Connection - Golden Lycans Sequel 3/3 [Complete]

She is Mother, She is Earth

***Ares***

Staring at the ceiling as I lay on my back on my bed, I think over and over about how deeply I had messed up the last two weeks.

I wonder if Lia had found the drawing I had pushed under her door, and I wonder what she thought about it.

I hadn't expected her to be waiting for me when I returned to the flat last night, hoping once again that they would all be in bed.

She had looked so upset with me, her aura clouded over in the angry burgundy, some of the red streaks still visible through it as she stared at me, her beautiful sea-green eyes looking so hurt.

In all, I had scared myself and I had definitely ruined my friendship with Lia.

There is a knock at the door, and I sit up as my mother comes in, looking at me with concern etched on her face.

"You heeded your father's advice," she sighs with disappointment, taking a seat on the end of my bed.

"I do not follow."

"Atticus told me..." she says pointedly. I make an irritated noise in my throat.

"Atticus is evidently not the trustworthy man that I believed him to be," I sigh.

"Ares, I could tell exactly what was happening," she says gently. I huff and lean my back up against the wall, looking around my barren, soulless bedroom.

"Perhaps I ought to have told you how your face, your eyes, and your smile just lit up when you started to describe her; but I did not want to rob you of understanding that feeling yourself. Others your age would have grown to understand those feelings, through simply growing up; but you have not had the same opportunity."

"I have requested to change residence," I inform her, "I am a danger to her, but also because I do not want to lose sight of why I went to Vale in the first place."

She sighs in annoyance herself and scoots closer to me, her eyes looking at me in sorrow.

"Ares. I do not want you to lose sight of living your own life. I have lived many millenia. I...would love to be me, again, but not at ANY further expense on your life and the experiences you can have. I truly do not think that you could ever hurt her. I believe you have what it takes to control yourself. You need to show her the real you."

"My experiences in life are rather limited, mother, thanks to our people being so secretive. We are still so feared. How can I comfortably reveal what I am and expect to be treated the same as others?" I ask her.

"You just have to trust them, Ares," she replies. Easy for her to say, not ever leaving this place.

"Do I really have to dance with strangers tomorrow? Can I not just dance with you, like we used to?" I implore her.

"I do not attend the ball, Ares. You are much taller than you were when I taught you, but you were flawless with the waltz. Which incidentally, is the preferred dance of the king and queen, who are attending as they do every year. I have just heard that they are bringing their eldest niece. Your father will expect one of his sons to dance with her," she suggests with a smile. I rarely see her smile these days, but the idea of me partaking in this seems to be encouraging her.

"It is one evening. Therefore, if it makes you happy, mother, I will do what I can," I say to her with a sigh. She laughs lightly.

"It is not about my happiness, but...I shall take that," she says, standing up from my bed.

"Anything I can do to help? I am quite strong," I say before she leaves the room. She laughs a little once again and looks at me fondly.

"Strength is something we have in droves, Ares. But...I am sure you have some studying you can be getting on with. Leave all the work downstairs for everyone else. They are paid well."

"I have completed all my assignments," I tell her with a light sigh, "other than studying, I do not know what to do with my time, here."

"Oh, yes you do. Come with me," mother says a little slyly, exiting the room. She leads me down the corridor towards one of the spare rooms, rooms I hadn't bothered to enter before. She opens the door to one of them, and I walk in, fairly delighted to see the contents.

"Oh! You did this for me?" I ask, as I look happily at the large artist's easel positioned near a big, wide window. Next to it is a cabinet on wheels, which as I go and open each drawer, I can see is full of various mediums. This was miles better than a sketchpad and a fine pen, or one of my now rather short pencils.

"I found a few of your drawings of the other realm, Ares, when I was cleaning out one of the boxes you brought back. You are very talented, and you have an excellent eye for fine detail. I want to see what you can do with your gift," my mother says warmly, putting her hand onto my upper back. I smile down at her and pull her into a hug, feeling very thankful for this gesture of hers. I look out of the window at the snowy landscape. I would love to start trying out all these paints, charcoals, pastels and pencils...but I do not feel quite right. I feel so out of sorts, and I know it is because of the way I have treated Lia for the last two weeks. It has not sat well with me, at all.

"Will she ever forgive me?" I ask out loud, still staring off into the distance.

"If she is the person you believe her to be, who you described, then if you simply told her your truth, there will nothing to forgive, Ares," she says delicately. She squeezes my hand a little before she exits the room, leaving me to stare out the window once again.

Perhaps I ought to have told Lia the truth.

