DISCLAIMER: Hetalia: Axis Powers Hidekaz Himaruya

THE CALL OF THE WILD

LOST BOYS


THREE

THE LOW COUNTRIES

I am happy to announce that my Lars has chosen an Omega to pair-bond with," said the Clan Leader. "Matthew, my dear." He extended his hand to Matthew, who obediently took it. His huge, gnarled paw enveloped Matthew's and pulled him to the forefront of the dais. Lars was standing on the other side and stepped forward when called. "My Lars," said the Clan Leader, interlacing their hands, "has chosen Matthew Kirkland, of the Kirkland family, to be his Omega-mate."

Lars squeezed Matthew's hand as a roar of approval erupted. Despite his anxiety—or, perhaps because of it—Matthew leant into the Alpha's touch, seeking a shield.

As the Clan Leader invited Scott forward to publically discuss the trade agreements, the clan-members of the Low Countries listening intently, Matthew let his gaze wander sideways and found Lars staring at him. It was discrete. When he met the Omega's gaze, the Alpha's lips curled up into a smile and he winked. In surprise, Matthew blushed.

To distract himself, he remembered Lars' proposal, which had taken place earlier that day.


SEVERAL HOURS AGO

Lars invited Matthew into the walled garden. It was raining. He held an umbrella to protect Matthew (his exact word-choice). Matthew took Lars' arm in escort, applying the gentlest pressure to the Alpha's muscular bicep, and felt himself blush at the contact. Last night he had been too anxious to truly appreciate what a perfect specimen the young Low-Lander was, but now, in the cloudy daylight, he couldn't deny how handsome Lars was. He still felt nervous being alone with him, but it was a new, different kind of nervous. When Lars smiled at him, the Islander felt a giddy flutter in his stomach.

If nothing else, he thought, smiling shyly back, Papa and Scott have excellent taste in Alphas.

Lars led Matthew to the dove-white gazebo, where he set the umbrella aside. He released Matthew, letting the Omega take a step toward the railing. To avoid conversation, Matthew took an immediate interest in a cluster of yellow tulips that were thriving nearby. He feigned ignorance, though he could feel Lars' eyes on him, following his movements. It made him blush redder, guessing at where those intense Alpha eyes lingered. Self-consciously, he shifted his weight and glanced sideways. Matthew could see Lars' sight-line in his peripheral vision, plastered to his backside and the swell of his wide hips. The Alpha's desire was apparent on his open face, because he didn't think that Matthew could see him. Absently, Lars licked his lips. Matthew pursed his own, hoping that Lars couldn't hear his heart, which beat down any lingering giddiness he had felt.

When Lars said "Matthew" his deep voice harboured a pinch of that desire, but when Matthew turned, Lars' face was the inexpressive face of a gentleman once more.

"Yes—?" Matthew replied innocently.

"I think you know why I've brought you here," Lars said, forthright. He took liberties with both of Matthew's hands, conveying his meaning. His grasp was gentle, yet eager. His hands were warm. "Both of us know why you're here," he said. "Here in the Low Countries. I won't pretend not to see how anxious you are." In reflex, Matthew broke eye-contact. The Alpha's straightforward speech made him feel small. He bowed his head, but almost at once Lars lifted his chin, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. "Don't look down," he said gently. "Don't be afraid of me. I made you a promise, didn't I? I promised that I would take care of you, and I will. I'll protect you," he repeated. "You don't need to be afraid. I really like you," he confessed. "I think you're the most beautiful Omega I've ever seen." Like a courtier, his fingers moved from Matthew's jaw to his cheek before threading into the Omega's pale curls.

This time, Matthew didn't flinch. This time, he betrayed himself and indulged in the Alpha's touch.

"I think I can make you happy," Lars said, encouraged. "Matthew—"

Lars' touch was tender, yet strong. Alpha strong. It promised everything that Matthew's body had yearned for in Heat. Instinctively, he wanted to lean into that touch. He wanted to be enveloped by it. His heart pounded in desire and panic.

"—will you be my Omega-mate?" Lars asked.

Matthew's reply was a whisper: "Yes."


PRESENT

Matthew clutched Lars' hand tightly, feeling conflicted. He had accepted Lars' proposal as ordered by Scott, yet his pulse hadn't slowed since. His heart pounded; his stomach fluttered. He didn't know whether it was a good sign or not that Lars' proximity prompted such a reaction in him, but it was unwelcome nonetheless. Matthew hated when his self-control yielded to nature. It was too much like being in Heat, which made him uncomfortable. He didn't want to admit it, but his body's wanton reaction to Lars embarrassed him. Fortunately, everyone else seemed to blame his flushed face on the bashfulness of an infatuated Omega.

That's fine, let them think it.

