To Provide And Protect

Everything is white around him. White and bright and cold. He isn’t sure where he is exactly, but he knows he is going to die here. 

And it is fine.

When John had first seen Mary, it had been love at first sight — on his part. 

As the new Lord of Grey Castle, John had been in dire need of a mate and an heir. He had met Mary on a fair in Maple Falls marketplace, where Mary had come with her family to sell charms and pottery. She was the daughter of a lowborn merchant, but it didn’t matter. The Northerners cared little of things like high and low blood. Blood was blood, and it flew just as red, whether it bled from a nobleman or a peasant. 

Mary’s father had been extremely suspicious of John at first. The old alpha had been sure the young Lord had been merely chasing tail, probably because Mary was a quite beautiful omega and had received a lot of attention during their travels across the country. But she had also been proud, independent and willful, which was why John fell so hard for her the first time they talked. 

Mary herself hadn’t been that impressed with the young Lord with an easy smile, and it had taken John quite some time to woo his future mate. 

In the end, it hadn’t been John himself, who had tipped the scale.

Mary’s saluki had been just as enchanting as Mary herself. John had been quite sure that it was ultimately the totems that had convinced Mary’s father to give his blessing to their bonding. After all, seeing the brown bear of the Northerner Lord kneel down and roll over in front of the slender and proud saluki in the middle of the Maple Falls marketplace was a sight long talked about amongst the townspeople. John had followed his bear’s example and fallen on his knees in front of Mary and asking her to bond with him right there, in front of his own people.

John had never had much self-consciousness when facing things he really wanted. It had been a trait that had made him so popular amongst his people.

He sees a shadow flicker in his peripheral vision. He tries to turn his head but is too tired, so he just waits instead. He will come to him soon enough. 

John feels his totem’s presence from far, far away. The bear has been gone for what seems like an eternity, but time flows differently in The White. John can’t be exactly sure whether he has been here for a week or for a decade. None of that matters, anyway.

Mary had gotten pregnant from her mating heat, and Dean was born nine months after their bonding ceremony. The clan had thrown a spontaneous festival in the honor of the newborn heir, and Mary and John had been brimming with joy and pride by both their baby and the reaction of their people.

John had a quick temper and, when combined with Mary’s sharp tongue, it flared easily. They had had a stormy union, Mary’s independent and stubborn nature clashing with John’s dominance. But there had never been a question about their deep love for each other.

When Dean had been four, Samuel was born. The delivery had been long and difficult, and their midwife had instructed them not to risk another pregnancy. It had been a disappointment since John had always hoped for a big family, but he was grateful for the two healthy pups they already had. 

Everything had been perfect. 

Then, six months after Sam’s birth, the fire. 

It had been horrible.

Someone had left a pot with candle mass unattended on the stove, where it had overheated and burst into flames. The fire had spread quickly, jumped from the pot into the dry herbs above the stove, then to the linens and the curtains, and in a moment, the whole kitchen had been a raging inferno. Mary and the boys had been in the kitchen when it had happened, but they had gotten out unharmed — or so they had thought.

When Mary had started to scream, John had refused to believe it at first. 

Then the shockwave of a dying totem had swept over them, and he had known that his mate was lost. Nevertheless, John had tried. He had tried to keep Mary in the world of the living with the sheer force of his will, but it was futile. 

One moment of his attention elsewhere, and Mary had managed to slip away.

Seeing his mate walk into the lake was something that had haunted John ever since.

He still feels the echo of the twisting agony in their bond, although it had happened over twenty summers ago. They say that the pain of losing your mate never really fades, as the phantom bond keeps tugging towards the spirit world, towards the other half, begging to be complete once more.

Soon, Mary. I’m coming back to you, just wait for me. Wait a little longer.

After Mary had taken her own life, things had eroded around John. He had known, of course, that he had two young pups in his responsibility to look after, but he was unable to function. He had been consumed by grief and rage, determined to hunt down the person guilty of leaving the pot on the stove. His vendetta had alienated him from his sons, and he had spent several moons in a row away from the castle, leaving the boys in the capable hands of Matron Ellen and Bobby.

Bobby had finally called him out for his irresponsible behavior and forced him to stay with his sons. He had slowly relearned the routines of the castle, but the previous easiness was long gone. John had turned from the smiling, happy alpha into a bitter man who waged war and vengeance upon the cruel fate that had tricked his mate from him before her time. 

John had tried to do the right thing, but it had been hard when the boys had cried after their mother, and John hadn’t known how to comfort them anymore. His temper had flared too often and especially Dean had borne the brunt of it. 

