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Snowflakes spiraled across the busy courtyard of the Nuremberg residence, twisting and turning in fierce determination to block a young boy’s view of the main gate as they collided with the window pane. The winds of winter had always been particularly harsh this time of year. ‘The Duke’s Amity’, as the working hands around the yard used to call it when the high altitude turned that which usually would be bearable snowfall in the townships below into an excuse to stay cooped up inside, warmed by firewood and tea at the Dutchess’ orders.
Such tradition persisted after Duke Albrecht’s time had passed, with the new Dutchess ordering everyone comfortable and fed awaiting Christmas Eve.
A pink haired boy stood on the very tips of his toes, impatiently awaiting his present to arrive. You see, Michael von Nuremberg was not an ordinary boy and, therefore, this gift of his would not arrive early morning with the rest underneath the giant Christmas tree in the main hall. No, of course not. Because Michael was two and ten now, and this — for boys in his family — meant that he would meet his best friend.
“Michael, I’m hungry,” his moody little sister complained, yanking at his shirt. They’d been perched up on the window since the dawn broke, the grumbling in his belly making it near impossible to disagree with her.
Only near impossible, however.
“Then go find mother,” said the boy. He’d tried to reach for her dark hair, perhaps ruffle it a little like he’d seen Uncle Jeremy do with his own siblings on a few occasions but as young as his sister was, it seemed as though she, too, had seen this move and predicted what it meant. Dodging his hand and nearly tumbling over backwards in an attempt to save her hair from brotherly attack, Leah caught herself on the edge of the table, “suit yourself.”
And then there was one. Michael, again, ignored the incessant grumbling of his own stomach as he waited to see his papa, on his impressive stallion and tailed by two grown direwolves, show up to the main gate. His papa had gotten his on Christmas morning when he was the same age as Michael was then; a growing boy who needed companionship and found it in two companions with unquestionable loyalty. He’d heard many stories of them — a hound as dark as the night sky with dazzling blue eyes, Caelo, and a white one, Luna, with blood red eyes.
Naturally, he was more than a little excited to meet his own companion.
“Well, aren’t you an early bird?” His head whips around to meet his mother’s fond gaze; it fell upon him like the warmest of hugs. “Leah says you’ve been up all morning without a bite to eat.”
“Leah should learn not to tattle,” he crosses his arms like a petulant child, “papa said he’d be here early morning.”
Shuri shook her head, stepping closer towards her impatient eldest boy. “It is still early morning, and your father will be here soon, my love,” she promised, raking her fingers through his soft hair, “have you thought of a name yet?”
“Ghost,” he responds immediately, excitement shining in his eyes, “Papa said that this is Luna’s pup. So it’ll look like Luna, won’t it, mom?”
“Maybe.”
“—maybe? But she’s his mama! I look like you, don’t I? Papa said as much,” Shuri watched as her firstborn climbed a chair and straightened out his posture, the way he’d always do when he was just about to imitate his father, “—and, if God wills it, he’ll have her temper too!”
Shuri’s laughter echoed through the room as she witnessed his impression; hand on his chest, very official looking, voice trying to sound as deep as his father’s when he sneaks into the council meetings behind his back. Evidently, he’d been sneaking around much more often than they’d realized if he overheard that particular conversation that his parents shared in his father’s office. Michael had snuck into a council meeting and, once permitted to stay, gave one of the members a rather disrespectful glare and sharp words for disagreeing with his father. The moods of a child, of course, were not to be taken seriously for he knew little difference between disagreement and a slight against his favorite person in the world but, still, many would deem this unbecoming of the new head of the Nurembeg family. No one commented on it but the way Nora hoped for their son to get in less trouble oftentimes reminded her of his father; the almost instant pout that dawned on his face did not make the statement any less true. ‘That would be something, no?’ She recalled saying, her gaze fixed on the documents her husband had brought back from the previous council meeting, “let him have the temper of the woman who’s been through three trials before she was one and twenty.” Nora still allowed him to sit in for the meetings all the same, for no one dared telling the Duke of Nuremberg to banish his own son from the chambers and he never would.
Nora, however, hoped that bonding with a new companion may have a positive impact on the boy. It was one of the few traditions that had helped him at that age.
Michael accepted his mother’s open arms to help him down off the chair. “You have my hair, yes,” she starts, walking them both towards the mirror on the wall with Michael in her embrace, “but your eyes?”
“Papa’s! And Leah has Papa’s hair and your eyes,” he added, then grimaced once more with a deeper voice, “and just the right attitude.”
Shuri grins at their reflections, “your father, again?”
