He hated the rain. Some might’ve blamed it on the cat in his nature but he actually enjoyed water as an item, he loved to swim and fish was some of his favorite food, he had actually spent most of his life on the ocean. But something about rain turned what could’ve been a warm bath or a gentle wave on the beach into this cold chilling thing that pelted you like stone and whittled away at the very core of you. It was strange when he thought about it, how something as soothing as a lake on a warm summer’s eve could become something as harsh as a winter storm, just because of a little gravity, but there he was, running his ass off in the middle of another storm, hurrying his little kitty ass back to his castle in a vain attempt to keep dry.

He wove easily through the trees despite his speed, full out sprinting his way through the rain, able to see clearly in the midday darkness, able to move swiftly despite the branches and brambles. He leapt over fallen logs and ducked under low laying branches, sometimes barreling right through them, using his powerful chest to simply bend nature to his whim. He was just as much fighting it as he was dancing with it, a partner in crime with the very forces of nature, just as much a part of it as he did stand out against it in stark relief. He ducked in and out of the shadows, stepping into light spots where the clouds would just barely let through a dim shaft of light before disappearing into the darkness of the trees again, a flickering shadow, as if lit by a candle. If not for the rain he might’ve enjoyed it, might’ve felt at home in his run but, as it was, he was cold and wet and it was well passed lunch time, though returning from a hunt he was hungry for some home cooking.

Leaping over a thicket of bushes, his vision was suddenly engulfed in an out of place whiteness that startled him to a very ungraceful stop. His front paws hit the dirt and he immediately whirled to avoid crashing into the thing, back-peddling blindly and yowling in surprise before falling back to earth like a discarded sack of potatoes. He landed unceremoniously on his back, back legs propped up against the log and his tail between them, long enough to lie across his entire stomach to stop flicking just above his nose. He didn’t even have the wherewithal to be angry at the thing that had startled him so much. Carefully, he craned his fallen head to look between his legs, up at what now appeared to be a girl with a familiar head of off-white shimmering hair, plastered down her back and simply soaked with rain. He smiled toothily, though in his panther form, it was more of a tensing of his muzzle than it was an actual expression. Still, his voice cracked with amusement.

“You and I simply must stop meeting like this.”

Carjen was able to turn over onto his belly before arms were squishing his face against hers in that unfamiliar thing called a hug. Nobody hugged him except for Larkin, all of the people who had any desire to do such a thing with such a person were dead and gone by now, she was really all he had in terms of such creature comforts, so unused to them but also craving them in a weird way that he didn’t quite understand. He mewled pleasantly at the contact and rubbed his cheek against hers in that typical cat-like way, before the moment was over and they parted for a time. This gave him the space to maneuver himself to his feet, which took a little bit of slipping in the mud and some weird bending of his legs to get them unhooked from the log, but he managed somehow, with all of the grace and fluidity that only a cat could muster. Finally, when he was sitting, poised and collected again in Larkin’s shadow, he turned to look at her.

That was when he noticed that she looked positively wretched. Her dress was frayed and caked with mud probably thrown up from running through mud puddles, her hair, normally shimmering and voluminous, was plastered to her skull and limp and lifeless, and her eyes, that was what he noticed first, she looked so lost and afraid. He was startled by it all, by the stark relief of it compared to what he’d seen in the cabin in the woods, it was baffling and it tripped him up for a moment, had him mentally stumbling and fumbling for words. “I w-was um…” He blinked a few times to collect himself. “I was hunting. That seems to be the most surefire way to find you, I’ll just have to go on a hunt from now on any time I’m seeking some companionship.”

He shook his head, as though trying to rid himself of his own terrible attempt at a joke. He was a serious man, he didn’t know how to be funny and frankly had no real desire to be in the moment. Larkin and he had only met once before and it had been brief and fleeting but meaningful, he considered her valuable, a friend even so he was just overwhelmed with concern for her well-being, out in this cold autumn storm. She would come back with him to his castle and he would not take no for an answer. He had waited out a thunderstorm in her home, it was his turn to return the favor. He stood and motioned with his head to follow him to the edge of the wood.

“Come, my keep is just a little ways this way. We can get out of the rain, do some catching up. What on earth are you doing out here in this weather?”

