Part Fifteen: Finding a Place
Feuilly and the stray are home when Enjolras arrives, bringing a gust of frigid wind and darkness in with him from outside.
Feuilly is with the stray when he comes home, the two of them concentrating fiercely on something in Feuilly's room, and Enjolras finds himself pausing in surprise. He had expected Feuilly to tolerate the stray's presence, since keeping him away from the university has become important, but he hadn't really expected Feuilly to like the stray well enough to spend time with him once the day was done.
Feuilly doesn't acknowledge his prodding at their pack-bond, and Enjolras sighs. Taking a moment to leave his things in his room, he climbs the stairs and knocks politely at Feuilly's door.
It opens a moment later, and Enjolras greets his iota with a raised eyebrow.
"We're comparing art styles." Feuilly sounds half-defensive, half-exasperated. "I'm enjoying myself. Since you just got home I thought you might want to take a few minutes to settle in before interrogating him."
"I'm not going to be interrogating him." Enjolras glances over Feuilly's shoulder to see Grantaire sitting on the floor, his head bowed submissively, a scrap of paper in front of him and a thin brush with black paint on the tip in his hand. "I'm just going to be talking with him about what happened yesterday. And it can wait until later, if you're otherwise engaged. What would the two of you like?"
Grantaire's gaze slides between Enjolras and Feuilly, his eyes wide, his mouth opening and then closing again without any sound emerging.
Sighing, Feuilly returns to Grantaire's side and pulls the brush from his hand. "Go with him. We both know it's what you want to do."
"I want to do this, too." Grantaire's protest is spoken to Feuilly's knee. "I haven't ever done this with another wolf. I really have thoroughly enjoyed spending the day with you, Feuilly."
"And we'll do it another time." Feuilly stands again, a smile turning the corners of his mouth up. "He's all yours, Enjolras, returned safe and sound and unharassed by other wolves just as you requested."
"Thank you, Feuilly." Enjolras returns Feuilly's smile before turning his full attention on Grantaire. "I'm glad to see you awake and sober. I'll be in my room. Join me there when you're ready to discuss what happened yesterday."
Grantaire nods, wiping his hands on his shirt as he stands, and follows Enjolras without another word.
It's a silence that's maintained until they're in his room, Grantaire a quiet, submissive shadow, and Enjolras tries not to let it bother him. Most of his wolves would be nervous having to talk to him about an event where they acted… less than ideally. It must be even harder for Grantaire.
He's going to sit at his desk, but there isn't a second chair and he doesn't want to force Grantaire to stand for this conversation while he sits. He wants Grantaire more at his ease, since it will give the other man a better chance of remembering what was said. Veering over to his bed, he perches on the edge and gestures for Grantaire to sit in the chair.
Grantaire does, his head still held low, making himself as small and submissive as possible.
Sighing, Enjolras tilts his head to the side. "You don't have to look like that. I'm not angry. I just want to know what happened, and discuss which aspects of your behavior could be improved on."
"I know you won't do anything terrible." Grantaire brings his gaze up, just for a moment. "Or at least, not to me. Not right now. I don't think I did anything awful enough to warrant it. I just… it's so nice, Enjolras, being able to feel like a proper wolf. It's so nice to be able to submit to someone that I think is worthy of it."
Enjolras considers for a moment. "I always try to have my wolves treat me as an equal—as much of an equal as they can, at least. I won't force you to, of course. Just… I may be alpha, but I value your opinion. I value any input you can give me. Understood?"
Grantaire raises his head again, and the smile on his face is beautiful and open. His voice is a quiet whisper. "Yes. It's part of why I'll do this."
"All right." He's still not sure he likes it. He still infinitely prefers the way that Combeferre and Courfeyrac will submit to him, small little signs rather than this blatant fawning, but if it's what Grantaire wishes to do, so be it. "Tell me what happened yesterday. You told me that Armand, Geroux, and Paquet talked to you."
"They did." Grantaire straightens slightly as he speaks. "Um… Armand talked to me first."
There's a long pause, during which Grantaire studies his hands in his lap. Enjolras isn't certain whether the stray wants him to speak or not, but after a half a minute he decides that venturing a question is probably the best way to move the conversation forward. "What did he want to talk to you about?"
"You." Grantaire shrugs. "I'm trying to think of how to phrase it so that you'll understand. I wasn't very drunk when I talked with him, so don't think that has much to do with what I'm telling you. He told me the story of when you first came to the university. He said… a lot of strange things about you, that you're... missing things."
