Book TRK
Chapter 55
Chapter 55
#Chapter 55 – Claiming
The day of the claiming dawns bright and clear. I am almost woozy with lack of sleep, having spent the whole night – as promised – tearing apart Amelia’s table cloth and making it into something new.
I caught a few hours of sleep, just before dawn, but now I’m up, showered, and ready to face the day. In the soft yellow light of morning I lift the linen dress up over my head and let it slip down over the length of my body, falling all the way to the floor.
Ultimately, I decided on a very simple pattern. My dress is almost Grecian in its drape. Its simple lines fall from my shoulders to the floor with a slight hitch at the waist, my arms left bare. I study myself in the mirror, pleased with the result. It’s simple, but it’s elegant. And I look damn good in it.
Smiling, I bustle from my room and hurry to open the door to the boys’ bedroom. “Alvin, Ian –“ I call and then stop short when I see them standing in the middle of their room, dressed in their posh little white suits, Alvin quietly straightening Ian’s tie.
“What – what are you two doing up?”
“We couldn’t wait,” Ian says, smiling at me.
“We couldn’t sleep all night, we’re so excited,” Alvin says, finishing with his brother and striking a pose for me. “How do we look.”
“You two look amazing,” I say, meaning every word of it. I stretch out my hands for them and we head down the stairs. “Now we just have to figure out how to feed you without getting lucky charm stains all over your clean clothes…”
The ceremony starts precisely at noon, when the sun is at its zenith over our heads. The sun, for us, is a recognition of family, of community, of culture. The moonlight is the space in which we come to know our selves, but in the sun – with the light of day – we come to recognize those to whom we are kin.
Looking around, I have to admit – begrudgingly – that Amelia has done a wonderful job. The entire yard is elegantly draped in white, so much so that it almost looks like a little alpine village, covered in snow. Beautiful white orbs hang from the trees; at night, they will be lit as lanterns so that we can all celebrate under their soft glow.
One hundred of us guests – a ceremonial number – stand in a grassy circle down by the edge of the property, by the trees through which you can see my own little cottage standing cheerily by. The rest of the guests – there are tons of them – gather around us, peaking around our shoulders to watch the action. There are politicians here, celebrities, members of the press – most of whom I don’t know and who I hope, very much, don’t recognize me.
Gathered in the ceremonial circle are those whom Victor has deemed most important to our task today, everyone dressed in white (I guess they all got the memo). I scan the faces all around us and am pleased when I see that Edgar is in the circle. I smile at him and he returns it, blowing me a discreet kiss. This material belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.
I give him a wink, pleased to see that apparently he has forgiven me. I’m grateful for that. Looking around, I see a lot of Alphas who I know to be Victor’s contemporaries – important faces I’ve seen on television but never, before, in person. Men who I assume I would have met as Joyce’s bride, though we never got to that point.
I’m a little surprised when I find my eyes alighting on James Willard, my own Alpha. He sees me looking and gives me a smile and a very small bow. I smile back at him. Willard is the Alpha of a very small, new, progressive, and relatively unimportant pack. Did Victor invite him here because of me? If
so, it was a very kind gesture, and I’ll have to remember to thank him. It’s good for Willard, too, being able to rub shoulders with all of the big dogs.
“Thank you for coming.” Annabeth Prath steps out into the middle of the circle, dressed in a gorgeous white pantsuit. I was pleased when Victor told me that she would be running the ceremony – she’s important for him, politically, and I personally quite like her politics.
“Today we are blessed to be able to witness this claiming between a father and his sons,” Annabeth continues, her voice strong and steady. “Long separated by time, distance, and misunderstanding, they have come together today to recognize and respect their bond and their blood.”
She puts her hands out to the side. “Victor, Alvin, Ian, will you please come forward.” The three walk steadily towards Annabeth and stop when Victor stands at her right hand and Alvin and Ian stand at her left. My heart aches sharply when I notice that Alvin and Ian are holding each other’s hands.
As they walk forward, I notice the circle close together behind them so that we are again united. Amelia is in the center of that group, gorgeous in her white strapless ballgown. Every inch the Alpha’s wife.
“Victor,” Annabeth says, gesturing towards the ground at her feet. “you may begin.”
Victor goes to one knee on the ground before Annabeth and the boys take a few steps so that they’re both facing him. Victor pulls a bone-handled knife from his pocket. It looks ancient, but gleams as if new.
“Boys,” Victor says, working to keep his voice steady. To most, I imagine he seems successful, but knowing him, I can tell that his heart is very much in his throat. “From the moment I met you, I knew that you were very special, very brave, and very much my own.
“Today,” he continues. “I want the world to recognize our bond as one of bone and flesh, the unbreakable commitment of a father to his sons.” With this, he draws the dagger across his left palm.
Blood wells up in tiny beads, soon becoming a trickle.
“With this,” Victor says, putting the knife back in his pocket and dipping the index finger of his right hand into his blood, “I mark you as my children and my heirs. Ian,” he intones solemnly, drawing a line of blood down Ian’s face from forehead to chin, “my first born. And Alvin,” he marks Alvin the same way, continuing, “also my first born. Brothers, equal in rights.”
Alvin and Ian work to keep their faces straight, struggling not to break into a smile. I press my own hands to my mouth, as thrilled as they on this happy day.
As the final act of the ceremony, Victor holds his bloody hand out to the boys. “Do you accept?” he asks. Almost as one, Ian and Alvin reach to grasp Victor’s hand, their own hands growing red. Then, they each press their hand to Victor’s cheek, leaving a five-pointed mark of their own commitment, their own claiming of their father.
When this is done, the crowd breaks out into a vivid cheer. I join with them, hollering and clapping my heart out, my eyes and heart full. Alvin catches my eye and then, a moment later, Ian does the same. They both wave their little bloody hands at me and I can’t help laughing myself silly. The press goes wild, snapping as many photographs as they can, one even taking video.
The cheering continues as Annabeth quickly produces a rolled-up document and all three parties add their signatures to the bottom of the page, careful to get as little blood on it as possible. Then, Victor escorts the boys back to the head of the circle.
I turn, then, ready to head back to the pool area and celebrate with my children, when I hear Annabeth speak over my shoulder.
“One moment, please,” she calls, returning everyone to their places in the circle and beyond. “Alpha Kensington has requested my services for one more matter.”
What is this?