The Power of Non-Violence

by Doppimin

Summary:

In a post-apocalyptic future, where mutant and human populations are strictly segregated, Charles is born to a human mother. After an incident where his mother is killed, an orphaned Charles manifests his powers. As a mutant, he cannot stay on human soil, or he will be captured.

Charles tries to find his way, and his people. Obstacles, challenges, and a near-death event leave him a young omega in charge of four pups on the cusp of presenting. As he tries to find a way to keep his charges fed, housed, and safe, the pack stumbles upon the camp of a lone wolf with a woody, metallic scent.

Notes:

Hello, and welcome to my first multi-chapter fic!

I have a lot of hope for this fic, it's my first multi-chapter fic and I'm so excited to share it. A couple of things about the au:

- In my abo, humans and mutants all have secondary gender dynamics, but mutants live in packs and humans don't do packs, only nuclear family dynamics.
- Unique scent develops slowly with age, and so do behaviors indicative of the secondary gender. For example, Charles at the age of 12 smells distinctly enough where anyone can see that he will present as an omega, and he begins to exhibit behaviors indicative of omega behaviors as he gets closer to actual presentation, aka. first heat/first rut.

This is likely going to be a long fic, and I may take breaks between chapters but I'll try to develop a consistent schedule. Also, English is not my first language, so there might be inconsistencies with British/American spelling. Lastly, tags will be added as the story progresses.

Without further ado, enjoy the fic! kudos and comments are always welcomed <3

Chapter 1: Entirely Too Young

[Present Day - Charles]

 

They’ve been walking for days, the children thoroughly exhausted and absolutely starving. He’s hungry too, although his body is more accommodating than the little ones’. Raven has been especially quiet, brooding in an intense silence while Sean and Alex make a game of trying to find edible plants and small nuts. He understands that the hunger has likely made them all on edge, and testy with one another, but can’t help but feel somewhat at fault. He feels responsible for them, even though they’re nearly grown.

He looks on at the pups now, their faces gaunt and lined with hunger, and feels ashamed to repeat the same cycle once again. They deserve a better life, they deserve to be playful and reckless. But then again, so did he. 

 

[Nine Years Ago - Charles]

 

As a child, he had spent much of his sheltered life raised by his bitter, human mother. His father had died in an accident, that was all his mother was willing to say on the matter, little less than what he was allowed to ask. He hadn’t known much of the world outside their estate, only that he was absolutely not allowed to leave the grounds. 

The estate itself was a large, dark and crumbling beast, but it was all he’d ever known. Mother never let him wander outside, no matter how much he begged. 

It was just him and his mother. ‘And we don’t need anyone else’ she’d say. Growing their own food, sewing their own clothes, and cobbling their own shoes. His mother only went to the nearby compounds when it was strictly necessary, mainly when Charles was sick with the winter fever, and she would always lock him away in a cellar with the old, dusty bottles and crumbling relics of old. Like books. At least the books kept him company, even if his mother insisted that reading was an entirely useless skill. 

His mother had never been affectionate in her life. She pulled his ear and spanked his bum red when he tried to step outside the borders of the estate. She forced him to drink bitter liquids, and yelled at him when she found the kitten he’d been keeping in his bed. She was a mean and unhappy woman. She was the worst person he knew, and he’d never even met another person. 

So when the men came and dragged him away, still in his pyjamas, he howled and cried and begged. But he was never sure what he was begging for. His mother, who never loved him, his father who never knew him, or simply the routine of a dull life with a surly parent. 

He didn’t understand it then, but the pressurising pain he felt that day, as he was yanked from her bruisingly tight embrace, was a mothers dying devotion. She fought for him, till the moment they put a bullet between her eyes. All at once, he was assaulted with all the pain, fear, and deep love that she felt for him. 

His powers manifested as a violent rejection of all the forceful emotion that she felt, her desperation for him to be safe. He’d known then, that in her own twisted way, she had loved him fiercely. 

When the men all fell to the ground, motionless in an instant, he knew he couldn’t stay here. The men had clearly been here to take their spoils of looting what appeared to be an abandoned mansion, and an untouched omega is a grand prize beyond the precious few supplies the mansion was stocked with. 

But a mutant was no prize, omega or otherwise, and that was what he was now. A mutant. 

For all that his mother had wanted to keep him shut away from the outside world, she made sure he knew why he could never leave. 

Nearly two-hundred years of nuclear fallout has wiped out more than half of all humanity, and almost doubled mutantkind. Both species survived, although through completely opposing means. 

Humans relied on their technological aids to shoulder the worst of the fallout. Whoever had a mind to save the best of humanity’s technology when the first bombs dropped knew what they were doing. What survived of humanity sheltered in highly secure technical compounds, forced to work in assigned jobs. Each new generation working in factories built to keep producing their precious technology. Communication, medicine, and transportation were entirely controlled by the human populations, and all tech based. 

Mutants were forced to revert to a rudimentary hunter-gatherer lifestyle. With many mutants relying on their mutations to survive the harsh nuclear winters that came after, and many more to shelter from the worst of the storms as the planet eked out its recovery from the disaster. With each unique mutation aiding in survival, packs quickly formed as a means of survival. Mutants lived in settlements, huts and dens housing packs both small and large, usually led by a pack alpha and a pack omega.

With mutants outnumbering humans, and thriving without the need for ‘human interventions’, tensions are high and segregation is strictly enforced. 

Mutants found in human compounds are kept in facilities designed to keep them compliant, sedated, and unmutated. Whoever saved the best of human technology before the bombs had saved a device that prevents mutants from using their powers, keeping the power balanced between the meagre human population and the growing mutant populations. On the other hand, humans found in mutant settlements are often killed or enslaved. 

But both groups could set aside their differences to agree on one thing, omegas were precious few, and a prize to be seized. 

Omega numbers had dropped drastically in the wake of the war, especially in human populations. Male omegas were even rarer, and were a status symbol for many mutant packs and human alphas. His mother made sure he knew of all the terrible things that would surely happen to an unmated male omega if he ever left the safety of their squalid home. 

So, he knew. That when he’d put all those men to sleep with a single thought, that an twelve year old mutant omega had no place in this sheltered life. He forfeited his right to his ancestral home when he became a mutant intruding on human grounds. Even if it wasn’t much to inherit anyway, it was once supposed to be his. It was all that he had. 

He looks down at his mothers lifeless gaze, and feels nothing. No, it’s not nothing. It’s the absence of something. His mother’s absence, a lack of presence in the back of his mind. 

He claws his fingers down his bare arms, red blooming across his skin. He’s not ready to face this. 

And so he’d run, from all that he ever knew. He ran until his feet bled, and he had collapsed from exhaustion. 

---

When he came to, his body ached all over. He had overexerted every muscle in his body, the adrenaline wearing off, and the pain kicking in. Looking around he’d realised that he was near a compound. 

Human compounds were cities made of packed round steel houses, stacked boxy aluminium tenements, and large titanium buildings with no windows. All surrounded by magnetic force fields. 

He had run until night had fallen, and kept running until he saw the fluorescent lamps, only succumbing to exhaustion then. 

Now that he’s awake, he’s thirsty, and his feet hurt. He feels an overwhelming need to cry, but tries to push it down. 

He approaches the force field surrounding the area tentatively, the blue luminescence of its energy lighting up his body the closer he gets. He reaches out a hand and a shiver reaches down to his toes from his fingertips, feeling the energy go through him. He’s close now, nearly pressing his face against the light in his fascination with the new outside world, when his fingers go through the energy barrier. 

Alarms immediately begin to blare loudly, startling him enough to jump four steps back, and causing an intense migraine to pang through his head. He’s shaking, overwhelmed by all that is unknown to him. His legs give out as he trips over a rock in his haste to put more distance between himself and the noise. He hears shouting all around him, all directed at him. 

“Mutant!” 

Right, so that's what the force field is for. 

They’re pointing lights at him, lights he’s not used to. These ones are bright white, and painful on his eyes. His eyes close on instinct, and he squeezes them shut more forcefully. 

The pain in his head is intensifying. All of it is too intense for him. All this new stuff, white lights and force fields and this overwhelming noise all around him. He just wishes they would stop shouting, why are there so many ?

It’s all too much, it's too much. All of it is so, so much. 

There’s so many noises, too many. Are all people so noisy? His mother was right, he should have never left. 

