In the vampire town in north banes, king Alastor was feeling very contented about having finally ridden himself of his brother Noir.
A letter had reached him from Heimdall and the two heads of the hellhounds. Noir and his wife, parents to Nanna.
Sirius who was supposed to be his stepping stone to reaching his father's glory. Only to have become his greatest embarrassment had actually done something that pleased him for once and killed them.
Stripping them of their skin, he didn't understand why, but it was fine by him. He would keep them in his room as trophies.
He gave an evil grin as he thought of the man who never cared for anything but blood and greed, his own father, Fenrir.
Fenrir had always put his brother Noir above him so he had sent him to his death by starting a war with the werewolves and then with the gods, causing him his second death as well. He first sought Amali and to get into Asgard, but with the war he got neither.
His own brother had been accepted into Asgard without him. His brother who took the credit for defeating Fenrir. Then he had never spoken to Alastor again.
Today he smiled because his very disappointing son had killed Noir and his wife, Nanna's pets. He heard that Sirius' beast was freed. "It was just a matter of time." He said with malace.
He didn't need to serve Odin or plot anymore, now that his son would change, he was going to take all of it! He was going to get Amali back and rule the nine realms!
He had also finally discovered the location of the werewolves that had run away. "Oh dear Sirius, if only they knew your brother good st. Nick carried both letters." He said, the letter was addressed to the werewolves and had their location on it.
"Oh but Santa don't be too upset Mani might have a werewolf army of his own, but this pack is mine to claim. I just needed help to find them." He sneered.
Nicholas was chained up by several guards and watched in anguish and frustration as the second letter was opened by unintended eyes.
"Most of it descended from Amali's family, so it should have been mine centuries ago. I will get them to submit to my power and have an army of my own." Alastor continued. "Won't that be nice!"
He pondered the glory that he would obtain for a while longer and then he yelled out in anger at the sudden bad news that he recieved as he opened the second letter that was sent to the wolves from his ex- wife Hel.
"I am sorry my dear wolves but I am pained to say that Sirius, your Alpha has died along with his wife and children. They have passed through the second death and cannot be revived."
"What is the meaning of this!" He yelled, he felt ready to ram a sword straight into the heart of the man in front of him and ruin Christmas for all. He would let Krampus loose, the other brother who scared the naughty kids, that would be better. He laughed despite his grief because his mind was very far gone into evil and it was the only reaction he could come up with. He had never cried since the day that Amali broke his heart.
The messenger, held out the ashes that Ériu had gathered. He wasn't afraid of death. In a way he couldn't die in this realm so it didn't matter to him.
"His wife's ashes will be returned to the werewolves but here are the ashes of your son. Hel thought you should have a portion of them. The rest are retained by her."
Alastor's eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a sneer that continued to do little to hide the simmering fury beneath. "How unfortunate," he hissed, his voice a sharp blade cutting through the air. "The son I so carefully molded, wasted—along with the fruits of his legacy. What a tragedy for us all.
"Of course I wasn't informed about his young, the little traitor."
With saoirse no longer in the picture, he wasn't sure how to get Amali's soul back. For now she was trapped in his armor and he couldn't harness the power.
That son of his! He had made sure to give him the power of a demigod by sleeping with a woman he was related to, all so that he would rule side by side! But all that goddess could give him was a sickly, weak child who could never learn to defend himself, let alone fight.
He never would have thought that his child would be so weak. He slammed his fist on the obsidian arm rest of his judgement seat and accepted the ashes of his son and dismissed the messenger.
Sometimes, he thought back to all the training he had subjected him to, and the embarrassment of watching him fall time and time again.
He should have tried to have a different heir, but Hel wouldn't be so easy to trick again now that she knew his face. All of the other goddesses knew his name by now too.
No one could give him an heir as strong as Sirius should have been. He wondered what had gone wrong.
He had done everything his own father had to make him hate the world. He had beaten the boy, told him that the girl he loved would be hurt if he didn't get tougher. All of it an effort to end up with a bloodthirsty son. It should have been easy. The boy was born with a beast!
Still all of his efforts and lessons and time spent with his son training him, it was all wasted!
He threw the letter in the fire along with Sirius' ashes. The bag burned brightly but then suddenly they turned golden.
He stood up.
"It can't be." He muttered in astonishment.