He was nervous to pair-bond with Lars, and about what the future would bring, but neither did he want to let go of the Alpha's hand. Subtly, Lars rubbed his thumb over Matthew's middle finger, which was now adorned with a gold band. It was a beautiful article of metalwork, which Lars had gifted to him when he had accepted the Alpha's proposal. Gift-giving was an old custom of claiming: a symbol of Lars' ownership over Matthew, mated or not. It signified to everyone, especially other Alphas, that Matthew was now taken and no longer marketable for courting. When Lars had first slipped the band onto Matthew's finger, the Omega's breath had caught and he had imagined a shackle.

As the clan-members howled and cheered in support for the treaty and the union, Matthew's mind returned to the present. His frozen smile reanimated as he caught several of the Low-Landers' eyes. Many came forward to congratulate the newly engaged couple. Matthew smiled and accepted their well-wishes, even if he had forgotten all of their names. The official pair-bonding ceremony—Does there have to be an official ceremony? Matthew cringed—was scheduled for the following night, which meant that this night would be both of their last as un-bonded individuals. After the ceremony, and once they were mated, Matthew and Lars would cease to be separate beings under clan-law and would thenceforth be considered as one: An Alpha and his Omega-mate. The pair-bonding ceremony might be a mere formality due to Lars' high status, but the mating that followed was binding.

Matthew was permitted to leave the evening's party early. In fact, he was encouraged to do so.

"Rest up, little Omega," they said jovially, half-drunk. "You'll need your energy for tomorrow night."

Lars and Matthew would not be mated for at least a month, as long as the Alpha's patience held, since it was tradition—and a kindness—for a first mating to be during the Omega's Heat. The primary function of mating was, first and foremost, to breed pups, after all; and mating for the first time could be painful for the Omega otherwise. Yet, the Low-Landers joked and whistled and wolf-howled regardless, intent on embarrassing Lars, who only snorted in good-humour and rolled his eyes, unbothered by their antics.

"You've got a long night ahead of you, darling!" someone called to Matthew.

"Mated on Monday, pregnant by Sunday," someone else rhymed, producing a raucous uproar.

When an inebriated hunter pulled Lars close and half-shouted: "Let me give you some mating advice, pup..." Matthew took it as his cue to leave.

He cast a meek smile over-the-shoulder as he retired, even though the Alphas' jests made him feel cheap. He just wanted to leave, to be alone. Without the security of Lars beside him, he felt too exposed, like a target; but with Lars he was the centre-of-attention, which was even worse. Quickly, he took his leave, denying several offers of escort.

As he was exiting the Great House he caught sight of Scott and Francis, who had been helpless to rescue Matthew from the crowd. They were standing near the dais, celebrating with the loud Clan Leader, though both of them looked unusually sober. In fact, Francis, who had been so eager for the treaty before, now looked as though he might be sick. His hands were curled into chalk-white fists and his blue eyes smouldered, unfriendly and unblinking. Matthew wanted to go to him, but a sea of rowdy Low-Landers stood between them, so, instead, he slipped outside.

He didn't take an umbrella. He let the raindrops soak him. He let the wind tug at his clothes and hair. By the time he reached the guesthouse, he was drenched from head-to-toe, his curls slicked to his face and neck. He went to his and Alfred's bedchamber and sat down on his allotted bed. The mattress was so hard that it barely sunk under his weight. It was dark and cold, but Matthew didn't move to remedy either. He just sat, staring vacantly down at the gold band encircling his finger.

It felt like a long time before Arthur found him.

"Matthew, love—?"

Slowly, Matthew lifted his eyes. Only when Arthur sat down beside him did he realize he was shivering.

He let his Omega-father unbutton his outer layer of clothes and peeled them off, exposing snow-white skin prickly with goosebumps. He barely acknowledged Arthur's touch as the elder toweled off his pup's hair and wiped his cheeks. Then he took the blanket off the opposite bed and wrapped Matthew in it, pulling the youth against his side. They sat like that for a long time, enveloped in a heavy silence that was only disturbed by the rainfall. Arthur kept am arm wrapped securely around Matthew, and Matthew laid his head on his Omega-father's shoulder, seeking warmth and comfort. Finally, Arthur softly asked:

"Are you okay?"

Matthew swallowed. "Yes."

"Matthew." Arthur pulled back and faced his violet-eyed pup. "Don't lie. Not to me, okay? I want you to tell me the truth. Tell me what you're feeling now, because tomorrow is too late."

Matthew hesitated, then slowly nodded. He felt tears prick his eyes. "I'm scared," he admitted.

"Okay." Arthur took Matthew's cold hands and squeezed them. "Tell me what you're scared of? Is it Lars? Don't you like him?"

Matthew looked away and shrugged. "He's fine."

"But—?"

He opened and closed his mouth, faltering. He felt ashamed. Habitually, he bowed his head.

"Matthew, my darling, please tell me what's wrong. I don't want you to be unhappy." Arthur cupped his pup's cheek. "Neither does Francis," he added. Matthew bit his lip, but a tear squeezed out. "If you tell Francis how you feel, how scared you are, he won't make you do it. He loves you. He only wants what's best for you, darling. But if you truly don't want this, then tell him and he'll stop it." Arthur sounded hopeful, but Matthew interrupted.

