Stars In The Sky

Papa was sad. 

Marcel didn't understand why: the Midwinter Feast was upon them, and people were supposed to be happy and celebrating. But Papa had been quiet for some time now, and when Marcel had tried to cheer him up, Dad had asked him to leave Papa alone. 

”Papa comes from the South, remember? The Midwinter is always hard to him because it gets so dark in here, and he still isn't used to it.” Dad had smiled and ruffled his hair, and Marcel had pretended that he believed him. But he had known that Dad hadn’t told him the truth.

Papa had been sad before. Marcel remembered that the last Midwinter had also been a sad time, but this year it was worse. It was like Papa was living inside a dream, looking back at something Marcel couldn’t see. He wanted to make Papa feel better, but this was only his sixth Midwinter Feast, and no matter how much smarter he was compared to his sister, this was an adult business. 

In the end, Marcel decided just to give Papa a hug.

”Is something wrong?” Papa made that tilt with his head he always did when he was confused.

Marcel lifted his eyes to look at Papa’s bright blues. ”You’re sad and I wanted to hug the sadness away.”

”Oh,” Papa said. He frowned like he was feeling for something and then nodded. ”It was a very good hug. Thank you,” and he smiled brightly. It was the same kind of a smile that always left Dad speechless and staring, and Marcel was secretly pleased that this time it was all his.

It was quite an early morning and Marcel was bored. He had meant to go to his parents and cuddle between them like he enjoyed to do, even though he was a big boy already. When he stopped at the bedchamber door and peeked cautiously inside, he saw Papa and Dad in bed, with Dad hugging Papa tightly, his nose buried in Papa’s neck. 

”I think I should tell him,” Papa said softly.

”Cas…” Dad’s groan was a bit muffled. ”Do we really need to talk about it now?”

Marcel scrunched his nose at the weird smell and made a face. He had no business inside now, not with his parents in what Papa called ’an adult hug’. 

In summer, he had once accidentally walked in when Papa and Dad had been in one. Dad had turned bright red and hidden his face in the crook of Papa’s neck, while Papa had explained to Marcel that when two adults loved each other very much, they wanted to be close, and sometimes it ended in that funny smell and an adult hug. Marcel had burrowed his brow and then shrugged. If his parents wanted to give each other naked adult hugs, then they could. Papa had inclined his head and thanked him for giving his permission. Marcel had narrowed his eyes at Papa, because sometimes it was hard to tell whether Papa was joking or not. Papa was weird that way.

Papa gave Dad a little huff, the kind he did when he thought Dad was a bit silly. 

”I have your attention now, don’t I? Anyway, I’m going to tell Marcel. He’s already noticed that I’m unusually down, and I don’t want him to get any ideas, or, Heavens, go to Gabe.”

Marcel liked eanu Gabe. He was funny and loud and respected no-one, except čeahci Sam. That was a bit odd, because even though he was big, čeahci Sam was perhaps the kindest and gentlest man alive. But it only took one Look from čeahci Sam for eanu Gabe to go all meek and behaved. 

It always made Dad laugh, which Marcel didn't understand at all. Adults were funny.

Marcel wondered what Papa wanted to tell him that he didn’t want him to hear from eanu Gabe. 

His musings were cut short when his vision was suddenly full of green. Dad’s wolf was looming on the doorway, looking at him. Marcel had no idea how the wolf was able to give him a stern look with a raised brow (just like Dad!), but he did. Marcel rolled his eyes and moved away from the door. Most likely the wolf had already told Dad that Marcel was there, and eavesdropping was no longer an option.

He decided to wander to the kitchen to look for something to eat. He had already had a proper breakfast, of course, but Marcel liked to sneak in and try to fool Ellen long enough to snatch something. It never actually worked, because Ellen was secretly a shaman. She always knew exactly where Marcel was heading, and, even if he managed to snatch something, he knew it was because Ellen let him. But it was a funny game they both enjoyed playing. 

Besides, Bobby was usually in the kitchen, and if Marcel wasn’t fast enough to grab something, he could always tease Bobby to get him treats. Bobby liked to pretend he was all gruff and grumpy, but Marcel knew he was really an old, fluffy bear.

”Marcel, would you come with me, please?”

It was the morning of the Midwinter Feast and the whole castle was busy with preparations. Marcel and Maryann had been weaving decorations at the big kitchen table, a task they prided to do better than anyone, and Marcel was suddenly worried they had made them wrong. But Papa didn’t look disappointed or angry, he looked calm, if a little sad. The sadness was there again, and Marcel thought he probably needed to hug Papa more. Obviously, Dad’s adult hugs weren’t enough to make Papa happy.