The day my father and brother came to Vale, she had found out...and she had been so kind, right before I panicked and persuaded her to forget. My decision entirely, due to the strange new urge I had been feeling, rather than the fact she had found out.

How different would things have been, had I not made her forget?

...

***Ophelia***

"I have to admit, I have never had such an efficient shopping trip," I laugh as I climb into my aunt's town car. I can see their driver Stuart, struggling to put the garment bag into the boot of the car.

"Probably ought to have had it delivered, but I need our seamstress to work her magic on it tonight," Serena mutters as my seatbelt clicks together.

"Pedro is...interesting," I comment, as Stuart pulls the car away from the side of the road.

"Most designers are," Serena replies with a snort of laughter.

"I cannot believe the dress. You cannot pay for that, I-" I begin to say. She turns to me and tilts her head.

"Ophelia, that dress was free," she says with a smirk.

"What? That's ridiculous, you have almost unlimited pockets," I point out. She nods and looks weary.

"I know, and part of the reason why we do, is because designers want us to wear their products. Every swanky event I go to, I wear one of their dresses, and it is noted in the media. They get business because I am seen wearing their clothing. The least they could do, was to provide my dear niece with her very first ball gown," Serena says happily.

"My first? You make it sound like I will have others," I joke.

"Oh, you will," Serena replies knowingly.

...

***Ella***

"Oh my goodness! I can barely hear myself think," I announce in the loud commotion going on in the kitchen. I open the patio doors and head outside as my phone starts vibrating in my back pocket.

"Ophelia, how is the palace?" I ask merrily, looking back through the glass wall as the triplets argue about who gets to decorate the gingerbread cookies.

They had been home for just three hours.

"Wish I'd stayed sooner; the bedroom is absolutely incredible," she replies, before she clears her throat.

"Umm…mum, why did you tell Serena about the thunderstorm? That was...quite personal," she asks. I frown.

"I didn't, Lia. I only told your father…" I assure her, before turning around and heading to the cabin, something nagging in the back of my mind, like a gut instinct.

"He must've told her then. Ooooh! Sorry for the short call, but I've got to go, someone has just come into the room," she says. She sounded happy, at the very least.

"Oh, sure. I love you, Lia," I tell her, as I hang up the phone. I approach the cabin just as the door flings open, and Joshua comes barrelling out, growling under his breath as he stomps straight past me.

"Telling him he is grounded worked out well, then?" I ask Austin as I step inside the cabin, who is sitting at his desk with Ollie standing next to him.

"If he wants to keep acting like this guy, at the tender age of just sixteen, being grounded ought to be expected," Austin grumbles.

"Aus," I begin, sitting down opposite him, "did you tell Serena about Ophelia's thunderstorm?"

He frowns at me and shakes his head. Ollie simply looks confused.

"No, I've told no one, I mean, I only spoke to Serena the other day when she mentioned having Ophelia to stay. She was weirdly determined, and I didn't think being stuck with Josh every day was going to be good for her. Worked out well, though, hasn't it?" Austin replies.

"A little...too well, don't you think? Serena somehow knew about the thunderstorm, Aus, and neither of us told her," I tell him pointedly. He narrows his eyes for a moment, and then they widen as he cottons on to what I am suggesting.

"You think so? Again?"

"Or...STILL?" I offer.

"Come again?" Ollie chimes in.

"I think that Serena is communicating with the Goddess again. But the question is, what does She want with Ophelia?"

…

***Ophelia***

"What do you think? I think we could take the neckline down just a little. It would show off a little more décolletage while still being quite respectable. If I add the right boning, which I will, there won’t be any need for an unsightly bra," my aunt's seamstress Pruella says conversationally, as I stand on a stool in my new dress.

I felt a little self-conscious at first, but actually, Pruella seemed pretty down to earth, and she had made me feel a lot more confident about wearing this dress tomorrow night.

"I...I mean I don't usually, but...what do you think?" I ask nervously, having no particular opinion.

"Bluntly? You've got great boobs. Having kids will one day ruin them. Show them off while they still point relatively north, honey," she says with a smirk. I laugh at her comment and nod.

"Okay. I trust you, do whatever you think looks best," I tell her with a nervous smile.

"Excellent. Next I am going to take out that stupid zip, add a corset panel and the stronger boning," she says brightly, sticking more pins in around the bodice of the dress.

"Am I going to be able to breathe?" I wonder out loud as it feels tighter and tighter.

"Pfft. Honey, there is a reason why I am the principle seamstress for the Royal Family out of any other seamstress in the entire country. Just trust me," she says, sticking more pins into her mouth as she heads around the back with some fabric scissors.