"No," he said. Another tear fell. "Dad, I... I can't. This is why I was brought here, wasn't it? I don't want to disappoint Papa or Uncle Scott," he confessed. "I don't want all of their effort to have been for nothing. The clan needs this treaty. It's for the benefit of everyone. As pack-leader, Scott is duty-bound to take care of the pack, our family, and I... I'm still his heir, aren't I? So doesn't that make it my responsibility, too?" He hadn't vocalized it before, but it's how he felt. It's how he had always felt about everything clan-related. It's what he had been raised to feel. "I know that Lars is a good match," he acknowledged. "He's kind. I should be grateful for that at least, because it really could be so much worse."

"Matthew—"

"We're Omegas, Dad," said Matthew, recycling Arthur's words unbeknownst. "This is what we're supposed to do, I know that. I've been bred to it. Besides," he shrugged hopelessly, "I can't live in the pack un-mated, and I don't want to be a burden to the family forever. I don't think I'm ready to be mated," he confessed, "but no one is forcing me to do it. I'm doing it willingly."

Arthur started to speak, but stopped. He recognized the resolve in Matthew's violet eyes. Instead, he pulled the youth into a hug.

"Oh, Matthew, one word to Francis and he'll stop this. You don't have to do it—"

"Yes, I do," Matthew argued, clutching his Omega-father in return. "I'm not a pup anymore, Dad. I know how the world works. I know what I'm worth. But," he pulled back and stared fervently at Arthur, "please don't tell anyone about this." He indicated his tears, his secret fears. "Please don't tell Papa or Al, especially not Al. I don't want to upset them."

Arthur wanted to refuse. Matthew saw the conflict in his green eyes: loyalty to his Alpha-mate fighting the desire to protect his pup. Finally, he exhaled in grudging agreement and nodded. "Fine, I won't tell. But you should." That said, he pulled Matthew back into his arms. "I'm going to miss you," he said with a catch in his voice, "so much."

"I-I—I'm going to miss you, too."

Then Matthew was trembling, hugging Arthur as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I love you, Matthew. I love you so much, you know that, don't you? I know I don't say it often enough, but it's true. You and Alfred are my everything. I'm so proud of you. I love you more than anything." Arthur kissed Matthew's head. "Don't ever forget that we love you."

Matthew's voice broke. He whispered: "I love you, too."


Alfred threw himself into the guesthouse, narrowly dodging a cold downpour. It was late. He was returning from the Great House when the sky suddenly opened and a deluge emptied upon the village. Alfred bolted the door behind him and listened to the storm rage outside. The wind blew fiercely, howling. Inside, the walls groaned. A stone foundation and thick wooden pillars protected those within. Alfred's footsteps clapped wetly on the floorboards as he walked to his and Matthew's room was. Quietly, he pushed into the darkness and instantly felt disoriented. He could hear the storm hitting the walls, but he couldn't see anything. He could hear Matthew's soft, even breaths, asleep in his bed. Or, Alfred had thought Matthew was sleeping, until his brother said:

"Al?"

Alfred changed direction. He felt his way across the bedchamber to Matthew's bed, where his brother lay curled into a defensive ball beneath the blankets.

"I'm here, Mattie."

"Will you... stay?" Matthew asked. His voice was small, uncertain. In it, Alfred heard loneliness.

"Yeah, I'll stay."

Alfred undressed to his sleeping-clothes and crawled into the big bed with Matthew, shimmying close. The moment he laid down, Matthew coiled his arms around his midsection and pressed his forehead to his brother's chest. Alfred froze in surprise. Matthew was cold and trembling, but Alfred knew it wasn't the temperature. He hugged his brother, feeling a flood of guilt and regret and tenderness all at once.

I'm so sorry, Mattie. I'm sorry I haven't been the best brother lately. I'm sorry you've felt so alone.

Alfred rested his head atop Matthew's, absently breathing in Matthew's soft, sweet scent. Alfred used to tease Matthew, saying that he smelled like dessert: "Like clotted cream on strawberries. It's no wonder all the Alphas want to taste you," he had joked. Matthew had laughed back then, but he wasn't laughing now. Neither of them was. Alfred found himself fighting down unwanted emotion, a feeling of emptiness that gnawed at him. To distract himself, he focused on Matthew. Matthew, who had mothered Alfred for as long as the blue-eyed Omega could remember; who had held him and talked to him and cared for him almost as often as Arthur; who had always laughed at Alfred's jokes; who had never failed to support all of Alfred's endeavours, all of his ridiculous plots. Matthew, who had been Alfred's constant companion since birth. Nobody understood Alfred the way Matthew did.

You're my favourite person in the whole world, Mattie. I don't want to lose you.

"Al," Matthew whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

Alfred felt a lump in his throat. He hugged Matthew tighter, trying to be strong for his frightened brother's sake. But when he spoke, his voice was weak.