”Get your furs, we’re going out,” Papa said to him and then turned to Ellen. ”Are there any more of those colored candles left? I’d like to take a couple with us.”

Marcel turned to look at Ellen and blinked at the weird look at the Matron’s face. 

”Are you sure, Castiel?” Ellen asked. Marcel wondered why she needed to make sure if Papa wanted to take candles with them.

Papa gave Ellen a small smile. ”Yes, I’m sure. And I’ve talked with Dean about this.”

”Is he coming with you?”

”No,” Papa rolled his eyes. ”You know how he is.”

Ellen grunted something under her breath. Marcel’s eyes darted between her and Papa, and he had no idea what was going on.

Papa turned to him and frowned. ”Get dressed. It’s cold outside.”

It was cold outside, and Marcel was glad he had thick enough furs to keep him warm. He had no idea where they were headed, but he didn’t really care. He was alone with Papa, and that in itself was a rare treat. 

He could see that Papa was deep in thought, a frown on his face, his hand brushing the fur of Dad’s wolf from time to time. Marcel glanced up and saw a couple of aviating totems gliding lazily over them, like they always did when Papa was out. Marcel didn’t think it was in any way odd: Papa was the Laird and very much loved by Dad and everybody else, and that made him special. Of course, as the heir of Grey Castle, Marcel himself was special too, but he didn't think he was as important as Papa.

Marcel knew that when he was older, he would present and his totem would manifest itself. He had no clue what he was going to be, although Dad and Papa said that, as the firstborn, he would most likely be an alpha. He didn’t really care: Dad and Bobby and Pamela were alphas, Ellen and Sam and Gabe were betas and Papa and Missouri and Jo were omegas, and they all were awesome. He was more interested in what kind of a totem he would eventually get. Dad’s wolf was, of course, magnificent and awesome, but there was something… enticing about Sam’s owl. 

Well, as long as he didn’t get a worm as a totem, he’d be fine. Worms were slippery and easily squished, and they wouldn’t make very good totems.

Marcel had been lost in his thoughts, which was probably why he didn’t notice that Papa had stopped, and he bumped into Papa’s back and landed on his butt in the snow. It was a bit embarrassing, but then Papa laughed, and it was okay.

”Where are we?” Marcel asked while he brushed snow off from his furs.

”This is my special place,” Papa said. Marcel felt a little overwhelmed to be in Papa’s special place. ”I come here when I feel…” Papa’s voice drifted away and he looked at the sky. 

It was Kaamos twilight, and, therefore, no stars were visible, but Marcel knew they were there anyway. Papa gazed up for some time, his hand making a strange caressing sweep over his belly. Marcel cocked his head and frowned. There was something familiar about the gesture, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He was pretty sure he had seen Papa do that before, but he couldn’t remember when or where. 

Maybe Papa was sick. He had been feeling a bit nauseous, after all.

”Does your tummy hurt?”

Papa started a little and Marcel felt a tiny twist of guilt for causing it. 

”You are a very smart pup, aren’t you?” Papa said when he turned to look at Marcel in the eye. Then he smiled gently and nodded his head towards a small clearing. 

There were several logs turned to their sides, and Marcel thought they would act perfectly as stools. He was delighted to notice that they did exactly that when Papa spread a fleece on one and sat down. Ellen had provided them with a small basket of packed lunch, and they sat in silence, eating, another fleece snugly around them to keep them warm. 

When they were done, Papa wrapped his arm around Marcel.

”There’s a reason why I’m always sad around this time. Like I said, you are a very smart pup to notice, because not even your Dad always realizes it in time. But he has his own worries.” 

Papa huffed a laugh, his nose crinkling, with a sparkle in his eyes. Marcel grinned back. Something about Papa’s words sounded too serious for a laugh, but he also knew that Dad was goofy at times.

Papa sighed and pecked a kiss on his nose before he looked back to the sky. 

”When I met your Dad, I didn’t know anything about the North. I didn’t know about Grey Castle, about the Northern way of life, or what kind of a family this place held. I didn’t know this was home. When we, your Dad and I, bonded, I was soon pregnant.” Papa stopped and looked at Marcel. ”You know what ’pregnant’ means, don’t you?”

Marcel nodded. ”It means that there’s a pup growing inside the belly of a woman or an omega like you, right?”

Papa smiled. ”That’s right,” he agreed. 

”So… Me and Maryann were growing inside you?”

Papa hugged him tighter. ”No. It was another pup, one that never grew big enough to be born. We lost it after the Midwinter Feast.”

Papa fell silent. Marcel narrowed his eyes and thought hard. 

”That’s why you’re always sad around Midwinter,” Marcel pondered slowly. 