"Missing things?" Enjolras tilts his head again. He's known Armand keeps a sharp eye on him, but the man's never been anything but polite since their first meeting, siding with him most times even with his more unpopular ideas. "Did he tell you what he meant?"
"He said that you didn't have a proper dominance drive." Grantaire lifts his head just slightly, smiling. "Which may be true, since you're the only alpha I've ever known who's told me to keep my head up and stop acting so submissive. And he said that you don't have a protective instinct, that you'd let your wolves get hurt if you thought it needed to happen. And he said…" Grantaire reddens, just slightly. "He said that you don't have a desire to mate, and that you suppress it in the rest of the pack."
Enjolras tilts his head back, considering. He answers the unspoken question in Grantaire's voice, because it's something he's had to answer before and it doesn't take much of his attention. "I've never had a desire to form a mate-bond with anyone, even just for the season. So far as the rest of the pack goes… the consensus has been that having pups at this point would be problematic. I don't want half of the pack out of commission for two months, at the least. I don't think it would be fair, having children given… what we're doing. So I repress those instincts during fall, and life continues as it normally does. He really thinks I don't have protective or dominance instincts?"
Grantaire stares at him for a moment before nodding, his mind clearly not keeping up with the conversation change. "He does. He seemed… happy about it."
Frowning, Enjolras considers. It feels… wrong, to have someone who saw so deeply into his mind and soul say things such as that about him. He supposes he's different from other alphas in some respects. He can't take pleasure in others submitting completely to him just because of his magic. It feels… false, to have another follow him without regard to their own ideas and ideals. It's not the type of loyalty or obedience that he wants. As for the protectiveness… his wolves can take care of themselves. He ensures that, and he will do everything in his power to help them if they need it, but often the best thing he can do for them is stand aside and trust them.
"He's…" Grantaire hesitates, clearly choosing his words carefully. "There's something… wrong with him, Enjolras. There's something wrong in the way that he talks about you. He doesn't see you as another alpha. He sees you as… something else. Something… higher. And he said that if you ever became like the rest of us, he'd have to find a way to kill you."
Enjolras stills, allowing Grantaire's words to repeat in his mind, thinking through all the times he's met Armand. The first time will always be sharpest, because it was the time that they saw each other most plainly, their magic tangled together, his thoughts burning through Armand's and tearing away that which the man loved most.
Armand had left him no choice. He needs to understand the humans and their laws if he's to change anything. He needs the education that Armand was trying to keep from him.
It's still one of the most unpleasant things he's ever done in his life, tearing his way through the heart and soul of another, finding and ripping the pack-bonds that Armand had formed his identity around away from the man. It's one of the few times he's wielded his power at full capacity, nothing held back, instinct and need guiding his moves rather than intellect.
Armand is a man of intellect. He's a man who loves learning. He's a man who cares for his pack, who is deeply attached to the people who have bound their souls to his own. He's a man who reminds Enjolras of Combeferre in many ways, an older, harsher Combeferre, and perhaps that's why he's simply accepted Armand's allegiance to him without much question. That may have been a mistake.
At the same time, thinking of Armand threatening to kill him is… well. It's not something that fits in easily with what he knows of the man. "You're certain you understood him properly?"
"Definitely." Grantaire watches him, nervous, wary, but there is an earnesty and sincerity in the way he speaks that makes Enjolras trust him. "I wouldn't mistake a threat against you. He definitely said that if you became like the rest of us, he'd have to find a way to kill you."
"Well." He's used to having other alphas threaten him. If he counted all the times Badeau has snarled and snapped at him, he'd be here all week. But for Armand to give a threat like that to a wolf who's considering joining Enjolras' pack, when he knows that Enjolras will almost certainly hear of it… "No matter, at least not for now. I don't intend on changing who I am anytime in the near future."
Grantaire smiles. "You're perfect. You don't have anything you need to change."
Raising one eyebrow, Enjolras shakes his head. "Nobody is perfect. I have my flaws, Grantaire. I make mistakes. But it sounds like Armand is talking about me changing who I am, fundamentally, and that isn't something that I can see happening. I'll remember what you said, though. Did you tell Armand anything about the pack?"
"Um…" Grantaire frowns. "I told him about me. He asked what was wrong with me… well, no, not him, not at first. He asked what drew you to me, why you were considering letting me join the pack. I told him that I was a submissive who didn't submit properly, and that you were willing to give me a try anyway."
