100 proof bonding

Alastor's philosophical question lingered in the air, prompting Caedes to consider the precarious position of his family's strength. He took a deliberate sip of whiskey, his grip tightening momentarily around the bottle, muscles rippling beneath his fur as he settled into the moment. “The Saxes are strong, but strength alone does not guarantee stability,” Caedes admitted, his voice measured. “Our way of life has kept us alive, but it has also made us enemies. The Syndicate’s opposition is fierce, and I do not underestimate the challenges we face.” He paused, contemplating the implications of Alastor's inquiry. “I see the obstacles clearly,” Caedes continued, his tone contemplative. “I am not so sure my kin do. But we are many, and when one falls, three more rise in their place. It is how, even as volatile and bloodthirsty as we are, we plague the lands we step into.” With that, he took another swig, feeling the whiskey burn its way down.

As Alastor spoke of his own experiences and the similarities to Caedes' relationship with Mariah, Caedes couldn’t help but feel a sense of kinship. The older wolf's empathy and understanding resonated deeply, a moment of connection. When Alastor posed the hypothetical challenge involving his family, Caedes’ expression hardened. The question cut to the core of his loyalty and identity. ’Even if that challenge is your own family? … Would your family, with your beliefs of power, control, and dominance, do the same for her?’ Alastor asked, his gaze unwavering. There it was. The big questions.

Caedes took another slow, deliberate sip of whiskey, the firelight casting flickering shadows on his scarred features. The alcohol loosened his tongue, allowing the words to fall more easily. But his eyes were hard, calculative. Maybe he should slow down… but it felt so good to relax. “Yes, even my own family. I cannot… betray them, but I will not see them harm her.” He answered firmly.

The question hung in the air, and Caedes' mind raced through the implications. He knew the answer in his heart, but articulating it was another matter. “They would not welcome her.” He admitted, his voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and determination. “The Saxes would see her as a weakness, a liability. They would not understand what she means to me.”

Alastor's next questions cut even deeper, probing the very essence of Caedes’ loyalty. ‘If Sephiran ordered you to use your access to our family to spy for him, would you do so? If Sephiran forbade your relationship with Mariah and told you to kill her, would you refuse, even if it meant having to kill your own alpha?’ Caedes’ emerald eyes locked onto Alastor’s, his gaze unwavering. “He believes that spying is the only reason I would have interest in an enemy as he calls you all of Elysium. I did not correct him.” He said, his voice steady but laced with underlying intensity. “And if it came to that, I would choose to protect Mariah. Even if it meant standing against my own blood. Even if I died.” Though his answer was not the same as leaving the Syndicate and joining her here, it was the truth. The admission hung heavily in the air, the weight of his words underscoring the gravity of his commitment.

Listening to Alastor’s story, the weight of the older wolf’s words settled heavily in the cool night air. A brutal existence. Marks of love. Violence. Control. Caedes took a deep breath, the whiskey in his hand providing a momentary comfort. He looked at Alastor, deciding to share a part of his past that few outside his family knew.

“I..” Caedes began, his voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of emotion. “I was born a runt, not good enough for my mother. She sent me to live with my father, a healer. He was not just a healer, though; he was once my mother’s slave. A broken man who saw things that weren’t there, heard voices no one else could hear, always scared. A shell of a man, really. But kind. I suppose that is where he and I differ.” He paused, taking another sip of whiskey, letting the burn fortify him. “I was a few months old when my father suffered a complete mental break. We were out gathering herbs, something we did often. But that day, something snapped. The fear that had always been in his eyes turned to madness.” Caedes’ grip on the bottle tightened, the memories vivid and painful. “He attacked me, took his knife and carved me up over hours.”

He looked out at the ocean, the rhythmic crashing of the waves a counterpoint to the turmoil inside him. “He is still there. Back where all Saxes come from. Confined to a cave and chains. His mind is completely gone. My grandmother asked me to forgive him, saying he was always broken. He deserved to be loved, not blamed.” Caedes’ voice grew quieter, the weight of his words heavy in the cool night air. “These scars made me a replacement in his broken mind. I guess I am an exact physical copy of my grandfather, name and all. It was me that broke him. Maybe he could have run from his madness for years to come, had it not been for me.” He turned back to Alastor, his emerald eyes steady but haunted. Caedes raised the bottle in a silent toast to Alastor, a gesture of shared understanding. “To the scars that shape us,” He said, his voice a low rumble. A laugh echoing out of his chest, devoid of emotion yet somehow bitter. “And to finding a way to live beyond them.”