Oh gods, his mother. 

He’ll never see her again, he’ll never feel her quiet presence in the background of his mind. These people are so loud, so not like mother. She knew. She was right. Gods he wishes he just listened. He would be so good if she came back, just make it stop, please—

Stop! Please!

STOP!

 

…

 

It’s quiet. 

 

For a moment, he thinks he must have died because of how abrupt it is. But when he peels his eyelids apart, he finds that it all stopped. Did he do that? He must have. 

He’s struck for a moment by what he can apparently do, and only blinks back into reality when he hears a twig snap somewhere behind him. He whips his head sharply in that direction and finds his cornflower blue eyes staring into the large dark eyes of a massive white stag. A beat, Charles frozen in awe of the creature, then the stag takes off running. He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.  

He looks back at the frozen humans of the compound. Gathering a shuddering breath, he get up and steps through the force field. 

He makes it far enough into the compound before he relaxes enough to unsqueeze his hands from the minds of the gate guards and border soldiers. He wishes they would forget him, he’s just too tired to think about them coming after him. 

---

It’s the first house he sees once he’s deep into the outskirts of the other side of the compound, in one of the tightly packed round house communities, so he knocks weakly on the door. 

He’s not sure he had been successful at being brave, seeing as the kind, older omega who graciously takes him in frets over him by wiping his cheeks dry. She smells like roses and peonies, and homemade soap. The woman takes him in, offers him a wash, dresses him in fresh clothes, and patches up his torn feet. 

The clothes she gives him are issued by the people who run the human compounds. They are grey, and uniformly shaped. His mother would bring back old, dirtied versions of the uniforms, take them apart, and patch them up into something he can wear. They were never this new and pristine when his mother came back from her compound trips, and never his size. Even as the woman patches up his scratched feet, she uses a device that dispenses a cool gel all over his feet instead of tying them up in torn rags. 

It isn’t until she offers him a hug, and pets his hair, that he realises how strange it is for this woman to be so familiar with him. How strange it is that she smells exactly like his mother, and just how strangely the omega’s young children are watching the scene unfold. He closes his eyes against the sight of their wary eyes and quietly sobs, whining low. He wills them to stop, all of it to stop. 

Wills his mother to come back, to be kind to him. 

But when he opens his eyes, the woman embracing him is not his mother, her scent not that of roses and peonies, but caramel and orange. 

He lets her go. 

She looks at him blankly now that he’s not avoiding her eyes, her eyes glassy, unfocused and far away. He steps away from her embrace, his heart breaking. He thanks her for the fresh clothes, and takes only a pair of shoes, a canteen of water, and a bag of dried nuts and cheeses with him when he leaves. 

 

[Present Day - Charles]

 

“Charles!” 

He blinks, back to himself and to the face of Raven’s angry scowl. He looks around and finds the others giving him questioning looks with varying degrees of worry. He laughs it off, trying to recover from his trip down memory lane, but Raven looks thoroughly annoyed with him. 

She’s been angry more often these days, especially at him. At 16, he knows that it’s likely due to her approaching her first rut. But it doesn’t make it less hurtful. 

“Sorry about that pup,” he says reflexively, not wanting to start another argument where they both say hurtful things that they quickly regret. Although he never quite manages to avoid the argument. “Don’t call me that! I’m not a pup anymore, and you’re not my mother! Why don’t you get that?” He flinches at her tone, acting on instinct alone at the sound of an angry alpha, even Raven. She looks visibly uncomfortable, unsettled by his reaction. “Just..,” she sighs frustratingly, “Stop spacing out…” 

She stalks off down the hillside, holding tension in every line of her body, his heart aching at the sight. Hank comes up to his side and takes his hand in both of his. “Are you okay? You’ve been a little…twitchy, recently.” He sighs, Hank has always been observant, if not the best with words. 

To be entirely honest, he’s not sure what’s wrong with him either. He’s still a few months away from his heat, so it’s not that. He feels like he should be on the lookout for something. Something he can’t miss. It’s keeping him on constant guard, making him jumpy. He can usually handle a moody alpha, especially a pup alpha who hasn’t even had their first rut, especially Raven. 

But he isn’t about to burden a pup with his worries, it isn’t Hank’s job to comfort him, it’s Charles’. He reaches up to pet Hank’s wild blue hair, bringing his hand down to gently cup the beta’s furry face. “I’m alright pup,” he says, smiling softly at the gentle giant. Hank’s face brightens, giving him a wild smile, full of sharp teeth. 

Unlike Raven, Hank is glad to be seen as a pup, having always struggled with his image, and scarcely treated with the gentleness any child needs. He lets him go and sighs heavily before starting down and after Raven. 

They need to find a good place to den for the night. He’s hoping to find a large enough boulder to burrow under, one that will shelter them against the cool autumn weather. The air has been getting colder, they can’t keep on travelling the way they have for the past year. Especially with Raven getting close to rut, Alex will soon follow. And it would be disastrous, if not plainly cruel to have Sean go through his first heat out in the open. 

He’s working out what he could do should the worst occur when Sean spots an opening in the hillside, under the root system of a large tree. When they get there, the burrow is spacious and lined with dead foliage, perfect. 

“Well spotted Sean! We’ll spend the night, and start fresh tomorrow.” He gives them a wide smile, cheeks flushed from the chill. Alex smiles back and sets down his pack of furs while Sean helps set them out. As a pup omega, it’s imperative that Sean is more comfortable in the nest, arranging it to his liking. Charles’ll head in and help set it right once they’re all settled in for the night. Raven has set her pack of furs down, and is setting them aside for Sean to spread out while Hank sets down his leather sack of precious few human technology he often tinkers with. 

Charles watches them fondly before walking the perimeter of the den, his nose sharply honed to the scent of any foreign alphas and nearby predators. He’s thoroughly scoped out the area, ready to head in and cosy up with his litter of pups, when his nose picks out a distinct scent. 

He tenses for a moment before relaxing. It’s faint, undetectable after the first whiff, but incredibly unique. Or at least, he thinks so. He can’t seem to catch it again, that almost metallic scent. He shakes himself out of the weird feeling, and ducks into the den. 

The pups have piled on top of each other, with Sean in the middle, and nearly under Alex and Hank as they sandwich him. They’re facing each other, their backs to the entrance, waiting for him expectantly. Well, all except Raven, who has her back to the group, and is instead facing the entrance. Guarding behaviour. It’s expected at her age, but he can tell that she’s cold. Her hands tucked under her armpits to appear determined, and conceal their shaking. 

He crawls toward the group and settles around them, back to the walls of the den, and his warm middle providing the warmth to keep their ears from freezing. From his position, he easily reaches out to pet each of their hairs. Taking his time, he presses his cheek to the tops of their heads, scenting them and purring softly to settle them. 

Despite them all being close to presenting, their family pack bond remains strong through all that they’ve been through. It warms his heart to know that they still need him. It won’t be for long yet, so he cherishes these precious last moments. He smiles down at them, his eyes soft but sad. When he looks up, Raven sharply looks away, caught. His smile dims as he watches her broad back towards the pack. 

He watches her for a while, still watchful over his first charge, when she speaks. Quiet for fear of disrupting the sleepy litter, but loud enough for him to hear. 

“I’m sorry…” He smiles softly at her when she turns to look at him, her eyes sad and glassy. “It’s alright dear,” he says, hoping that she understands all that is left unsaid. That he loves her, deeply. Will always forgive her. 

She turns back to face the entrance, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. He drifts off remembering the day they first met. 

She’ll always be his pup. 

 

[Eight Years Ago - Charles]

 

It's been a year or so since the day he manifested his powers, and he’s been wandering through different human compounds ever since. 

He has spent much of that time expanding his reading from dusty, 200 year old books, to ‘borrowed’ tablets and screens; growing his knowledge of the geography, the compounds, and the technology. He’s learned of a device he can use to disarm the force field alarms and get into the compounds. Only enough for him to sneak in, then back up again with only those who ever saw anything suddenly unsure of what they saw. Relying on his abilities to influence certain strangers to take him in for a night or two. Though he never stays for long. 

