He pulled out from my mouth and looked at me with eyes that were too old for his youthful face. The fire and want had faded from them and were replaced by things I could not fathom. He held his hand out to me, and after washing myself off in the water quickly, I took it.
He brought me to my feet and pulled me to his chest. I could hear his heart beating, even over the rush of water. Draugr put his lips to mine and drew me into a kiss that seemed to last for hours.
Chapter 13
Draugr
The castle marked the end of our journey. It looked so very foreign. The spiraling stone towers, the grand flags and the turrets and walls that surrounded it were so manmade, so utterly different than my forest, my hut, my small gardens. Here the land was farmed and tamed and the humans. Gods, I had neither seen nor smelled humans in years. They made my heart ache. Their bodies looked so fragile. Their magic was off, their women small and short and terrifyingly breakable.
Seeing them made the idea of this Yor and his branding even more troubling. Hafporir put his hand on mine. We looked down at the castle as humans, but for propriety, rather than stroll through the village on the way to the castle, had agreed to return to wolf form.
“My prince-”
“I am your prince,” he smiled with a little of the impishness he had brought with him when he first arrived. Come to think of it, his first seduction in the forest on our journey had been impish, as had been every one that followed. We had not truly consummated, as much as I had longed to, but I had felt his mouth on my cock several more times on our journey, and Hafporir, for good or ill, became ever more pliant around my fingers. I had even fit a third this past night.
I shook my head to clear my thoughts.
“You cannot touch me in this way now we have arrived.”
“Serious matters await,” he gave my hand a squeeze and released it.
I took a breath and looked him in the eye, “What is between us ends now. I will not face the wrath of your fathers.”
“Are you trying to tell me, again, that we cannot be.”
I almost broke, looking at him, the handsome cut of his jaw, the look in his eyes, but I held my ground. It was for his own good, and in the end, we did not know what would come next, not with his strange visions and the current visitors to the castle.
“We never were.”
It looked like my words hit him like a stone to the temple. His eyes reddened slightly, but his lips held firm. He faced the castle.
“As wolves, then.”
We transformed and approached.
Chapter 14
Hafporir
“Prince Hafporir!” The first to recognize me in wolf form, Gransi, called out to me. He was one of our human guards. He threw down his axe and rushed forward. He bowed to me, and I could tell he did not know what to do with a prince who could not address him in return. I inclined my wolf’s head to him and raised a paw toward the castle.
“I shall announce your arrival, if that is what you desire?” His sentence was a question. I nodded, and with a second bow, he rushed ahead.
By the time we entered the castle, there was a cadre of servants waiting. They bowed us into a chamber off the entrance hall where we transformed back into human form. As I watched my claws recede, I turned from Draugr. I could not look at him. I thought I had him this time, that I had him convinced that we should…
That you should be mates? That he should love you? An insidious voice in my head pressed the questions I had been too afraid to even think. I breathed through a sob as a servant ran a warm, damp cloth over my body to wipe away the grime of travel. I was perfumed. They drew clean leather and furs and wool over me, and it felt like speaking a foreign tongue. In my time with Draugr, the clothes I had with me had become worn, and soft, and in some places even threadbare. These were the stiff and newly sewn clothes of royalty. I imagined Draugr was similarly outfitted. A servant ran a comb through my hair and my beard and deftly braided several strands together, adding silver beads at the end to hold the hair in place.
Valkir, a female servant who had often attended me, and who had, I dared to think, been something of a friend, brought me a circlet of silver. She placed it on my brow.
“My prince,” she bowed.
“Rise, Valkir.”
“May I speak freely your highness?”
“What is it?”
“There is a change in you,” she said with a smile. She bowed and departed with the servants. The guards held the door.
I turned and stopped. Draugr had been outfitted in black leather with silver fastenings that made his eyes seem to glow as they did in my visions. His arms were bare beneath a great gray bearskin cloak that emphasized his broad shoulders and imposing stature. For a moment I almost closed the space between us and kissed him. That is, until his words of a moment ago twisted in me like a knife in a wound. I set my jaw and tried to make my way through the door, only to be blocked by two of the strangest beings in the kingdom, my sisters, the she-wolves.
