But Matthew barely registered Alfred's voice.

The Mainland. His heart pounded. They're taking us to the Mainland. To sell us. Arthur's words repeated in his mind, over-and-over. They're selling us to the Mainlanders as collateral. To a stranger. A Mainland stranger. To be his mate; to breed his pups.

"Mattie—?" Alfred pet Matthew's curls. "It's okay. It'll be an adventure, right? And you heard Scottie, only one of us has to stay with the Low-Landers, the other one gets to come home."

Alfred's tone was lighthearted, but, rather than comfort, it only confirmed Matthew's suspicion that he didn't understand the situation enough to take it seriously. And as daring as Alfred was, his knowledge of pair-bonding was dubious at best.

It wasn't something that the adults talked about with Alfred and Matthew present. The family was rather protective of the twins' innocence and tried to preserve it. But while they guarded their tongues, they did not guard their library, and Matthew had had the displeasure of reading too many books on the subject of pregnancy from too young an age. Because of that, he had a vivid idea of what to expect. But Alfred, who disliked studying in any capacity, did not. The only texts he had ever enjoyed were the fairytales the family used to read them as pups. They were Old Romances and heroic tales of adventure that Alfred had loved to play-act with his Alpha friends, insisting that he not be the damsel-in-distress just because he was the only Omega. (Unless, of course, Alec Frasier was playing the hero.) It was always light and fun and idealistic, but it wasn't real.

You've heard too many fairytales, Matthew thought, blaming Alfred's naivety on his affinity for fiction. The faraway look in his brother's blue eyes was troubling. His head was full of nonsense as far as Matthew was concerned; stories that stopped at the rescue, the pair-bonding, the happily-ever-after without ever delving deeper into the lives beyond the tale. Alfred's favourite stories were about heroes who slew dragons and rescued damsels; or knights-in-shining-armour who freed bewitched virgins. The tales were about love and loyalty and devotion and pride; admirable sentiments, but intangible. They starred dashing Alphas and beautiful Omegas, characters which set impossibly high standards for infatuated pups. Matthew had tried to tell Alfred: "It's false, it's not real." But Alfred refused to listen—or care.

Those tales are just stories, Matthew knew. Reality is painful. According to Arthur's library: Reality is letting an Alpha possess you, own you. It's letting him mate and impregnate you over-and-over again. It's months of sickness and blood and pain constantly repeated until you're completely spent; until your looks go, and you can't conceive, and he doesn't want you anymore. Reality for an Omega-mate is serving someone else's purpose until all of your value is gone and you're left with nothing: alone, used, wasted, ugly.

Matthew had always known what his future held. But though he resigned himself to a life of keeping-house and raising pups, the thought of being claimed by an Alpha scared him. It was something that he had kept secret from everyone, including Alfred. Not even Alfred knew that Matthew had cried the night of their fifteenth birthday, because he knew what maturity signaled, even if Alfred didn't. It had been bad enough thinking that he would someday mate an Islander and be taken away from his family, but now, knowing what he did of Scott's plan, that seemed like a vague threat in comparison. Now, to think that he might have to pair-bond with a complete stranger from a foreign land and stay there with him, live there isolated from everything he knew... I don't even speak their language! It was terrifying. He had only just turned fifteen. He wasn't ready to be mated and bred.

It'll be so lonely.

A teardrop fell onto Alfred's shoulder, then another. Matthew buried his face.

I don't want to go. Please, Papa, don't make me go!

"It's okay, Mattie. It doesn't have to be you," Alfred said, but his voice had lost its calm. Matthew heard doubt when he said: "Maybe the Low-Lander will choose me for his Omega-mate."

Matthew squeezed his brother, grateful for the lie. But it was a lie. The Low-Lander would choose Matthew, just like everyone else. Of that, he was certain.


That night, Alfred laid awake in his bed, unable to sleep. He stared at the thatch-roof, listening to Matthew toss-and-turn on the opposite side of the room; listening to Matthew whine. Alfred pitied his brother, but he was also annoyed by Matthew's behaviour. It wasn't his twin's sensitivity that bothered him, but the family's reaction to it. He knew that as soon as Matthew showed any sign of distress, the overprotective family would be at his beck-and-call. They would coddle him to soothe his fears and in doing so would forget about Alfred. Alfred, who was also a potential option for collateral. But in the family's eyes Alfred was strong and independent, whereas Matthew was weak and in need of protection. That was the excuse. It had always been the excuse, whether they verbalized it or not. What they neglected to realize was that just because Alfred acted the tough-fibred Omega didn't mean that he didn't need or want his family's attention. It was Alfred who liked physical affection; Alfred who liked to cuddle. It was Alfred who loved the centre-of-attention and secretly hated when Matthew stole it from him. As pups, Alfred had felt sympathy for his shy twin and had always taken it upon himself to shield Matthew from unwanted attention, which, incidentally, ensured that Alfred was always in the spotlight. But since Matthew's first Heat, like everything else, that had changed. Now, when Matthew stepped into a room, everyone stopped to admire him. When he spoke, everyone smiled at him and complimented his looks. In truth, the only thing that kept competitive Alfred from punching his brother was knowing that Matthew absolutely detested it. He hated being the centre-of-attention more than anything, because it made him feel anxious and self-conscious, though Alfred couldn't think of why. It baffled him; he, who would have killed for the compliments Matthew effortlessly received and then refused. It made the blue-eyed Omega feel inadequate.

