Chapter One

I–He Who Does Not Forget

ALASTOR NYX:

Zeus must be having one of his infamous fits tonight, was what Alastor was thinking with a thin smirk on his face as he watched the rain pounding mercilessly around them, turning the open field dirty with mud and blood as his bare feet tore through the wet ground like a speedy bullet without missing a beat while thunder continued to roar overhead, the dark skies being illuminated by lightning from time to time.

The first night of September was marked as their annual ‘friendly’ game against the other werewolf packs and Alastor Nyx–like any other year–had only one goal in mind for tonight… and that was to win.

Alastor almost felt... well, for once, not numb.

And that was fine with him.

That was good.

...right?

“Hey, Harrison quit hogging the ball and fucking give it to me!” he yelled, waving his arms wildly to get the idiot’s attention.

“Don't call me Harrison!” Alastor's childhood friend, Harrison or as he insisted to be called–Harry–yelled right back at him but obeyed at the last second.

The ball was already coated in the dirt–and the game was even far from finished–staining his bare chest as soon as he caught it. Alastor suddenly turned a sharp right and then sprinted straight towards two gigantic morons, hitting his free hand in their ugly faces, laughing loudly at their pained grunts, reveling in their anger. As he ran, with his heart pounding in his ears, like this, he could forget.

Forget about his brother still missing and presumed dead, forget about him being an alpha and all the other shit the elders are putting him through these past few years–because this. This is what he wanted, what he lived for–the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the thrill of a fight.

If freedom had a taste then, this must be it.

The exertion and the violence were both welcome distractions, he almost wanted to turn and howl in glee.

But it wasn't even four seconds later that some of the opposing team members surrounded him, so Alastor tossed the ball to Sean, who took it in to score with ease across the field. Harry and Alastor laughed at the disgruntled looks of the other team, fist-bumping each other at the smug smirk their pack's beta sported.

It was common knowledge that the wolves of the Northern pack were fierce. They loved to fight, to play... dirty.

“Go ahead, hail your imposter king,” Tony, the alpha of the opposing team, sneered in Alastor's direction as he and his pack mates sauntered past. “Nothing new… your worthless ice pack change alphas like how I–ack!”

Without a word, Alastor suddenly turned and struck the older alpha with a well-aimed punch, ruthlessly hitting him square in the face with a sickening crunch that was his nose breaking.

It had all of the other pack members staring at the scene in stunned silence while Alastor grinned, baring all of his teeth in the process, his brown eyes burning with cold anger as he looked down on the other alpha at his feet.

“You were saying?” he goaded.

Screaming in pain, Tony had fallen on his knees, holding his bleeding nose while the other pack members took on defensive stances around their respective alphas.

“What was that, old man?” Alastor continued to mock with a sarcastic smile, crouching a little in front of Tony, pointedly ignoring the others, “Sorry I can't hear you over the sound of you squealing like a fucking pig.”

With an angered growl, Tony tried to stand up and hit him but was caught and pulled away by his pack mates.

Alastor simply laughed at this; completely unbothered by the heated glares he received from the opposing team, sending the other alpha a mocking salute before turning away to join his pack mates, a merry hop in his gait.

Sean was looking at him disapprovingly like an unimpressed parent, his arms crossed, barefoot tapping rhythmically on the ground in an unseen beat.

“What?” Alastor deadpanned.

“'What'? What were you thinking?!” Sean snapped at him, running a hand through his face with a tired groan.

“Well, he started it–”

Sean groaned, “I don’t care who started it!”

“He insulted me–and our pack!”

“I know that, genius! But you could have diffused the situation calmly and handled it like a responsible alp–!”

“Don't call me that.”

At the bitter look on Alastor's face, Sean's eyes softened in concern. “You're next in line, you can't change that. It–”

“SERVES YOU RIGHT BIIIIITCCHHH!” Harry called obnoxiously, still trash-talking the other team until Alastor sighed and dragged him by the back of his shirt before another brawl breaks out with Sean following behind them while the others on their pack made their way to the sidelines to mingle with the ‘audience’ that gathered to cheer since they arrived.

“Do you have to pick a fight with just about anyone every five minutes? What are you, a pup?” Sean scolded, opening a water bottle and chugging it.