He’s slowly honed in his telepathy and broadened his skills from empathy to suggestions and compulsions. But he can’t replicate anything close to what he’d done that first time. In fact, it was frustratingly difficult to have any control of his powers after that event. It had driven him half-mad hearing all those voices, and taken him nearly a year to bring his powers back to a place where he could block out all the noise or manage the simplest of suggestions. He can’t control minds for long either, so he never stays long enough for him to slip. 

He doesn’t force anyone to do anything, he’s only suggesting to those who are already willing to take in a runaway. That’s what most think of him when they see his tattered facility-issued clothes and meagre sack of processions. But life as a runaway is no life for an unmated male omega. 

He’s tired, he wants to go home. Even when there is no home, he wants to stay in one place. Tired of running, his omega unsettled by the instability and lack of routine. 

He’s staying at a larger compound, which is always risky. Too many minds to keep from suspecting anything unusual about a young omega runaway. 

Omegas in human populations are so scarce they’re always kept on short, tight leashes. Never to be seen, only heard of, unless the Alpha requires them to be displayed as arm candy, shown off for the especially elite of humans. Omegas born in poorer status are exchanged for their family’s chance to rise in class, sacrificed to the wealthy class who can afford to keep them pregnant and pumping. They have a duty to bear the next generation of humans after all, keep the population steady. 

He might be able to influence interested humans to look the other way, finding nothing of note about his scent, nothing to entice. But big groups always gave him a hard time, and his powers are still learning to walk steady. 

He’d stayed the night with a family of four living just at the perimeter of a compound, and had pulled out his disabler. He’s just about ready to take the force field alarms down, and disappear into the woods nearby when he is snatched from behind by a pair of large hands that pin his arms at his side. 

The man's forearms encircle his chest entirely, and squeeze his ribcage, pressing tightly onto his lungs. He immediately struggles against the man’s hold, but a strong smell of cheap moonshine liqueur floods his senses and overwhelms him. His nose burns, and a headache blooms behind his eyes as he hears the jeers of three other alphas loudly laughing at his useless struggle. 

One of the alphas grabs at his kicking legs and pulls them up and apart, her grip bruising the skin of his ankles through his trousers, keeping him entirely horizontal and at the alphas’ mercy. 

“It’s our lucky day guys! I thought my nose was dangling sweet, fake bait but it’s an honest to god male Omega,” said the largest man, the alpha clutching his torso tightly. The man stuck his nose in Charles’ neck, pressing directly onto his scent gland, forcing chills up his spine and assaulting his nose with that same burning stench of alcohol. “Still unpresented, huh pup? Don’t worry, we'll be gentle.” His breathing has quickened and he’s struggling to keep his panic at bay when one of the alphas not currently restraining him approaches him with a glint in his eye, and a skip to his step. 

“Are you as sweet as they say? Hmm? How about you give us a taste? Have some kindness in your little heart for a couple of poor alphas, I mean we’ll never get a chance like this again.” He had started caressing Charles’ thigh as he monologued, and his hand was slowly inching closer to his groin. “A taste?! We’ll never get a chance like this again, I’m getting my fill,” said another while licking up the other side of Charles’ neck. 

Charles had started to take large, gulping breaths of air, his lungs fighting and burning to breathe but he couldn’t. He was suffocating, he would surely die. When the man’s hand made contact with his covered groin, a scream emanated from his chest. Suddenly, all his mothers warnings about what happens to young unmated omegas who don’t listen to their mother started playing in his head. One of the two women grabbed his face forcefully, covering his mouth in a bruising grip, and silencing his scream. 

He can hear them imagine all the awful things they’re going to do to him. Gods, he can see how much they want to hurt him and in every way. He trembles all over, whimpering unconsciously, and feels cold all of a sudden. A migraine has started banging in his head, and the pain is overwhelming. Maybe the migraine would kill him before he is desecrated. Perhaps he isn’t meant for this world. 

When the man that was groping him squeezed him tightly, he snapped back into his body. A white hot flash overcame him, and he was seconds away from reaching into the threads of his mind and yanking. He’s never done it before, although he knew instinctively that anyone who’s threads of thought were treated so harshly would sleep, and never wake up. He reached into the man’s mind and wrapped his hands around his most delicate neurons. He gripped, secure and ready to squeeze. 

But the man screamed before he could crush the last of his wretched thoughts. 

In a second of confusion, he couldn’t question the turn of events before finding himself quickly approaching the hard ground. Pain shoots up his spine as he lands sharply on his tailbone. He groans in pain, rolling onto his side, when the commotion around him causes him to look up. 

He doesn’t get the chance to take in the scene before he is immediately hit in the face with a spray of blood. 

He closes his eyes reflexively, and continues to tremble in his place on the floor as the sounds of fighting, slicing, and blood spilling continue all around him. He shouldn’t care about what is happening, or why, only that this is his chance to run. But his legs won’t move, and he won’t stop shaking. 

After some time, all other sounds stop except for the heavy breathing of one man. He slowly peels his eyelids apart and his heart lurches up and into his throat at the sight. A large man covered in hair and blood stands over him, extending from his knuckles are what he can only describe as claws of metal, dripping with blood and viscera. Surrounding him on the floor are the tatters of the alphas who were assaulting him moments ago.

He looks down at the one closest to his feet and locks eyes with the man who was feeling him up, eyes wide open and unmoving in the sockets of the severed head. He feels his stomach turn, rushing to clamp down on his mouth before his meagre lunch spills out across the bloodbath that surrounds him. The smell of blood is nauseating and he’s covered in it. 

He looks back at the man unscathed by the carnage and realises that he’s a mutant. Another mutant in a human compound. The man is agitated, his thoughts scattered and loudly unorganised, his features angry and unfriendly. He looks at Charles with a mixture of rage and pity, imagining him in his mind as an orphaned fawn surrounded by hungry hawks. 

The large man reaches down, extending a hand at him. The man is a mutant, the first mutant he has ever met other than himself, and has just rescued him from a fate of horrors. But at that moment, beneath the sickening smell of blood, he smells an Alpha. His panic rushes back into him, and he scrambles away from the man’s hand. 

The man looks at him with a troubled, almost desperate expression and says, “Look kid, I’m not gonna hurt you. Won’t even touch you, I’m sorry about that. But you can’t stay out here, or you’re gonna run into a lot worse types than these cunts.” He has his hands up placatingly, wrangling in a cornered animal. 

Fucking shithead cunts, damnit he's just a kid, almost got fucking raped, pup omega all alone, they’ll eat him alive.  

Charles shakes his head, desperate to shake away the mutant's thoughts. He starts to whine unconsciously, his Omega unsettled and rearing its head. He weakly looks up, and sees the man's hands, claws retracted, but fingers dripping with blood. He imagines them on his thighs rubbing up, and up, and up. His heart pounds, pumping blood back into his arms and legs, he shoots up and runs into the nearest woods. 

The alarms sound off as he crosses the force field and he hears the man gasp behind him, but doesn’t stop running. He registers the man following after him and panics, quickly doubling his speed and changing directions sharply to throw him off. He only later realises that the man was running because he set off the mutant alarm himself. 

He’s lightheaded from the entire situation, his vision spotty, and the adrenaline slowly draining from his body. He stumbles over a branch, but keeps going until a rock knocks him over. In his haste, he didn’t notice that he was heading straight towards a ledge. When the rock sends him tumbling, he flies over the edge and lands several paces below where he was and sharply in a small clearing. 

With the wind knocked out of him, his head pounding, and his heart racing, he is overwhelmingly exhausted. A moment before unconsciousness claims him, he rolls his head to the right and finds a pair of large yellow-black eyes.

---

When Charles wakes up, it’s to the sound of a stream. The gentle rush of water, and the chirping of the birds is soothing to his frayed nerves. He slowly opens his eyes, blearily blinking against the morning sun, and gets up to look around. 

The clearing that he had stumbled into was surrounded by larger rocks and higher ground. It seems like a crater of some sort, a large enough object must have created a hole in the ground, perhaps a sinkhole. He’s read quite a bit about the land, trying to find the nearest mutant settlement. The surrounding forest keeps the sinkhole obscured, and little more than streams of light make it through the tree overhang and into the hole. There’s moss climbing over the walls of the hole and the air seems wet and moist. 

The stream is smaller, and closer than he imagined. It flows down from above, between boulders, and into the clearing. He realises then that it’s fresh water, and cups his hands in the stream before greedily gulping it down. It cools him down, soothing exerted muscles. He reaches down to wash his face with it, when a small, but sure voice pipes up. “Don’t make the water dirty, I need it.” 

