by Sy Walker
She smiled at Zephyr. He smiled back at her.
“What do you want to name him?” he asked her. “You’re probably better at that sort of thing than I am.”
“Zenith,” she said with no hesitation. She had been considering names ever since she found out she was pregnant. “I figure it would be good to start him off at a high point, at least.”
Zephyr chuckled. “I like it,” he said. He hugged her and gently petted his tiny son’s head. They made a cute family already.
“Let’s take him home,” Celeste said then. “I cannot wait to introduce him to my planet and my people.”
M/M: White Wolf
Chapter 1
“Bruce!”
Bruce winced at the sound of his father’s harsh voice summoning him from the field. He lowered his sword and ran his hand through his long, tangled brown hair in exasperation.
“You look like a damn woman, boy!” his father spat, marching toward his son. “You swing like this.”
Bruce watched his father demonstrate scornfully, wishing the old brute would just leave him alone. Things had been hard on Bruce lately. His father, Lord Jameson, had been coming down hard on him for preferring what he considered to be feminine activities, such as liking to sit with the women as they cooked and learn about the way they fed the clan. Bruce loved to cook, and was an introvert and a sensitive soul, who always seemed eager to help anyone who came to him with a need.
“I don’t want to swing,” Bruce said, setting his full lips into a thin, annoyed line. His father had always been adamant about turning him into the ultimate warrior, but he just couldn’t find a way to share the pointless passion of spilling blood. What was the point when delegation was just as often even more effective? If people focused more on ways they could agree, then these wars wouldn’t have to take place and so many good men wouldn’t have to die for no good reason.
“War is in your blood, lad! Whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to face it!” Lord Jameson spat. “There’s no use denying it. If you were fighting for your life you would be thanking me for taking time out of my life to instruct you! Everyone else is sick of trying. As it is you’re a useless excuse of a son of mine! Your sister is more man than you are. And she’s only six! There’s a lass I can be proud of.”
Bruce sighed. He had heard it all before.
“Where are you going?” Lord Jameson bellowed as Bruce turned on his heel and stalked toward the castle, away from the highland hills that he loved. If he was quick about it he could spend time with the cooks before dinner was served. He was dying for the secret to the stew he loved so much.
“I’m tired,” Bruce said. He could feel his father’s eyes boring through him. Suddenly, he dodged out of the way as his father thrust his sword at Bruce. He avoided it without looking back. His father heaved a heavy sigh, but said nothing, content with Bruce’s display of masculinity. Even if he was more like a girl, at least he wouldn’t be stricken down from behind.
Chapter 2
The Jameson clan ate together that night at the large, rectangular table. Bruce had gotten home in time to help with the stew, which his father purposely avoided eating and instead opted for large wedges of meat and bread. Bruce sighed and avoided looking in his general direction. His sister was eating heartily as well, but he couldn’t find the motivation he needed to try to talk to her. He was feeling bitter that his father had compared him to her again. He knew it wasn’t her fault, but it still stung and made him feel withdrawn.
“Bruce, there’s something we haven’t discussed yet,” his father said, chewing the tough meat pointedly. Bruce suddenly missed his mother more than he had in a while. It came as a crippling pang, one that warned him that his father was about to tread in waters he might have liked his mother’s soft consolation to recover from later.
Bruce didn’t answer, instead lifting his bowl to his lips and slurping deeply.
“You’re getting married, my boy! Congratulations.”
Sophie, his little sister, looked startled and stared at her father, then at Bruce. She said nothing, but furrowed her eyebrows. She would miss Bruce if he left to marry. He was the gentler influence of their household.
“What are you talking about?” Bruce asked, growing rigid in his seat.
“We’ve been lucky enough to land a union with the McNeil clan. It’s the only way to forge peace in these tumultuous times. Since you don’t seem to care for warfare, I’m sure you can see how this might be the preferable choice.”
“What I don’t care for is how you men in power like to make a fight out of everything! Conflicts that could easily be resolved immediately turn to bloodshed. It seems as if you enjoy spilling needless blood over nothing!”
“Bite your tongue boy. You want an end to the bloodshed? You marry Aileen McNeil. This is your birthright. You can end the slaughter with just a single agreement. You understand, lad? This isn’t a choice for you. This is the only way to keep our clan safe. But you’re not going to have it easy. Aileen needs time to get to know you. She has made it very clear we have a chance to seal the deal with them, but it’s going to take effort on your part to man up and woo her. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, lad? You have to do this for your people. It’s your solemn duty. Or let the war that commences be on your own hands. I’ve done what I can to keep the peace. Let’s see you try it for once.”
“Aileen…?” Bruce asked breathlessly. If there was a woman in all the land that Bruce couldn’t imagine tolerating, let alone spending every day of his life with, it was the cold and calculating Aileen McNeil. She was said to be a great beauty, but Bruce had never seen it for himself. They had met on a few occasions, but she was the spitting image of her brutish father, Lord McNeil, in both body and mind.
“Yes, who else?” his father said, taking another generous bite of his meat. “You head out tomorrow morning. I expect you to have everything packed up and ready to go. Don’t take too much, there will be accommodations.”