"I have never been to a ball, I do not know how to dance or anything," I add, voicing a fear I have developed over the last day or so.

"That, Ophelia, is where your favourite uncle comes in handy," I hear a voice say from the door. I turn my head and see my uncle James standing in the doorway, evidently about to go to the same charity gala my aunt is attending shortly.

"You're going to teach me?" I ask, a little surprised.

"It would be my great pleasure, Ophelia. You will be asked to dance. It would only be right of me to ensure you are adequately prepared. You look very beautiful, by the way. That colour suits you remarkably well," he says warmly. I am not used to compliments about my appearance from anyone aside from my father, and I feel my cheeks blush.

"Aw, shucks, uncle Jim," I joke. Pruella giggles as she continues to tackle the zip at the back.

"Forget you heard that, Pruella."

"No idea what you're referring to, Jim," she jokes back.

"I shall see you later at dinner, Ophelia. We have a special guest joining us this evening," James says before he leaves the room.

"Any idea who he's talking about?" I ask, wondering who this guest could be.

"Unless they need a dress hemming, I haven't a clue, love," Pruella replies, gesturing flippantly with her hand.

...

***Ella***

Right on schedule, there is a knock on the patio doors while Austin and I wait patiently in the kitchen.

We exchange a glance as Serena steps into the kitchen diner. She is evidently undertaking some sort of official engagement today by the appearance of her clothes. I make a mental note to ask if I can borrow what she is wearing. She looks flawless as always.

"Serena, thanks for coming," Austin says after he clears his throat. He gestures towards the navy and gold china cup that she was gifted by James over eighteen years ago, a set that has never left the house.

"I cannot be too long, we are hosting a charity gala that starts in twenty minutes," she replies, hopping onto one of the bar stools as if she'd never moved out.

"Uh...so...we were just wondering how you found out about Ophelia's little thunderstorm, Ser. Any ideas?" I ask casually, before arching a brow at her. Her eyes and aura betray her a little before she shrugs and smiles blithely.

"Well you did, of course!" She says stiffly, and in an utterly unconvincing way.

"I knew it," I exclaim, shaking my head and looking at Austin, "She is communicating with you again, am I right?"

Serena sighs and says nothing for a moment before she looks down at the worktop.

"Yes," she says simply.

"Just...yes? You realise none of the Seers anywhere can help their packs? No one can See anything across the WORLD and no one has no idea why. Do YOU?" Austin asks, sounding uncharacteristically irate.

"A little," she replies defensively, "but...I do not know enough to be useful to you, Austin. What I know is very specific."

"Well, what can you tell us? Given you have no power of Sight to forfeit by saying anything," I ask.

"She is a Goddess, Ella. She is proud. Being made to remove the mate bonds was evidently an oversight now, but she had to try something. Unfortunately...her f**kup has been used as...an exhibit," Serena says, evidently weighing her words.

"Amoya also mentioned us being an 'exhibit'...but what of?" I ask.

"There is the Fae realm...there is the demon realm...there is this realm...and many others. Some we have absolutely no contact with, and never have. But, this realm IS the main realm. A lot of the other realms are empty. Some have some life, and sometimes these can be intelligent life...but generally, this realm is the big deal as far as realms go, and She gets to govern us among several others," Serena explains.

I recall something else that Amoya said and I lean towards Serena.

“Who is making us an exhibit?” I ask, unsure where this was all going.

"He is making an exhibit of us," Serena replies.

"I am lost," Austin interjects.

"She...who goes by many names, as we mostly know... The Moon Goddess, Gaea...Terra. Ultimately, She is Mother, She is Earth. But...there are other governors. He is one of them. He seeks to control this realm...and it would be a very TERRIBLE thing if he did. He has been pushing his influence. Perhaps you have felt it?" Serena reveals. I let out a long exhale at this news, because this was certainly bigger than rogue legislation and alphas marking unwilling mates. It also confirmed the strange feeling I had been having ever since I came back from the realm.

"That...is...ummm..."Austin says, trailing off.

"Okay, so...someone wants to usurp Her and is using recent issues as some sort of leverage? We’re an exhibit of why She shouldn’t govern this realm?" I ask.

"Essentially," she replies.

“Oh my god,” I utter, sinking into a chair, my mind trying to comprehend something further than a single deity, “so...does…does She have a boss? Why exhibit anything unless there is someone else to make a decision…”

“That would be my guess, but She has not said anything for certain,” Serena admits.

"Okay, so what has any of this got to do with Ophelia? Why is She talking to you about our daughter?" Austin asks, his eyes glowing more brightly than usual. Serena looks back at him and looks apologetic.