They were born at the same time under a full moon. I remember watching the process, marveling as the human babies let out chilling, wolf-like howls. Their eyes were the same, one blue like mine, and one golden brown like Ulfvaldr’s. Grenda’s blue eye was on the left, and Gilda’s blue eye was on the right. It gave them an eerie sense of their being one being when they stood next to each other, moving together, with their blue eyes forming a gaze that sat somehow betwixt them.
“Brother!” They exclaimed in unison.
They wrapped their arms around me. They were so much stronger than I remembered. I clapped them on the back, and when they released me, I tried to hide the fact that I had to catch my breath. Each wore a bow strung across her back. They would have been identical, but for the few differences between them. Grenda kept half her head shaved with intricate winding designs, while Gilda preferred braids that hung to her shoulders. They both had features that gave me the sense that they were closer to beast than woman. Sometimes, when they smiled, I could swear that their teeth were sharp and needle-like, ready to rip the throats out of people who crossed them, but then when I would look again, they would be the ordinary flat teeth that any wolf had in human form.
Gilda’s blue eye twinkled as she looked from me to Draugr, “You’ve brought a friend!”
“He’s brought his teacher,” Draugr interjected before I had time to say anything. He bowed, “Draugr of the east forest, at your service.”
“Are you?” Grenda tittered.
“Or do you mean you are at the king’s service? Or perhaps…” Gilda eyed him while toying with a braid.
“Gilda. Grenda. Isn’t this enough?”
Grenda grabbed my face and pulled me close so her mouth was against my ear.
“We are almost certain Yor plans to murder our fathers. It will not be in a way we expect. The humans have good ears, better than they should,” she paused and licked her lips, “and everything that has been said in confidence has thus far seemed to find its way to the ears of these unfriendly diplomats.”
“And what then of what you have said just now?”
She shrugged, “Luckily, few know of your arrival, and even fewer pay attention to us.”
“They should,” I smiled, “As an old warrior once told me, if you don’t mind a sword you’ll lose a finger.”
“Among other things. If I know who you refer to, he had only nine fingers,” Gilda grinned, “Come, brother. We have missed you. Bring your lover.”
My face turned bright red, and I did not need to turn around to see the indignation boiling off of Draugr.
If it was so obvious to my sisters, I hoped that it was at least half because of Draugr. I hoped it was because of the way he looked at me, though I had seen no glance that betrayed any inner working. I allowed myself one last moment of hoping, wishing, before I pushed the feelings away to focus on the grave situation at hand. I followed my sisters to the Great Hall, all the while, trying to keep Draugr’s footfalls behind me
from driving me mad with grief.
We entered the room, with its rough stone pillars and walls decorated with shields and banners of the wolf tribe and mankind alike. Two old men sat on my fathers’ thrones. I blinked. It was them, but they looked somehow so different. In going away, I had forgotten all of the marks of their aging, remembered them as they were when I was a child. Now, back with them, every gray hair, every line that dug its way through their faces, the wrinkles around their eyes and the way they sat, strong, but ever so slightly weary, was obvious. It stung me.
Draugr, perhaps sensing my pain, brushed my hand with his before kneeling before them. I bowed.
“That -” I looked up to see my father Ulfvaldr with his hand held out to me, “Is proof alone of the quality of your instruction, Draugr. Rise, my son.”
“Welcome home,” Ulfvaldr smiled. His gentler face crinkled with the gesture, and it broke my heart to see him look so happy to see me, even though what had precipitated my return was the knock of death at his door.
“We must go to table, yes? You’ve had a long journey. We will invite the emissaries from the far north,” Varghoss stood. I noted that he wore leather armor, and kept a sword at his side. Ulfvaldr did as well.
“Is that where they’re from?”