“I can’t believe this,” Bruce groaned, shoving his bowl to the table and standing up. He stormed out of the room as his father chuckled to himself.
“Time to be a man, lad!” he exclaimed. Bruce growled to himself but knew it was going to be inevitable. He would do whatever it took to maintain peace. Still, he didn’t have to be happy about it, and remained apprehensive for the rest of the night.
Chapter 3
“Welcome, Jameson,” Lord McNeil said with a cold smile on his face. Standing beside him was the icy Aileen, who didn’t acknowledge him. She kept her gaze aloof, staring into the distance just behind Bruce. He had dressed his best for the occasion, wearing his favorite tartan and baring his prized musculature with a difficult pride. He didn’t want to impress her; in fact, he wanted nothing to do with her. But he knew he had to try. If he didn’t get to the point of making a formal proposal, they could forget about peace and blood would be shed at his own hands.
He had the unpleasant feeling that his father might almost be rooting for him to fail. Certainly there could have been a better way to ensure peace than to send his failure of a son to impress the impassive Aileen. His father was a brute after all, and enjoyed any excuse for bloodshed. He protected his clan fiercely and if he had any possible reason to go to war, he took it. So many of the men glorified this senseless slaughter. Bruce would just never understand it.
“You must be Lady Aileen,” he said with as warm a smile as he could muster. Her cold eyes flickered to his and briefly acknowledged him. She didn’t seem any keener on marrying him than he felt to woo her. Where would he even begin? He had never been particularly interested in women and spent most of his time by himself, fixated by his inner world more than most other young men his age. His father was always bragging about how at his age he’d learned more about women than he’d ever imagined.
It just wasn’t in Bruce’s nature to throw himself at anybody else. In fact, he had never considered a relationship with anybody one way or another.
Which made him think that he might as well be with her as with anyone else, since it had never really mattered that much to him who he ended up. He’d always been a loner, and none of the women in his clan had appealed to him.
“Come join us for dinner, Bruce,” Lord McNeil said, patting his shoulder with a meaty hand. His eyes lingered on Aileen, who purposefully ignored him as he turned to follow her father inside. Bruce heaved a heavy sigh. What was he in for?
Dinner was a local favorite; a dish that Bruce had never had before.
“Wow, what’s the secret to this?” he asked one of the servants, forgetting his place and falling back on the habit he’d surrendered to back home that made his father so irate.
“Uh,” the servant seemed flustered. “I don’t know; you would have to ask the chef.”
“Right,” Bruce said, suddenly feeling embarrassed as the stern face of Lord McNeil gazed disapprovingly at him. Aileen snickered to herself as Bruce’s face reddened and he looked down at the meal, picking at it slowly.
“Do you cook, Bruce?” Aileen asked, fixing her full attention uncomfortably on him.
“I…not really,” Bruce said. He would have to maintain his masculinity if this was going to go well. If not, he would have to answer for the war that would follow. He would have to pretend to be his father if he really cared about it. “But I find the servants serve you better if they think you care.”
He grinned and took a huge bite of his meat. He choked it down, staring at his plate as Lord McNeil seemed to soften. He had heard rumors about Bruce, but he had chalked it up to people who were bitter at Lord Jameson and wanted to say and do anything they could to ruin his name. Jameson was a man who made it difficult to get along with him, and he would just have to judge the boy for himself.
Dinner resumed quietly, until everybody was finished and Bruce was led out of the dining hall by one of the servants. Lord McNeil and Aileen remained at the table together, watching him with their identical, cold eyes as he walked away from them.
“Join us again for breakfast in the morning, and from there we will see how things progress,” Lord McNeil called behind Bruce. Bruce sighed silently to himself and followed the servant to the room that had been set up for him. He was left alone there for the rest of the night, staring out the window and wondering what he was going to do if Aileen and Lord McNeil rejected him.
Chapter 4
“Good morning, Bruce,” Lord McNeil said, his cold eyes hard and his smile tight. Bruce nodded at him and took his place at the table. “I’ve given matters some thought. Come meet us outside after we eat. We have much to discuss.”
“Of course, sir,” Bruce said, nodding eagerly, although his heart wasn’t in it at all.
The meal crept along slowly, and it felt like years before they made it into the open air. Bruce immediately felt more relaxed there, and his eyes hungrily roamed the green highland hills. If only he could live there, out among the rebels and warriors rather than stuck in the tiresome elite.
“Was there something you wanted to ask of me?” Lord McNeil asked, with Aileen standing sternly at his side.
“It would be my pleasure to take your daughter as my wife and secure the peace between the McNeil and Jameson clans,” Bruce said as formally as he could muster. It wouldn’t be his pleasure. Not by a long shot. And it was clearly not going to be Aileen’s pleasure either. She probably had her eyes on some of the other men in her own clan.
“Very well,” Lord McNeil said. “We accept. The wedding will be in three weeks’ time. We have festivities to prepare for the event. Aileen is my only daughter after all.”
“Of course, my Lord.”
And like that, it was done.
