Rise.

Winter, PreYear Nine (2nd Moon)

The compound was alive with preparations. There were new tables being carved to accommodate all the guests, food being prepared a week in advance, hunts gone on twice daily, dances practiced and new cloths braided. Róan, somehow, had managed to find himself right in the middle of this. Although it wasn't really much of a mystery how - all betas had been enlisted to lend a hand in helping, and Róan had more or less woken up one day to find he'd been assigned to kitchen duty. That hadn't lasted long - only a moon into his first litter, his stomach hadn't quite settled enough for the work. After a disastrous first day taking in the potent smells of all the food, he was quickly reassigned.

Marik still looked at him with the same wonderstruck eyes every time he came home; he wanted to make love at every moment, and Róan had resorted to staying out late to avoid - he still knew better than to refuse. Euan, still heavy, had asked to be reassigned as well, and now they were both working evening shifts preparing dry meals and making cloth for beds and tables and gifts for the SweetWater wolfes. The young wolfes were enlisted to build temporary housing for the guests, and for nearly three weeks, everyone in the compound was insanely busy.

Marik had been leading a building team, and he'd been thinking all the while. Medin was back now, in his home and his care, moving about as usual and with bright eyes and gladness, and Marik was never more grateful. But there seemed to be thorns there - dangling threads in the fabric of Medin's happy outlook. Marik had seen him crying sometimes; had heard him wake up in the middle of the night. He wanted to settle the boy's mind; put him at ease and make it clear that Walker was finished with, done, and never coming back. There only seemed to be one way to do that.

~:~

Róan liked this part, he decided. He was leaning over a table, painting colorful designs onto the wood. Euan and Melbourne were with him, each on a different corner, and so far, they'd made good progress. It was just six days until the first arrivals, and all the finishing touches were being made.

Róan was one month along now, and still required to check in with the infirmary every three days. The nausea had faded, now that his body had adjusted to the influx of changes, but the depression hadn't quite lifted. It didn't help that his mate had seemed less than interested in anything he'd had to say over the past month. He'd make love to him and he'd hold him, but in conversation, it always seemed that his mind was elsewhere. Still, Róan tried. Euan, who had only three more months left, did his best to lift his brother's spirits.
"I felt the same way you did, Ro, at the beginning. Like I didn't want to do it anymore, like I couldn't handle it, like I just wanted to go home." Euan dipped his brush into more blue paint, spread it across the table in the space Róan had indicated. Melbourne looked up, taking quiet interest in the conversation, but kept his brush painting a steady shoreline.
"But it faded, you know? Like all bad feelings - if you ignore them, they'll just fade away. So, don't worry, little brother - you'll be just fine."
Melbourne paused, locked eyes with Róan. Melbourne's eyes were half amusement, half pity. Róan looked back down at his table.
"And besides, this will be just the thing to bind you and Marik."
Róan shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. His brother recognized the gesture.
"Róan?"
Róan looked up at his brother, pausing in his work. He forced a smile.
"What? I agreed."
"No...you shrugged. It's your disagreeing tell. What's going on?"
Melbourne was looking at him expectantly. Suddenly Róan's throat began to feel very very tight.
"It will not bind us."
"Ro? What do you mean?"
Euan looked worried now, very worried, and so Róan shook his head again to try and calm him or maybe make sense of his own thoughts.
"Marik, my wolfe, he -"
"Working hard, kitten?" a low, happy voice from behind made Euan jump. Loban smiled, but looked concerned. "Didn't scare you too much, did I?"
Euan couldn't have grinned any wider. He slid one hand over his bulging stomach.
"No." Loban came over and kissed his mate, put a hand on his belly.
"Hello, Róan. Melbourne."
Both nodded their greetings. The wolfe went on.
"Beautiful table you're working on here - it will be a real pleasure for our guests." Mel retired his brush into a dish of water, looked around between the family members.
"Well...I bet everyone's thirsty. I'll find some tea."
Mel always had a way, Euan decided, of quietly excusing himself just when it would be much appreciated. He waited until the other human was completely out of sight and earshot before turning from Loban and asking,
"What were you going to say, Róan?"
Loban looked interested now.
"About what? What's going on?"
"Marik's done something. Róan's upset. And he's with, you know. It's not good to be upset when you are carrying."
Loban nodded seriously, and Róan silently wondered just when Euan had learned every fucking thing there was to know about carrying.
"I'd really rather not talk about it."
Euan shook his head, came closer and put one hand on Róan's shoulder. His eyes were sincerely worried. Róan felt guilty immediately.
"Please...put my mind at ease? You are my only brother."
Róan spared a glance at Loban, but spoke.
"Marik has lost interest in me...in everything. He does not speak to me anymore; he's always thinking and he stays away all day. When he's home, he asks about the litter, but when I try to answer back, it's as if he's already left again."
Róan bit his lip.
"I think he regrets the litter."
Ro was serious, but the allegation seemed so preposterous that Loban laughed out loud. Róan threw a simmering glare at Euan about this and went on, speaking now only to his brother. His voice was low as he turned back to the table.
"I don't want to lose my place here."
Loban frowned; his voice was firm, but gentle.
"Róan, we are not barbarians. We do not abandon our mates, under any circumstances, for any reason. My brother may be distracted, but he has not forgotten you, he has not lost interest in you, and he will not abandon you."
Róan's eyes began to mist up and he shrugged Loban's words off. He didn't need anyone's pity. Picking up the brush, he began to paint again, but his hand shook so he dropped the brush and put one hand to his stomach instead.
"I don't feel good; I need to go lie down."
Loban put his ears back in alarm.
"Come. Let's go now. We'll take you."
Róan shook his head.
"No...Loban, I can't - if Marik knows I let you in..."
Loban cut him off shortly.
"Marik will forgive us both. Let's go."
They went together in tense silence, Loban trying to alternately slow down to let Euan keep pace, then speeding up to move Róan along quickly. They weren't very far from home when a bout of actual nausea came over him and he ran the rest of the way, leaving the door open behind him.
Loban ran after him and Euan entered moments afterwards, expecting to see Róan bent over the sink. He wasn't. He was on the floor, and Loban was kneeling at his side.

~:~