Chapter Text
Charles carried two full buckets of water in the garden, poured the water over the herbs and then walked back to the pump to fill the buckets again. He had repeated this since the morning mass, and still the herb garden wilted right before his eyes in the midday sun. He poured the last drops over the foxgloves and sighed. The rain had been sparse this summer, and Charles had read many grateful prayers that at least some of the plants had survived this far.
He picked up the empty buckets and turned to return to the water pump. He walked down the garden path, and stopped at the kitchen door. Sister Moira commanded the kitchen, and Charles had become quick friends with her since he had arrived to this monastery. She was a good woman, fair and strong. Today she had a whole flock of sullen novices gathered around the dish pails, soap foam up to their elbows. Charles rapped on the doorframe and she turned, smiling when she noticed it was him.
”I heard the bells chime as the end of Presentation. Is there any news from the Hall?”
She looked over the novices, satisfied that they were busy enough, before stepping outside to talk with him. She shot a disapproving glance at the sky as well, the heat taking its toll on everyone.
“Nothing official,” she said, brushing her hands against her apron. She glanced around to see if anyone was in earshot. The novices were too occupied with their task to care about their discussion, and the servants didn't use the garden path at this time of day. She still lowered her voice to a whisper. “But after the morning mass, I heard the Prioress say to her clerk if there is no one chosen today, they should release this barbarian alpha back to the wild where he came, and summon an another one.”
“It's against the Church ordinance to summon another alpha when one has already followed the call,” Charles said, thinking the ramifications. “The Prioress must be desperate if she even considers it. Insubordination like that would mean a setback to her plans to secure a seat in the Bishop Council.”
“Perhaps. Though I side with the Prioress on this one. The Alpha is a strange one, nothing like I've ever seen to follow the sacred call. Holy Adit forgive me for even saying this, but I felt relieved when the Alpha took no interest in me.”
Charles nodded, even though it was inconsiderate of her to say that. He couldn't participate in the Presentation but she could, so to say that she didn't want to be chosen was cruel. But Charles brushed that thought aside. He knew Moira's meaning, and decided not to read anything more into it.
“You and Prioress agreeing on something? I think I'll go light a candle to honor this miraculous day!” Charles laughed and Moira laughed with him, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I think I'll do the same,” she said. “But no monastery has failed to complete the Fecundity rituals in the last five years, and I don't want us to break that record. Especially now, when the Abbess is sick.”
Charles nodded in agreement, and picked up the buckets again. “I agree. This matter is in the hands of the Holy Mother Adit, and we must pray for Her guidance. And for Alpha's swift decision.”
“In Her name,” Moira said, and glanced at the novices again. Since her back had been turned for awhile now, they had started to wash less and giggle more. Moira shook her head. “Ah. Another lesson in the value of focus is in order. Stop by in an hour, I'll set a piece of fresh bread aside for you.”
“Thank you, I will,” Charles said and continued down the garden path.
The pump was near the old brick wall. It was a shady spot, the area tiled with smooth, round stones. He placed the first bucket under the pump and rolled up his sleeves, to start the familiar struggle to get the lever down for the first time. The pumping was easy when he got the motion going, but before that he had to put some muscle into it. The pump was temperamental, and didn't give anything for free.
He had just gotten the first hesitant sputter of water, when novice Sean rushed to him, carrying a crystal pitcher in his hand.
“Brother Charles, oh I'm so glad I found you! I need to ask you a big favor!”
Charles turned to look at him, while pumping the lever to keep the water going. The pitcher he held had a silver top, decorated with a figurine of a dove and a snake tangled in embrace. Charles recognized the emblem.
“You serve the Prioress today? I don't envy you novice,” Charles said and smiled, then nodded toward the water. “Go ahead, fill your pitcher. Though it's not much of a favor.”
“Thank you,” Sean said, pushing the pitcher under the stream of water. “But that's not the favor. You see, I was on my way to fetch water for the Hall when The Prioress ordered me to take water to the Abbess chambers instead. Would you mind helping me and taking a cup of water there, just to tide the Alpha over? It's hotter inside the Hall than out here, if you can believe it.”
“Water for the Alpha? But...”
“Well, more like for the Sisters guarding him, because the Alpha naps most of the time.”
“He sleeps?” Charles asked, pumping harder few times to keep the water flowing. “That is odd.”
