Fated to the scarred Alpha

She grew up

*Stephan*

"We will no doubt be all the gossip tomorrow," Raphael laments, sprawled in a chair in the living area of the private suite on the top floor of Tristan's gaming establishment. All three of us brothers have come here after returning from our uncle's. The accommodations are comfortable, and Tristan has the finest of liquors at his disposal.

Sitting in a nearby chair, I sip my brandy and stare at the writhing flames, unable to get the image of Mary out of my mind. I have thought of her from time to time over the years, but I have always envisioned her as she had been the last time I saw her: a young girl with braided hair, gangly limbs, and a smile that filled most of her face. So many freckles that I had often teased her about them, even as I adored the way they made her look like a little imp.

I think of the way she never hesitated to speak up for me. She has always championed me, and equally, challenged me. She was the reason I climbed to the top of an ancient oak tree, only to fall and break my arm. She was the reason I learned to scale the castle walls. She was the reason my brothers and I are alive and gathered here now.

"I wonder why I do not feel more satisfied," Tristan comments. He is only twenty-two but has done very well for himself in a short amount of time. When I left him at the workhouse, begging to go with me, I feared our sheltered life would leave him vulnerable. Perhaps it did at first. Tristan is tight-lipped about how he came to own a den of vice. Raphael certainly can't accuse him of whining now.

"Because the bastard still breathes," Raphael says.

Raphael is equally reserved when it comes to discussing his life. Along the docks, I managed to find a captain willing to pay for a cabin boy. The money allowed me to purchase my first commission in a regiment. But I can't help but wonder at what cost to Raphael. I have seen his back; a cat-o-nine has done some nasty work, even his wolf has not managed to fully heal it. Raphael has always been more suited to being in charge rather than doing the work. It's no wonder he acquired his own ship, and carrying goods has made him a wealthy man. I don't want to consider that perhaps not all of it has been legally obtained.

"Mary grew into quite a beauty while we were away," Raphael says now, sounding as surprised as I was at first. Not so much that she transformed into a butterfly, but that she has grown up at all. I realize she has long past the age for marriage: four and twenty. Does she have a husband? Where had he been? Who is he? Why wasn't he at her side?

"Perhaps we should have warned her of our plans," Raphael continues. "She seemed quite unprepared for it."

"Which no doubt saved her reputation," I surmise. I down my brandy and refill my glass, refusing to acknowledge that I still saw her as a child and wanted to protect her. I hadn't considered how the shock of seeing us might affect her. In my mind, she has always remained as unchanged as Snow Moon castle. Time had its way with the estate as well, but the changes there were subtle. None of Mary's changes were subtle. It seems inappropriate to consider all the dips and swells her gown revealed, the unblemished bare skin of her shoulders that some man would have the great fortune to touch.

How silky she would feel. How warm.

I imagine now what I hadn't at Snow Moon Castle: removing the pins from her hair and watching it tumble around her. How far would it reach? Is it as thick as it appears? Would a man's fingers become lost in it? As easily as a man might become lost in her?

Her eyes have changed too. The shade remains the same, still as green as the fertile land, but the mischievousness is gone. As a child, her eyes seemed to laugh; tonight, they don't. They hold too much knowledge, maybe wisdom. What has she seen in all the years I've been away?

How did I understand that I had grown to adulthood without considering her doing the same? Maybe because I stepped into a man's boots the day my father died. She had always been someone with whom I enjoyed exploring the world. Only now, I think of exploring her.

These thoughts about Mary are unsettling and not to be tolerated. Her role in my life is that of a friend, not a lover.

"Any idea who she was dancing with when we made our grand entrance?" Raphael asks, breaking into my thoughts. I can't help but wonder if his thoughts are going in the same direction as mine.

"You noticed her dancing?" I ask, imagining her grace as she glides across the floor in another man's arms.

"How could you not?" Raphael challenges.

"I was occupied with other matters… convincing the steward to announce us with our titles took more cajoling than I had anticipated," I explain. The steward didn't recognize us and wasn't even aware of our existence.

Raphael suddenly appears uncomfortable, focusing on the brandy in his glass. "Come to think of it, I believe she was on your blind side at the time. And we have strayed from addressing my concerns. We may have hurt her by keeping our presence here a secret. Without her…."

"I know what we owe her," I snap, irritated by Raphael's inquiries and the fact that Mary's grown into womanhood so perfectly. Seeing her is a stark reminder of the lost years I hadn't truly faced until now.

"She is spoken for," Tristan says casually. Both Raphael and I look at him, and he shrugs. "You two are carrying on like a dog with a bone. There's no point in arguing about what we should have done when the moment is passed. Whether you find her a beauty, whether we owe her is moot. She is betrothed to Beta Fitz, the gent she was dancing with. I saw the announcement in the Alpha Times."

Tristan noticed her dancing too? Maybe I'm going blind.

"She is a bit on the shelf to be only betrothed," Raphael echoes my thoughts.

"I can't imagine our Mary settling for just anyone," Tristan suggests. "So I suspect it took a bit longer to find a man worthy of her."

Our Mary. She doesn't belong to all of us. She belongs only to…

The truth hits me. She doesn't belong to any of us.

"Perhaps," Raphael says. "But still. A Beta? What do you know about him?"

"He is unimportant. Mary is not our concern," I snap impatiently. I don't want to think about her being with another man. I never laid claim to her or even considered it. We were children when I was forced to run off. As a woman, she might no longer have anything in common with me and might be entirely unsuitable to serve as my Luna. Without thinking, I run my hand over my jaw, feeling the scars that taunt me. It's possible that no woman would consider serving as my Luna. That path is for another day.

"Establishing ourselves and ensuring that our claim to Snow Moon castle is not questioned… that's where our energies must go," I tell my brothers. "Didn't you see the doubts in that room? We are far from done."

"Mary might be useful to us," Tristan says. "She remained in the world that cast us out."

"You would use her?" Raphael asks.

"I would use anyone to get what I want."

The cold words send an icy shiver through me. Who is this unrelentingly harsh man I call ‘brother’? On one hand, a bond exists between us that cannot be broken. On the other, the truth is that I know very little about him. Yet, I can't call him a stranger because I trust him completely. But there's still so much I don't know and am not certain I want to know.