The sound startles him, and he turns around to look into the blue eyes of a small blonde girl. “Oh! Sorry about that…” he says, flustered by the presence of a human outside a compound. Him and his mother were especially unique in living outside the compounds. Without the technology, or the mutations, humans outside of compounds tend to get sick and die quickly. He frowns, “Why are you out here? Are you alone?” He asks her.

The girl matches his confusion with frustration. “I could ask you the same thing. Who are you?” She’s standing defensively, her stance wide and posturing. Most likely a pup alpha then. When he doesn’t answer her right away, fear starts to show in her eyes. “Look, I don’t know who you’re looking for, but it’s not me. I didn’t do anything.” She says in a rush, the words stumbling out of her. As she speaks, he gets a blink of yellow-black eyes. 

It was only a blink, a tenth of a second of a slip, but Charles catches it anyway. He would have brushed it off, imagined it, if it wasn’t strangely…familiar. His curiosity gets the better of him, and he peeks into her mind. What he sees leaves him awestruck. He’s looking at her, eyes wide and mouth agape. Her patience had apparently run thin because she snaps at him. “What do you want?!” She barks out, annoyed and afraid, at the same time that Charles breathes out a soft, “You’re a mutant.” A fact, not a question. 

The shock on her face is apparent, her human form pale as a sheet, and her hands twisting together in the fabric of her trousers before abruptly dropping back to her side. She begins to back away from him slowly, hands reaching behind her back. “Who the hell are you?” Her juvenile voice is in contrast with the threatening tone she’s using. 

Her hands close around the hilt of a knife she has concealed in the band of her trousers. He should stop her. But all he seems to be able to do these days is suggest and convince. He’s trying to summon his powers, but it seems he can’t command them yet. The girl pulls out the knife, and he tenses when she crouches down, ready to attack. 

He tries to keep his focus on the girl, but his eyes catch the light streaming down into the clearing. Particles floating through the beams. He singles in on the light, the sound of the nearby stream. He knows that his distraction gave her the opening, so really he can only blame himself when she leaps at him, catching him off guard. She knocks him onto his back, sending them both tumbling into the stream. The alpha pup is perched over him, her knuckles white through the grip on her small knife. Her eyes are flashing between white-blue and yellow-black. She’s stressed, projecting to him all her fear, and determination. She would kill him if she had to. 

She raises the hand holding the knife above his head, ready to strike when necessary. “I said who ARE YOU?!” She shouts at him, shaking with emotion. He feels the beginnings of a headache bloom, having hit his head on the small rocks in the stream. A headache means he could lose control any minute now. The water from the stream continues to flow through the interruption of its smooth path, around him, through his hair, and close to his ear.   

The water sounds louder here, the lapping at his skin, the back of his neck and his scalp is strangely calming given the situation and threat. The flow’s path continues, despite obstacles, it persists. Hmmm , that gives him an idea. He turns inwards, looking into his mind, the core of his abilities. His powers are like a mist, floating around the folds of his brain, between his thoughts, memories, and feelings. It covers him. He channels the fine mist into a stream, emulating the nearby nature, and flows his consciousness into hers. Once he’s in, he disperse the stream, shrouding her mind in the mist. Speaking into a mind directly, for the first time. 

“Don’t be afraid Raven, I’m also a mutant. Not quite as aesthetically as you, but a mutant all the same.” 

She startles, visibly disturbed as she looks into his eyes. He looks back at her, speaking aloud this time. “I’m a mutant too, I can hear thoughts,” he explains. It's simplified since he doesn’t understand much of his own powers himself, “and you are a shapeshifter.” He finishes, more confident now. The girl watches him with furrowed eyebrows, her mouth slightly agape. “That’s creepy, but useful I guess.” She lowers her hand, tucking the knife back in its place in the waistband, and gets off him. 

It really is unsettling, how hardened this little girl is. Carrying a knife around on their person is not commonly a habit of pups who are barely eight. She looks contrite, unsure of how to proceed. The awkwardness is endearing, a reality of how young she is, despite her hardened life.

He gives her a smile, still in the water, and suddenly hysterical. He laughs, loudly and carefree. Given the near death experience, and last night, there is no reason to laugh. But now that he’s started, he can’t stop. The girl, Raven, gives him a questioning look. 

“Did you hit your head that hard?” She says, confused by his reaction. He manages, between giggles, to reply. “I’ve just never met such a serious eight year old.” He teases her, eyes full of mirth as he watches her try to be offended. But his laughter is contagious, and the two of them are cackling like a pair of hyenas in no time.

Raven recovers first, “You look like a wet cat, and you’re calling me serious?” Charles howls with laughter as he gets the image of Raven's view of him, splayed out wet in the stream, but now with fuzzy cat ears. 

They recover from their bout of laughter, and Raven offers him a hand. “My name is Charles by the way, forgive me for being rude.” he says as he takes her small hand. She snorts, helping him up, “Are you posh and rich or something?” she says, helping him out of the stream. He smiles, cheeky, “Just polite.” 

Once he’s vertical, he shakes the water from his hair, then crouches down to Raven’s level and gives her his warmest smile. Raven looks back at him, with curious eyes and a much kinder gaze. “You know you don’t have to hide anymore right?” She looks wary, unsure and self conscious. He tries a more familiar approach, appealing a sense of safety for the pup. “It’s alright Raven, I would love to see you as you are.” She contemplates him for a moment, his patience, and confidence in her unwavering. She takes a deep breath, releasing it heavily. 

He watches in open fascination, and unrestrained appreciation, as Raven shifts. Starting from the top, revealing vibrant red-orange hair. Her skin turns over, revealing dark blue textured scales for skin, and most remarkably, yellow-black eyes. He is utterly mesmerised by her beauty, forgetting to comment as his eyes take in the absolute uniqueness of her mutation. When he takes too long, Raven’s thoughts turn from a tentative trust to worry and regret. “You’re extraordinary, Raven” he hurries to tell her breathily. 

She looks at him doubtfully, picking at her scaly skin. “You’re not afraid of me?” She says softly, not looking at him and utterly afraid to hear the answer. Gods, she is too young for this. “Oh pup, you are the most exceptional girl I have ever met. I’m glad that I am not afraid of you, because I would have never gotten to meet another mutant.” Her eyes widen at that, she stares at him openly, her thoughts reflect a desperate hope, for fealty and recognition.   

He reaches out to her slowly, giving her the chance to back away, but she doesn’t. Placing a hand gently on her cheek, he slowly rubs his thumb across her still chubby cheek, tracing the pattern of her markings in fascination. She gasps at the contact, but doesn’t move away. Her large eyes are watery, pupils shaking. His heart breaks for her. “I’m very sad for anyone who is too ignorant to know you, you are a delightful sight, and I’m sure even more delightful to be around.” He gives her a sad smile, and hopes that she knows his sincerity. 

Raven’s eyes spill over with tears as she sniffles loudly before launching herself at him. This time, he’s prepared for the weight, and is steady on his knee as he hugs her back tightly. He pets her head gently when her shoulders shake with the force of her sobs. “Thank you, Charles,” The innocence of her words, the sincerity in her voice, and the knowledge that he is the first person to treat her with kindness in years nearly brings him to tears. “And sorry I tried to kill you.” She finishes in afterthought, causing him to burst out in a sharp laugh instead. He has laughed more today than he can ever remember. 

“Thank you, pup. For making me smile.”

Chapter 2: This Is a Trap

Summary:

The fiery look he gives Erik, even as his impossibly bright blue eyes shake with fear, is unwavering. It’s impressive, the way in which this omega is holding his ground against Erik.

Notes:

I am so sorry its taken me a year to update. I'm determined to see this fic through I promise, forgive me T-T. I hope this chapter does not disappoint after the long wait <3

[Present Day - Charles] 

By the time they head out of the den the next morning, Raven’s mood had significantly improved. Charles kept sneaking glances at the alpha pup, making sure that her peppery-cedar scent is relatively stable. At the moment, it seems she is content, her scent not giving indication of any particularly strong emotion. 