The overwhelming guilt that followed had made his head and heart ache. It had been one of the reasons he had left.

Some of Mary’s nature had passed on to Dean, who had her mother’s eyes and smile, and her charisma. It had been disconcerting to return home and meet the accusing eyes of his deceased mate staring at him from the face of his firstborn son. John had had troubles to look Dean in the eye and he knew that doing that, he had hurt Dean. He was truly grateful his sons had Bobby and Ellen, what with their father being not the most attentive one. 

When Dean had turned fifteen summers and presented as an alpha, John had practically abandoned the castle for good. To him, the place was no longer a home, but a haunted mansion of long lost love, bitter memories, and opportunities missed in the haze of mourning and self-pity. Dean had been properly groomed for his role as the Lord of Grey Castle by Ellen and Bobby and, occasionally, by his father.

After that there had been only one duty left for John to perform.

He concentrates on his connection with his bear and senses the familiar land around him. Seems like the totem has reached his destination. 

John lets himself smile.

John had always known that the Lords of Grey Castle were tied to the land by laws older than time. Their lineage had always carried a strong streak of shaman blood, and he had sensed that at least Sam was more sensitive to it than most Northerners. But John also knew that the traumatic death of the Lady of Grey Castle had wounded not only him, but the clan and the land under his protection, and the best way to correct things was to find Dean a mate worthy of the heritage. 

However, it had been easier to forget himself, his sons, and his duty, and roam the borders of their lands with the pretense of keeping their people safe. 

John might have been consumed by grief, but he had never been a man to lie to himself: he had known he was stalling, keeping away from his last duty, keeping from returning to the castle and the ghost that haunted him there. Summers went by without him noticing, and before he even realized, Dean had turned twenty-two summers and John had known he was running out of time.

During his long wanderings, John had passed The White many a time, but he had never ventured there. Mostly it had been because of his sense of self-preservation hadn’t completely crumbled, or, at least, his bear had stopped him before he had gotten too close. 

While Mary had been alive, they had talked about the lost lore of the North and the possibility of true mates. John had known his people were suffering from his negligence, and, no matter how hard Dean tried, things wouldn’t be well until John was well out of the way, Dean was mated, and the Castle had an heir. John was determined to provide his son the last gift he could, to secure the lineage and protect the clan he, despite his shortcomings, had always loved deeply.

Everyone knew that to venture to The White was to walk into a certain death. But John had known he was already dead, and if his sacrifice could bring back happiness and prosperity to his sons and the clan, he would gladly give himself over. 

So, after making his decision and despite his bear’s uneasiness, he had dismounted from his horse and walked through the narrow pass between the mountains into The White.

The first thing he had noticed was a blinding light. The realm wasn’t called The White for nothing. 

Then he had realized it was freezing cold and he was standing knee-deep in snow. He had turned around and seen only white plains, the pass vanished like it had never been. John had nodded and relaxed his pose, waiting.

He hadn’t needed to wait for long. There had been a strange rippling in the air, the atmosphere around him twisting like a mirage. 

Then, a soft, sighing voice.

”What is the Lord of Grey Castle doing in The White?”

John had squared his shoulders and stood proudly, unflinching. ”Looking for you, Azrael.”

The snow had suddenly billowed around him, and he had been inside a miniature storm, temporarily blinded. When the air had cleared, there had been a gaunt man standing in front of him.

”You called me by my true name,” he had said in a soft, cold, and terrifying voice.

The man, Azrael, had a nose like a beak, sharp cheekbones and piercing black eyes that had emanated power and deadly threat. He had been clad in black robes and, for some reason, had a walking cane with him.

“Do you know what that means?”

John had nodded. “Yes. I propose a deal. In exchange, I offer you my life force.”

Azrael had pulled his head slowly back and scrutinized him for a long while.

“It is not often that the Lord of Grey Castle seeks the spirit of a shaman to strike a deal,” he had mused. “But, I’m intrigued. Tell me, what did you have in mind?”

“A marriage. Not for me,” he had added when Azrael’s  brows had shot up, “but for my son. My firstborn needs a mate and an heir. Our land and people are suffering.” He had paused for a moment, then said with a challenge, “My son needs his true mate. Help me, and my life force is yours.”

The shaman had narrowed his eyes with a calculating expression.

“Tempting…”

John had stood still and waited for the spirit to make up his mind. 

“So, if I help you, I can have you?”

“No. You can have my life force. My soul will stay intact.” He had grinned wolfishly. “I know the difference.”

