His reluctant Luna

20 years ago *Liam* As the coach rattles over the rough, uneven road, I, having recently become the Alpha of Ashebury, stare at the bleak and dreary passing landscape that mirrors the state of my soul. I feel hollow, empty, as if at any moment, my body might simply crumple in on itself and cease to exist. I question how much longer I can continue to breathe, to carry on. "Don't touch me," demands the equally young Alpha Nathan of Greyfur, sitting across from me. I glance over just in time to see Ethan, the Alpha's twin, shove his brother's shoulder. Nathan pushes back, Ethan slaps at him, and then Nathan scrambles onto the seat, resting on his knees, his new position giving him height as he makes a fist and draws his arm back. "That's enough now, lads," Mr. Beck interjects, swiftly setting aside the book he has been reading and lurching forward to shield Ethan from his brother's attack. Yet, Nathan lets his balled fist fly, landing with an undamaging thud on Mr. Beck's forearm. Any other time, I might have laughed at the younger boy's ineffectual fighting technique. Just a few months ago, right after I turned eight, my father had taken me to a boxing match, so I'm quite familiar with the sound of a punch that carries power behind it as flesh meets flesh. Nathan's fist might as well have been a rose petal floating to the ground for all the impact it made. "That is not the sort of behavior that an Alpha of the realm displays," Mr. Beck admonishes. "He started it," Nathan grumbles, not for the first time since we began this arduous and horrendous journey from Blackrock city.. "Yes, and I'm finishing it. My Alpha, please trade places with the other Alpha," Mr. Beck orders, his voice easy as though I, having a difficult time thinking of myself as Alpha Ashebury, wondered if I ever would, have the ability to move at will, as though I don't have to dredge up the strength from some hidden reservoir buried deep inside me. Glancing back over his shoulder, Mr. Beck arches a brow over blue eyes that seem to see far too much. "My Alpha?" Taking a deep breath, I summon the fortitude to push off the bench until my booted feet thud to the floor. With a great deal of effort, I maintain my balance and swap places with Nathan. Once we're all situated to Beck's satisfaction, the solicitor adjusts his spectacles and returns his attention to his book. Ethan sticks his tongue out at his brother. Ethan crosses his eyes and pushes up the end of his nose until he resembles a pig. I look back out the window to the passing scenery, wishing Mr. Beck would read aloud so his voice might drown out the screeching of the wind over the moors. I wish... "I'm not staying," Ethan announces suddenly. "I'm going to run off. You can't make me stay." I look over at Ethan. He appears so confident, so assured, his chin held high, his dark brown eyes penetrating as he glares at the solicitor. Is that all it takes to end this nightmarish journey to the far south? To simply declare it won't be so? Slowly, Beck lowers his book, his eyes filling with understanding, compassion, and sorrow. "That would not please your father." "My father's dead." He says defiently. Nathan gasps, and I feel the words like a physical blow to my chest. I can hardly breathe at the stark truth that I have not dared whisper even to myself. I keep thinking if I never think the words, they won't be true, my father won't be gone, and I won't be the Alpha of Ashebury. But I struggle to hold on to the illusion that my world hasn't shattered. "Still, he would expect you to behave in a manner befitting your station," Mr. Beck assures us kindly. "I don't want to be here," Ethan says with vehemence. "I want to go home." "And you shall... in time. Your father," he looks at me, "both your fathers knew the Alpha prince of Evermarsh quite well. They went to school together, were mates. They trust him with your upbringing. As I have explained before, they left instructions that in the event of their deaths, the Alpha prince was to serve as your guardian. And so it shall be." His lower lip beginning to quiver, Ethan looks at his brother. "Nathan, you're the Alpha now. Tell him we don't have to go. Make him take us home." With a quiet sigh of surrender the new Alpha of Greyfur, rubs his right earlobe. "We have to do it. It's what Father wanted." "It's stupid. I hate you. I hate you all!" Ethan brings his feet up to the bench seat and, turning his back on us, buries his face in the corner of the coach. I can see his shoulders shaking, know he's trying hard not to let on that he's