“Shows how much we interest him,” Sean said and pulled the full pitcher away from the pump. “Would you mind helping me, please? You don't have to worry about the Alpha, really, he always sleeps, like I said, and besides, aren't you...” He bit his tongue before finishing the thought and blushed beet red.
“Barren?” Charles finished for him. Sean blushed even brighter shade of red, staring down to his feet in embarrassment. Charles let go of the lever, the flow of water stopping gradually.
“I am so, so sorry, Brother Charles! Please forgive me, I didn't want to insult you.”
The novice looked like he was about to burst to tears. Charles didn't blame him, because if he repeated his remark to Sister Moira, the novice would get a good beating. Sister Moira oversaw the novices, and even the slightest inclination of impertinence from them made her take up the cane. But Charles didn't think one slip of tongue warranted that, especially since the novice spoke the truth.
“The sun must've struck me deaf today, because I only heard you ask for my help and nothing else,” Charles said and reached to pat his arm. “Go on then, take the Abbess her water. I'll take a cup to the Hall.”
“Thank you!”
Charles watched him dash down the path and shook his head. He remembered how difficult the novice life could be, and Moira often blamed him for being too soft on them. Moira believed in discipline, but Charles wanted to think that a kindness never went to waste. But now he had the extra task to take water to the Hall. He reached to take the drinking cup from the little nook on the brick wall, where it was kept in case anyone needed a quick drink of water. He brushed the dirt off, rinsed the cup in the bucket and filled it with a fresh water from the pump.
Charles walked to the Hall in brisk pace, counting he could make two or three trips between the garden and the pump before it would be time for lunch, if he could get this done quickly. He went to the servants door, because that was the easiest route through the Hall. The air inside was stagnant, the heat like a thick blanket. At least outside there was a whiff of wind now and then, but here the air didn't move. Charles walked through the office quarters, past the entrance to the scriptorium and down the winding corridors until he reached the main hall.
The main hall was a large, open space, with curved archways that lead in and out to other sections of the Hall itself. It was otherwise unremarkable space, except for the floor. It was a complex work of mosaic, full of color and movement. Some pieces were no bigger than a fingernail, some as big as a baby's hand. It presented the aspects of the Goddess Adit, and how all the different aspects were held together by Mystery, its symbol the white empty circle in the middle of mosaic. There were millions of pieces on the floor, and you could spend hours just following the patterns running through the different images.
It was usual practice to make a novice to count a section, to learn focus and concentration. Charles had done it as well when he had arrived here. Not as punishment, but because he liked the sense of inner calm that exercise created. He had counted the Mystery, the exact place where the Alpha now knelt.
Charles stopped at the doorway to look at him.
The novice had been wrong. The man didn't sleep. His eyes were closed and his chest rise and fell with even pace, but it wasn't from sleeping. He prayed, Charles was sure of it. He could feel his alertness, the calm focus radiating from him. It was as familiar to Charles as his own heartbeat. The thick golden chains ran across his chest and arms, the ends bolted to the floor so that he had to remain kneeling. His back was straight, his hands resting on his thighs. He was relaxed, like the chains were a decoration, something that he wore because it pleased him, but what he could shed without a second thought.
His chest was bare, and Charles stared at the symbols tattooed across his shoulders and down his arms. The design broke over his left rib bones, thick jagged scars pulling the skin. Charles had seen scars like that before, on the veteran's of the great wars. Remnants of deep wounds closed with a blunt needle and thick thread. Maybe he had sown the wounds himself, or some other soldier had done it, fingers slippery from the blood.
The memory made Charles' hands shook, and water splashed from the cup to the floor. Charles scoffed at his own clumsiness and crouched to mop up the water with his sleeve. When he straightened back up, he saw that the Alpha had opened his eyes and stared at him. Charles startled, and took instinctive step back.
The Alpha frowned, and moved his fingers in a small gesture, beckoning him to come closer. Charles looked around for help, but there was no one else in the main room. The Alpha shouldn't be left alone at any time while he was in the monastery grounds. But there wasn't a single monk or a nun around. Charles stood there undecided for a moment. It wasn't proper conduct to approach the Alpha outside the Presentation. Then again, there was no direct rule that forbade it either. And the man was thirsty. It went against Charles' conviction to hold help from those who needed it.