The sneeze startled him and he turned to look at her carefully, weighing in his head whether or not he’d have Dynrir look at her. The horse shifter was a good friend and a gentle man with calm, soothing hands, he could help, but he was no healer, the jaguar wasn’t sure what he could do other than shrug at the cold. Sighing a bit worriedly, Carjen continued on hesitantly, grateful for the rabbit shifter’s tendency toward touch, her cold hand on his shoulder was a welcomed alert that she was with him and willing to follow. So he lead the way out of the wood at a slow and careful pace.

“Nonsense.” He said with as much authority as he could muster, which turned out to be a lot. He was used to ordering people around, the position suited him, that place of harsh stubbornness, a mountain in an icy wind, he would not be swayed by her concerns, not for a moment, although he did acknowledge briefly. “We have mops for the water and a bed for that cold your getting, lots of fireplaces and furs. I’ll have Rose set up a bed for you and you can rest, you look so weary.”

After only a few minutes, they stepped free of the wood, Carjen brushing past some brambles with his massive chest, almost parting Mother Nature herself to make way for them. The castle loomed in the distance, not far off, mighty and cold stone against a mirrored gray sky. It was squat, not tall like castles in storybooks, but more like a house, a manor, just with a squared off roof and walls surrounding three sides. A lake glimmered off to one side, at the base of the hill on which the whole thing stood, silvery in the dying light of the storm. Carjen paused to give himself a bit of a shake, clearing his fur of some of the water weighing him down, but he paused afterward to let Larkin return her touch so that they could move forward again. In the distance, the stone walls and towers looked tall but up close they were much shorter than they appeared, it was a really small, quaintly constructed place, maybe even a little claustrophobic.

As they neared, his mental voice quieted, as though someone nearby could hear them. But over the rolling hills of the grasslands, there was obviously no one around for miles, save possibly inside the keep. Still, he seemed respectful, looked upon her curiously and lowered his head in an appropriately sheepish gesture. “What did you do, if you don’t mind me asking?” He questioned gently, not so completely socially inept that he couldn't tell that she was a little shy about sharing. If met with resistance, he probably wouldn't push her too much, everyone was entitled to their secrets.

Though already displaying more quiet gentleness than most of his followers would ever consider him capable of, Carjen softened further, the lines in his forehead shallowing until it was nothing but a smooth expanse of black fur, his spots invisible in the dim light. She seemed so troubled by this and though he wasn’t sure if this was the only thing hanging over her head, it definitely seemed to have a hand in the shadows that grayed her face and the darkness that swept over her eyes. He was torn as to whether or not he truly wanted to get to the bottom of it, there and then. It seemed courteous to at least let the poor girl get some furs around her shoulders first, but curiosity nagged at him almost painfully, pulling at strings that were tied to the deepest parts of him. He wasn’t good at this, at questions, at being with another creature and providing comfort to them. He didn’t know what to do.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to decide. They came upon the great green doors of his keep before he could really come to ahead about whether or not he’d push for more answers and they had to pause in their conversation anyway. It served as enough distraction that Carjen seemed to forget momentarily that he wanted more details, wanted her to tell him everything, to trust him, he was so used to being distrusted that he just sort of fell into that shadow so easily, slipped back into his Lord Brando persona and was suddenly hard edges and commands, rather than soft whispers of warmth and comfort.

“Wait here.” He said suddenly before stepping away from Larkin, he lingered for a moment, appraised her with one small last bit of curiosity before seeming to decide that he’d question her further later and slipping away. He disappeared through a flap in the large wood doors that seemed just perfectly sized for him, a cat flap of sorts and was gone for several moments before the sound of heavy gears turned and the green doors began to swing open heavily. They creaked and moaned with age and water trickled down their wood faces, around metal rivets decorating their edges, and around the big silver snarling cat that was cast upon the center. Carjen stood waiting as the doors finally opened, revealing the manor’s spacious entryway, a market square of sorts with little stalls and a cobblestone street for a floor. He nodded. “Come, we’re almost there.”