"That is something I truly cannot answer. I do not know. I just know what is at stake, and I know that She has told me to guide Ophelia in a specific way."

"Guide her how?" Austin asks, looking stern.

"To her WOLF, Aus. Because there is only ONE single way that she is ever going to get to her, and it is NOT going to be easy."

...

***Austin***

I love them dearly, but...it's only been two days and I already miss the quiet, I mutter to Atlas as I sit on the kitchen counter with my laptop.

I could hear loud voices and various sounds coming from the living room.

We could do this in the cabin. Why are you in here? Atlas asks.

Because as distracting as they are, I do love them, and I have missed them, I reply.

Not too late to have another, Atlas interjects.

Er, no. I don't think we need any more than we have already, old man.

"I NEED to shift," I hear Joshua say bluntly behind me. I turn around to face him and shake my head.

"No."

"This is ridiculous!" Joshua exclaims, growling a little under his breath. I stand up and approach him, still taller despite his recent growth spurt.

"This attitude, is precisely why you will not. The full moon is on January fourth, you can shift then. In the grounds," I tell him calmly. His eyes blaze, and one of my many fears grows a little as I shake my head once more.

"Joshua," I growl, "this is for your own good."

"Calix wants to shift, and I am getting stir-crazy just mooching around this house! The triplets are annoying...and mental," he pouts.

"You are an alpha undergoing extreme hormonal shifts, Joshua. I cannot risk you hurting anyone," I admit. He looks back at me, baffled, which tells me he hadn't taken in what I had said to him two days ago, at all.

"You really think that I'd hurt someone?" He asks in disgust.

"Honestly, Joshua, I didn't think you'd behave the way you have been behaving over the past few months, so I really don't know what to think anymore. But...I cannot risk it. This is partly as punishment for your behaviour, and partly because I cannot bear the thought of my own son becoming part of the problem."

"You seriously think I cannot control myself?" Joshua asks, his nose flaring angrily.

"I think, that given what's going on at the moment, even I could have potentially been a problem at your age," I admit, "so as the leader of our community, Joshua, I am going to make damn sure my own children aren't the ones hurting anyone, even if that means they moan, they shout, they growl, because you don't want blood on your paws, Joshua. Trust me on that."

...

***Ares***

I slowly drag the brush up the paper, enjoying the smooth line of kiwi green paint that is left in its wake.

I had never tried painting before, but I was quickly learning how to control the brush, how pressure altered the strokes, and the differing thickness of the various mediums my mother had provided for me.

I was not creating anything in particular, but this was about learning, not creating. It had provided me with a sense of focus and calm that I really needed.

The door to the room opens and Atticus steps through. I give him a polite nod as I start to mix two colours together.

"Ares, it is so good to see you back here, and for father's Winter Ball, no less," he says, wandering into the room and standing next to me, "not entirely sure where you got the knack for this from. I tried fine arts once when I went to St Andrews, but...it was just not for me."

"Sometimes, Atticus, it is possible to take after our mother," I tell him as I concentrate on the paper.

"Oh, no doubt," he replies, before he puts his hand on my shoulder, "did you do everything I suggested?"

I sigh and put down the paint brush as I turn to him.

"Yes, I slid the drawing under her door," I reply, having managed to put my emotional troubles behind me for a few hours while I experimented with paints.

Now Atticus had dragged them back to the forefront of my mind.

"And the meditation?" he presses. I make a face and shrug.

"It is hard to say, when I do not have her in front of me, Atticus. But I kept my teeth in when she rounded on me last night," I point out, bitterly.

"Maybe we can test it. Come with me," he says, steering me out of the room and down the corridor. He marches purposefully down the stairs and my heart sinks as he leads me through the kitchen into one of the pantries; the one where the blood is kept. He opens the door to a large warmer which keeps the blood at perfect body temperature, and he opens up one of the glass bottles.

The sight of the blood doesn’t bother me but he holds it up in front of me.

"See. No reaction," he shrugs. I shake my head.

"Atticus, you misunderstand my issue. This doesn't draw me at all. I do not want this. I only want her blood," I explain, taking the bottle from him and hold it out in front of me, determined to prove a point.

I inhale long and hard over the top of the bottle, the iron-like smell hitting my nose.

It makes me retch several times, and I shove it back towards him.

Atticus looks at me strangely as he screws the cap back onto the bottle.

"Maybe you're right, your reaction is highly unusual. Other natural-born vampires do not have the craving that you appear to have, but they love the smell, and they can delight in the consumption, and most definitely enjoy the beneficial effects that it has," Atticus remarks, putting the bottle back into the warmer.