“And do you have to nag me every single damn time? Who are you, my dad?” Alastor sassed, plopping down on a bench with a scowl.

“I'm your beta,” Sean paused from finishing his drink to give him a look, “It's my job.”

Alastor held up a finger, “Correction: my twin's beta,” then he pointed at himself, “I am not the alpha. This thing’s just temporary.”

“Sean's right, Al–for once–you've got to let this go,” Harry commented with a sage nod.

Sean choked on his drink, “For once?”

As two of his closest friends began to bicker on each side of him, Alastor shifted on his seat, resisting the urge to fidget, getting the uncomfortable feeling that someone was watching, was staring at him… which was no surprise.

Various nymphs surrounded the open field of the forest in a wide circle as they impatiently waited for the annual sports fest to turn into a bacchanalia as it always did every year.

Alastor glared at their general direction distastefully, averting his eyes away quickly when a particularly bold one caught his gaze and sent him a flying kiss. He felt cold sweat dripping on his temple.

“Who the hell invites them, anyway?” Alastor asked out loud before he shuddered, feeling wiggly in his own skin at the leer he was definitely receiving, “Creepy bitches.”

“I'm creepy?” Harry asked, feigning hurt.

“Not you, moron,”

“Ooh, so you mean the nymphs?” Harry asked, looking over Alastor's shoulder excitedly, before giggling like a psychotic clown, “Yeah... okay, maybe a little.” he relented before elbowing Alastor… wriggling his eyebrows, “But hey dude, they are pretty hot. You should come with me and the boys. Try them sometime!”

Alastor winced while Sean muttered: “No thanks.”

“Nobody asked you, old man–you already have a mate!” Harry retorted, tossing an empty water bottle in Sean's direction.

“Who the fuck you calling old, you little brat?!” Sean exploded.

Sighing, Alastor tried to push Sean away from Harry before the older man successfully strangled the idiot with a towel, “I don't care if those women are good in bed, and I don't like them anyways. They're too...” he paused, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to pick out the words.

“Out of your league?” Harry teased.

“No.”

“Easy?” Sean supplied; ever the helpful one.

Alastor gave him thumbs up, smacking Harry on the head with his free hand while he’s at it, “Yes, easy. That's the word.”

Sean shrugged, ignoring Harry's dramatic cry of pain, “Suit yourself, Al. No one's forcing you, anyways. We can go home straight after the game.”

“Yeah right, I bet you just want to go back straight to Lizzie after this,” Harry grumbled. “So it's hoes over bros now, hm?”

“Don’t call my mate a hoe,” Sean growled.

Harry showed them his hands, palms empty and open wide, “Look, Sean! Look at this: this is the field of the fucks I give!”

Sean smacked him on the head without a word.

Meanwhile, Alastor was shaking his head at Sean, “You're so whipped, man. My condolences,” he teased, feigning a mournful tone.

“You assholes will understand someday–and I’ll be there to laugh,” Sean told him as he smiled his I-know-I'm-right-but-you're-too-stupid-to-understand smile.

“Well, at least you found yours early, you lucky dog,” Alastor sighed, feeling a bit envious yet again, “If I'm ever going to meet my mate in this lifetime, I'd appreciate it if it's going to be someone that gives me a challenge.”

“Oh wow, good luck with that, buddy,” Harry chuckled, “But for me? Nah. I'm alright fucking everyone that wants a piece of this hot stuff! NO ONE CAN TIE DOWN THIS BABY!”

Sean whistled, “Confidence~”

“I'm serious... I want someone that would not fall into bed with me just because I'm their mate or that I'm supposedly an alpha,” When Sean opened his mouth as if to rebuff that, Alastor interrupted, glaring sharply at him, “That's right, supposedly.”

Harry shook his head, looking both amazed and sympathetic, “Oh wow... you're still hoping Alistair's alive?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

They've been going back and forth at this issue for ten years after all... ever since Alastor's older twin, Alistair, vanished during a nightly round of hunting. On the last spot they found Alistair’s scent, there had been no sign of a fight happening, no blood, no corpse left.

Nothing.

The rightful alpha of the Northern pack just seemingly vanished that night without a trace. Some speculated that a god or a goddess had taken fancy on him and spirited the fifteen-year-old alpha away, maybe turned him into a plant or something… although there were rumors that Alistair had run away, too young and too burdened to carry the title of alpha.