"That's it? That was the whole of the discussion?"
Grantaire nods. "It wasn't bad, right? I know better than to talk about the pack in detail with other alphas, but I thought it would be all right to tell about me. Especially since they would have noticed pretty quick."
"You're free to tell or not tell your own quirks as you will." Enjolras lets out a slow breath. "And I'm fairly certain the others' unique abilities and attributes have already been discovered. I appreciate your attempts at being discreet, though. It will be a useful habit to cultivate if you intend to stay with us and help with our cause."
"I do." Grantaire stares straight at him, eyes wide, expression determined. "I want to stay with you. I want to help."
"All right." Enjolras smiles, the expression somewhat bemused as he studies the stray. "What did you and Geroux talk about, then?"
"The same things, mainly." Grantaire colors, just slightly, and turns away. "She wanted to know why I wanted to join your pack, and she wanted to make sure that I wouldn't destabilize it. Which I don't think I would. You wouldn't consider letting me join if I was going to cause real trouble for you, would you?"
"You won't destabilize the pack." Shaking his head, Enjolras truly smiles at the stray. "The others like you. They're fond of you. Your quirk annoys their wolves, sometimes, but you accept their corrections. Coupled with the fact that we all believe every wolf should have a voice, and the fact that many of them seem to take… a strange sort of joy in being a bit different from most other packs, I don't think you're going to be a great problem for us."
"You say that as though I've already asked." Grantaire's head is down again, his hands clutching at his knees. "You say that as though I've already been accepted."
Enjolras knows the question that's coming. Perhaps it's time for it, even. But he needs to finish his questions first. "Did Geroux say anything else?"
Grantaire wilts, just slightly, and shakes his head. "Nothing of note. And I… don't remember much of my conversation with Paquet. I think… he threatened me, but I also think he tried to reassure me, so…"
"If you can't remember, there's nothing for it. Though the drinking that led to your difficulty remembering is something I wish to talk with you about." Enjolras had expected that Grantaire's memory of Paquet and what followed would be blurred at best. He had spoken personally with Paquet, and hopefully anything that Grantaire may have done or said will be overshadowed in Paquet's mind by an alpha to alpha conversation.
"I can stop." Grantaire risks a quick glance up at him, expression earnest. "If you wanted it, I'm certain I could stop. I only had a single glass of wine so far today, to help with a headache that I had when we came home. But it isn't a problem, anyway. I don't do anything terribly bad when I'm drunk. I'm not a danger. I tend to just talk, though I know better than to talk about Pack business."
"It will be different now, Grantaire. If we accept you, if you're a part of my pack, then your actions will reflect on me. You will have confidential information—information that could hurt the humans we're working with, that could hurt the pack if it came to the wrong ears." Enjolras watches the stray carefully as he talks, watches the cheerful bravado that had accompanied Grantaire's claims give way to uncertainty and fear. He drops his voice to an even quieter, softer tone, trying to make his words truthful but not cruel. "And you did act irregularly. You submitted to me. You attempted to nuzzle against me in public, in daylight, among humans. That kind of behavior can't be tolerated."
"It won't happen again." There's a stricken, terrified look on Grantaire's face as he whispers his answer to his hands. "I didn't… I've never had an alpha I would submit to before. But I'll be prepared next time. I'll make sure that it doesn't happen again. You can trust me."
"I would like to, Grantaire." He wants to. It's clear the man means the words, means the promise not to drink, means the promise to be true to the pack. Allowing himself to relax, Enjolras smiles, deciding that he will trust this male. "Now, I believe there was something you wanted to ask me."
Slowly, in hesitant increments, Grantaire raises his eyes to meet Enjolras' gaze. "You're certain? It's all right to ask it now, even though…?"
"Yes." Enjolras hopes he's predicted right what Grantaire wished to ask. This is likely going to be very awkward otherwise.
When Grantaire finally speaks, his voice is low and hesitant, though it gains strength and certainty as he continues. "You've been telling me to talk with the pack. You've been telling me to get to know them. You've been telling me to understand what you're fighting for."
They aren't the words of tradition, but they're proper words for between them. "Yes."
"I have. And I love your pack, Enjolras." Grantaire's eyes shine, an excitement that Enjolras hasn't seen in the stray before. "I love Jehan's kindness and creativity and even his poetry. I love Joly and Bossuet and Musichetta, for daring to choose each other and for how easily they've accepted me. I love Feuilly for being an artist and trusting me with his story. I love Bahorel for defending me. I love Courfeyrac, for giving me this opportunity. And I think I understand what you're fighting for, now."