"It is no worry to me that this sickens me, I do not need to live an unnaturally long life," I reply, leaning against the wall.

"Well, I disagree, Ares. You are remarkably intelligent, absurdly good at learning things that you put your mind to. Why would you waste that on a human lifespan? Imagine the things YOU could accomplish for the world if you lived as long as I have? If anything it is SELFISH of you to not feed, Ares!" Atticus muses. I open the fridge and remove a bottle of flavoured water as I shake my head at him.

"Drinking a person's life force goes against everything that I believe...everything that I feel," I explain to him.

"You do know that there are plenty out there, that freely offer their blood? You saw it right in front of you when Cassie kindly agreed to demonstrate that is is PAINLESS. To supply this family is seen as an absolute honour to her and hundreds of others. You do not need to feel ashamed, Ares. This is your biology. While you're learning about every other species in our mystical world, you're purposefully avoiding your own. Ignoring what is and what could be. You are not a little boy anymore, Ares. Do not be afraid of those next steps," Atticus says, stepping right up to me, two inches from my face as he smirks back at me, "have you even thought about it? Have you considered it? Just imagine...what if your girl stepped up to you, just like this, and she freely offered her neck to you? What if she wanted it? What if she wanted to gift you some of her precious blood…what if she DESIRED for you to bite her, to TASTE her?"

His words have an alarmingly immediate effect on me; the idea sweeping through me from my gums, all the way down to my groin. The burning hunger returns to my oesophagus, my fangs protruding instantly, and a rather regrettable shift occurs within my trousers.

I immediately clap my hands over my mouth in response, causing Atticus to laugh at me lightly, before looking at me with sympathy.

"Oh oh ohhhh...well, that meditation hasn't worked at all, has it? It has only been two weeks, though, perhaps you might handle yourself a little better once you return to your school, if you keep at it. It has had a reasonable effect for turned vampires, but you really are a unique one, Ares; a natural-born from the most natural vampire of them all." Atticus says calmly, his eyes dropping to my lower half, “and that is a very natural response, in case you were wondering. Something is working properly, at the very least.”

"I NO LONGER WISH TO FEEL THIS WAY!" I exclaim loudly, feeling thoroughly unhinged. I did not want to feel the desire to taste Lia, not entertain the idea she'd ever want me to taste her. I wanted to protect her, I wanted to hold her again and feel her snuggle her head against me again. I wanted her to feel safe, with me. Atticus tilts his head as he regards me, his expression softening considerably.

"That realm robbed you of normal growth, Ares. Metaphysically speaking. Physically, you've followed the right path, but your mind needs to catch up. But, just imagine, Ares, that your girl found out what you are...again...and she was only too happy to indulge you, to embrace you…to love you. Perhaps that notion is something for you to meditate on?"

Atticus sweeps out of the room, leaving me to consider something I had certainly not considered before, my brain unable to stop itself from wondering, now; what if Lia did freely offer her blood to me?

...

***Ophelia***

"Ophelia Landry, it has been a long damn time," my uncle's best friend Joel Egerton says, as I spot him at their dinner table.

"Mr Bond!" I joke in my best Russian accent, as he gets up and gestures for me to give him a hug. It had perhaps been a year since I had last seen him, having spent a fun-filled day on one of his movie sets along with Anastasia.

"Oh don't, I am bricking it!" he exclaims as he looks at me happily before taking a seat again at the table, "any time someone takes that crown, it is just the highest of expectations."

"I have trained you well, Joel, you will be setting the bar too high for anyone else," Serena says.

"Doesn't matter about the rough-housing, Ser, it's whether people believe me to be this gritty, brooding man who oozes s*x appeal," Joel says as someone pours him some red wine, "wait...what am I on about? I've got this thing in the bag. But, I would still like to get a big, royal premiere."

My uncle sighs and makes an awkward expression.

"And you will get it, and not because it is you, but because the series is a longstanding, classic export of British cinema. The PR team would only recommend it," he replies, grabbing a small bread roll from a bowl on the table. I tentatively take a sip of my wine, not having had a red wine before. It isn't too bad.

"You're an adult now, Ophelia. You no longer have to be hidden behind a veil of secrecy. Premiere will be around July time, fancy coming?" Joel asks. I look back at him in mild horror, immediately thinking that I would rather slip in anonymously through a side entrance.

"It is kind of you to offer, but...I choose to keep myself hidden. Nothing has changed, Joel," I tell him, picking up my appetiser fork and fiddling with it.

"But things will, Lia," my aunt says, sounding strangely sure of her words, "a lot can change in even six months."