His golden eyes flashed, “It is where they say they are from. Not much else about it.”
“You must meet them, and give us your guidance. Girls-” Ulfvaldr winced as there was a collective huff from my sisters, “You will join us.”
“Yes, father,” Gilda answered sweetly.
Grenda answered only by inspecting a dagger she had pulled from gods knew where and sharpening it with a small stone.
Varghoss got up from his throne, and made his way over to me. He wrapped his great arms around me in a hug, and I longed to lean my head on his shoulder, as I did as a child.
“Come, let us rouse the servants and the guard. My son has returned. It would be unusual not to celebrate.”
“Father, you have to tell me what is going on.”
“Son, I know very little, and what I have learned…”
“Remember what we said, brother,” Grenda was beside me, the shick shick shick of her sharpening stone against her knife betraying the anxiety that belied her calm predatory expression. Gilda’s hands kept straying to the bow along her back, touching it to ensure it was still on her.
I looked over my shoulder. Ulfvaldr was speaking in whispers with Draugr. Together, it was obvious they were of the same tribe, their tattoos made from the same greenish blue ink, covering their bodies. Ulfvaldr’s eyes gleamed gold, and Draugr’s silver, the sort of colors that only appeared in the purer bred wolves. My humanity was betrayed in my blue eyes, which I received from my father. I pulled my hair back. Its whiteness was unusual. I wondered if it was a return to form from my fathers’ coupling. Then, I remembered the great wolf, the Wolf God, with an eye as black as death, and an eye, equally as fearsome, as destructive, that burned with the intensity of a thousand bonfires. What would those eyes see become of my kingdom, and what did these emissaries of Yor want with us?
Servants brought out the tables and set them into in the great room. The space filled with the sound of wood scraping on stone, followed by the chime of metal goblets and the crackle of torches being lit. The torches had been soaked in flower oils and scented the air with a thick, sweet smoke. The servants bowed to me as they passed. I had forgotten how easily a wolf could smell the emotions of a person, and in the room, there was fear, dread, but around me, specifically, there was curiosity.
I puzzled over it.
“I smell it as well, my prince,” Draugr was beside me, watching the commotion, “They see the change in you, perhaps even more so than your lupine subjects. Humans are very emotionally sensitive. Never forget that.”
“I am part human.”
“Yes, and some would say that was a failing in your line.”
“And what think you of it?”
“I think your father, Varghoss, has more than proven his humanity to be an asset. Look at the human subjects of your kingdom. They are kept safe from wilderness, and in turn, they keep us well fed, safe from famine. Humans are an industrious lot. They make our lives more worth living with their richness,” he took a proffered cup from a servant and handed me one, “and their mead.”
“Should I drink mead?”
I puzzled over Draugr’s easy smile. It strained at the edges, and was not how he looked when he was truly pleased
“I will do as a tired teacher who is having a long-deserved break does, and you should do as a spoiled prince does, excepting one thing.”
“What is that?”
“A spoiled prince would not pay attention. You will take in every detail. Drink slow, slosh it out of your cup, laugh loudly and brag as much as a drunk human.”
“Draugr…”
“What?”
I held my cup aloft, “to the best teacher I have ever had.”
His face cracked a little then. His smile faltered. His eyes, if I was not fooling myself, were watering.
He struck his cup against mine, and against my better judgment, I let myself have one, long, draught of mead.
“Son,” Ulfvaldr approached, lines of disapproval creasing across his forehead, “We will sit and await our guests.”
I nodded, and realized, suddenly, that if I was to play the fool as Draugr intended, then not even my fathers could know. I almost laughed. In that moment, I felt, for the first time in a long time, the pang of shame in my chest. I longed for their approval, for recognition for all my hard work, and now, if I was to play the part of a facile prince, if I was to act like a spoiled, pretty boy, then they might never truly know how much I had achieved, and how much I had changed.