The Alpha beckoned again, staring at him intently. Charles walked slowly closer, holding out the cup. He glanced at the chains, and then back at him, indicating that he couldn't exactly reach out. Charles got even closer, leaning to place the cup to his hands. Without warning, the Alpha grabbed his wrist and yanked him out of balance. Charles crashed down his knees and the cup clattered to the floor, the water spilling over the mosaic. The Alpha held his arm while pushing his shoulder back, and he went with the motion, ending up flipped on his back. He half laid on his lap, half sprawled on the floor.
Charles stared up at the ceiling, amazed how quick it had happened. Then he realized he was sweaty and dirty from the garden, smearing all that on the white mosaic. This thought made him finally try to struggle free from his hold. The Alpha huffed, amused, and pressed his fingers against the back of his neck. Charles stilled immediately. He knew the pressure points in the throat and neck, and what kind of damage it would do to press down even a sliver too wide. The Alpha's hold was perfect, and Charles didn't want it to change.
“Please, this is a sacred space,” Charles said quietly. His head was too tilted to the right so he couldn't see the Alpha's face, but the hold on his neck didn't ease. “My death would desecrate it.”
“You beg for the room, but not for yourself?”
He sounded curious, not angry. His voice was soft and deep, nothing like Charles had expected. This close, Charles could smell his skin. It was a strange scent, wide in all directions. It made him think the small bluebells the grew in thick masses near his family home. The scent was overpowering and more he breathed it in, the more he started to like it.
“Death is just one of the Goddess Adit's many aspects. My life and death are in Her hands, beyond my own wishes,” Charles said.
“Your life is in my hands now,” the Alpha said. It was illogical, but his words made Charles feel safe. Protected. The Alpha moved slightly, the chains clinking, and Charles tensed again. The Alpha must've felt it, but he said nothing, only leaned over him as far as the chains allowed. He inhaled the air over the bare stretch of his neck, the exhale tickling Charles' ear.
“Please let me leave,” Charles tried again. He realized that someone was bound to walk in the room at any moment, and he knew there was an emergency protocol for this type of thing, if the Alpha threatened or attacked anyone in the monastery. This could turn very bad, very quickly.
“You are frightened,” he said, tilting his head even further on the right. “Why?”
“I fear that there will be consequences for you if you don't let me go.”
“You, fear for me,” he repeated, and then he laughed, his lips so close to his skin that Charles shivered. “How curious.”
“I mean no disrespect.”
The Alpha said nothing, only tugged the collar of his shirt. The soft, worn fabric gave in easily, revealing a stretch of his chest. Charles tried not to let the panic take over, but it was hard to stay calm when the Alpha pressed his palm against his bare skin. The gold chain on his wrist pulled taut with the movement, and the metal pressed against Charles arm. The chains were heavy. The thought hadn't crossed his mind so far.
“Do you have a name, monk?”
“Charles.”
“Good enough,” he said and shifted again, leaning down over his bare chest, breathing deep. He stayed like this for a moment, moving his head this way and that, tracing some unseen path running through his skin. Charles got a horrible urge to laugh, the madness of the situation starting to dawn on him. This was all wrong. This was the Alpha, summoned here as a central part of the most sacred ritual of the religious year, and here he was, draped over his lap like a cheap blanket. The only one, who the alpha could not choose. And yet, the Alpha wouldn't let him go. Charles didn't know what to do.
“Please, let me return to my duties, and you can return to yours? It's important that you choose the fertile mate today. We all wait for your decision.”
“Tell me about your duties?” he asked calmly, ignoring his pleads.
“I take care of the herb gardens. Today, I carry water. I've tended every plant from a seedling, and now the heat is destroying all my hard work. I must get back to it.”
“Gardener? No. You have been in the battlefields. I can smell that on you.”
“To help the wounded, and bury the dead. Not as a soldier.”
“You know the marks on me, what they mean?”
“Yes, some of it. The count of battles, and victories, men who followed you, and the men you lost,” Charles said, trying to think back what he had learned about the tattoos years ago. Combinations of design could change the meaning, but he was certain that he recognized these correct. The Alpha stretched his arm as far as it would go, holding it in Charles' line of sight. The tattoo was a black spiral, with delicate details looping over in entwined swirls.
“Does this please you?”