"Yeah, me too."

"Stay here with me, okay?" Matthew asked. The night was cold and lonely. "Don't leave me."

"I won't, I promise." A tear rolled down Alfred's cheek. "It's you and me forever, Mattie, remember? Always."

"Always."


THE NEXT DAY

A wicked storm continued to brew, but the pair-bonding ceremony went ahead as planned.

True to his word, Alfred stayed with Matthew all day. They slept late, and then ate dinner together in the bedchamber. At half-seven in the evening, Francis told Matthew he had to stop stalling and prepare for the ceremony. Alfred helped him get ready. He combed Matthew's freshly-bathed hair and ironed his clothes, helping him dress. It was the most Omega-like he had ever been. Finally, at nine o'clock Alfred headed to the Great House with his family. Francis took Matthew's arm in escort; Alfred held his other hand, flanking the violet-eyed Omega. He glanced sideways at his brother and secretly smiled. Despite his nerves, Matthew looked perfectly composed. It made Alfred proud. He squeezed Matthew's hand, but at the entrance to the Great House he was forced to let go.

"Alfred, let go," Arthur said, taking Alfred's forearm in guidance. Gently, he led Alfred in one direction, while Francis and Scott led Matthew in another.

At that moment, Matthew glanced over-the-shoulder at Alfred, revealing panic, but he answered Alfred's smile with one of his own.

It's going to be okay, Mattie. Trust Papa, trust Scott. Trust Lars, Alfred thought when he spotted the Alpha. He looked good, sage-green eyes full of lust and wonder as he watched Matthew's approach. Alfred clenched his fists. You'd better take good care of my brother, Low-Lander. You'd better make him happy.

The pair-bonding ceremony was short. At the dais, Scott stopped, overseeing the proceedings as pack-leader. Francis, as Matthew's Alpha-father, gave his consent to the union, but held tight to his pup until the last possible moment. When it came, he was formal. He placed Matthew's hand in Lars'. Then the young couple faced each other and made ages old vows: Lars swore to protect and provide for Matthew, and Matthew swore to obey Lars. Then it was over. After all of the pomp and ceremony of the past week, Alfred was surprised by the anticlimactic finish.

"So, what happens now?" he asked, watching clan-members swarm the dais, shouldering Scott and Francis aside. Matthew belonged to them, now.

"Well," said Arthur, catching his Alpha-mate's eye, "usually the newly pair-bonded couple would leave to..."

"Mate?" Alfred inserted, just as Francis reached them.

Arthur glanced at Francis, who hadn't relaxed. "Uh, yes. But that won't happen for Lars and Matthew yet."

"Unless he's feeling frisky tonight," Alfred said. Arthur elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow!"

"Alfred, please," Arthur said. Discretely he indicated Francis, whose cold eyes openly glared at the dais. "Uh, Francis, love—?"

Francis stood as stiff as stone when Arthur touched his arm. Noting his Omega-mate's concern, however, he forced a smile. It looked a little too wide in Alfred's opinion, like his Alpha-father's face might suddenly crack.

Arthur and Alfred exchanged a worried glance. The former asked: "Are you okay?"

"Of course," Francis' grin grew wider, his blue eyes unblinking. "I just handed my pup over to an Alpha who is going to defile him," he said with sarcastic cheerfulness. "Just look at him," he jutted his chin at Lars, "he can't wait. I don't trust his patience, Arthur. He's too eager. What if he hurts my Mathieu? I would have refused it, you know," he said, his tone suddenly sobering. He looked between Alfred and Arthur in confidence. "If Mathieu had asked, I would have refused the contract."

"I know you would have," said Arthur, slipping his hand into Francis'.

It was then that Scott rejoined them. "Well," he said bluntly, "I'm ready to get the fuck out of here, how about you?"

The family nodded in consensus.

"Tomorrow we sign the free-trade agreement," Scott said. "Then, weather permitting," he scoffed, "we leave."

"Did you talk to Matthew?" Arthur asked his brother.

Scott's jaw tensed. "Uh huh," he grunted, avoiding eye-contact. Matthew was Scott's favourite nephew; even Alfred assumed that. "I spoke to the Clan Leader, too." His brow furrowed.

Francis prompted: "And—?"

But Alfred had lost interest in the conversation. His twin-brother had just been pair-bonded; he didn't want to stand there talking about trade contracts. Instead, he excused himself from the meeting ("I'm going to see Mattie") and headed for the dais.

Matthew looked small and pale compared to the Low-Landers who surrounded him. He was of a like height with most of the Omegas, yet slighter-figured; of the Alphas, he barely reached most of their chins. He stood close to Lars. Lars, whose arm had coiled possessively around Matthew's waist, holding the Omega against his side. Matthew, too, played his part well. He smiled coyly like the blushing virgin he was, looking lovely in the firelight. His soft curls fell against perfect, unblemished skin, exposing his slender neck; his long, blonde eyelashes brushed his cheekbones when he lowered his eyes; his full, shapely lips lifted shyly. Matthew had never looked better, Alfred thought. He was the picture of newly pair-bonded bliss, so beautiful and happy that Alfred almost believed it. Only Matthew's scared eyes revealed the truth.