Inadvertently, it made Alfred think of Alec Frasier, his Alpha friend who would always be just that: a friend.

If the Low-Lander chooses Mattie and Mattie has to stay on the Mainland, maybe Alec will choose me

Alfred stopped abruptly. He slapped his cheeks, berating himself. How could he even think something so awful? Jealousy was the ugliest vice, so said the fairytales he cherished.

Influenced by fictional tales, Alfred had always dreamt of falling desperately in love, just like the characters in his books. He knew, of course, that he wasn't like any of the Omegas in those tales. He wasn't sweet or delicate or helpless—like Matthew—and, frankly, he didn't want to be (helpless, that is). But that's the type of Omega that Alphas wanted. No Alpha wanted to feel emasculated by his Omega-mate, and Alfred didn't blame them for it. He wouldn't have wanted to be looked down upon either... which, incidentally, was at the core of his unpopularity. Instead, he unfairly blamed Matthew for being so fucking perfect. All Alfred had ever wanted was to fall in love with an Alpha who loved him in return. So, was it really any wonder why watching Matthew continuously reject declarations of love and affection made Alfred boil with envy?

Where's my happily-ever-after? he wondered. Is Matthew's absence really the price I'd have to pay for an Alpha to look at me like that?

Feeling dejected, Alfred didn't hear his parents' footsteps until they were standing right outside the twins' door, which was open a crack. It was Arthur's voice that interrupted Alfred's self-pity. He said:

"Francis."

Alfred had never heard his Omega-father sound so distraught.

Francis replied in a gentle tone. "I know, chéri," he said, guessing at Arthur's concern. "I'm not ready to lose Alfred or Mathieu either, but there's nothing I can do. They're fifteen-years-old now. They're adults by clan-law, and you know the laws regarding adult Omegas." Alfred leant sideways to peer into the corridor. "Alfred and Mathieu would've been claimed by Alphas this year regardless of what we want for them. If not in the Low Countries, then at the Stones. You said so yourself. It's illegal for adult Omegas to live in the clan without an Alpha to provide for him—"

"Yes, I know," Arthur snapped. "I know the bloody clan-laws, Francis. Believe me," he added, losing his fight almost instantly, "if anyone knows the clan-laws about unclaimed or pregnant Omegas, I do."

Francis paused. "Yes," he agreed. "I'm sorry."

An uncomfortable silence stretched for several minutes, both adults just standing there, eyes downcast. Alfred pursed his lips, trying, for once, not to draw attention to himself. Finally, Arthur's husky voice whispered:

"I don't want to lose them, Francis. I love them both so much, I can't—"

Uninvited, Francis closed the gap between them and drew Arthur against his body. Alfred didn't see Arthur seek the intimacy; Francis just did it naturally. A second later, Alfred heard his Omega-father crying, which was an unfamiliar sound. Arthur rarely showed weakness in front of his pups; certainly never tears. It made Alfred feel nervous, like seeing an unshakable rock suddenly break. But Francis held him together. The way the Alpha held his sad Omega-mate and whispered words of love and reassurance made Alfred's heart ache.

I want someone to hold me like that, he thought. Not just my family. I want an Alpha-mate to love me the way Papa loves Dad.

Alfred knew that his parents were—unbearably—happy, which often included physical affection, which made their blue-eyed pup grimace in feigned disgust. ("Ach! Do you really have to do that in front of me?") What he kept private, however, was that he dreamt of being held just like that; of feeling that level of intimacy with someone else, someone he loved. It meant trusting someone else with his heart, which was scary, but exciting as well.

I wonder, he thought, absently spying on his parents, will the Low-Lander want my heart, or Mattie's?

"It's okay," Francis repeated, kissing Arthur's forehead. "It's going to be okay. Don't fret, chéri. I promise, I'll take good care of the pups on the Mainland—"

"I'm going, too."

The brazen statement took Francis and Alfred off-guard.

"Arthur—"

"Don't argue with me," Arthur said, determined. "If I have to lose one of my pups to the Low-Landers, then you can bloody well bet I'm going to be there to say goodbye."

Francis glanced away, debating. Alfred could see that he didn't want to allow it, but compassion outweighed propriety. "Yes, of course," he said. Gently, he lifted his Omega-mate's head and kissed him, silencing Arthur's gasps and sobs for a short duration. Their lips unlocked with a soft smack. "I love you, Arthur. And I love our pups," Francis said in English—a sentiment he felt was more beautiful in French, but which he issued in English to comfort his mate. "I promised you once that I would protect you, all of you, and I will. That means putting on a brave face for Alfred and Mathieu's benefit," he added, implying Arthur's present distress. "The pups can't see you break down. It'll only scare them. You've got to stop," he said, wiping Arthur's cheeks. "If you're going to come with us, then you have to be strong for them, okay?"

"Yes, you're right," Arthur agreed. He swallowed. "I will be. Tomorrow," he promised.

Then he dissolved into tears.