“I...I don't understand.”
“I wish you to carry my children, Charles the Gardener. Do you find my victories are enough, or shall I leave to collect more? I'll bring you the head of every enemy you name.”
Charles blinked in confusion.
“Carry your...You choose me to... But it's impossible!”
“They bring these bearers to me, and tell me to pick one. All day long they march them through here like cattle, and they are all pale and empty like frozen lakes. Except you, little gardener. You came to me alone, full of heat and life. I want you.”
“I'm not, I'm...Please listen. It can't be me. I've been told I suffered an injury as a child, and can't bear children. You have to choose someone else,” Charles said, the shame burning inside his mind brighter than ever before. He wanted to hide away from this humiliation, and this sense of loss that he had to live with every day.
“Lies!” the Alpha shouted, releasing the hold of his neck, turning and pulling him, and once again he went with the motion and ended up kneeling in front of the Alpha. The chains were taut around the Alpha, he squeezed Charles' shoulders painfully. He looked furious. “I read your scent, and there is nothing broken in you! Who told you this lie? Tell me, I'll see them punished!”
“Please, don't say that, I can't take this,” Charles pleaded. “It hurts too much.”
The Alpha blinked, and released his hold. Charles crawled further away, sitting down, his whole body shaking. He brushed away the tears and took a deep breath, then another, trying to calm down. When he looked at the Alpha, he had returned to his earlier position, back straight, hands resting on his thighs. Except this time, he had a hard-on, the loose loincloth covering it only barely. The Alpha glanced at him and noticed his line of sight. He grinned.
“Does it please you, bearer? Your touch made it happen.”
“Can't be,” Charles muttered. The Alpha snorted.
“Spread your legs and I'll show you what can and can't be.”
Before Charles could say anything, two Sisters walked into the room, one carrying a water pitcher and a wash bowl, the other a stack of towels. They stopped at the edge of mosaic pattern and stared at them.
“What are you doing here?”
“What have you done?”
They asked the questions at the same time, and Charles didn't know which one to answer first. He reached for the toppled cup still laying on the floor and stood up, straightening his torn shirt.
“Goddess have mercy!”
“In Adit's holy name!”
At first Charles didn't understand what had shocked Sisters in such degree. He glanced at the Alpha and noticed that he stared at him too, with a smug smirk in his face. Charles followed his gaze and realized that his pants were soaked through. Either he had wet himself, which hadn't happen since he was an infant, or he had gone to heat, publicly and suddenly.
“Can't be,” Charles said again and the Alpha barked a laughter.
“You two, go tell your leader that I have made my decision. This is the bearer I take. And I take him now.”
Their training kicking in action, the Sisters put down the things they've been carrying and approached them cautiously. Charles first instinct was to back toward the Alpha, not go toward the Sisters. They made placating gestures at him, like he had turned into a wild beast they tried to capture.
“You are the gardener, true? I'm Sister Else, and this is Sister Anna. I want you to walk toward me, would you do that for us? Go on. A few steps. That's all.”
“Come here. You belong to me,” the Alpha commanded, reaching for him but the chains didn't give enough, his fingertips on inch away from Charles' hand.
Every rational thread in Charles urged him to move toward Sister Else, but another power wanted him to take a step back instead, to take the Alpha's hand. He couldn't follow either desire with a clear conscious, so Charles stood still, frozen in his indecision. The Sisters took advantage of it, and surged forward, seizing his arms and pulling him further away from the Alpha. He roared in fury, struggling against the chains, reaching toward Charles, but it was too late. The Sisters dragged him toward the door, ignoring the Alpha's enraged curses behind them.
“Please, he will hurt himself! Let me speak to him and explain, please, he will listen to me!” Charles pleaded, struggling to get back in the room. Sisters held him firmer, marching him to the door leading to the north wing, the way to the infirmary.
“Don't worry about him, he will be fine,” Sister Anna said.
“We will get you cleaned you up, and then you can see him again, hm?” Sister Else added, like bribing a petulant child with a piece honey cake. Charles wanted to laugh at that image, but suddenly he felt a stab of excruciating, like being gutted with jagged hot blades. Sisters wrapped their arms around him to stop him from keeling over to the floor.
“Breathe, it's the first hit, it won't last long. Keep breathing. People, we need help in here! Hurry!”