A middle-aged Omega called for a kiss then, and Lars happily complied. He leant down and pressed his lips to Matthew's cheek. Matthew's shoulders arched defensively, but he quickly converted his discomfort into flirtation, hiding his face against Lars' bicep. Nobody noticed, except for Alfred, whose heart went out to his twin.

Suddenly, he stopped. He didn't want to talk to Matthew if it meant having to convey false congratulations, which he knew Matthew didn't want. He didn't want to have to lie. So, instead, he slipped through a door just right of the dais and exited the hall via an anteroom. He dodged a few giddy serving-maids and followed a long corridor out into a walled-garden. Hmm, pretty, he acknowledged, giving the tulips no further thought. He hoisted himself agilely onto the slick wall and jumped over, landing gracefully on the other side.

He glanced back at the Great House, so warm and loud and lively, but didn't feel any regret as he stalked off in the opposite direction. He wanted to be alone for a while. He braced his shoulders against the harsh wind and rain and stuffed his hands into his pockets, bowing his head. He walked directionless, with no destination in mind. Most of the village was dark, because everyone was feasting and celebrating in the Great House. It gave Alfred the opportunity to go wherever he wanted, to splash in puddles and kick stones. It gave him the freedom to be himself.

Mattie will never get to be himself ever again, he thought sadly. Yet a small, relieved smile tugged his lips, because he finally knew for certain how he felt.

I'm glad it wasn't me.


I think they've indulged you for long enough," said the Clan Leader to his brood. "Lars," he called, eyeing his pup. "It's time for you and your Omega-mate to retire."

Matthew tensed at the suggestion. He was afraid that Lars felt it, but if he did, he didn't acknowledge it. He said: "Yes, father," then bid his family and friends goodnight.

"Goodnight, Matthew, my dear," said the Clan Leader. The sentiment was echoed by others; some genuine, some in provocative jest.

"Mathieu."

Matthew stopped, even as Lars pulled him toward the door. The Alpha looked down at him in confusion before he saw Francis, who blocked the doorway. "May I have a word with my pup, please?" he asked politely, though Matthew saw flint in his blue eyes. He, too, could see Lars' impatience; Matthew could feel it. But fortunately the Low-Lander ceded without a fuss. Matthew belonged to him now; he had little to fear from the Omega's sire. Curtly, he untangled Matthew's limbs from his and stepped off to the side. Francis gestured for Matthew, who was more than happy to comply. He followed his Alpha-father to a quieter area by the doors.

"Papa—" he started, but Francis hushed him.

"Mathieu, I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you, chéri. And I wanted to apologize."

"Papa, no—"

"Hush, my darling. Let me say it." He spoke quietly in French, so that no one would hear. "I'm sorry. Please, forgive me."

Matthew felt his heart clench as Francis drew him into an embrace, enveloping him in the Alpha's familiar scent. He closed his eyes and clutched Francis. "Papa," he whispered.

Francis kissed the top of his head. "Don't be frightened. It's going to be okay. You're going to be just fine. Do you know why?" he asked, pulling back. Matthew lifted his head, meeting Francis' kind smile. "Because you've got too much of Arthur in you not to be."

"Me?" Matthew asked in surprise.

Francis chuckled. "Yes, darling. You're a survivor, just like your Dad. Omegas like you and him keep going no matter what, even when it looks hopeless, even when there's nothing left, because you've got the same drive. Your Dad is not big or strong, but he has more determination than anyone I know. And so do you. You may not think so, but you've got strength of a different kind. You've got Arthur's strength. His amazing will. You're survivors, both of you. You've got too much of that wild Kirkland fire in you not to be.

"But at least you've got my looks," he added, and winked.

Matthew smiled. "Thank-you, Papa." He leant up and kissed Francis' cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too, my pup."

Matthew returned to Lars feeling braver than he had. He let the Alpha lead him to the second-level of the Great House, where Lars' bedchamber was located. It was a large space, sparsely furnished, and it smelled strongly of Lars. The Alpha's scent permeated everything, like a stale cologne. It wasn't like stepping into his Alpha relatives' rooms at home, which felt familiar. As Matthew stepped over the threshold into Lars' bedchamber, he was acutely aware that he was walking into an Alpha's territory. But it's not just his anymore. It's my room now, too. Matthew steeled himself. As he surveyed the space, he immediately began redesigning it in his mind. It was barren. It was like a cell, but Matthew was sure he could turn it into a nest given the appropriate furnishings. Specifically, he eyed an alcove by the bedside and envisioned a bassinet sitting inside.

"Matthew—?"

Lars invited Matthew to the bed, where he sat. The hard mattress barely dipped beneath his weight. Coyly, he looked at Lars, and said:

"You can call me Matt, if you want."