weeping. I wish I could cry but know it would disappoint my father to show such weakness. I'm the Alpha now and have to be strong. It doesn't matter that my mother and father are dead. My nanny assured me that they could still watch me, would know if I were misbehaving. If I were a bad boy, I will go to hell when I died and never see them again. "There it is, lads. Evermarsh castle. It will be your home for a while," Mr. Beck says solemnly. Pressing my face to the glass and looking back, I can see the behemoth silhouette standing ominously against the darkening gray skies. The pack house in which I grew up had been as large, but it didn't appear as foreboding. I swallow hard. Perhaps Ethan has the right of it, and we could run away. The coach comes to a shuddering halt. No one comes out of the house to greet us. It's as though we aren't expected. A servant climbs down and opens the carriage door. Mr. Beck steps out. "Come with me, lads." His voice carries no doubts that we are supposed to be here, that this is the correct place, and that we will be welcomed. I dart my gaze between Nathan and his brother. They have both gone pale, their blue eyes too huge and round. They wait. I'm the oldest, the higher rank, so it falls to me to go first. While everything within me screams to stay where I am, I gather up my resolve not to be cowardly and clamber out. I suck in my breath as the cold winds buffet against me. The brothers fall into place behind me. In silence, we follow Mr. Beck up the steps. At the stoop, the solicitor lifts the heavy iron knocker and lets it fall. A clang echoes eerily around us. Again, Beck knocks. And again, and again. The door swings open, and a decrepit old man stands there, his black jacket and waistcoat faded and threadbare. "May I be of service?" "Charles Beck to see the Alpha prince of Evermarsh, I'm expected." With a practiced flick of his wrist, Mr. Beck produces his card. Taking it, the white-haired butler opens the door farther. "Come in, and I will alert the prince to your arrival." As grateful as I am to get out of the wind, I wish I had stayed where I was. The entryway is shadowed and just as chilly as outside. The butler wanders away into a darkened hallway that I fear leads into the very bowels of hell about which my nanny had warned me. I can see no end to it. A quick glance at the twins does not reassure me. They look as though their wariness has increased tenfold. As for my own, it is at least double that. I want to be strong, brave, and courageous. I want to be the good son, to please my father, but staying here will kill me. I am sure of it. We wait in the oppressive quiet. Even the tall clock in the hallway isn't ticking, its hands aren't moving. The silent sentry causes a shiver to race up my spine. A tall, thin man steps out of the sinister-looking hallway. His clothes hang on his frame as though they had been fitted for a man twice his size. Although his cheeks and eyes are sunken, and his hair is more white than dark, he doesn't really appear particularly old. Beck snaps to attention. "My prince, I'm Charles Beck, solicitor." "So your card said. Why are you here?" The rasp of his voice hints that it isn't accustomed to being used. "I brought the boys." Beck says. The man shakes his head, "What use have I for more boys?" Beck pulls back his shoulders. "I sent you a missive, my prince. The Alpha of Ashebury, the Alpha of Greyfur, and their Luna’s were tragically killed in a railway accident." "Railway. If the Goddess meant for us to travel in such contraptions, she would have not given us Our wolves." The man mutters. I blink. Where is the man's sympathy and sorrow at the news? Why is he not offering comfort? "Be that as it may," Beck says evenly, "I had expected to see you at the funeral." "I don't attend funerals. They're ghastly depressing." The prince huffs. I don't think truer words could have been spoken. I had hated the one for my parents. During the wake, I had wanted to open the casket to be sure they were there, but my nanny had told me that I wouldn't recognize them. My parents had been burned to cinders. They knew which body was my father's because of his signet Alpha ring, a ring that I now wore on a chain about my neck, but how did they know that the woman they had buried with my father was really my mother? What if she wasn't? What if she wasn't with me now? "Which is the reason that I have brought the lads to you since you didn't retrieve them yourself," Beck said. "Why bring them to me?" The prince asks. Mr Beck sighs. "As I stated in my missive…" "I don't