He turned and lead the way to the castle, which sat at the back of the manor, all lit up and warm despite the silvery gray stone it was made out of. The windows gleamed in the darkness and the smell of burnt wood and charred meat wafted out of the kitchen space on the left hand side. To the right, a smith’s shop stood empty and cold, only faint embers burning in the forge. Carjen hurried past these things into the waiting open doorway of his keep, finally able to relax as they stepped into the warm front hall. He paused there to shake himself thoroughly, water spraying everywhere, soaking the red and gold carpet that they stood upon. He didn’t seem to mind.

A few servants were hastily bustling by carrying plates and brooms and things, their pace only quickened when they noticed Carjen. A few of them nodded and a couple greeted him cordially, but they seemed mostly interested in getting out of his way. But one of them could not escape.

“Ah, Rose, just who I was looking for.” As he started and stepped forward, a short portly black woman in the group paused and turned to face him obediently. Her round eyes were a bit wide, a bit too big for her face but they were a warm brown in color, matching her dark but slightly tanned skin, her round face and her plush lips. “Set up a bed for our guest here, will you? The one next to my room on the second floor. On the double.”

She nodded hastily and left, smiling briefly at Larkin before disappearing down the hall. Carjen moved to follow her but at a much slower pace. The sound of pots and pans and people chattering indicated that the kitchen was in that direction. He paused in the foyer, at first for what seemed like no reason, as though lost in thought or distracted by something. But as quickly as he stopped he was moving again, not walking but rippling like water, fur falling away and his back straightening as he suddenly stood up, human again. He was thankfully clad in his usual black leathers, a snarling silver cat sitting perched at the neck of the breastplate. He had to pause to shake out the leather a bit, it was soaking wet but there were several hearths in the kitchen, he’d dry out in no time. He took a moment to slick his straight black hair back into place, tucked neat and cleanly behind his ears. Then he set his shoulders, sniffed with his nose and leaned toward Larkin to offer her an elbow to hold as they walked, as though changing forms was the most ordinary thing in the world. To him it was.

“Are you hungry? Smells like we’re having pheasant for dinner but I can make you something on the side. We just got our latest shipment of vegetables yesterday, lots of sweet potatoes if you partake?”

Carjen did his best to seem apathetic when the rabbit shifter remarked on his human form. He hadn’t given it any thought, the fact that she had never seen him this way, both his cat and human forms were equal parts of him, it was like only seeing him in a particular shirt. It was somewhat odd and yet completely normal at the same time. But she seemed impressed and he was always happy to be impressive so, though it was a little stilted by his attempt to hide it, he smiled and looked away.

“Thank you.” He said with sincerity, a bit of his rather impressive ego showing through in his voice, which was solid and whole now that he could speak. It still sounded the same as his telepathic voice, rich and deep, almost rumbling like a low thunder, pointed and frank. But something about the way it moved through the air, the way that it almost rolled across the ground rather than floating high and lofty gave it a different feel, it was like jumping into a far away pool of water. If his telepathic voice was soaring through the air, hearing him truly speak was like hitting the water. “Better or worse than your friend Felix?”

He asked playfully as they moved down the hall, resting his free hand over hers in a comforting gesture. He could’ve guessed that this would all be a bit overwhelming, especially given that it was dinnertime, people were bustling about everywhere, carrying plates of food and stirring giant pots of stew or some such. Some of the younger members of the flock were just sweeping the floors. One of them, a young boy probably half Larkin’s physical age looked up, and in a moment of ingenuity reached for a mop. He came over to deal with the trail that they were leaving down the hall, he also offered to take Larkin’s coat for her.

“I can hang it up for you m’lady.” He said softly, sheepishly avoiding her gaze.

But Carjen waved him away. “That’s alright Chiyo, we’ll bring it upstairs with us. Would be a shame for her to be separated from it through some mishap.”

The boy nodded and continued to avoid their gazes, hiding behind his mop of curly blonde hair. “Yes m’lord.”

“Deal with the water in foyer for us though.” He nodded again and immediately scurried off to work. “There’s a good lad.”

Carjen lead the rest of the way into the kitchens, which as the sound of clattering pots and pans had indicated from the hallway, was a busy busy place to be. The jaguar shifter didn’t seem to have any issues, people careened out of the way to avoid being in his path and he carved an easy swath to the back corner where no one seemed to be congregating. There, there was a fireplace, already lit and glowing, and a small table and chairs beside a small counter space. Some dead animals hung above the fire, ready to be prepared, but Carjen was swift in removing them, stashing them away in a high cabinet above his head. He directed Larkin to a seat at the table.