"Matt," Lars repeated, testing it. "I think I prefer Matthew."

Matthew smiled to hide his disappointment. Only his parents called him by his full name. He tried again. "This mattress has got to go," he said, only half-joking. He punched it. "It's like sleeping on stone."

"No, it stays. I like it," Lars replied.

Internally, Matthew sighed. He let his gaze wander to the shuddered window, which rattled. By then the weather had evolved into a violent storm. A crash of thunder sounded at the same time Lars placed his hand on Matthew's upper-thigh. He jerked back.

"Sorry, the thunder..." he lied.

Lars' confusion, his displeasure, yielded quickly to indulgence. "It's okay," he said, shifting closer. Matthew could feel his body-heat. He could hear the Alpha's deep voice reverberate in his throat. Involuntarily, he shivered. Lars saw it and replaced his hand, letting it rest possessively on Matthew's thigh. Matthew felt his stomach knot in anticipation. He had to force himself not to move away, afraid of his body's reaction to the proximity; afraid that Lars would notice it. But if he did, it only encouraged him. "Matthew," he rumbled, leaning down. His gaze lingered on Matthew's lips, which parted in reply. He was so close now, only inches separated their faces. Matthew found himself wondering what Lars' lips felt like; what they tasted like. They looked inviting. "Matthew," he repeated, quieter. Then he closed the gap between them—

—and Matthew turned his head.

Lars kissed his cheek.

Abruptly, the Alpha pulled back. Matthew instantly regretted it. He felt guilty when he looked at Lars' face and saw disappointment and, to his horror, embarrassment. But he also saw a flash of anger and it frightened him. It was subtle, but Matthew could see that Lars was not someone used to being denied. An Omega was not supposed to deny his Alpha, not ever, but especially not on their first night together. He started to apologize:

"I'm sorry—"

Then the village bell tolled loudly.

Matthew flinched; Lars cursed. He leapt to his feet and crossed the bedchamber in three long-legged strides, then threw open the wood shudders and leant out into the rain to survey the village below. "Gods damn it!" he cursed louder in retreat. Raindrops slid down the sides of his face as he stalked hurriedly back to the bed. Unceremoniously, he grabbed the Omega's forearm and hauled him to his feet. His touch was inconsiderate; he squeezed Matthew's arm too tight. It frightened Matthew even more, as did the urgency in his deep, panicked voice when he said: "Come on, we need to leave."

"But why?" Matthew asked, tripping as Lars tugged him. "What's happened?"

"It's a warning," Lars explained the tolling bell. He threw the door open. "We need to get to higher ground. The floodgates have burst."

"What? But I thought the gates were supposed to prevent a flood—"

"Yes, they're supposed to."

"What does that mean?"

"It means exactly what I said!" Lars snapped. "It means the village will be flooded, and anyone left outside will get swept away. It means we need to get to the tower-house now."

Matthew's heart was pounding as Lars navigated the corridors. He heard pack-members yelling and running as the Great House swiftly emptied. Lars shoved his way outside into the pouring rain and suddenly Matthew was bombarded by the storm's full wrath. It disoriented him. The cries of the Low-Landers faded into the distance as thunder crashed overhead; as the wind howled; as rain pelted the rooftops like a volley of arrows. Matthew was soaked in seconds. He lost his footing on a muddy slope and pitched sideways. Lars caught him. "Stay close!" he yelled. His hand grasped Matthew with bruising firmness. It wasn't until they had cleared the obstruction of the Great House that Matthew saw the tower-house sitting on the crest of a shallow hilltop. The Low-Landers were charging toward it: Alphas, Omegas, and pups. They all seemed to know the drill, but Matthew's family did not.

"Wait, please!" he stopped, only to have Lars tug him forward. "Lars! My family—"

"They'll be evacuated to the tower-house with everyone else," Lars promised. "Don't worry, they'll be safe." He started to climb the rise.

"But my brother—"

"He'll be there!" Lars growled, losing patience. He pulled Matthew, but Matthew dug his heels into the grass, refusing to budge. Lars whipped around. "Matthew!"

"My brother," Matthew repeated desperately, "he wasn't with my family, he left! I saw him leave the Great House before we did! He's out there somewhere! Please, let go of me! I have to find him! I have to warn him!"

"No! It's too dangerous!" A flash of lightning lit Lars' face, revealing his fear. "Matthew—"

"He's all alone!" Matthew yelled, anger making him brave. "Let go of me! I have to find him! He won't know what that bell means!"

"Well he's going to figure it out pretty damn fast!" Lars returned. "Matthew, I swore to protect you! You're my Omega-mate, I can't just let you—Ah!"

Desperate, Matthew sunk his teeth into Lars' hand. He tasted blood. In reflex, Lars let go. And Matthew ran.