”Yes.”

They sat in silence for a moment, then Papa got up. He wrapped the fleece securely back around Marcel, rummaged for the candles from the basket and walked a bit to the side of the clearing. 

There was a small rowan, not many summers old yet, with a stone circle around it and three lanterns partially buried under snow. Papa brushed the lanterns clear from snow and placed the candles inside them and, after a couple of tries, managed to light them with his flint. When he was ready, he stood up and looked up at the sky again.

Marcel watched his Papa in silent contemplation. Papa had talked about one pup, but there were three candles. No wonder Papa was sad. He raised his eyes to the sky, in imitation of Papa, and tried to see the stars behind the twilight blue.

”Are they there?” 

Papa gave him a surprised smile. ”They? Ah, of course. You counted the candles.” He walked to Marcel and brushed his cheek with his mitten-clad hand. ”I don’t know. I like to think so. They all were lost during the darkest time of the year, and that’s why Midwinter makes me so sad.” 

Marcel shifted. He was getting cold despite his furs and the fleeces, but he didn’t want to leave yet. He watched Papa pack the basket, and when he straightened himself, he brushed his belly again. Marcel narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. 

Then he understood and his eyes widened.

”Papa! You have a pup inside you now, don’t you?” 

Papa turned his head and gave him a sideways glance, and his face split into a smile. 

By the time they got back to the castle, they both were exhausted. They (or actually Papa) received an earful from both Ellen and Dad for getting themselves cold just before the Feast. Ellen clicked her tongue before she shooed Marcel towards the bathhouse to get a hot bath to warm him up. Marcel stalled to glance back at Papa and Dad, just in time to see Dad give Papa a kiss and rub his belly gently while Papa rested his head on Dad’s shoulder. 

He grinned, which was immediately spotted by Ellen.

”What are you grinning at, honey?” She asked with a raised brow.

Marcel shook his head and pressed his lips together.

”Ah, you have a secret? Then I won’t pry,” Ellen said solemnly, but Marcel saw the corner of her lips twitch. He was pretty sure Ellen knew already, because, well, he was pretty sure Ellen was a shaman and, as such, aware of everything.

After his bath, he was nicely warm and tired and decided to take a nap. It was okay when he decided it – he was a big boy, after all, and it wasn’t like big boys needed naps. The bedchamber was empty (Maryann was still rehearsing her song for the Feast), and he climbed on his bed and burrowed under the blankets. 

He was almost asleep when he heard the door creak and Papa’s ermine slipped inside, after Dad’s wolf had helpfully opened the door. Marcel was slightly confused: Papa’s ermine didn’t usually come to him, at least not when Papa wasn’t there. But now the white, slender totem hurried across the floor, hopped on the bed and coiled himself into a content ball of soft fur, burying his nose in Marcel’s hair. 

Dad’s wolf gave a toothy grin before he turned and padded out.

The bonfire was awesome, and not only because it warmed so nicely. Maryann had performed her song and was giddy for all the applause and praise she had received. She was presently perched on Dad’s shoulders, they both laughing while spinning around. Marcel stood beside Papa, his hand scratching Dad’s wolf behind the ear, Papa’s ermine around his neck. He glanced up at Papa, who was looking at Dad and Maryann with a fond smile. 

Marcel liked to be by the fire, to stand quietly and observe. Papa had often said that they were very much alike, just like Maryann and Dad were alike. Sometimes Marcel envied Maryann for her boldness, loudness, and bravery, but then he remembered čeahci Sam saying that Dad was loud and bold because he had Papa. The comment had made Marcel’s day. 

The sky was clear and not even the big Midwinter bonfire was able to diminish the starlight. Marcel looked up and tracked down The Evening Star, The Shaman, The Alpha, The Eagle, The Omega, The Twins, and The River, and stopped there because he didn’t remember any more constellations. He cocked his head, trying to decipher where his unborn siblings had gone and stared and stared, until his eyes started to sting and he got a crick on his neck. 

Then he turned to press his cheek against Papa’s belly and hugged his middle.

”I wish you arrive safely,” he whispered. ”I’ll be waiting for you, me and Maryann both. We’ll be here. And if for some reason you go to the stars, you won’t be alone there either. But I hope that you’ll come here, to us.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and wished with all the power he could muster that this pup was allowed to be born, so that he and Maryann would have a little sister or brother. But, most of all, he wished it so that Papa wouldn’t be so sad anymore.

If he had looked up, he would have seen Papa looking down at him, his eyes shining with tears, and a little distance away, Dad looking at them with a loving smile. 

Above them, the stars twinkled softly, wishing them a happy Midwinter.