"And?" Enjolras keeps himself from reaching toward the stray, physically or mentally.
"I still…" A low whine works its way out of Grantaire's throat. "I can't say that I grasp everything you're doing. I can't say I think it's all going to work out the way you think it is. You're trying to change everything. But I understand why. The way we treat each other is wrong. The way the humans treat us is wrong. The way the humans treat each other is wrong. And being with you, being with your pack… I can imagine something different, even if only in fleeting glances. I understand why you're doing what you're doing, and I want to help you."
They're words he's wanted Grantaire to say since the stray first started watching them. He can't help but smile, rising and moving to place his hand on Grantaire's shoulder. If it were his choice, his alone, he would wrap the stray in his arms and allow his power to bind him tight to the pack right now.
It isn't solely his choice, though, and he draws a breath and lets it out slowly. Reaching down, he tilts Grantaire's head up, though the male won't meet his gaze evenly. "And because of this?"
"I have seen your pack, Alpha." The words are the words of tradition, though they are half-strangled. "And I beg your leave to join it."
"I grant you leave to try, Grantaire." They're not the words of tradition, but they're the words that he can say. "When the pack gathers this evening, place your request before them. If they accept you, I gladly will."
Grantaire nods, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and hope, and reaches up to wrap his fingers tightly around Enjolras' wrist.
XXX
Marius waits impatiently in the garden.
Cosette had brought him food early in the morning, just after dawn, but she had been quick, hurried, and she left before they'd exchanged a half-dozen words. All she had really told him was to be still and avoid detection.
He waits in wolf form, breakfast having given him the strength he needed to change and his fur being warmer than any human clothing.
It's harder to be patient in wolf form, though, and he's fairly certain he's prowled every inch of the garden by the time evening comes. He's managed to be careful to avoid walking directly in front of the windows or other places where the male human might notice, at least.
He also managed to be still and silent, another clump of brown vegetation amidst the snow, when the male human searched the garden earlier in the afternoon. It helped that snow had fallen throughout the morning, painting the entire garden in a fresh coat of fluffy white and eliminating any tracks that led to his hiding spot.
Eventually, though, evening comes. The sky darkens into true night, the stars and the Lady hidden by a cover of thick clouds, and even his sharp eyes have difficulty making out much in the gloom.
He can smell when Cosette comes out to see him, though. Her scent is one that he is very sharply cued to, and he bounds out of his hiding place and towards the woman.
She doesn't notice him until his teeth pull gently on her sleeve, urging her to set the bowl of food that he can also smell down so that he can eat.
"Marius?" She hesitates, her fingers reaching down and groping blindly at his head. "That is you, correct?"
He takes her hand in his teeth and very gently nods. He knows better than to push himself Changing too often tonight. Once he's had his meal, then he can Change and talk with her.
Cosette strokes the fur on his head as he eats, kneeling next to him. When he's done he licks her hand, gently, before bounding back to where he left his clothes.
Changing and dressing as quickly as he can, trying to ignore the cold, he makes his way back to Cosette's side.
"Marius?" Cosette responds to the sound of his steps in the snow, reaching a hand in his general direction.
"Here." He slips his hand into hers, thrilled at the feel of her fingers against his skin. "I've been waiting for you."
"It's been hard keeping Papa from tearing the garden apart. I had to wait for him to go out for a few minutes before coming to see you." Cosette leans closer to him, her fingers returning his grip with equal verve. "It's so dark out tonight! Dark and cold, Marius, and I hate thinking of you out here alone."
"I'm not alone." He uses his free hand to stroke her cheek, a gentle touch that she leans into. A thrill goes through his gut, and he finds himself grinning widely as joy sweeps through his heart and soul, joy such as he hasn't felt since before his father died. "I have you."
"Marius…" His name is a soft gasp as she pulls back from him, and the fear-scent is suddenly sharp around them.
He doesn't understand what happened, and a whimper slips from his throat before he can stop it. "Cosette? Did I do something wrong?"
Had he acted improperly? Did he break some unknown human taboo? Did he—
"Did you… did you feel that?" Cosette's hand trembles in his, but she hasn't pulled her fingers away.
"No. I don't know." He hesitates, trying to remember anything strange that's occurred over the last minute. "What should I be trying to feel?"
