Civil Savagery

Fenrir's pack had recently doubled. It hadn't in his plans, but when Blood had mucked his own plans up, he had been forced back to his childhood den--and back to Fenrir. Blood had had to bring the remnants of his sizeable pack along, seeking sanctuary. Fenrir had deliberately treated Blood coldly at first, forcing blood to have to grovel and then cave in to Fenrir's demandsor take back to the streets. Fenrir had known that for Blood's pack, that would have been deadly. Blood was one of the most wanted creatures in London. It was not without some risk that Fenrir had accepted him back. The pack, in Fenrir's thinking, was merely fair payment.

Fenrir watched them all trying to integrate together. Most of Blood's pack wasn't used to Fenrir's way of running a den. Blood was consumed with self. Fenrir was too, largely, but he also was far more experienced at running a pack and was clearly in command. And Blood was moody today.

Fenrir didn't disagree with Blood's overall desire for werewolf supremacy. After all, he himself had taught that to Blood, but Fenrir didn't like Blood's overly self assured way of announcing his plans. Fenrir preferred far more action and allowing the humans learning through good old fashioned abject fear.

One of the females sidled up to where Fenrir sat, in his position of alpha male, and she stroked his hand, seeking his attentions. He barely gave her a glance. This was not the time for that.

"Later," he said to her in a low tone.

"You promised me cubs!" she whined softly, frustrated.

He let out a bored groan. "I know," he said, waving her off.

"I should seek another," she pouted.

"Why don't you do that?" he waved her away. "Seek them all. Amuse yourself."

"You're baiting me because you want me to be jealous of her!" the female nodded in Moira Crawford's direction. He sighed tiredly.

"I'd be careful about how much you flatter yourself," Fenrir said. "Too much, and I'll have no use for you at all." He merely shifted his eyes to see if she were clever enough to catch his threat to do away with her if she bored him further. He saw her restrain an urge to narrow her eyes at him in anger. His glare didn't shift, and she huffed off.

He snorted sarcastically, barely bothered by her, and feeling rather content at being king in a much bigger kingdom.

If there was one thing that Ariel Greyback begrudged the most then it was being summoned – or, rather, forced – to meet with his father. After the debacle in Egypt, Ariel had made it quite clear that he wasn’t having anything to do with any of his father’s dodgy dealings. Fenrir had long since stopped qualifying for that title, anyway but regardless, he wanted nothing more to do with any of them and so he settled into life with Ollie again, taking up jobs here and there in the village, become one of those odd-jobs men who everyone within the vicinity turned to when they had a leaky pipe under the sink or a clogged up stretch of guttering that birds had made a nest in. He’d wanted no further part in the pack yet, when he returned home from picking up a few bits for dinner, a few of the little runts he’d been with in Germany were waiting for him.

The hour spent in the supermarket amongst the fruit and vegetables had been an hour well spent. The boys had begun to cater for their new roommate now, observing a diet that had more of a vegetarian edge to it but what Ariel found was that it just meant they were eating more pasta and more noodles. Certainly, Ariel didn’t mind and Alice, thank Merlin, was more than happy to cook up some steaks for the boys when things got a bit too much and a protein hit was needed. Because of that, Ariel was happy to accommodate her and so he was careful with what he bought, making sure it was all responsibly sourced and all of the other bits and pieces. He was enjoying the variation, in truth, but he knew as soon as he clapped eyes on some of the pups waiting outside the flat that it would be a long old slog before he could do dinner.

“What do you want?” Ariel ground out, removing the key ring from the pocket of his hooded jumper. He trudged up the path and opened up the outside door.

“Fenrir wants you.” The redheaded one, the tallest of the four werewolves, trod forward, coming up behind Ariel.  

“Five paces behind me,” Ariel snapped warningly. The redhead threw up his arms, spreading his hands wide, feigning placidness. Ariel glared out of the corner of his eye. “Tell Fenrir where to go and shove himself.”

“You know he won’t take that, Ari.” The redhead, Craig, Ariel remembered his name with a start, warned. “You look well, by the way.”

“Eating three meals a day might have something to do with that,” Ariel griped, stepping inside.

He flew up the stairs, hearing the werewolves move behind him. There would be no shaking them, this he knew. After stowing his things inside the flat and relocking the door, Ariel decided that there was no avoiding the inevitable. He certainly didn’t want to force Fenrir’s hand and bring his father to him, as much as he wanted to out of spite. It wasn’t safe for Ollie or Alice that way. No, he needed to go.

The werewolves apparated and then all of a sudden they were about two hundred yards away from the clearing where the pack had grouped. In the back of Ariel’s mind there was a part of him that was considering running, now he knew where it was, considering the merits of telling the Ministry exactly where to find his father. Exactly where to find the werewolves and, if the slightly feral ones were who Ariel thought they were, where to find Blood, too. He would keep quiet, though. As much as his life would be simpler without his father in the picture, he’d probably be in Azkaban first before that could happen.