As I nodded to Ulfvaldr and gave an easy laugh, I realized, too, the bond that existed between married folk. It was forged in secrets not fit for sharing with family, in a metal stronger than bone, and darker than blood. My bond with Draugr felt more real than anything I had ever experienced in this castle, and I ached for his touch.
I shook my head. My thoughts cleared with the ease Draugr’s training had imparted. I became aware of every muscle, mentally checking myself, readying as though for battle, when all I did was slide into a seat to the right of Varghoss, who sat to the right of Ulfvaldr. My sisters sat to Ulfvaldr’s left. As usual, they looked out of place at a table, like vicious predators made to do tricks, ready to snap at a hand in a moment.
An entire boar emerged from the kitchen, carried by four men. It steamed and filled the air with the scent of perfectly cooked flesh.
“They began preparing when I sent the letter,” Varghoss explained, “You don’t think we would spare any effort for our only son’s return?”
I smiled, feeling the moment of tenderness in the confusion. I put my hand on my father’s shoulder. His eyes crinkled at the corners in a soft smile.
“It is good to be home, whatever the circumstance.”
“Announcing, Dak’Harat, Visrit, Bo’helmhen, emissaries of Yor.”
They bowed at the door. As they approached the table, my skin grew cold. Sweat broke out on my brow. Next to me, Draugr bristled. He saw the same thing. In the center of each of their foreheads was indeed a brand, two circles, one filled in, as though to indicate it was dark, and the other, an outline, indicating light. They looked very much like a second set of eyes, and even more specifically, like the eyes of the Wolf God.
They sat at the table, three in a row, facing Draugr and me. I took a drink. The taste reminded me of my part. I smiled around the cup.
Dak’Harat had long hair that would have been flaxen were it not so thick with grease. Visrits eyes were sunken into his head, which was skull-like, and had thing snarls of dark hair hanging from the top. Bo’Helmhen towered an easy head above the rest. His thick-skinned face was pockmarked and his beard was uncombed and wild. And above each of their eyes, on the fore of each of their heads, was that damnable brand.
“What’s that on your head?” I pointed and let out an easy laugh.
Bo’Helmhen looked like he was about to strike me. Draugr covered his eyes with his hands, and Varghoss and Ulfvaldr shared an expression of both horror and mortification. Ulfvaldr’s expression sharpened into rage.
“Act like a prince!” He growled.
“I was only making conversation,” I smiled, “as a prince should with guests. I’m sorry,” I said turning back to the humans across the table, “was it rude to ask about a mark you wear so proudly?”
“Only because you take it so lightly,” Visrit spoke at last. His voice was like a spider had crawled out from between his lips, “This is the mark of Yor, our emperor.”
“Oh? And does Yor have an empire?”
“He will,” a smile slithered across Dak’Harat’s oily features, “sooner than you think.”
“Fathers,” I turned to them and smiled, “shall we make our kingdom an empire, as well? I should like to be emperor some day.”
“I should have you beheaded for returning my son to me in worse condition than he was sent,” Ukfvaldr muttered acroos the table to Draugr.
I could feel Draugr tensing. The game was perhaps, too good.
“Oh look! Food at last!”
Servants had cut the roast boar. The meat filled the air with its fragrance. Even the repulsive humans across the table from me looked intrigued by the fare. So, I studied them, their faces. They had the brand, but their eyes were lit by a cruel intelligence. Their senses did not seem dulled. They looked in full possession of their wits.
Visrit reached out toward a platter of boar’s meat and yelped.
“That is my piece.”
A knife quivered in the flesh. Grenda’s aim, as always, had been perfect. She flounced her way around the table and plucked the meat off the tray. Still walking, she ate it speared on the knife.
“Perhaps,” Visrit frowned and took a different piece of meat. He added it to his platter where he began to tear it apart, shoving a piece into his mouth with a hunk of bread and a wedge of cheese. He continued around the food in his mouth, spraying crumbs and spittle in front of him, “we should discuss the reason for our visit...now that all the decision-makers are present.” He gave me a look that said he thought the time in waiting for my return had surely been wasted.
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