No one knows what exactly happened but their pack had unanimously agreed: their alpha is gone and is not coming back.

It's been ten years–ten years of searching and being forced to fill in his twin's shoes–and yet... and yet, Alastor still hasn't given up hope that his twin was alive somewhere out there while the elders in their pack simply thought that Alastor just couldn't move on with his remaining kin being presumed dead and was just too immature to accept a responsibility he never thought that he will have someday.

‘They were right,’ Alistair thought, miserably.

“When will you believe he's not coming back, Alastor?” Sean asked with a heavy sigh, “What could we do to make you understand that?”

“Nothing,” Alastor answered his tone clipped and cold, “Not when I can still feel that my brother’s alive.”

“Feel?” Sean frowned.

“Their twin-bond thingamajig” Harry explained oh-so eloquently, waving his hands vaguely... wait a minute–the fucker’s just pantomiming!

In retaliation, Alastor smacked the idiot's head again, grumbling half-heartedly: “Why am I even friends with you?”

Harry pouted, massaging his head, “Because no one else will put up with your sulking mug,” he answered, finishing it with a sickly sweet smile.

Alastor raised his hand, as though about to smack him again but Harry jogged away from them, laughing as he stuck out his tongue.

Sean chuckled at their antics, tapping Alastor's shoulder as he stood up, and “Come along, alpha, the game's about to start.”

…

Alastor is Ancient Greek for "he who does not forget", thus "avenger", "persecutor", "tormenter" and "one who suffers from divine vengeance".

…

Tony had his nose bandaged which was still visibly crooked unattractively to the right–much to Harry’s delight–and he barred his teeth at Alastor on the field as soon he saw him, a gesture Alastor returned with a middle finger, earning him a sharp shove by Sean.

Alastor was smirking in anticipation as he cracked his knuckles and got into position with Harry hopping excitedly in place somewhere a bit to his left.

As the game was about to start, Harry suddenly nudged him which Alastor pointedly chose to ignore Another nudge.

He grunted, “Not now, Harry.”

He was nudged again.

Alastor raised his head to the heavens and wearily closed his eyes, briefly counting ten to one before opening them again to glare at his friend, “What the fuck is it now?”

His friend grinned, “Hey Al, are you into redheads? I just noticed this kind of weird fire nymph ogling at you–”

Alastor smacked him.

“Don't be like that!” Harry protested, rubbing his forehead which had reddened a bit, “This is for the good of the pack! You needed an heir or something for the future, right?”

Alastor’s eye twitched, “Don’t remind me.”

Harry hummed, “Oh, and I just remembered! You also had to marry before you got too old and so ugly no one will want to fu–”

“How about you two stop fooling around and get your heads in the fucking game?!” Sean, who had his back turned was positioned in front had yelled without bothering to look.

“Mother hen…” Alastor muttered.

Harry rolled his eyes, unaware that Sean had slowly turned to look at them, approaching menacingly, ball clenched tightly in hand, “I know, right? I bet he has a mommy kink or something… uh, hello there! Wait! Sean, not the face! NOT THE FACE –!”

As the game continued with the opposing pack taking the lead this time around, Alastor saw his chance when the ball was passed to the older alpha, charging straight towards Tony with Harry right behind him.

Alastor leaped forward, tackling the other alpha and pinning him with all of his strength, the ball slipping from Tony's grasp just as he predicted which Harry picked without stopping.

Sean gaped, “What the hell?”

“HEY!”

“That's cheating!”

The opposing team players angrily chased after Harry who was laughing like he was having the time of his life running around the open field, taunting them with the ball.

Meanwhile, both alphas crashed to the muddy ground with Alastor maneuvering himself upright, using his arm to plant and wipe Tony's face to the ground, causing the already broken nose to make a crunching noise at the impact.

“That's... for insulting my pack,” Alastor whispered, before standing up and dusting himself calmly, releasing the other alpha once more, deliberately stepping on his back as he moved away, musing out loud, “Not that I needed an excuse to beat your sorry ass.”

Tony, who had been in shock, was slow to register what just happened, “Y-you... You!” He spluttered, wincing and pawing at his nose, “You are going to pay for that, Nyx!”