“They’re not all werebeasts.” He spoke casually as he fluttered about in the small space, gathering pots and pans together and locating a bag of sweet potatoes in one of the lower cabinets. A woman sort of ghosted over, tall and slender with a pointed hollowed look to her. Though her face was clean and her skin was clear and taught with enough wrinkles to suggest that she was maybe 40, her hair was a dark and dingy gray, with only strands of its natural black hue surviving here and there. It was slicked back and pulled into a short ponytail. She said nothing, only stood before Carjen with her hands clasped behind her back and her feet together, but he waved her away without even looking at her. “I’ve got this Jira thank you.”

The woman departed, hesitating to give Larkin a long look up and down disdainfully, her brown eyes cold even in the warm light of the hearth. But she said nothing as she disappeared among the crowd bustling about the large room.

“Not all of them are werebeasts.” Carjen repeated, returning attention to him as he stood, having located the sweet potatoes and now preparing a pot for them. With deft hands, he shredded some ginger and sprinkled some nutmeg like he was born to do it, quickly lifting a bit of butter onto a finger to deposit it all into the pot over the fire, all while talking. “Rose’s daughter is one, her husband kept it from her and she only found out when the six year old turned into a bear right there in the middle of town. The whole place found out, they were publically shamed, it was a terrible mess, they needed somewhere to go. Haru was only six at the time, what kind of man turns away an aging woman and her youngest daughter? She didn't know what else to do.”

He paused to stir in the potatoes and let the water boil away, effectively steaming them.

“Most of them are though. Jira, that harsh looking woman just now, she was a man’s dog for his entire life, was left to his children like an object but she ran before they could claim their inheritance. Chiyo? He has five baby sisters and no mother, she was killed for her fur right in front of him and he had to take all those babies and run. And then Kalyen, he was kicked from his pack for being deformed.” He trailed off thoughtfully, something heavy coming over him that seemed to cloud his vision for a moment. “They all have stories, places they’ve been, things they’ve seen.”

Carjen wanted to preen a little, to bask in the moment, the first time anyone had called him a good man. He had done some horrible things in his time, continued to do horrible things to keep his people safe and to keep suspicion away. The human king whom he technically served did not know that his people were werebeasts, that his castle was a safe haven for him, if he found out he’d almost certainly discard them in an instant. He tried to keep this as much under wraps as he possibly could but things slipped out sometimes and those things needed to be dealt with and he did. It was not a really honorable way to live, not the way that Larkin seemed to think anyway. As always she seemed to be seeing the sunnier side of things. He smiled briefly regardless, appreciative that she thought, at least on the surface, that he was worth something. He liked to be valued.

He stirred the potatoes idly as they chatted, still darkened by something, a shadow cast by his harsh brow but he seemed determined not to reveal where it was coming from. He half shrugged, not looking at her, instead studying something inside the pot. “I guess so. Maybe that’s why I feel the need to rescue them all, to save them from what I had to go through.” He paused to let her speak but still refused to look, seemed distracted by whatever held his gaze somewhere deep beyond the sweet potatoes he was poking at. “Oh don’t say that. He probably misses you too, you should at least send him a letter so he knows you’re alright, even if you’re not ready to go home to him.”

He turned to look at her in that moment, finally drawn up from whatever was on his mind. He seemed adamant, and wanted to insist some. “Brothers, we really care about our baby sisters. I bet he really worries about you, would really like to know at least what happened, if not where you are, you should reach out to him. Give him some peace of mind, if he’s anything like you he deserves at least that, right?”

He waved her away casually then, standing from where he’d knelt over the fire. He picked up a dish rag from the counter top and wiped his large hands on it casually, Larkin now fully taking up his attention. He watched her curiously with his usual almost apathetic calmness, half smiling at her next question and sheepishly looking away for a moment, as though weighing whether or not he wanted to answer but he ultimately returned his gaze with a thoughtful shake of his head.

“Nah it’s just me here. Kind of the way it works for a Lord, you oversee everyone else and they rely on you pretty heavily.” He said calmly, waving it away with a hand. “But don’t you worry about that. There are people in this world important enough to deserve such things, such care, such concern. You’ll get it from me for free, whether you want it or not. No debts to be paid here.”

