Cillian asked, "Am I too repulsive that I cannot be liked?"
Mordeu almost panicked, "That's not what I mean. You're amazing, you're not repulsive. It's just that it's because…"
"He's a man," Cillian fetched the words out of him.
Mordeu nodded his head.
Cillian smiled, "I understand now. It really is disgusting to some people."
Mordeu chuckled in relief, "I think it's disgusting to everyone."
Cillian said nothing to that. The rest of the walk to Alvitir's own courtyard was left in silence. Mordeu's head was cautiously wrapping itself around the discussion he just had with Cillian.
Never had he thought for a second that there could exist a man who didn't just see indulging in sexual activities with another man as a pastime but would rather want to spend the rest of his life with another man.
It was unquestionable, the way Kai looked at Cillian, the way he made subtle touches, how he would place his hand on his thigh, or his knee, or his shoulder, how he would look at Cillian like Cillian was a pool of intoxicating water or how he definitely wanted to kiss Cillian.
To Mordeu, it was like Kai was soaked in a bucket full of shit and brought out to walk the face of the earth.
Disgusting.
Alvitir's courtyard was a bit similar to Cillian's. It was five steps down, but it was way bigger than Cillian's own. The wooden chairs in the courtyard were big, and they were more in number than Cillian's. It could be because Cillian's courtyard was only for himself whilst Alvitir's, just like Mordeu could see, was to host friends and talk about matters of the state.
In the courtyard was a good number of people, but Mordeu could distinctively differentiate the important people from the servants and from what he was seeing, there were two important people if Alvitir and Ayra weren't included in the calculation.
Kai went ahead and bowed in front of the men. Mordeu and Cillian stood side by side in silence. Mordeu saw how the men were laughing amongst themselves and for the definite number, he could guess they were the Lords of the rest two houses. Stregobor and Balor.
From the rumors, it was said that Balor was a man of merry and wine, he indulged frequently in promiscuity and his house was a very sensual place. From the two unrecognizable men, Mordeu could tell which of them was Balor.
He had a wine in his hand and a torso so big to house two children, his beards were long and his eyes held an ever flourishing mirth, a smile was etched on his face, one that did not falter even at the presence of Kai. He was dressed in rich clothing and he had a naked servant by his side who was pouring wine into his frequently empty cup.
Mordeu couldn't help but wonder how the man would look like when he turned into a wolf, if his gut would still accompany him.
The other man, Stregobor was different. He was just like Alvitir except his expression was hardened and he seemed angry. He was serious and stolid and he was dressed in black. He drank no wine but held a sword at his side which Mordeu guessed he rarely used. He seemed brutal and the scar across his left eye helped with the creepy appearance.
He gave off the air of murder and he smelled like death.
Mordeu paid no attention to what Kai was saying, but he was more focused on the expressions of everyone. Ayra was seated beside her father and her gaze fell on Mordeu, she smiled and he returned the favor.
"You seem to be well acquainted with my sister." Cillian's sudden voice stunned Mordeu; it was the first time he was saying anything since their very weird conversation on their way there.
He had been thinking that Cillian was displeased about his assumption of the intentions of Kai towards him and he had been trying to put words together to apologize. However, having Cillian suddenly say something to him in a tone that did not seem like he was angry was unprecedented to Mordeu. He was slightly taken aback, unable to say anything.
This was the nth time Cillian had rendered him speechless.
"She's very nice," he managed to say.
Before he could add to it or before Cillian could say something to that, Kai suddenly gestured to Mordeu, bringing everyone's attention to him.
Alvitir's gaze was hard and Stregobor's hand was reaching for his sword; there was nothing different in his expression because his face had always been that alert and strong. Balor's reaction was more unexpected; his cup of wine fell from his hand and he did not request for another.
Mordeu was clueless as to why they were all staring at him like that. Even Ayra; her eyebrows were narrowed, and there was a pondering expression on her face.
Alvitir decided to take it upon himself to soothe the turmoil in Mordeu. "You are a red wolf?" It was a question of clarification.
Mordeu replied, "Yes, I am."
"Is it a confusion boy? Are your furs the color of blood or are they the color of the sun setting?" It was Balor that asked. No matter how much he drank, he never slurred.
Mordeu was bewildered; he couldn't tell if the reason for Balor's question was that he found him too intellectually impaired that he couldn't tell a difference in color or that he was too terrified to entertain the idea that his fur was the color of blood.