Now that she's getting closer to presenting, her scent has begun to reflect her budding maturity. It’s deeper, making it easier for Charles to understand what upsets her at any given moment; the chemistry of her scent changing with hormonal and emotional changes. He read about it once in one of the many tablets he used to carry around. There were a great many things he was happy to leave behind when they finally made it out of the human territory, but he does miss reading so dearly.

As an omega, Charles feels a greater pressure to control his scent projections than alphas do. It’s a responsibility which should be placed on the alphas as the ones with the greater power, but it is easier to control others than to have to practice self-restraint. It’s one of the things he disliked about living with the mutant settlement. 

While the older omegas at the settlement taught him a great deal of essential information about his own body, things he could not read about in the tablet’s archives on omega biology, they also regularly reminded him of how undisciplined he is. How utterly rude he was for letting his scent freely distract the alphas. It annoyed him every time without fault. 

Despite their disapproval, they took him in easily. For the very first time in his life, he had felt like he finally belonged. Not just in a pack, with the other omegas, but with mutants. He was brought to tears by the comfort, happiness, and complete content that radiated about the settlement when he first arrived with Raven and Hank. 

It was entirely foreign for his young mind to perceive so many positive thoughts all at once. It pained him to know that humans couldn’t experience such a sense of community. That they were forced into regulation housing and assigned jobs. They really aren’t all that different. They all long for a place of love and acceptance. 

But no one would listen to him; young male omega pup that he was at the time. Even among the other omegas he was typically coddled to the point of frustration. 

His heart pangs at the memory of his fellow omegas, of all the other mutants at the settlement. He was the happiest he’d  been in his short life when he was living at the settlement with Raven, Hank, Sean, and Alex. It was a simple time, but the pups were well-fed and childish. They were happy. 

And then there was the fire. 

The fire that claimed all their happiness, greedily swallowing it down, and with it all the safety and security of their future. It consumed everything, eating away the souls of his fellow mutants.

They had died cruelly, he knows this. He’s also aware of the very glaring gap in his memory of that day. There were too many minds, all familiar to him. All dying at once. So yes, he doesn’t remember that day. And he gladly keeps it that way, sidestepping the walls in his mind that he'd placed around the memory. But he knows that they were in so much pain. 

He releases a shaky breath at the onslaught of terror that always accompanies any reminders of that day. He can’t get lost in that, he has pups to look after, a responsibility to keep him distracted. A reason to run from his own mind. He looks around at the surrounding terrain. 

They had packed up early, catching the sun rise above the tree line as they continued their pursuit of a new home. It’s been a year since the fire, and they have covered enough ground by then to have made it into a completely unfamiliar landscape. They’re still in mutant territory, that much is clear from the lack of electric pole markers, technology that is not available for mutant lands. 

Human territories tend to be on flatter ground anyway, and much smaller than the sprawling open wilderness that is everything else, which belongs to the mutants. It’s a freedom he is thankful for everyday since he left. He couldn’t imagine going back to the suffocating nature of the strictly enforced human borders, when there is so much more life out here where people are free. Mutants are free, to be who they are, even if it is a hard life. 

Quickly picking up the pace, he makes it to the front of the group and turns around, addressing the pups with a reassuring smile. “Since we are off the side of a hill, let’s hope we’re getting closer to some rocky areas, maybe we’ll find some water and all take a nice soak.” 

The pups brighten up at the prospect of a wash. It’s been too long since they’ve encountered any large bodies of water, having spent the better part of the year trudging through dense forests. The occasional river or stream would provide the necessary water for a quick wash, but a lake was their best chance at soaking, taking the time to rub off all the grime and dirt. 

They’d spent the last month without a large enough water source that could allow the little pack an opportunity to get clean. Charles grooms them of course, but there’s only so much he can do for them with a wet cloth and a gentle rake through tangled hair. 

He hopes that they can at least cover enough ground and make it somewhere close to some hard rocks. Rocky areas are always a great sign that there might be some nearby mountains, and as a result, bigger bodies of water. He’s daydreaming about one of those mountain hot springs he read about once for the rest of the early morning.

---

The morning has passed in a painfully slow trudge into the late afternoon, and the pups are tired and cranky from the fruitless day. Raven’s good mood from earlier has evaporated and been replaced with irritation, her scent souring with her mood. The other pups have given her a wide berth, affected by her scent. In a similarly sullen mood, they’re clearly annoyed with her scent furthering their misery. 

It’s natural for them to be affected by each other's moods, it’s an evolutionary advantage for packs. To be able to quickly ascertain and respond to one member's mood could mean the difference between life and death. 

For alpha’s, it’s a way to help them keep track of other alphas’ aggression and quell any challengers for pack alpha. It’s also a way to keep their omegas safe by detecting what omegas pick up from their surroundings, and whether there are any internal pack conflicts. 

As Raven is older and closer to presenting, she naturally falls into the role of the more dominant alpha. In turn, Alex is influenced into a disagreeable mood, unsettled by her agitation and ready to stand by her against their common enemy, the long day. He has been scowling at the sound of the songbirds for the past hour. 

Hypersensitive of their surroundings, omegas signal other pack mates of nearby predators, weather changes, or terrain shifts. They’re very responsive to scent changes as a way to keep pups safe when dominance fights break out between alphas, they also help alphas locate prey with their sharp senses. 

Sean’s pout is astronomical as he picks at a dead flower he’s picked up from the ground. As a pup, Sean is only receptive to their moods, and will only begin to influence the larger pack once he presents. 

While they don’t display as wide a range of scent changes as alphas and omegas, betas are perhaps the most sensitive to scents of the three dynamics. They are quick to disengage brewing alpha brawls and organise the pack when an omega is in heat. They’re the impartial party, and any good pack cannot run without them. 

So while Hank is not as affected by Raven’s sharp acidic scent, he certainly detects it enough to be dragging his large feet through the fallen dead leaves that litter the forest floor while shooting her side glances. 

And so it falls on Charles as the only adult, to stay positive and keep the group from dissolving into a heap of discouraged defeat. 

In their defense, it really had been a long day. The chill in the air has settled into his bones and his own limbs feel stiff, protesting at the continued movement. Despite the fatigue, he keeps moving forward, hoping that they finally find what they’re looking for. If only for the pups to take a break from this whole ordeal. 

His heart squeezes tightly in his chest, his own frustrations with the situation nearly making him apologise to the pups. It’s not his fault. He knows that, but it’s so difficult to be unable to do anything for them. His own exhaustion is catching up to him, but he remains steady. He has to be strong for them. 

The air around their little pack is dark and gloomy. Raven’s scent is strong today, enough that it’s starting to affect him. He frowns at that, turning to look at her and ask if she’s feeling odd in any way this morning when he picks up another scent, one even more odd. 

Strange, it’s almost...familiar? Charles turns up his head, trying to catch it again. He’s stopped in his tracks, interrupted mid-stride by the scent. Turning towards him, Alex asks, “Are you okay, Prof?” 

The affectionate nickname started out as teasing on Alex’s part for his ‘knowledge of useless things and reading’, with which Charles quipped back at Alex, kindly informing him that since Alex knew what a Professor even was, that he was just as bad. 

He smiles at the boy, the memory is a nice one, and it helps him ignore the worried looks the pups share amongst each other. 

They’ve been doing that a lot, and he’s not exactly sure why. He could read their minds and find out of course, but it would be terribly rude of him. It’s not like he’s been sick or acting in any particularly strange way, but they always seem to be waiting for him to do something. He’s not sure what he could possibly do, and how he could act in a way bizarre enough to warrant these reactions. Although, the way he is trying to chase this scent is pretty unusual. 

It’s just, he’s never smelled anything quite like it. It’s not bad, just…peculiar. “Do you guys smell that?” He says in lieu of a reply to Alex’s question, ignoring their looks. The pups all turn up their noises, scenting the air for anything of note. Raven’s the one to say, “Yeah, it smells like meat!” 

Before he can say that no, it does not smell like meat, it smells nothing like meat, he realises that it does in fact smell like meat. He apparently dismissed it for the other scent, the one the meat is directly masking. “Hell yeah!” Sean shouts in excitement at the prospect of honest to god red meat, having spent the last few months as an unwilling vegetarian. 

In the following moments that it takes Charles to process that the scent of meat in the air means someone is cooking meat, the pups had already taken off. 