He paused to sit casually on the end of the table, sort of half perched with one leg bent against the side while the other limb supported his weight against the floor. He tossed the dish rag into a bin against the wall, throwing it with a bit of flare as though he was certain he was going to get it in. He didn’t, it bounced off the rim and fell to the floor just to the side of it and he half sighed half laughed and stood to retrieve it. When he turned around, he found Larkin was standing next to him, close enough to be touched, which he knew meant something with her so immediately he was concerned. But he tried not to show it, to remain a sturdy pillar of strength for her and instead was full of quiet calmness and curiosity, titling his head slightly and leveling her with his cool gaze.

As she started talking, he listened intently, his guise of calm apathy waning the more she spoke. The way she avoided his eyes, the way she spoke in a hushed tone, he was definitely growing more concerned. But then she said it and his eyes went wide. He tilted his head back the other way, strands of his hair coming lose and dangling precariously in front of his face. He didn’t reach up to fix them.

“Y-you’re…” He didn’t have words. Part of him thought maybe this was a joke but it was so obvious, the sadness in her eyes, the way she looked beyond the fire, the way she hesitated to speak of this Felix character. She was serious. She was pregnant.

He couldn’t help himself. Patting her roughly on the shoulder his face broke out in a huge smile and he laughed. “You’re pregnant. Holy shit dude, congratulations.” But as pleased as he was, he could see the way it weighed on her soul and his joy seemed to diminish after a moment. “You’re… not happy about it? Do you know who the father is?”

The jaguar’s eyes narrowed as he listened, thoughts turning over and over in his head as he tried to picture the event in his mind. He was a man who had had a few scares with girlfriends in the past, he was trying to envision what could possibly have gone through the mind of this Felix that would cause him to abandon her in such a way, but he couldn’t get into the mindset. Though he had not been terribly pleased when one of his girlfriends had claimed to be pregnant, it was more the timing than it was the situation. At the time, he had been broke and a sailor far away from home, she had told him in a letter, he had no way of being there for her or a baby, it was just an impossible situation. That was the only reason he could imagine for someone to be unhappy about having a baby, if they could not be there to care for the child properly then what even was the point? Safety and security for the baby was the number one priority and if you could not ensure that, well that might be a little terrifying for him. But he had been there, been there enough to walk out, he should’ve been overjoyed, on the moon even.

He was still mulling it over when the warmth of a body was against his abdomen and, though still lost in thought, he had more than enough wherewithal to wrap his arms around the small body. He snorted. “Unhappy with you? Gods no, Larkin, this isn’t your fault, for you to blame on yourself.”

He paused, putting some distance between them so that he could kneel down and look her in the eye. When standing, he was too tall and had to bend over, but when kneeling he was too short and had to look up at her, but he chose that over the more imposing stance. He took her hands in his, his digits dwarfed her own dainty ones but though he could probably crush her in his grip, his touch was gentle, his thumbs tracing patterns in the backs of her wrists. He looked her deep in the eye, pushing away his questions why for a moment so that he could seem calm and serious, insistent and sure as he always was, but in a soft and supportive way, the stone of a pillar on a bridge rather than the stone of the wall of a dungeon. He sighed at her softly.

“There’s nothing to be scared of, or ashamed of. You’re pregnant, you’ve created another being whose life might be astonishing. You might give birth to the next king or or or the richest man in the world or the person who will solve the undead scourge.” He shook her hands gently between them, insisting. “This is a beautiful thing Larkin. You should be so happy. You and Felix both, but I can’t speak for him. Sometimes, the prospect of being a father is terrifying, it means the end of a lifestyle where you are the most important thing. Some men can’t handle that.”

He realized quickly how harsh that sounded and raced to say more.

“But that’s not your fault. If he’s the kind of man who would run from something as beautiful as his own flesh and blood, you don’t want him. You need someone who is more loyal than that, more devoted to you and anything that you make, be it a birdhouse or a baby.”

“You should be overjoyed.” He said, moving one of his hands to her shoulder, which he rubbed reassuringly. “Hell, I’m overjoyed for you. Children are our future and now you have a hand in it. If you do this right, if you pass on even a third of your own kindness and dedication to goodness to this baby, you’ll only be doing the world a great service.”