"I don't… I can't…" Cosette hesitates for another few seconds before resting her head against his shoulder again. "I don't have words to describe it, Marius. I suppose… ah, it was likely nothing, anyway."
"All right." He's still confused, but at least the fear scent has faded again from around Cosette. He doesn't like it when she's frightened. It makes his hackles want to rise, brings a growl to his throat. Nothing should frighten Cosette, not when he's with her. Squeezing her hand, he tries rubbing his chin against Cosette's head, as he would with a less-dominant wolf to offer comfort.
She giggles, a sound of breathless mirth, and reaches up to scratch behind his ear. "You're such a strange contradiction, Marius. The wolf who nods and the man who nuzzles. I find it very thrilling."
"I'm glad." Since she apparently likes it, he rubs his head against her again. He likes the feel of her fingers in his hair, and he tilts his head so that she can reach the best spots more easily.
Cosette's fingers slow, come to a standstill wrapped in his hair. "And though I'm quite flattered that you consider me equally as important as not freezing or starving to death, I would feel rather better if I knew that you had a safe place to go and a source of food other than what I can scavenge for you."
"I catch things on occasion." Very occasionally, his hunting skills having been blunted by too long in a well-established city pack, but it has been an occasional source of protein. "And every once in a while I'm able to do work as a tutor or translator for a bit of coin. I did have a small apartment, but the pack whose territory it was in found me and… strongly disapproved of my presence."
"Is there nowhere in Paris that the pack hasn't claimed?"
"No." Marius can't keep the surprise out of his voice as he answers the question. "Packs tend to have large territories, to give more hunting ground, to give more safety, to give more of a chance of finding dens, to give more places for pups to be taught and trained."
"But it's the city! There are dens everywhere." Cosette pauses. "If by dens we mean houses."
"It's… it's a matter of instinct and pride, Cosette." Marius hesitates, trying, once more, to find words to describe concepts that he's never questioned. "Many of our instincts have to be suppressed when humans are around. So we cling very tightly to those that are left to us. Wolves need space. Having nine packs in Paris is quite enough for most of us."
"I think… there's something that I'm not understanding quite right." Cosette pulls back from him slightly, frowning. "When you were talking about the pack before, you said that all wolves are pack and that the alpha binds all the wolves together. So how are there nine packs?"
"All wolves are Pack, but we're certainly not all part of the same pack." Marius bites at his bottom lip to keep from laughing. He suspects Cosette would pull away from him if he laughed, and he doesn't want that. "It's a matter of capitalization."
"Ah." A different sort of frown, slightly pouting, takes the place of the confused one. "You do realize that capitalization isn't audible, Marius?"
"I do now." He grins, and another burst of joy makes coherent thought possible. He wishes it were possible for Cosette to feel it. He wishes that Cosette were a wolf, that he could choose her, that he could simply stay with her.
Except Cosette wouldn't be Cosette if she were a wolf. She wouldn't look the same. She wouldn't have such delightfully curious questions about his world.
She wouldn't want to talk with him.
He wouldn't be able to think of her as she.
"Oh…" Cosette presses her free hand to her chest, a radiant smile followed by a look of utter puzzlement flowing over her face. Shaking her head, she offers him a slight smile before straightening. She moves so that she's standing in front of him, looking up into his eyes, though she doesn't release his hand. "So there are nine small packs in Paris with alphas for each pack? Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"And your grandfather is alpha of one, so him and his territory aren't an option." Cosette bites at her lip. "How many of the other packs have you approached?"
"I've talked with three." He lowers his head, the memories of those awkward conversations hot and painful in his chest. "None of them wanted me. I've been driven away from the territory of three others when they found me on their land without permission."
"So there are two other packs that you haven't approached." Cosette bites at her bottom lip. "Do you think that one of them might accept you?"
Marius stays silent. He doesn't really want to think about approaching his people right now. Not while he's in the midst of doing something that all of them would look on with even more horror than what his father did. At least his father only fought for and followed a human; Marius has willingly, willfully told one all of their secrets.
"I'm sorry." Cosette's fingers are gentle on his cheek. "I'm sorry that you're so alone, Marius. It must be terribly lonely, especially if your people are used to reading each other's minds."
"Emotions." He makes the correction gently, smiling as he leans into her touch. "Not minds, Cosette. Not unless we're in a Pack children's story."