"Should I turn for you to see since you doubt the truth of what my fur looks like?" Mordeu asked irritably.
Cillian snickered beside him, covering his mouth with his hand as he turned away.
A weird feeling blossomed in Mordeu's heart at the sight of that.
"I think it's best if we really see for ourselves," Alvitir agreed with Mordeu, bluntly ignoring the attitude that had been in his question.
"Okay," Stregobor's voice was deep and wicked, and his handsome features held the constant glare. He rose to his feet and walked forward, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Cillian moved and stood before Mordeu. "Let's see for ourselves, Lord Stregobor."
Stregobor frowned at what Cillian was meaning to do.
Mordeu's heart palpitated, his focus was disoriented. Stregobor's movements were explicable to everyone in the courtyard. If Mordeu were to change and make even the slightest berserk movement, Stregobor would've struck his sword into him. However, Cillian had stood in front of him, in a stance of protection; it was like the table had turned on them. Mordeu was initially meant to protect Cillian but now, Cillian was ready to risk his life going head-on in battle against Stregobor if he were to attack Mordeu.
Mordeu cleared his throat and pulled Cillian back. The thought of Cillian protecting him was pleasurable, but he didn't want anyone to misunderstand. Standing against one of the Lords may come off as rebellion whether or not he was Alvitir's son. Mordeu didn't want to risk it.
"I'm not a danger to anyone; you don't have to be alert around me. I'm just simply going to transform, not murder everyone here," Mordeu explained.
"But you can," Stregobor said.
Mordeu mentally rolled his eyes at him. "Please prepare some clothes for me; I do not appreciate my nudity being seen by others."
Alvitir gestured to a servant, and she went away to a room, probably to fetch some clothes for Mordeu. He had asked for some clothes because after he changed back to his regular form, he would've destroyed his clothes and rendered himself naked.
Seeing that that issue was already settled, he bent down on one knee, his hands touching the gravel on the courtyard's grounds. He groaned loudly as he focused his attention on rearranging the bones on his body.
The sound emanating from him was obviously out of pain. Though it was happening under his will, it still caused him a great deal of pain; he was, after all, rearranging every morsel of his being so he could transform into his true nature. Red fur sprang up from his skin, overshadowing every possible white spot on his body. There was hair everywhere, and his fingers grew ten times longer than usual, his nails replaced with sharp claws as dark as night.
And when he was done, he had totally transformed into a wolf, many times bigger than his regular size. From the looks of the spectators, he was guessed to be bigger than the average wolf, bigger than the biggest wolf. Balor was surely satisfied that he could see for himself; Mordeu's fur was the color of blood, crimson and deadly. His fangs were mighty, almost resembling the tusks of elephants, sharp, and Balor could vaguely make out the reflection of Cillian on his fangs.
Mordeu growled loudly, almost the sound of a roar.
Cillian fell to the ground. During the transformation, he had moved from standing beside Mordeu so he could vividly see for himself the marvelous act of transforming. However, it was nothing like he thought it would be, especially as a vague sense of pain came from his bones as the transformation started, which slowly turned into an excruciating pain that he could no longer try to suppress. He fell to his knees, screaming in pain, an indescribable pain.
Mordeu, in his wolf form, saw this, and he was suddenly worried. Ayra ran to the aid of her brother, and Alvitir equally rushed to him. Stregobor's gaze only drifted slightly, but soon laid focus on Mordeu again; his grip on his sword was firm.
Mordeu did not care about him. He was worried about Cillian and irritated that Kai was the one who lifted him from the ground and carried him to a seat. In less than three heartbeats, Mordeu changed back into his regular form, and the servant hastily brought a robe for him.
After covering his nakedness, he ran to where Cillian was laid, frantic and curious. But he met Cillian pushing people away and regulating his breaths.
"What just happened?" Kai asked randomly, but no one seemed to hold the answer to that question. Cillian's gaze was locked on Mordeu's.
Alvitir cleared his throat, "This is a drastic turn of events."
Mordeu couldn't suppress his curiosity any longer. Stregobor had been alert toward him, Kai almost went into a full panic attack, and Balor's gaze was the same as someone who saw his parents' hearts plucked out.
"Why? What's so scary about red wolves? Why are you all acting like this towards me?"