recall a missive." The prince mumbles. "Then I offer my apologies, my prince, for its being lost in the post. However, both of the Alphas named you as guardian of their sons." He explains. As though only just becoming aware of our presence, Evermarsh homed his dark green eyes in on us. I feels as though my heart had been stabbed with a poker. I didn't want to be left in the care of this man, who didn't seem to possess an ounce of kindness or compassion. Furrowing his brow, the Alpha prince gives his attention back to Beck. "Why would they be foolish enough to do that?" "They obviously trusted you, my prince." Beck half stutters. Evermarsh cackles as though it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said about him. I can’t bear it. Rushing forward, I ball up my fist and punch the Alpha prince in the gut, again and again. "Don't you laugh," I cry out, mortified that tears are burning my eyes. "Don't you dare laugh at my father!" "Easy, boy," Beck says, pulling me back. "Nothing is accomplished with fisticuffs." Only that isn’t true because the Alpha prince has stopped laughing. Breathing heavily, I am prepared to go at him again if I have to. "Sorry, boy," the Alpha prince says. "I wasn't laughing at your father, merely the absurdity of me seeing to your care." Ashamed by my outburst, I turn away, taken aback when I spot the scraggly boy wearing only breeches that seem to be too small and a white linen shirt crouched behind a large potted frond. His long dark hair falls into his eyes. "But you will honor their request," Beck states emphatically. Shifting my eyes back to the Alpha prince, I see him give one quick nod. "I will. For friendship’s sake." He says. "Very good, my prince. If you could send some servants out to retrieve the lads' trunks." The prince shakes his head, "Have your driver and servant bring them in. Then be on your way." Beck seems to hesitate, but eventually he kneels before me and the twins. "Keep your chins up, be good lads, and make your parents proud." He curls his hand over Ethan’s shoulder and squeezes. Then Nathan’s. Finally, mine. I want to beg not to be left behind. Please, please, take me with you! But I hold my tongue. I have already shamed myself once. I won't do it again. Beck stands, eyes the Alpha prince. "I shall be checking on them." "No need. They're in my care now. Be off with you as quickly as possible." He looks toward the windows. "Before it's too late." With a slow nod, Beck turns on his heel and walks out. No one moves. No one speaks. The trunks are brought in. Shortly afterward, I hear the creaking of the coach’s wheels, the pounding of the horses’ hooves as though Beck has ordered the driver to hurry, as though he can't escape fast enough. "Killian!" the Alpha prince shouts, making me jump. The boy behind the frond rushes forward. "Yes, Father?" "Show them upstairs. Let them select the bedchamber they want." He says. "Yes, sir." The boy mumbles. "It will be dark soon," the Alpha prince says, a faraway look coming into his eyes. "Don't go out at night." As though no longer aware of our presence, he wanders back into the dark and foreboding hallway from which he had originally emerged. "Come on," the boy says, turning for the stairs. "We're not staying," I suddenly announce, deciding it's time I took charge, time for me to be as much an Alpha as possible. The boy blinks his dark hazel eyes, "Why not? I would like to have someone to play with. And you will like it here. You can do anything you want. No one cares," "Why isn’t your clock working?" Ethan asks, stepping nearer to it as though suddenly intrigued by the craftsmanship. Killian scrunches his brow. "What do you mean?" Lifting his hand, Ethan draws a circle in the air. "It’s supposed to be ticking. The hands are supposed to move around the numbers," He reaches up. "Don’t touch it!" Killian shouts as he darts in front of the clock. "You’re not supposed to touch it. Ever." "Why not?" Ethan asks. Looking confused, Killian shakes his head. "You’re just not." "Where’s your mother?" Nathan asks, stepping nearer to Ethan, as though he needed the comfort of a familiar presence in this dreary, ominous place. "Dead," Killian says flatly. "That’s her ghost shrieking over the moors. If you go out at night, she’ll snatch you up and take you away with her." A cold, icy shiver skitters down my spine. I look toward the door, the windows on either side of it revealing the darkness descending, and I fear it will claim me as well, that when I can finally leave this place… like my parents… little of me will remain except ash.