Wolven Storm: Treacherous Waters

[ Sometime following Wolven Storm: Unbound... ]

"I can't figure her out."

Things were not going as smoothly as he was used to when rehabilitating other wolves, the progress of getting Aelin to change and become accustomed to her wolf was slow: one step forward, two steps back. She was stubborn, and the atmosphere her attitude caused at times had reached the ears of his Alpha, his father, which had eventually caused a summons so tense that Børre was sure the elder Lupo was going to rise and clip him hard, like hadn’t been done in years. He needed to get her in line, or Ødvin would.

Bjørn, the most intellectual, even-tempered, and eldest of Børre's younger brothers, sat across from him in the library, his expression frank, "And yet you've mysteriously made some progress here and there.” Ever the voice of reason, “I wonder why that is.”

Børre ignored the cheek his brother often employed, "She still fights me,” and his warnings of what laid ahead for her, for any Lupo, weren’t doing enough. It was like drawing blood from a stone. Bjørn, for his part, wasn’t done laying on the smartassery.

"Have you tried being a bit less like Dad Version 2.0?"

Børre lifted his gaze at the accusation, his tone carrying the beginnings of a warning. "I'm not dad." He wasn’t… and partly feeling that he couldn’t 'fill those shoes' as the idiom so put it. Even if much of the clan’s affairs these days were handled without his Alpha’s direct intervention. It wasn’t so much the intervention as the implications of its occurrence that were the reason to avoid it.

Bjørn loosely folded his arms and reared back on the hind legs of the chair he sat in, his brows faintly creeping upward, barely managing not to look smug. "Aren't you?" The second-eldest Drage brother needled. Børre’s mouth had slowly been going deeper and deeper into a frown. To say that he didn’t like what he was hearing, nor the feeling it provoked, was not too unlike saying a wolf had fur. It was obvious.

Bjørn's chair settled back on all four feet, and the younger Lupo leaned in. "Thought so."

And that was the straw that… almost broke the camel’s back. Børre bolted up from his seat in a clamour that saw his chair rattle back and almost crash to the floor, and planted his hands on the table hard enough that it creaked and groaned. Bjørn rose out of his seat as if the energy given by his brother had found its escape route through his lither form. "I would never..." Børre growled.

Bjørn took a deep breath, and a cautious backward step with his hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. "All I'm saying is... talk to her a little." It couldn’t be that hard, could it? For a moment, Børre seemed to stare at his brother as if Bjørn was from another galaxy, then let his hands slip off of the table to back off and turn to pull his chair back toward the table.

"I do."

"I said to, not at." Bjørn parroted in turn. The future Alpha settled back into his seat and crossed his arms, fixing his brother with a hard stare. "And listen to her a little more than you talk. Aren't you interested in why she is the way she is?"

The only part of Børre that seemed to move was his mouth to speak. He didn’t blink. "Why?"

"Uh-uh, patient confidentiality," Bjørn shook his head, and moved to sit back in his chair. "Ask her."

[ A day or so later... ]

Bjørn closed the book he had been perusing and shelved it as he heard and smelt his older brother entering the library, but didn’t yet turn around, instead running a finger down another few book spines as if he were looking for something in particular… or simply idling. "So...?"

Børre pulled out a chair at one of the tables, the feet of it scraping on the hardwood floor, which caused Bjørn's shoulders to approach his ears at the grating sound of said scraping; he turned away from the shelves as the chair creaked under the larger Lupo’s build, and looked at him with mild expectation.

Børre crossed his arms over his chest, his mouth sporting a light frown. "She yelled at me,” he groused, flicking a look up at Bjørn as the other wolf occupied the seat across from him, one of whose eyebrows lofted on his finely chiseled face. Børre dropped the other part of that sentence: "At length.”

At this, Bjørn’s other brow joined the first one, "So now you know." The younger wolf had managed to accomplish establishing that rapport with the female wolf in question, without the yelling. Delicacy was not his older sibling’s first port of call in most situations. He could have predicted this outcome. Mind, even if Børre had approached and managed the conversation in a gentler manner, she might have still yelled at him - things to this point had not gone swimmingly; it could be said that a seemingly unstoppable force was meeting a supposedly immovable object.

Børre’s frown deepened as he rubbed a hand against an ear, grimacing slightly. "I think my ears are still ringing." Bjørn barely stifled the laugh this elicited, and the older Lupo carried on, his voice gaining a bewildered firmness, “She threw a chair at me!”

Bjørn cringed, and his humour began to die off as he settled into listening to what his brother had to say. "I'm... sorry."

Børre blew a vexed breath out his nose, and seemed to deflate a little after that exclamation. "I can't hurt her. I don't... want to.” Bjørn sat up a little straighter in his seat, dropped his elbows on the table, and his chin on his laced-together fingers, "Well, this is interesting. Tell me more. The doctor is in." the medically-trained wolf spoke in a teasing tone. At which Børre pinned him with a flat look, before continuing on.

"She fears pain..." Bjørn nodded along with this, "Understandable... and healthy,” he interjected, which provoked a rather daggered look from Børre. "Oh, please, do continue."

"...and no matter what I do, she can't seem to trust that I'm not trying to hurt her, but trying to help her. Everything needs an explanation. Coaxing."

"And what happens when you give her that?" Bjørn questioned, prodding him onward… only Børre’s mouth became a line with no words slipping out between his lips. Bjørn sighed. "Trust doesn't always come easily, Børre. Not when you grew up the way she did... and you, dear brother, can be intimidating to begin with, especially to an outsider."

Børre sighed heavily, and dropped his head into his hands, as he finally gave up what prompted this entire concentrated effort. "Dad... told me to rein her in, or he would."

Bjørn cringed and hissed through his teeth, "Ouch." Børre’s only response to this was a pained groan. "And I suppose you panicked." Børre’s head moved up and down in his hands after a moment. Bjørn rubbed his chin. "Here's a thought. She's Lupo, undoubtedly, you've seen it with your own eyes... but when you talk to her next? Well, apologise first..."

Børre lifted his head, hands rubbing over his face as he did so, "I'm not an idiot." But in his own domain, these things didn’t immediately occur to him.

"...mmhmm, and talk to her like she isn't Lupo. Surely you've done that before."

Børre’s brow knit faintly, his thoughts going back a good handful of years; his next word came through quieter, moments later. "Yes."

"And you can use that experience. Let it help you."

Børre sighed again. "Thanks, Bjørn."

"Anytime, Børre. Anytime."