From a Grave to a Cradle

Can You Handle a Burn?

Not many things infuriated Aldrich. He was the alpha of one of the strongest packs to ever exist for a reason. 

if he ever really thought about it, he hadn't even raised his voice at anyone for at least a whole year now. But even the calmest god had his limits- he was but an alpha. His wolf ached and called for blood; his heart craved violence as he looked at his mate's face---pale from the blood loss she'd endured. 

Not many things ached Aldrich. He supposed that came with being an alpha. He'd puked when he first had to deliver the news of a pack member's death to his family. It'd get easier with time, they'd said. It hadn't. He'd just gotten used to numbing his feelings for the sake of others. But now, as he looked upon her stab wound that surely hurt-- he ached. 

Not many things pushed Aldrich over the edge. He knew better than that. He'd learned  to be better than that. But when things boiled down to this, he was an alpha no more. She'd been stabbed and the only thing he was right now was her mate-- and a goddamn angry one at that. 

 And just like that, he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "He will pay, Ave. For every drop of your blood that fell, I'll make sure I spill five of his." And then, he didn't wait. He simply grabbed the sharpest dagger he owned and walked off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

~Zavian~

The shift in the air when Zavian arrived to his pack was something he could always feel. It was subtle, but strong--- it wasn't spoken of, but was as if the wind carried it and whispered onto every pack members ears.  "Your alpha has arrived," the wind said. 

He liked it.

Whispers about himself was something he'd heard all his life. Even as a kid, but especially now- as an alpha. He knew he was too young to be doing the things he'd already done, but it wasn't like life had given him any other option. He'd exchanged toys with daggers and laughs with tight, curt smiles. And he'd done this a long long time ago.

He met everyone's eyes and smiled back at those who smiled at him, but as he walked through the path to his home, he had a feeling everyone would look at him with a tinge of fear in their eyes by the end of the day.

 Ahren, the commander of his armies, was on him before he'd even fully entered the house. "They tried breaching the northern borders." he said, by the way of greeting. Zavian simply hummed and dragged his hand through his hair--unruly from the journey to the pack. He closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them, he let his face split into a wild, free grin. "Good morning, Ahren! How are we today? Mum doing good? Do we have cheese in the house?" his grin dropped on the way to the kitchen. 

"No, Zavian" Ahren started, overly cheerful. "we ate all of it in one night the last time you were here and I couldn't shit it out for the life of me! And for days." he said.

Zavian chuckled and gulped down a whole bottle of water before looking at Ahren. "Remember the time you stole your father's whiskey and sneaked it into our water bottles---"

"only to puke it out? yeah. You know you don't have to remind me every time you're here."

"About the northern borders," he started, and it was as if a switch in Ahren flipped. His spine straightened and his posture corrected itself to that of a commander in seconds. "you will do as you would have in my absence. Patrol the border-- they didn't breach to retreat. They will do it again." Ahren nodded. "As for the rest, leave it onto your almighty alpha to save your sorry ass." Ahren snorted and threw an apple at his head, which he caught without looking back before disappearing into his office.