Alfred heard the bell, but was not immediately concerned by its tolling. Are they ringing a bell to celebrate? he wondered, thinking of the newly pair-bonded couple. He shielded his face, trying and failing to spy the Great House through the sheets of rain. The wind was blowing fiercer. The raindrops felt like hailstones against his exposed skin. He knew that he shouldn't have wandered so far from the village centre, but too lost in thought and unafraid of the storm's threat, he hadn't had the forethought to trek his path and had gotten lost. It was not a large village, but the rain compromised his vision. Unable to track by scent or sound—a clap of thunder broke overhead—he found himself running into dead-ends. Fuck! he cursed, taking shelter beneath a bridge. The bell continued to toll, and only then did Alfred acknowledge it did not sound cheerful. It sounded foreboding. A warning. Cautiously, he peered around the bridge, but could not see anyone through the dense rainfall. Where am I? he wondered again. Suddenly, a crack of lightning illuminated a thin copse of trees and Alfred recognized the forest he had hunted in. Oh, fuck! He was on the edge of the village, as far from the Great House as he could be.

His heart hammering, Alfred ran. He kept his head bowed, his eyes narrowed into slits. The wind threatened to knock him over, but he was athletic. He sped along the outskirts of the village, practised at keeping his footing on uneven, muddy terrain. He followed the bridge, then the expanse of a long stonewall.

There! he spotted the Great House's rooftop. He allowed himself a breath of relief, but it was short-lived. It was then that he realized:

The bell had stopped tolling, which meant the bell-ringer had abandoned his post.

A stab of trepidation struck him, urging him to run faster.

He was one-hundred yards from the Great House when the stonewall adjacent to him shuddered and its gate burst, letting in a frothing torrent of water. Alfred screamed and swallowed a mouthful of saltwater. He choked as the sea swept him away, downhill, away from the Great House. The Omega kicked and flailed his arms, trying to keep his head above the water, but to no effect. He swallowed more of the merciless, which left him gasping and panicked. The current was strong and pulled him effortlessly over the lowlands and into a canal. There, Alfred finally managed to catch hold of the wall. He skinned his hands on the stone, but held tightly, fingers curling like claws into the crevices. His head broke the surface and he gasped, coughing-up seawater. Still, the current pulled and frothy waves crashed into him, testing his strength.

"HeHelp!" he screamed, eyes squeezed shut.

Papa. Dad. Mattie

"Somebody help!"


Matthew leapt blindly and landed hard on a thatched rooftop. The ground was flooded. He had narrowly escaped a rush of seawater as he scurried up onto a low-hanging roof. From there he climbed higher, keeping low to the structures to brace himself against the wind, which threatened to knock him off. Matthew was not a graceful Omega and his pace was slow and lopsided as he fought his way forward. It was hard to see anything with the rain pelting his face, but he desperately scanned the village for signs of Alfred—or anyone, really. Lars had chased Matthew into the streets, yelling and pleading for him to come back, but Matthew hadn't listened. A part of him had hoped Lars would follow him—two pairs of eyes would find Alfred faster than one—but, too soon, Matthew realized that Lars was gone. The realization that he was alone scared him, but worry for Alfred took precedence. Ignoring his own fear, forgetting his own weaknesses, he had raced on, thinking only: I'll find you, Al!

"Al!" he yelled, knowing his voice was too soft. He could barely hear himself, but he yelled anyway. "Al!"

In a stroke of luck, he spotted Alfred clinging to the side of the canal.

"AL!" he screamed as he neared. He didn't know if Alfred had actually heard him or not (likely not), but his brother's eyes opened and widened in disbelief when he saw Matthew.

Mattie! Alfred mouthed as he desperately reached upward.

Matthew leapt down onto the canal wall and nearly lost his balance. It was slippery. His arms wind-milled wildly before he caught himself. He crouched down, leaning over the side. Alfred's body was low, but he pushed himself up, kicking his legs and clawing at the wet stone. Matthew laid flat on his belly and extended his arm as far as he dared. Alfred pushed off the stones and grabbed for Matthew's hand. Briefly their fingers touched before Alfred fell back down, submerging; his fingers were raw and bloody. "Al!" Matthew yelled, encouraging his brother to try again. I'm not leaving you here! This time Alfred managed to grab Matthew's hand. His weight nearly pulled Matthew down, but, fueled with adrenaline, the smaller Omega held strong. "I've got you!" he yelled, readying to pull Alfred up.

Then Alfred's eyes went wide in horror, and he screamed: "Mattie, look out!"

The North Sea slammed into Matthew with the force of a tempest and swept him off the wall and into the canal.

Matthew held tight to Alfred's hand as a powerful current tossed him to-and-fro, carrying the young Omega twins to the edge of the lowlands, away from the village, away from their family, away from safety, and into the Rhine.

Matthew screamed as loud as he could, but there was no one to hear.

Then there was nothing.


Arthur's green eyes searched the crowded tower-house fervently, hoping to catch sight of his pups. He was clutching Francis' hand so tightly, his fingernails dug crescents into the Alpha's skin. The Omega was wide-eyed, drenched, and shivering, but he refused to sit or be comforted. He dragged Francis back-and-forth, shoving clan-members aside as he searched for a sign of Alfred and Matthew.