Charles curses, taking off after them shouting, “Wait! Someone is out here with us!” The pups stop dead in their tracks, seemingly realising their mistake much too late. They can already clearly see evidence of the vagabond. When Charles catches up to them after their head start, how did they run so quickly, they are already well within the range of the camp. 

It’s very clearly a camp. Modest, with various hides draped over a scaffolding of struts made from polished wood, all tied together with rope and smaller bone. It’s neat, and carefully constructed. The opening to the makeshift den-tent is large, big enough for several people. 

If they have encountered another pack, it could spell trouble for Charles’ own small one. Without a pack alpha, they are vulnerable, even more so without any adult alpha. But now that he’s closer to that scent that initially caught his attention, he can tell that it’s just one person. One alpha. 

The scent is stronger, deeper now that he’s within reach of where the alpha sleeps. It’s everywhere, all over the hide that makes up the tent and the furs that line the inside of it. Now that he’s surrounded by it, he can discern the scent more closely, making out the notes. 

The wood is the principal note, a deep cedar, similar to Raven’s middle tones. But underneath that base scent is a metallic note, blood and ink. It’s so utterly unlike anything he has ever smelled. It’s addicting, he can’t get enough of it, taking in shallow breaths through his mouth. He can almost taste it from how strongly it invades his senses. He’s flushed and quickly out of breath from trying to inhale as much of the scent as he can. 

He flushes at that, feeling light headed and shaking himself out of his reverie. Whoever this alpha is, they’re dangerous. This camp is expertly staged. The very fact that the meat is so obviously in the open suggests that the placement is deliberate. It’s designed to attract hungry prey. This alpha is clever, this is a trap. 

He worries his lip at that, watching the pups closely and making sure none of them reach out to the big hog that is currently smoking over a low fire. But their gazes are fixed on the roasting pig, salivating at the scent. Wrenching four hungry pups away from the first meat they’ve seen in months is not gonna be easy.

“This is a trap,” he says lowly and carefully, “This alpha that set this up can’t be very far. We have to go.” He says with an air of finality, his tone stern and grave. The pups know that it’s time to listen to him when he uses this tone. The pups slowly, painfully tear their gazes away from the roasting meat. All except Raven.

Raven’s eyes are fixed on the hog, zeroed in on the food. Charles frowns at that, using a sterner tone he doesn’t like to use often, he says, “Raven, I said we’re going.” She ignores him still, her mouth open and a growl starting at the back of her throat. The vocalisation is low, but steady. Charles’ eyes widen at that, panic creeping into his blood. 

Pups cannot produce any consistent vocalisations, their vocal chords still developing and changing with time. Pup alphas can only manage short bursts of yips or growls, and pup omegas short quick whines and purrs. Nothing as deep, or consistent as the sound Raven is currently making.  

Fuck. 

“Raven darling, we have to go. Please listen to me.” He pleads with her, reaching out for her arm gently. He can’t panic, even if his hand is shaking as it clasps around Raven's elbow. His grip is weak, not wanting to appear as if he is restraining her, but Raven shakes it off aggressively. It’s more force than she needs, and she ends up unbalancing him in the act. He stumbles, catching himself before he falls, and watches as Raven stalks towards the roasting hog. 

Charles reaches out for her again, grabbing for her hand with both of his, when she swivels on him and openly growls at him. Her face is set in a fierce, angry scowl. Her growl is deeper now, reverberating. Her scent is imposing, her Alpha taking over and trying to suppress Charles’ attempts at holding her back from what she wants. 

As the only adult, and the de facto pack omega, Charles can scent her aggressive behaviour, but he is not influenced by it. He scents her agitation, and it affects his own mood by making him more wary and vigilant of the hostile alpha, but it does not influence him into deference the way Raven’s alpha is intending. Pack omegas have a familial pack bond with other packmates, even alphas. Unless a mating bond is established, Charles cannot be influenced into submission by other alphas in his own pack. 

Not unless the pack omega is forced into submission, which requires a physical act of aggression against the pack omega, with intent to harm. This cruel act breaks the familial bond irreparably, and forces the pack omega out of the role. Raven isn’t physical yet, but her openly aggressive scent is obvious to him and the pups. It’s a challenge towards his authority as pack omega.  

Since Raven’s alpha is maturing, the pup bonds are dissolving, and he needs to establish a new familial bond with the alpha. But that has to wait until after Raven is through with her rut. At the moment, he can only watch as Raven turns away from him once again, alpha satisfied that he isn’t trying to stop her anymore, and makes her way to the temptation. He registers the other pups’ surprise and subsequent anger and apprehension at Raven’s treatment of him and turns to address them. 

“Raven is presenting,” he lays it out plainly, watching as Alex and Seans’ eyes widen with disbelief and Hank takes in a sharp breath. “Hank, I need you to go to Raven, let her eat and let her pace if she likes. If you try to stop her she might hurt you. Make sure you keep her contained in the camp area, don’t let her wander; we will attract even more attention if her scent spreads too far.” He finishes quickly, not giving him the time to panic. Hank nods slowly, shakily. The beta is unsure, anxiety is written clearly in every line of his body. 

Charles goes over to him and holds his large, furry blue hands, squeezing firmly, “You can do this Hank, I believe in you, and I want you to believe in yourself. Trust that your instincts will lead you, and remember that Raven’s instincts are leading her. She’s more alpha than Raven at the moment.” He looks into the betas eyes, making sure that Hank feels all the faith that Charles has in him. 

He waits, making sure that Hank’s answering nod is much more confident this time, and nods in return. He lets go of him, and watches as Hank makes his way to Raven, who is tearing into the hog and stuffing her face. 

He sighs, apprehension and stress making him run his fingers through his hair before turning to Alex and Sean. Sean has a tight grip on the back of Alex’s tunic, standing close to the pup alpha and angling away from Raven’s direction, his eyes fearful. Charles’ heart squeezes at the sight. He addresses them with a sure tone, projecting confidence both mentally and physically. 

“You two will stay with me. We need to keep the perimeter in check and watch out for this alpha’s return. There’s no way to know when that will be, so stay vigilant. Spread out, I want you to stay five metres away from the camp, but within sight of it. I will keep tabs on you mentally, wait for any of my instructions and alert me of anything amiss,” he finishes without room for argument, and Alex nods with answering surety. 

He watches Alex head in one direction and points Sean in another, but not before placing a gentle kiss to the omega's cheek, noting his slight trembling, and projecting more calm. “Don’t worry pup, nothing bad is going to happen. It’s just Raven, and I’ll always be here keeping you safe,” he points to his own temple. Sean relaxes minimally, but Charles counts it as a win. He watches the boy go, and makes a mental note to help Sean manage his fear of adult alphas in the near future. 

He releases a breath he had been unknowingly holding, now that he’s alone he can freely feel the stress of the tense situation. Against all odds, Raven is presenting in the territory of a strange, unknown alpha who is a skilled, intelligent hunter. The fear of how this alpha will react to finding them intruding on his area and sheltering a rutting alpha on top of his possessions fills him with dread. 

The anxiety stirs a whine from his throat, but he clamps down on it. He’ll deal with the alpha when they come, right now he has another to handle. He turns to find his own corner of the perimeter, the three of them forming a triangle around the beta and rutting alpha.  

Charles finds a vantage point of the camp and watches Raven struggle through her first rut while stretching out his powers to cover a wider area. Any mind that comes within range of his powers, he’ll immediately know about. It helps him relax. He won’t be caught off guard, he’s prepared to deal with the worst when it comes. 

---

The day passes without any sign of the alpha. 

When Raven’s scent begins to transform from aggression and irritation to arousal and lust, he sends Sean and Alex to a stream they had passed two days before. Instructing them to bring back some cool water for Raven, they are blessedly far away when she begins rutting into the furs, grinding down to relieve the pressure of her knot forming. She growls and huffs, whining at the pain she’s experiencing. Her body is reabsorbing the reproductive parts that may have allowed her to bear children, and growing new parts that will allow her to sire them instead. 

The stress her body is undergoing is making her mutation wildly react, shifting from one form to another. Going through all the familiar faces she has encountered rapidly and without finesses. She is uncoordinated, adapting Hank’s fur but Sean’s fiery colouring all at once. 

It’s nearly midnight when she passes out from exhaustion. Hank takes the opportunity to wipe her down with a wet rag, while Charles uses the downtime to check in on his little sister. She’s warm in the cold weather, but he takes the time to start a new fire anyway, removing the hog from the spit pole. 