“Uncle Jeremy,” says the boy, “Leah never wants to hug Uncle Elias at first because he startled her once. It makes him laugh.”
She made a mental note to bring an extra large fan with her next time she visits the Neuschwanstein estate, in case her poor arm flailed and needed to hit something hard and blond.
“—so my wolf might not look like I thought, then Ghost makes no sense! I’ll have to think of new names!”
A light chuckle ran past her lips, “you may do so over breakfast.”
“But—”
“Michael,” she tuts with an edge to her voice that implied there was going to be outsmarted once more, “do you really want to meet your wolf on an empty stomach? You might tire quick…” She did not need to finish that thought. Michael knew what she meant; he’d be too tired to play all day if he continued on like this without having his breakfast.
“I’ll eat a whole lot and when he’s here we can play till it’s dark out!” He exclaimed in fierce determination and, before she knew it, he was out of her arms and speeding down the hall.
A few beats on the clock and a full belly later, the young Nurembergs and company heard the horses approaching outside. Before the front door even clicked open, Michael was on his feet, stumbling towards it with fire in his veins. It was time. His wolf was here, after all. He pulled on his boots, one after the other, and then his winter coat. “Careful, young master,” the maid said in amusement and pulled the door open, bowing in greeting to his father.
Nora’s nose and cheeks were flushed red as he huffed out a stuttering breath. The weather had certainly not treated him kindly on the way and, his son would neither it seemed, as he looked him over and immediately ran past him. Shuri approached soon after. If the grin on her face was anything to go by, she found the way his mouth hung open with a greeting for his son that he hadn’t had the chance to deliver was more than hilarious. “Old news already, are you?”
He shook his head in disbelief, “as if I am transparent.”
Shuri gave the maid a nod that she may return to her duties elsewhere and, with her away, occupied a place closer to her husband. Her hands raked through the fur of his coat, shaking off the snow that had begun melting there now that he was in the warm. Leah, having heard the commotion, sped outside of her reading class and towards her father, jumping up and down until he picked her up. “You’ll take care of your papa when he’s old and frail, won’t you?”
“Aunt Rachel said to answer that question with a smile and look at Michael,” said Leah.
Shuri made a mental note to bring this particular gem up to Rachel on their next visit to Safavid.
“Is Michael really getting a wolf?” She asked curiously. There was no notable complaint in her tone but a parent knows.
“Yes, they are right outside,” Nora confirmed, sneaking a quick glance towards his wife, “all three of them.”
Screeching at the top of her lungs, Leah wrangled herself out of her father’s embrace and made a run towards the door. She instantly stopped when the cold reached her feet, ran back towards her mother to take the winter coat and boots that Shuri had reached for the moment she caught Nora’s meaning, and resumed her adventure.
Shuri, in the intimacy of their own home, snuck her arms around Nora’s waist and allowed her head to rest against his chest. From the frame of the door, they caught a look at their children ecstatically playing catch with their direwolves. Michael’s was a bit larger than Leah’s, its fur grey and eyes shining like two red gemstones while Leah’s was dark as night with eyes so blue that the little pup may as well be her spitting image. They stumbled over themselves, and gave chase once more. Unlike Michael and Leah at this point, the young pups were not so heavy to be slowed by their paws falling through the snow, and had a much easier time catching up to the two. “What of waiting until she was old enough?” Shuri wondered, somewhat smug.
“She didn’t have a home,” said her husband, pulling her closer against his side, “and imagine the horror for the poor pup if they fought over him.”
Her body shook against his as she laughed, “oh, I recall the toys very well. The poor maids were finding parts around the mansion until the change of seasons.”
“Papa, look!” Michael called for him, pointing at where the two wolves were play fighting.
“Is there something you want to tell your father?” Shuri brought up, with a certain tone that made Michael think that he had, indeed, forgotten something. Scratching his head, his grimace denoted that he was very deep in thought. Amused, Shuri’s hand pointed towards Nora in a way where he would not see it. Michael’s eyes lit up and he sped towards his father, startling the two pups out of their game and his sister as well. Nora found himself surrounded and helpless to the avalanche of thank yous and embraces as he knelt down to meet them.
A few years back, Shuri would not have been able to imagine a future of this kind. Her children, both of them, were happy and healthy in the arms of the man she loved; she had everything she once had not dared to dream of, and chastised herself as too greedy and selfish when she’d wake up from a particularly pleasant dream. The warmth she felt, back then, felt like sand slipping through her fingers but she was no longer in those times nor that uncertain girl. The years have shown that.
And, thus, the Nuremberg household added two more wolves to its pack — for the time being, Shuri thinks, with a hand over her belly.