"Emotions. Minds. Souls. Call it what you will, it sounds amazing." Her hand pauses, presses hard against his cheek. "And I'm certain that losing that is incredibly hard."
"I don't want to think on it. I want to talk with you, and see you happy. I want to see your joy at discovering my world. I want…" He doesn't know how to articulate what he wants. But he isn't lonely, not standing here with Cosette, and despite the snow it's a warm night, so he isn't cold. Life could be much worse.
"Is there nowhere else that you could go?" Cosette's hand reaches up, teases and fondles at the hair around his ears. "There's nowhere in Paris that the packs haven't claimed?"
"The university is neutral ground." He tilts his head, his eyes closing in contentment as her fingers explore. "It's an old concept, one that hasn't been used very often. It's to keep fighting between evenly-matched packs from getting out of hand. It's something the newest alpha insisted on having at the university, so that any wolf who wants to can attend the school. All wolves are supposed to be welcome on neutral ground. No one pack can claim ownership, and it's very bad form to injure another wolf on neutral ground. That doesn't always stop wolves from fighting, and it wouldn't necessarily guarantee my safety since I have no pack to bring a grievance against another pack if I was badly injured."
"But it might be an option. You might be able to find lodging near the university." Cosette's tone is hopeful.
Opening his eyes again, Marius shrugs. "I could look, I suppose."
"Or you could approach the other packs. Perhaps one of them would be willing to accept you."
They wouldn't. Not if he wants to keep coming here, to keep seeing and talking with her, and he very much does. He doesn't want to crush that hope in her eyes, though. "If you want me to look for proper lodgings again, I will."
"I would, Marius." Her hand slides down, cups his cheek. "I want you to have a proper place to stay, and a change of clothes. I want you to eat properly, so you can Change like the magnificent creature that you are. And I want you to start attending Church on Sundays, so that you can be introduced to my father and start courting me properly."
"I can't—" He's going to protest the absurdity of a Pack member attending church when the rest of her sentence registers. "You want me to court you?"
"Yes." Cosette's cheeks are flushed again, stronger than he's ever seen them, but her eyes are bright and direct as they stare into his. "I considered having you simply stay as a wolf and asking Papa if I could keep you as a pet, but that feels too… dishonest. So I would like you to meet us properly, like a human would meet me, and then, if you wish it, I would very much like for you to court me."
"I'm a werewolf, Cosette. I'm something… completely different than what you are."
"No." Both her hands cup his cheeks, now, and her eyes are bright and shining as they gaze into his. "You aren't. You're magic, and you're wonderful, but you're also… talking with you these last days, you aren't any more alien than… than someone from another country. You have strange words, and strange customs, but I can tell that we're still the same, at heart."
He doesn't know what to say.
He doesn't know what he wants.
"Of course…" Her hands drop away, and she blushes more, something he hadn't thought was possible. Her eyes also fall, study the snow rather than meeting his as her shoulders hunch. "If you don't wish to, that's fine. I must seem plain and silly compared to a female wolf. I didn't mean to imply that you had to court me. You could simply introduce yourself properly to my father, and maybe we could talk sometime when there isn't snow underfoot and we aren't cold and—"
"I would very much like to court you." His voice stops her words, and he returns her smile with a wide grin of his own. "Though I may not do a very good job at it. I've never courted a human before. I've only read about it in books. And I will admit that the idea of attending a human church is… odd."
"I will probably be very bad at being courted. I've only read about it, as well." Cosette's giddy smile seems to reach right through to his heart, to his soul, fanning his own joy higher. "And I simply mentioned the church because we go every Sunday. Papa is actually quite religious. Would it be terrible to ask you to attend, when they've done such awful things to your people in the past?"
"I would be willing to try. For you, I would be willing to try anything." He wants to pull her to him, to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight to him. He wants to pounce on her, to bear her to the ground and lick her cheek and bite her ear and reassure her that she is his and he is hers and he will protect her.
That probably wouldn't help to reinforce her idea that they are the same at heart, though, so he contents himself with holding both her hands tightly and grinning.
He's thus completely unprepared when she throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her lips against his neck. She doesn't bite. There's no challenge in the move, and he finds himself blinking in confusion at her face again a moment later when she pulls away.
"I'm sorry." She laughs, a breathless, happy sound. "I don't know what got into me, Marius. I just… I'm so happy that you'll consider it. I'm so happy to be here with you. And I can't wait to introduce you to Papa. But first, we need you to be properly taken care of."