"I can't find their scents," Scott reported, returning. His face was so pale, his vibrant locks looked blood-red.

Once more, Arthur looked hopefully to Francis, but the blue-eyed Alpha sadly shook his head. "How is it that neither of you can smell them?" he snapped, short-tempered in fear. He could feel a panic-attack churning in the pit of his stomach.

"They're not here," said Scott, like a harbinger of gloom.

"They have to be!"

"Arthur, please—" Francis started, then abruptly stopped.

Arthur followed his sightline and saw Lars. Alone.

Ignoring propriety, the Omega marched up to the young Low-Lander and violently grabbed his shirt-front. "Where is my Matthew? Where is he?" he yelled.

Several nearby clan-members leapt up in defense, but Lars, himself, didn't fight. He let Arthur shake him, keeping his gaze downcast. When he spoke, his voice was full of regret: "I'm sorry. I lost him. I'm so sorry."

"What do you mean you lost him?" Arthur snarled, showing his teeth. He felt Francis' hand clasp his arched shoulder; not in shame, but in support.

In a dangerous tone that sent a shiver down Arthur's spine, the Alpha said: "Where is my Mathieu?"

Lars swallowed, visibly upset. "He ran. I tried to follow, but I couldn't. I—I lost him," he repeated quietly.

Arthur didn't understand. "Why would Matthew run?"

"He went to find Alfred."

"Alfred? My Alfred is gone, too?"

It was a weak, helpless question. Arthur let go of Lars. There was no lie in the Alpha's eyes, only remorse. His confirmation of the Omega twins' absence shattered something inside of Arthur and, just as quickly as it came, his rage abated. "No, no." He shook his head. Hot tears flooded his eyes, but he blinked to clear them. He took a deep breath to keep the panic at bay. Then, without warning, he dashed to the tower-house doors, the ones that had been bolted against the onslaught of the storm, and he threw himself against them. He pounded his fists on the thick wood and iron, trying to shake it, trying to pull it open. "Let me out!" he screamed, fueled by fear and adrenaline. The Low-Landers just stared at him in pity: the small, helpless Islander. Soon, Francis grabbed Arthur around the middle and pulled him back, restraining his violent protests. Arthur knew that he was making a scene, but he didn't care.

"Let me out!" he screamed. "Let me out, my pups are out there! I need to find them! My Alfred and Matthew, please—!"

"Arthur!" Francis growled. He took the Omega's wild-eyed face in his hands, forcing Arthur to look at him. Sternly, he said: "I will find our pups, I promise. But you need to stay here."

"No," Arthur refused. He grabbed fistfuls of his Alpha-mate's wet shirt. "I can't. I want them back now. Let me go!" he snarled, struggling. "Francis, let go! I have to find them, I—"

"I said no!" Francis snapped loudly. Arthur flinched. Frightened, he looked up into his Alpha-mate's pained blue eyes, which mirrored the fear and sorrow that he, himself, felt. Deliberately, Francis pressed their cold foreheads together and held Arthur firmly. In a strained voice, he said: "I can't lose you, too.

"Stay here," he ordered. "I promise, I will find our pups."

Slowly, teary-eyed, Arthur nodded. "Bring them back to me, Francis."

Francis kissed Arthur's forehead in good-faith, but before he could move, the Clan Leader's voice filled the room.

"No one is going anywhere," he said. "The doors stay closed. It is too dangerous to leave right now."

Francis pierced the Clan Leader with a sharp glare, but it was Scott who spoke:

"My kin are in danger," he said, voice low and rasping; a near-growl. His body was as taut as a bowstring. His fierce Lincoln-green eyes smouldered, the eyes of a hunter. "Let us out."

"No," the Clan Leader refused. Several of his hunters stood behind him, eyeing the Islanders wearily. "Do not be stubborn. It is too dangerous to leave the tower-house; too dangerous to open the doors. I am sorry for your losses, I really am, but I will not risk my clan. You will not find Alfred and Matthew tonight, not in that." He gestured to the rafters, indicating the raging storm. "I am very sorry," he repeated earnestly. "It is truly a tragedy, but..." He hesitated, momentarily cowed by the intensity of the Islanders' glares. "There is nothing that you or anyone can do right now. If you leave, you will be consumed by the flood. We will help you search for Alfred and Matthew when the storm abates, but until then I am afraid those two pups are on their own."

The definitive tone of his words hit Arthur like a devastating blow. Francis and Scott surged forward to argue with the Clan Leader, but without Francis' support, Arthur's head spun. All at once, the raw panic-attack he had been fighting overwhelmed him and his body suddenly collapsed. A vision of Alfred and Matthew swam vividly before his horrified eyes. No, not my pups! My pups—!

He heard Francis yell: "Arthur!"

Then he fainted.