He glances back to Raven once he’s done, her face smooth with sleep and places a kiss to her forehead. He pets her hair gently before turning back to what remained of the boar. He tears apart the rest of the meat and gathers some furs, bringing the food and covering to Sean and Alex. He returns to his watch, eating some meat as well. 

---

He was dozing off, his mind exhausted from overexerting his powers for such a long time, coupled with the stress and anxiety of the situation. A headache began some time ago, and he just wanted to rest his eyes for a while, just enough to alleviate the pressure in his head. He hasn’t had a headache like this since…umm. It’s no matter.

He was careless, and completely caught off guard when something small and fast whizzed past his ear and lodged into the small, dying fire of the camp, causing it to suddenly become bigger. 

The fire swells, expanding into a massive wall and the sight of the fire brings back old memories. He’s frozen in terror, the large fire obscuring his view of where Raven and Hank had been in his line of sight before. That seems to unfreeze him, the heat of the fire melting the horror that had stiffened his movement. 

He jumps down from his perch on a low tree branch and runs for the campsite. He runs around the fire and makes it to Hank and Raven, watching them clutch at each other on the ground, similarly terrified of the large fire that once reaped devastation on their lives. Once he’s at their side he drops down to his knees and yells, “Are you two okay?!” 

He’s urgently checking them for burns, shielding them from the fire with his back, when he hears it. Growling, very low and deep. It’s very intense, Charles can feel it burying fear in his bones. What kind of thing could make a sound like this? It’s terrifying, and completely foreign. That same alarm is mirrored in his pups. The two of them look at him, their eyes full of fear but physically unharmed. He checks in with Sean and Alex, the two of them were awakened by the light and noise are heading their way.

Meanwhile, the fire has died down into a much smaller one after the initial burst, leaving in its wake a wide charred patch in the ground, with them on one side near the tent, and a tall, glowering, and very pissed, male alpha on the other.

When he sees the glower on the man’s face, it finally connects in his mind. The alpha is the one growling. The sound is even more threatening and frightening when accompanied by the sight of the sharp canines in the alphas wide, manic snarl. Charles’ heart is thunderous in his chest, his eyes wide and locked on the imposing figure. The alpha is drawn up to his full height, shoulders wide and face in a mean scowl. His scent is that of burning wood, metal, and cloying blood. It’s him, this camp's alpha. 

FUCK!

Charles keeps his eyes on the alpha, fighting back the instinct to bear his neck and beg for mercy. As a pack made up of one lone pack omega and no alpha, they were vulnerable. Charles could be influenced into submission by adult alphas outside his own pack without a pack alpha at his side. The alpha watches them impassively, his growling never ceases as he stalks towards them. Charles takes in a sharp, burning gasp and spreads out his arms in panic, shielding Raven and Hank from the predator. 

Keeping his back to the two of them, he holds his palms out to face the alpha, an appeasing gesture. “We’re unarmed…,” he says, slowly and carefully as the alpha takes measured steps towards them. He scoots back, dragging Raven and Hank with him. 

“I know we’ve intruded on your space. We’ll repay you for it, I will, just let them go,” he keeps his bright blue eyes locked with the darker steel blue of the alpha’s. “Please…,” he finishes, pleading with his eyes and his scent. 

The alpha stomps over the remains of the fire with his boots, beelining for them. Just then, Sean and Alex reach them, yelling out to him. Charles turns his attention to them, checking with his own eyes that they’re okay as they both come in from the side and drop down to embrace him. 

He lets out a breath, something close to a sob. They’re okay. They’re all okay, this is fine, he can convince the alpha not to hurt them as long as they’re all okay. He keeps Sean in his arms, cradling the trembling young omega as he turns back to the alpha. 

The alpha has stopped taking steps their way, a frown on his face. His growling had also calmed into a lower rumble so Charles is about to take the chance to explain, justify, apologise, anything, but what he hears instead when he opens his mouth is more growling. Growling coming from behind him. 

Raven’s freshly presented alpha is guarding and protective, acting on instinct at the foreign alpha threatening the pack. Alex growls in unison with Raven, although at a much softer tone and a broken stream. 

At the challenge, the alpha begins growling again in earnest, scowl deepening, and dropping into a defensive crouch. Raven has begun to stand, escaping his protective arms and stepping around to face the other alpha. 

Charles begins to really panic when he realises that Raven is about to challenge an alpha with twice her size and skill. The alpha doesn’t back down from the challenge, even though it is obvious to anyone with a nose that she is freshly presented. 

He doesn’t expect the alpha to go easy on them, especially when they had so thoroughly invaded his space, and eaten all his food. But he was hoping to avoid all this by having a nice, sensible conversation where no one gets hurt. 

So when Raven launches at the alpha, and he expertly dodges it before aiming a strong and well-aimed fist at her stomach, it is expected. Charles knows he has no choice but to end this now, especially when the alpha reaches for Raven’s neck next. 

“STOP!”

---

[Yesterday - Erik] 

Erik only planned to pass through the area. Honestly he was going to avoid it all together, but he needed the water. He knew from scouting it earlier that there was a stream nearby. Small, but large enough that the running water can keep it from stagnating and becoming contaminated from the wildlife. 

The boar he’d killed last night is heavy on his back, not including his kit of branches, hides, furs, and other camping gear. He’d gutted and bled the kill already, not wanting to drag a bloody corpse on his back. It had taken him all night to skin the hide, and he’d had to be vigilant during it all, wary of any creatures that may want a piece of his prize. 

He’s exhausted, but he can’t stop now. He’s been scouting this far east territory for months now, trying to find the two mountains that he can only recall from memory. More recent events have been overcrowding his mind, pushing older and nicer memories into the corner and forcing fresh horrors to the front. 

It’s no use thinking about any of it now, that part of Erik’s life is long gone. And with it the hopes and dreams of a foolish old man. But Erik promised him that they’d find the mountains one day. Even when he desperately wanted to break that promise, he just couldn’t. Despite how they left things before the fire, the old man was good to him. Fed and housed him when he was at death's door.

Even after his death, the old man was still saving him. This child’s dream, a utopia where they all live in a cottage by the lake, under the protection of great alps, is the only thing he’s got going for his life at the moment. Without it, Erik is lost. He has no one, no family, no mate, no pack, no purpose. He’s all alone in this hellscape of a life that he was born into. 

The only thing he can do is keep this one promise. Find this cottage from Teddy’s postcard. That's what he said it was called, a postcard. They would write messages on the back and a man would come to deliver the message to its intended. It sounds like a horseshit way of communicating, but it was nice to imagine there was such a time. Old man Teddy seemed to think it was ‘charming’. But it wasn’t just a message, a photo accompanied the message. Two great rocky mountains stand side by side, tall and imposing as they rule over a massive lake. 

Just to the right, perfectly framed to face the sprawling and clear lake, is a big cottage. It's a nice house, at least he thinks so. He’s never seen a house like this before, even in his memories of the pack he was raised in by his parents. No structure this impressive was ever in the ambition of mutants. Erik hasn’t known many nice things, so when Teddy showed him this photo he was taken by it. He allowed Teddy to plant these absurd ideations in his young and still hopeful mind. That they would have to find it somehow, that they should promise to try even if they didn’t. 

Well, Teddy’s dead. It's just him now, and he has nothing else to do but entertain a dead man’s dream. 

So now he’s scouting out an area of woodlands that seems to be stretching downwards. It seems the land is about to descend into a plateau. It could spell trouble, flatter areas usually meant human territory. If Erik somehow found himself anywhere near a human compound, he might not be able to restrain himself from crushing all its precious metal marker poles and magnetic fields into a pulp. He’ll head down to the stream and follow it up the flow next, knowing it would lead him to higher grounds with better vantage. 

But right now, he’s sweating with the effort of carrying all his normal load, as well as a 50 kg beast, on two unsteady legs. He finally decides on a decent spot to set down his gear, dropping it all heavily and gasping for breath from the exertion. He’s winded, and he smells like the boar’s blood, metallic and thick. He would love nothing more than to collapse onto the forest bed and sleep endlessly, but he’s going to attract a lot of unwanted animal attention if he stays as he is any longer. Not to mention the large kill needs to be cooked immediately before it can begin to turn. It might be cold outside, but keeping this body raw for any longer is pushing it. 