And there he was. There was something uncouth about werewolves all living together. Even during his time in the pack, Ariel had hated it. He enjoyed a consistent level of hygiene and cleanliness that could not be found living with a load of sweaty, horny dogs. It just wasn’t going to happen. He also enjoyed the finer things a lot more than perhaps he should’ve done. It made sleeping in the dirt a loathsome experience.

“What do you want?” Ariel crossed his arms over his chest as he reached his father, his eyes narrowing at the scruffy excuse for a wizard. “I was making Chinese tonight so can we make this quick? I’d really rather prefer it if I got back before everyone got home.”

Naomi Greyback had been in the country for a short time, but it had been long enough to convince her father that she had every right to take over his pack as her sweet, sweet brother did. Her pack was with her faithful as ever, and had tripled in their travels. France has been Naomi’s favorite place, but she had not ignored the Americas nor the eastern countries. Only two of her original pack had survived, and now they stood with her. Colby and Hoover would fight to the death with her, and she had taken them both on as her lovers in return. Colby was her confidante, Hoover her passion, and she felt better knowing that they were at her side.

Her own pack, now nearing the size of her father’s, waited in the next clearing. If there was any threat against their Pack Leader, they would wipe themselves out in her defense. They had done it once, twice, and they knew they could do it a third time. Even more, she knew they could and would do it. Her pack was not the strongest, the most experienced, but they were the most loyal she had come into contact with. Their passion for their leader carried them through each problem.

Now, Naomi pushed off from the tree she had been leaning against, her hair wild and longer, a cigarette burning between her fingers. She looked older, wilder. She smiled and approached the clearing where her family waited for her. Her only family now. Eva and the stepfather were dead, a necessary evil she supposed, and her husband… Well her husband was good as dead, especially if she saw him again. He could be certain that he would not survive a meeting with her.

“Brother,” she said. “Dearest, dearest brother. It’s so good to see you.” She smiled sweetly as Colby and Hoover stepped out from the shadows and watched her carefully. She tipped her head and looked at her brother, that sickly sweet smile still pervading her lips as she flicked her cigarette away. “Glad to see it’s a full family reunion.”

Fenrir saw Ari come in, wearing his usual disdain of his own kind like a badge. It amused Fenrir to no end. He was about to address his son when he saw Naomi come in.

Naomi--about as different from Ari as it got. Ari hated being a werewolf. Hated everything about it. Fenrir did sometimes wish he had a twinge of regret about Ari for him ending up cursed. That usually passed quickly when he came back to his senses, though. Fenrir wanted strong children, determined children.

Ari had that, but he was fool enough to not recognize that whether he embraced the beast within or not, he had become the strong son Fenrir had desired for him--even if it had come out of hatred.

Hatred was something Fenrir had understood intimately. Hatred had power. Had strength, and, used to its full potential, hatred was the key to dominating humans. It had worked for Fenrir for decades.

Naomi had learned the advantages of embracing who she was. Fenrir had been keeping tabs, through his sources, on the young pack she was leading. He was pleased to see her proving her mettle with them.

The time was coming for Fenrir to start thinking of selecting an heir. Blood had made it abundantly clear that he wanted Fenrir's pack to merge with his own. He wanted to take it all when Fenrir passed.

It was a possibility. Blood had inspired fear across all of wizarding England. That was noteworthy. Blood was also impetuous, though, and he was far too over his head in his bloodlust for the Lupin woman. That was going to get him in serious trouble. Fenrir didn't like that. He already was feeling a need to reel Blood in a bit.

He also knew that one or both of his children wanted power of some sort. Ari would be seen as the natural heir, according to pack law, but Ari wanted nothing to do with it. Not at least as Fenrir knew.

Naomi was also a worthy contender. She was his blood. She had a right to want the pack. He wasn't opposed to that, but Blood had officially asked for the Challenge--the right to fight for the position of heir to the pack.

That was why he had summoned Ari and Naomi. The sibling rivalry already existed. Fenrir was about to fuel that even farther. It would be interesting to see who survived.

"Well, well," Fenrir laughed coolly. "My prodigal offspring return. How nice of you both to indulge me. By all means, both of you, get your growling and snapping out of the way before we get down to business."

It was with open and easy disdain that was part-custom and part par for the course. Ariel’s lip curled at the roguish appearance of his antagonistic sibling. There was presented to him in the form of Naomi another excellent reason why he loathed the family reunions, as she so casually referred to these crass meetings as. Ariel worshiped the land of man, the real world where he walked often unnoticed amongst the humans. It was in this middle realm, too real for comfort, too much of a reality for him to take, that he stood out as what he was but also crucially what he wasn’t. He stood there, cleaner than many of the dogs had been in months, his head held high, hands in his pockets, human. They weren’t. He didn’t know whether he stood superior in this situation or otherwise.

“I wish I could say the same to you,” Ariel drawled lazily, scouring Naomi with a critical eye, “but then I’d be lying.”