"I will go looking tomorrow." He strokes her hair as he says the words. "No matter what it takes, if it's to make you happy, I will find a way."
"Thank you." Cosette hesitates, her hands resting against his coat. "And you won't mind pretending to be human? Because you'll have to pretend, if we aren't going to tell Papa your secret."
"I've been pretending to be entirely human for nine months now. My people spend most of our lives pretending to be human." Marius' fingers pause. "Pretending to be human in order to be with you will be a much more pleasant experience, I think."
"And it won't be too terrible having to attend our church? You said… you have gods of your own? It won't make you feel too…"
Marius chuckles, low in his throat, and shakes his head. "The White Lady owns my soul, and the Black Night will come for me one day no matter what I do. I see no reason they should begrudge me spending some time with your human god."
"You speak of them as though you know them. As though they're real." Cosette glances away, suddenly uneasy. "I mean, not to say that they necessarily aren't, since you are a werewolf…"
"I see the evidence of the White Lady's power in the sky every night. I feel her inside my body every time I Change. She calls my Change out every full moon whether I will it or no. Of course I think she's real."
"Oh." Cosette tilts her head, expression pensive. "Would you mind… telling me about them? About your gods?"
"If you want." He hesitates, trying to sort through what information Cosette might be interested in. "The White Lady and the Black Night are our gods. The White Lady is the god of the moon. He's the one who chose our people, who gave us our abilitites, who watches over us. He gave us our magic in return for our using it to protect ourselves and each other. That's why dominant wolves are supposed to protect submissive ones; that's why submissive ones are supposed to trust and follow dominant ones. He's the god of Change, of pack, of birth. He's the one we ask for protection, when we ask a god for anything."
"And the Black Night?"
"Ah… we try not to say his name often. He's the Lady's mate, the one who follows and completes him, the one who watches him when he's sleeping. He is the god of death. He is the lord of loneliness, the master of darkness, and the Lady is the only thing that keeps him from being too terrible and sad to contemplate. He is… not one that you call upon or invite lightly into anything." Marius shivers, reaching out and pulling Cosette closer to him without thinking.
She comes without resistance, her body warm against his. "It's so strange to hear you talk of gods like this, Marius. Strange and… frightening, in a way, because if you're real, might they not also be real?" Cosette pauses, her breath warm against his neck. "And perhaps they are. If God can be a man and a god at the same time, a father and a son, why should he not be a man and a woman, a wolf and a man? I don't know, Marius. I don't know if I'm speaking blasphemy or truth. I don't know how to think about this. It's frightening."
"Don't think on it if it frightens you." Marius tilts her chin up, rubs his cheek against hers. "Other than forcing me to Change once a month, the Lady seems not to bother much with her people. There are tales of her and her mate walking among us, but they are old tales, tales that start with long, long ago and have no names in them that are recognizable. The Pack has been left to its own devices, to live or die as we will. Even when the humans slaughtered us in droves, the Lady did nothing to save us."
"Let's talk of easier things again." Cosette shivers, once, and pulls away from him. "Let's talk about the pack you grew up with. Tell me about when you were younger. Tell me about learning about humans. Tell me anything about you, and let's leave talk of gods and death for other days."
"All right." Marius trails his fingers across her cheek. "If you'll tell me about your childhood."
Cosette nods, her smile returning.
They talk for what seems like hours. He tells her of learning how to control his Changes, of playing with other pups, of his grandfather, of the tutors that were hired to teach the pups, of the difficulty of not having proper age-mates to be with since his mother had changed packs after his birth, the other pups all younger or older than he is. He tells her of the other pups choosing to leave the pack, one after the other, and his own hesitancy, his own uncertainty, his eventual decision to simply stay with his grandfather and find a position within his birth-pack. He tells her of visiting his father, of how that simple visit broke his life apart and changed everything.
She tells him of growing up in the convent. She tells him of nightmares, shadow-memories of a time before, working, crying, hurting, sleeping in the cold. She tells him of her Papa, a man she loves as a father though she isn't sure of his exact blood-relation to her. She tells him of her decision to leave the convent, to see the world that had been so long hidden outside the walls.
They talk until they hear the garden door open, and she leaves him with a look and a squeeze of his hand that promises many more good nights to come.
As he settles down to sleep once more in his fur in the snow, he vows that he will find somewhere safe that he can stay, no matter how difficult a task it is.
Cosette would be worth any difficulty.