So he begrudgingly sets up the camp, setting up his tent and starting a fire. He takes out two sturdy branches from his kit, setting up a spit to roast the massive animal. He makes the fire burn low, letting the smoke cook it slowly so that he can cut it up and stretch it out for a few months. Cooking it this way is effective at keeping the meat from turning hard, but it takes a lot of time. It’s going to tie Erik down to this place for a few days. But then again, he can’t keep lugging it around either. So he leaves the boar like that, cooking over the fire as he locates the stream. 

Before he leaves though, he expertly sets up his intruder system. It was something Old man Teddy helped him come up with. He was good at that, helping Erik discover clever ways to use his powers that didn’t involve killing and mutilating. He picks out the twenty or so small spheres he keeps with him and buries them under the dirt in a perimeter surrounding the camp. 

He can sense the small spheres, and using his power he amplifies their magnetic field. This allows him to compare the spheres’ specific field strength to the Earth’s, and detect any disturbances. He never thought he would apply these words in any real application outside of controlled lab settings. He has Teddy to thank for that...mad old man. 

He signs, shaking off the complicated feelings he has regarding his mentor and their last moments together. He sets his alert system up, and heads out for the stream. He takes with him a waterskin to refill, and some fabrics to wash. He plans to make as much use of this stream as he can. Especially since he doesn’t want to have to make several trips to the freezing water.

He’s gone for longer than he anticipated, the stream was further out than he had calculated from his quick scan and his camp position. He wasted an entire day by the stream, having only started heading back when the moon was past its zenith. He’s even more worn out, having not rested all day, or the previous. He can't wait to collapse into his makeshift den and burrow in his bedding. But of course, it was stupid of him to think he can just rest after a hard day’s work. 

Approaching the camp, he knows immediately something is wrong. The magnetic field has shifted. He can sense it from halfway out from the stream, and it immediately draws his guard. There’s a disturbance, a significant one. Much larger than a rodent or small predator. He starts running, shifting his feet to avoid making too much noise as he makes his way up. 

Once he’s a few paces out, he starts circling the camp, detecting a barrage of scents that have trampled completely over his. He’s fucking pissed. Whatever decided to mess with his frayed and exhausted nerves is gonna wish they fucking starved and froze to death instead, because his kill has very clearly, and generously, been consumed. 

He can smell five mutants, or at least he hopes they’re mutants. Because that would mean they had a slim chance of survival at least. The scents are all weak except for one. A pack omega…without a pack alpha? It’s not the strangest thing in the world, but there's usually more mutants in a pack like that than five betas. 

Once he gets even closer, closing in on the interlopers in increasingly smaller circles, he starts to smell the pack omega more clearly. The omega is young. Their scent is deep and earthy, cashmere and bergamot. And something more peculiar. If he wasn’t familiar, he wouldn’t be able to place it. Paper, from dusty books. Exactly like the ones in old man Teddy’s hut. 

It’s shocking; not only the unique scent, but a pack like this. They’re basically sitting on a plate that spells ‘easy kill’ all over it. Vulnerable in every way, until he smells the alpha. A pup alpha, having their first rut. He’s not sure why he didn’t pick up the alpha first, considering how repulsive their scent is.

The scent is revolting to Erik, and he feels sick from it. It burns his nose and throat, making him cough. This only angers him more. A baby pack omega, with a presenting alpha, has presumed to make a fool of him by shitting all over his obviously claimed camp. Eating all his food, and deliberately ignoring the obvious ‘stay away’ signs he’s set up. His scent, as well as his unpredictable and strange choice to be a lone wolf, is usually enough to ward off any curious entities. They’re very arrogant to think they can take him on. 

He’s growling low, feeling it vibrate in his chest. Sometime after hitting sixteen, he began developing a very deep and reverberating growl. It makes his entire body sing with the frequency, so he tends to avoid doing it unless necessary since it can carry farther than might be necessary. In this case, when challenged so boldly, he would love to have the trespassers to hear him before they see him. 

He can feel his lips pull up, tensing his jaw and clenching his teeth as he crouches into a pre-strike position. He uses his powers to stealthily bring a small pouch his way, floating it out of the satchel that he set beside the tent, and into his hand. He opens it, letting two small powder packed thin spheres floating in circles in his palm. 

Now that he’s completely circled the camp, he knows the exact positions of these scattered children. The pack omega is dozing off on a low branch, poorly concealed, while two of the pups take perimeter positions. They’re obviously attempting to guard the massive blue beta,  and the offending alpha currently resting peacefully in his den. 

He chooses to strike from behind the pack omega. The unseen direction would create an effective surprise. He takes a deep breath, honing in his senses at the intended target. Spinning the spheres faster and faster, he creates the necessary momentum to send them flying straight into the fire. The force of the contact, as well as the packed gunpowder, creates a momentary but massive explosion. That should be enough warning. 

He uses the distraction that the fire caused to make his way into the middle of the camp, standing on the other side of the fire where he knows he’ll be facing the open flaps of his den. He allows his growl to continue weaving through the air and soaking into the earth. Once the fire has died down into nothing but ember, he stalks his way across it, crushing out the last of the flying embers under his boot. 

The pack omega is huddled in front of the children and pleading with him, useless words of consolation. He can smell the intense fear and anxiety pouring off the omega, souring his scent into that of burning papers. Erik is registering the scent, but his focus is mostly on the blue alpha girl currently sizing him up with her eyes and growling pathetically. 

She’s challenging him, the poor thing. He’ll rip her limb from limb, having abandoned any notion of peace and pacifism about his fellow mutants many years ago. But as he approaches to do so, noting that the massive blue beast behind the pack omega is nothing but a beta. But before he can cross more distance, the other two pups he momentarily forgot about fly into the omega’s arms. He watches as the omega cradles them all, petting them aggressively and scenting them with feverish relief. When the omega looks back at him, his big blue eyes are round and wet with fear. 

The arrival of the other pups has broken Erik’s attention on the alpha long enough for him to have his eyes catch the pack omega’s. It stops Erik in his tracks, the look in this omega’s eyes. He’s afraid, but not off Erik himself, but Erik hurting the pups. He can tell by the way that he clutches the pup omega in his arms, fiercely protective. The fiery look he gives Erik, even as his impossibly bright blue eyes shake with fear, is unwavering. It’s impressive, the way in which this omega is holding his ground against Erik.  

It makes him wonder what this little pack has been through, to have them all look at Erik like he’s going to strip them of their skin and roast them like the hog. He’s sure this fear is warranted. Two young and healthy omegas in one pack, he’s sure they had their fair share of trouble. It’s not entirely untrue, but it's the omega that makes him hesitate. His scent is burning stronger and deeper. It’s very sharp, making his nose twitch. But underneath the distracting spice, there’s something he can’t ascertain, something sweet. 

He’s perplexed by it, thrown off by his own sudden interest. He’s trying to make sense of why this omega has made him forget all the transgressions he’s made against him in favor of discerning that sweetness in his scent. He’s not one to succumb to inane biological impulses like other alphas. That kind of instinct was beaten out of him many years ago. He was about to stand down, honest to god not interested in such an outrageously unfair fight. He’s not a bully, four pups and an omega are probably extremely desperate. He can let it go. But then the pup alpha had to open her mouth. 

The growl is ridiculous, completely juvenile as she stumbles through her first real growls now that her vocal chords are matured. Erik is amused by this attempt at dominance when he’s so obviously the stronger alpha. But his amusement is short lived, this pup is challenging him while sitting on his furs after eating all his food and stinking up his camp. Pup or not, this girl has no concept of the natural laws of power. He might be willing to let the omega and other pups off, but despite what the omega wants, this alpha is the one who’ll pay. 

He’s just about heard enough, taking the girl down with laughable ease when she lunges at him. He has his hand out, ready to keep her down. But before he can pin her, both him and the rude child are frozen midway. Literally frozen. If it weren’t for the warning ‘STOP!’ from the omega, he might’ve thought he was physically attacked from behind. But the omega is panting, looking at him with worried teary eyes. What kind of mutation is this? 

Regardless, it seems he’s been captured by this omega. 

Notes:

Thank you to those who stuck around! Next chapter won't take another year lmao. Also you can come yell at me @doppimin on tumblr, also to get updates so I don't leave you in the dust again.