Silver eyes darted up over to his father and Ariel sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing over it absently, imagining the cogs turning in his father’s mind. He sighed, releasing his lip, and glanced over at Craig, the redheaded werewolf who seemed to enjoy standing point at his shoulder. Ariel recalled him without any real clarity, knowing that he belonged to the sub-pack that had come to get him in Egypt. He didn’t know where the misplaced loyalty was from but the way that the man was eying up Naomi’s lapdogs, Ariel had it regardless of whether it was justified or not. Somehow, he was grateful for it, too. He felt himself relax a little, albeit only minutely, and he waited for his father to conduct his maniacal laughter and villain discourse, passing over it, paying little mind. He did, at least, roll his eyes.

“Excellent, thank you for your input,” Ariel clapped his hands together in front of him. “Now, again, while I might point out it was not of my own volition to indulge you, I must impress that we move things along. I’m busy.”

"Move along, then, by all means," Fenrir said icily to Ari. "Pack tradition dictated that I give you the choice of participating in this or not by virtue that, if I did things entirely by tradition, you would inherit the pack someday.

"However," he said, "you haven't shown me one reason whatsoever why I should trust you with even your own life, let alone anyone else's. You have the right to be here because you are a werewolf and you are a Greyback. I presume the money would be the only real reason you might be remotely interested, but you have the right to be in this discussion. You have a right to participate in the challenge.

"Naomi," he turned to her, "you do appear to be making the right moves to prove your ability to lead a pack. You also know that tradition would not normally choose a female as the pack alpha. The fact that you can do so is quite impressive--so, I am breaking from tradition, and I will ask you if you want to participate in a bid for inheritance of my pack.

"One thing you both need to know before you choose." He gestured towards Blood. "That wolf over there. He has proven his abilities, but he is not a Greyback. His pack has joined mine, and it almost doubles our numbers. It is now, so far as I know, the largest pack in England. He has formally asked to challenge for inheritance of the pack. I must honor his request.

"Do either of you have any interest in meeting Blood's request to challenge? Or shall I just give him, unilaterally, the pack, the money, the power, and all that goes with it?"

Ariel could never say anything that would hurt her. Her half-brother had always had their father in their life, for better or for worse, and had always been ‘inflicted’ with their family’s beautiful curse. As tragic as he thought his life had been, he had grown up with everything she had wanted. She, who had lived in squalor, trying to grow a better life for herself by throwing her into the pureblood politics of the mean girls at school, certain that the best she could ever be was sycophant to a pureblood princess with loose change for brains.

No one in the family had wanted to help her. A great name meant nothing if you weren’t valuable enough to earn its protection. Her father had wanted nothing to do with her. Her brother had not understood her feelings. Felix Barker had freed her by taking her prisoner, proving to her that she was of value and was capable of making a life for herself. At first, she had just been content to egg him on in his destructive warpath, hoping to bring some of the world down to her level. And then he had needed her to be strong. And she had taken things into her own hands. Asked for the curse, found herself a pack, become a Queen.

And now Ariel thought saying he did not miss her would destroy her. She simpered openly at him. “Your precious, brother. Your cynicism is a bit overdone, but I chalk it up to sexual frustration. I’m sure Daddy can find you a B**** that might soothe your troubles.”

Fenrir called them back to attention and Naomi listened with keen interest. This, of course, had been part of her plan since she had turned. She had never been worthy of consideration to be the Greyback heiress, but she knew herself now to be the best contender. What Blood had in strength he lacked in class, in finesse, in basic strategy. Her pack could get stronger, but Blood could not get smarter. An old dog did not take to learning new tricks. And it would be his undoing.

And her brother? The poor dear just wanted a drink and a lay. He didn’t want his father’s legacy.

Naomi tipped her head back, her chin lifted regally. “I accept any challenge presented.”

Blood. Speaking of, Ariel’s ran icy through his veins, as though threatening to freeze over. Truly, when his father turned to the said werewolf, Ariel understood the magnitude of the situation on a far grander scale than perhaps his sister did. His sister had the semi-luxury of existing outside of the boundaries of society and so only understood what was before her, saw Blood as a rival. Ariel had the misfortune of understanding the greater impact of what would happen if Blood was to win the pack. Moreover, he found a profound sense of fear rising up within him, directed towards his sister whom he usually afforded little more than a glance of concern. Now, if eager to jostle with the other werewolf, her life was balanced less carefully, the tender hooks threatening to collapse.

Panic raced through Ariel. A few warning words trailed through his mind and he could see a concerned look contort on the mental image of Ollie’s face. He brushed it away, brushed all thoughts that could stop him out of his mind and he took a step forward. He could grin and bear the antagonism of his sister. In fact, he much preferred it to civil conversation. He would have rather kept up that relationship than have to buy flowers every Sunday for her grave. There was something niggling inside Ariel that said that would be the reality he’d face. He didn’t want it, above anything else he didn’t want that. No one should have to die. While it was not necessarily always the way of things, Blood didn’t appear to know the meaning of a ‘fair fight.’

“I’ll be Naomi’s second, then,” Ariel spoke up, the words leaving his mouth calmly, resolutely. “I’ll fight her challenge if she fails.”

Or if she looks in trouble, Ariel added mentally.