Azrael had given him a cold smile, but had acknowledged his correction by inclining his head, if only a fracture.

“As you wish, Lord John.”

John had shaken his head. “That’s not all. You’ll help me find Dean’s true mate, and after they are bonded and there’s an heir on the way, you can devour me. Not before.”

The snow had billowed around him once more, but this time, there had been a distinctive sense of fury in the storm. 

“You test my patience.” The shaman’s voice had echoed all around him and reverberated through his skull. 

John had kept his stance, had refused to budge, and waited patiently until the temper tantrum of the millennia-old shaman had subsided.

When the blizzard had calmed, Azrael had once again stood in front of him, lips pressed together in a narrow line.

“I am not happy.”

“That was never my goal,” John had countered.

Surprisingly enough, Azrael had laughed.

“You are a bold one, Lord John. Fine. We have a deal. I will locate your firstborn’s true mate, and, after they are bonded and secured an heir to the clan, you’ll give your life force over to me while your soul continues to the spirit world.”

John had considered the proposition carefully, fully aware that once he agreed, there would be going back. Satisfied that the deal had been exactly as he had wanted it, he had let out a breath.

“I agree, Azrael.”

The shaman’s eyes had flashed at his name, but he had taken a step forward (leaving no marks on the snow, John had noticed), and taken John’s face between his hands. For a fleeting moment, John had thought the shaman intended to kiss him, but Azrael had pressed his forehead against John’s and muttered obscure words under his breath. John had felt a peculiar tingling heat in his head, but, before he had had the chance to ponder it further, Azrael had retreated.

“We have a deal, Lord John. I will contact you when I have found your son’s true mate.” 

John had frowned. “How will I know it’s you?” 

But the shaman had been gone and John had been talking to a snowstorm again. 

“Oh, you will,” had drifted through the whiteness.

When John had turned, the pass had once again been there. He had walked through it, his bear behind him, wondering if he had truly met the spirit he had traveled to see.

He drifts. The White surrounds him and he feels nothing. No hunger, no cold, no pain. Azrael has been merciful in this, at least, not that John actually minds. After the loss of his mate, his life has been a constant struggle against an aching pain. Not to feel anything is a blessing.

The connection to his totem tugs with excitement, and John perks up. He concentrates and reaches out to see through his bear’s eyes — an ability Azrael provided him. It has proven to be useful. After all, he’s not allowed to leave The White anymore. 

It’s summer outside. Through his totem’s eyes, John sees a meadow. The vision sways, when the bear  slowly walks towards the tree line across the meadow, towards two human shapes resting in the shadows. The other is leaning on a birch, the other laying on the ground, sleeping. When John sees the wolf raise his head, he smiles brightly, content.

He had returned to the castle shortly after, to inform Bobby and Ellen that he had started to look for a mate for Dean. They had been slightly surprised, but had agreed that the matter was pressing. He hadn’t told Dean, because at the point it had been a need-to-know basis, and Dean honestly hadn’t needed to know. He would be informed if and when the negotiations were due to start.

It had taken the shaman several months to call upon John. The spirit had said that John would know when he arrived, and he hadn’t lied. The moment the raven had landed on the rock beside his campfire, John had recognized him.

“Castiel. Omega. Novak clan. South,” the raven had croaked. 

It hadn’t surprised John at all that the shaman spirit had taken the form of one of the rare animals that were naturally capable of forming words.

John had written the information down. “So, an omega from The South. Castiel of the Novak clan,” he had repeated. “Thank you.”

The raven had tilted his head. “My part. Done,” he had reminded and flown away.

John had nodded, although the shaman hadn’t been there to see it. 

Right. Azrael had fulfilled his end of the deal, the rest would be up to John.

He had left for South the following morning.

To be honest, John had known nothing of said Novak clan. Northerners rarely ventured South, mainly because they didn’t like the weather, crowded cities, or the way many Southerners still treated their omegas. John had never understood the belief of omegas being lesser vessels, and, even if he had, mating Mary would’ve erased that misguided belief in a flash. 

He had hoped that Dean’s true mate would have the stamina needed in The North, because softness had no place in Grey Castle.

The journey to The South had taken about a month, but John hadn’t rushed it. He had been determined to get as much information about the clan and the omega as he could before making the official proposal. 

After he had arrived, it had taken him a couple of weeks more to dig out the information he wanted. He had even managed to sneak a look at the omega in question. He hadn’t been happy that the family was obviously a traditional one, but the omega, Castiel, had radiated strength and intelligence, both qualities that would bode well in Grey Castle. The rumors claiming Castiel to be willful and strong-minded for an omega had only added his reluctant acceptance. It also indicated that the family would most likely be more than happy to mate the omega away without overly complicated negotiations.