Lord McNeil and her father returned back indoors, and Bruce sighed heavily. He didn’t have any desire to return to the oppressive atmosphere of the McNeil castle, and instead decided to wander toward the hills where his eyes had been drawn. It would do him some good to commune with nature. He placed a palm over the trunk of one of the trees he passed as he entered into the foliage, and closed his eyes reverently. He would need to let the earth guide him now.
“Are the spirits talking to you?” a teasing man’s voice asked. It was low but gentle, rumbling, as if it could be fierce but was choosing not to be. It sent a strange jolt through Bruce, and he opened his eyes, startled by the handsome man who was peering over at him. The man’s eyes were blue and he had a raw masculinity that might have made Bruce feel insecure if he hadn’t been so drawn to it.
“Maybe,” Bruce teased back, surprised at himself for falling into the easy banter. He was normally much more guarded than this.
“What are they saying?” the man asked, his blue eyes sparkling.
“It’s a secret. But it’s definitely about you. Awful things.”
The man considered this for a moment, a serious, contemplative look on his face.
“Well then I’ll just have to prove them wrong, won’t I?”
“Or maybe you’ll prove them right.”
The man’s steady gaze looked Bruce up and down, and he felt suddenly self-conscious in a way he never had before. It was lucky he had chosen his favorite tartan once again, unsure if the formal occasion of the proposal would warrant anything less than the best.
“Well I guess you’ll have to be the judge of that then,” the virile man said, making his way slowly toward Bruce. Bruce’s heart hammered in his chest as he watched the man come near, and he swallowed hard, confused by his physical reaction to the man’s presence.
“My name is Jonas McNeil. I saw you arrive yesterday. Tell me, why have you come to my father’s castle?”
“You’re Lord McNeil’s son?” Bruce asked, sincerely surprised. The man was so warm; so much different than Lord McNeil and Aileen.
“Well…illegitimately,” Jonas said with a small smirk. “I don’t technically belong here.”
“Wow…”
Bruce stood back for a moment and took in the handsome man. He was wearing a black and grey tartan, and his shoulders were broad and powerful. He looked fierce, as if he could tear a man in two if the laughter left his eyes. His hair was long and a dirty golden color.
“Do you live in the castle?”
“No. I make my home out here, in the wilderness.”
“Really…?”
He was living the life Bruce had only dreamt of. How was this man making his life work in his favor when Bruce himself had been forced into marrying a woman he couldn’t stand and living in an unfamiliar place? Would it be possible to make himself comfortable out in the wilderness as well?
“Of course. My father is ashamed of me because of who my mother is, but I like to keep these parts safe. I’ve been well-trained despite his refusal to acknowledge who I am.”
“That must be difficult for you,” Bruce said.
“Actually it has been a great opportunity to find the place where I truly belong. I couldn’t be more grateful.”
Bruce’s surprise must have been apparent on his face, because Jonas laughed softly and turned away from him.
“I have things to do but maybe we will see each other again. I frequent this area a lot. I could show you around if you’re interested.”
“That sounds amazing actually,” Bruce replied, his heart thudding in his chest. Jonas looked at him, almost as if he could hear his excited heartbeat, and grinned.
“Good. It’s settled then. See you around.”
“Right,” Bruce said, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes followed the rippling muscles in Jonas’ back until he was out of sight. He turned back toward the castle. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to be part of the McNeil clan after all.
Chapter 5
It took a while for Bruce to begin to settle in to the new routine that he had to follow with the McNeil clan. He had been fairly used to his father’s rules and the way that he ran his clan. Bruce, although he couldn’t stand his father, couldn’t help but feel as if his father’s rules were superior and he would
have preferred to stick with his routine.
During the evenings, he was expected to go on walks with Aileen, who kept her distance. Although most people believed her to be one of the most beautiful women in the land, Bruce felt no attraction toward her and resented having to spend so much of his time in her steely presence. When she returned into the castle, Bruce would linger outside, hoping to hear the gentle rustling of the leaves that would signal the arrival of Jonas, who had begun to linger on the outskirts of the forest in hopes that Bruce would join him for a hunt.
It took a while before Bruce felt bold enough to leave during the day and do as he pleased. It wasn’t until he was formally married to Aileen that he felt comfortable doing as he wished. After all, the marriage had been finalized. Now all he had to do was honor his commitment. Which meant that he could go out and hunt if he so chose. His father would have been surprised to see his son eager to find meet for his family, but he would be proud. Although Bruce didn’t care one way or another what his father thought, he still wanted his approval to some degree and felt better knowing that he was doing something that might make the man happy. Although he didn’t make kills, he still enjoyed watching Jonas as he worked.
“Good evening, Bruce,” Jonas’ clear voice rang out over the hill. Bruce’s heart thudded in pleasure and he smiled at Jonas, who appeared out of the darkness. His chest was heaving, and there was a splatter of blood on his face.
“Are you all right?” Bruce asked, moving toward Jonas immediately and touching his cheek. He wiped it gently with his finger before realizing that the blood wasn’t from any wound he could see.
“I’m fine, that blood isn’t mine,” Jonas said, flashing him a dazzling smile.
“Of course not,” Bruce said, suddenly feeling silly and backing away from the strong man. “I’m sorry.”