Satisfied, John had returned to Grey Castle and called Ellen, Bobby, and Rufus for a meeting. He had drawn out the preliminary draft for the marriage contract and left detailed instructions where and how to contact the Novak clan. 

He had briefly considered saying goodbye to his sons, but then had decided against it. It had been several summers since they had actually seen each other, and John was… done.

He had refused to explain how and where he had gotten the idea of this particular mate, neither had he offered any information concerning his whereabouts during the long time he had been away. His determination and the peace he had already made with his fate must have shown through, as his decision had not been questioned after the first half-hearted questions about if Dean would accept or refuse the mate his father had chosen him. John had quietly said that Dean would concede to his will, and there had been no more questions after that.

John had been the one to write and send the first carrier pigeon to Castiel’s mother. In Northern terms, she was the head of the family, but John had strong suspicions that the answer would not be signed by her. 

The negotiations had taken almost two years, carrier pigeons flying back and forth, terms and conditions stated and re-negotiated. When the contract had been ready, it had been agreed that Rufus, as the Captain of the Castle Guard, would carry it to South to sign off. 

By that time John had been gone from the castle for several months already.

The wolf greets the bear with enough respect, but John senses a new kind of determination and devotion in his movements. Through the bond, John understands that the wolf is connected with Castiel as well, serving as the protector of both the alpha and the omega. He’s never heard of anything like that, but then, he has never seen a true mates pair-bond before. 

John sees the man start awake, and then he is looking at his son through his totem’s eyes. John feels pride and love swelling inside him for the sight of the strong and charismatic alpha his son has grown up to be. His bear moves to scent Dean and the gorgeous white totem resting on his lap, and John sends his blessing through the connection, not knowing whether it is received or not. 

The bear moves to scent Dean’s mate sleeping on the ground, and, in The White, John’s breath hitches. 

Castiel is carrying two new lives inside him. 

The omega looks peaceful and happy, and John revels in the scents of contentment, security, and love he radiates. 

The little family has each other, and, through their commitment and love, the clan and land will thrive. 

When Dean had bonded and mated his omega, the raven had approached John again.

”Done. Come, now,” it had croaked.

John had given the shaman’s spirit a sidelong glance. ”You’re not having me before there’s an heir on the way.”

The raven had ruffled his feathers in annoyance. ”There is.”

John had turned back to scrutiny the border he had been patrolling. ”I’m a suspicious man. I’m sure you’ll understand, Azrael.”

The raven had hissed at the name, but John had always known that names held power, and the shaman would wait.

It hadn’t mattered that John had abandoned the clan, his connection to the land had ensured that he would feel anyway. He had noticed little changes already, but he had dismissed them, thinking they resulted from his encounters with the shaman. But when he had felt the echo of the clan totem’s reactions to Castiel’s suicide attempt, he had been struck speechless. And later, losing a member of the clan had hurt just as much, no matter how much you claimed to have been retired. It hadn’t mattered that John lived in a self-appointed exile, he felt his sons, his clan, his land. 

He had sagged to the ground, buried his hands in the cold ground, and with all his love and devotion, he had willed the land to help heal things between his son and his mate.

He hadn’t returned to the castle because it was not his place anymore. He had turned into a wraith, lurking amongst the shadows, waiting and hoping for the better future to unravel in front of him. 

He had waited for the confirmation that it would be alright for him to leave.

He really shouldn’t have been surprised when he got it. He had always known his sons were special, after all.

The fragments of Dean’s mental orders had vibrated through John and his bear, and he had stood still, awed at the sheer power his son wielded. It had been more than evident that the totems and the land itself had recognized Castiel as Dean’s true mate, responding to the true alpha-omega pair-bond with dedication and loyalty that resonated with the old laws, creating a feedback loop that reinforced the overall sense of unity the clan had.

John’s work was done. 

Through his totem’s eyes, John takes a last look at the alpha, the omega, and their totems. Grey Castle is in safe, loving hands, the future and security of the clan guaranteed. His bear turns and starts to walk across the meadow towards the woods, towards oblivion, towards the spirit world. The totem is halfway across the meadow when their combined minds receive the soft brush of gratitude and warmth, Dean’s goodbyes.

”Satisfied?”  

The air around him ripples and twists. 

John nods. He is ready.

Mary, I’m coming home.