Týrr drew in a deep breath, the chilling air filling his lungs and pushing back out in a furl of white steam that left parted lips as the muscles in the junction between his shoulders tensed, his shoulders hunched to keep warm as the wind drifted like icy cool fingers through the wind swept and wild chocolate brown guard hairs there. The familiar territory of the Glacier was stretched out before him, calling to him like the song of a siren hidden deep in it's depths. Crystalline blue eyes stared longingly at the lands behind the urine markers that kept him out. His heart yearned for it but his mind was a steel cage of trepidation. He had sworn loyalty to Tuwawi and though it was hardly anything personal against Malachi it was only Tuwawi that the Rekkr wished to follow. This Glacier had been her dream, her promise to her young children and to her mate and Týrr, though he had given it an honest try, he could not conform himself to follow anyone else but the ember.

Besides, Týrr had a hard time accepting a fellow male as a leader, though now, thanks to Manauia he understood why he was that way. It was thousands of years of culture bred into him as an Amazon. The Lost Prince; the title made a mirthless smirk tug at the edges of the Rekkr's lips. Despite that he knew now what was truth and what was lies there was no ease to remembering. There were memories, certainly, though they were nothing but faint wisps; mere echoes of what they should have been. There was hardly any substance to them which provided Týrr with the always present question of was it real or a dream? For better or worse Týrr had came to the conclusion that he would forever be Týrr Nýeldur: the lost Amazon prince and the heathen rekkr. He was of both worlds now, knowing only what the Northman had filled his mind with, with ghosts of whom he had been before: Tezcacoatl.

Silently, the Rekkr stood at their borders, near but so very far away. Yearning, and unsure. Was what he wanted the same thing as what he needed; and how would he tell the difference? If Tuwawi was not in charge of her pack then was there a point to even attempting to appeal to Malachi for a second time; especially after he had left the first time. It was only one branch of the root that harbored all of Týrr's problems.

Týrr did not enjoy lingering on the edge of uncertainty; always having been so determined and set on his path even when he had known nothing but the lies and savagery the Northman had fed him until Týrr was the only identity he knew having suffered from amnesia. Amnesia that though allowed those wisps of memories to haunt him never quite in reach as if it were a delicate treat that was hanging in front of him. Very nearly could he taste it but he could never reach it. There was nothing to be done about it now. He knew the truth though if he would ever regain the memories that had been stolen from him was largely unknown. There was little sense in lingering in despair from what he might never regain — there was only the path before him, nothing but shadowy darkness behind him. Facing forward, persevering it was all he could do now.

Eyes of crystalline blue caught the movement from within the borders of Duskfire Glacier, something like protectiveness rising to a swell within his chest though he dampered it down hastily. He had no home. No pack. His loyalties might have belonged wholly to Tuwawi he could tell that it was not her that led though...the ember that had founded the Glacier's scent was present on the borders. This lifted his hope a little, if only just. Earthen tones of fur took the shape of Manauia, familiar to the Rekkr as the Amazon woman drew nearer to him. She did not greet him with formalities, though the Rekkr expected little given that he was not sure where they stood; instead offering him a simple statement made obvious by his presence before her; though wrong.

That depends, Týrr spoke to his guardswoman, inhaling the scents of the pack again with a slight lift of his lip in distaste that Tuwawi's scent was not as prominent as leader as he believed it should have been. I pledged my loyalties to the Sveijarn family, to Tuwawi not some green boy who thinks he is a King simply because Tuwawi left temporarily. Though such a statement was unfair to Malachi, Týrr knew, especially because they were of a similar age. Still, Týrr felt no remorse for his words. Basically, he told her that he would follow Tuwawi or no one. Even if he was convinced to join the Glacier, there was a great chance of insubordination form him towards anyone but Tuwawi which would cause them more grief than any good he could offer them.

Týrr's ears cupped forth to listen to Manauia as she agreed with him, though the Rekkr expected no less of his Guardswoman. It was very likely that she would say a similar thing about any male that led her, perhaps even Tezcacoatl Týrr himself. I have tried to give him a chance Admittedly, it was a small chance and therefore not much of a chance at all, but Týrr did not like to be led by other males, had always been uncomfortable with it even hidden in the webs of lies as he'd been. When Manauia spoke of Tuwawi as she had, however, a soft growl of warning left the Lost Amazon Prince's lips. Do not speak of Tuwawi as such, Enamored with the ember of the Glacier as he was, though his admiration of her had been true even before his little crush had begun. Týrr held himself high before her, staring her down fearlessly, though if it was his Amazon half or the Viking half of him that lent him that fearlessness.

Manauia was older than him, likely more experienced, though if anything good had come from his time with the Northmen Ragnar had been sure to teach him how to fight though the Rekkr had no intentions of battling with his Guardswoman. He expected her to know her place in his presence. He felt a ghost of what was once great respect for her and it warned him now to remain calm, to remember that he still respected her, and though Týrr heeded this wisp of a memory the junction between his shoulders was tense and tight. Has anyone bothered to ask Tuwawi what she wants? Perhaps, he considered, she did not want what was hers, it was not an assumption he could make for her, but then again he didn't know. He hadn't asked, though he suspected neither had they. Would the pretend King even be willing to step down for her? The Rekkr inquired, focusing his crystalline gaze upon his fire kissed Guardswoman.

Things seemed to momentarily(?) calm down as Manauia switched gears, asking him what he wanted to do. I helped to find this Glacier, this is my home, Though Týrr was aware she would likely disagree with him on that. I want to return to it, but I refuse anyone else's rule but Tuwawi's, Dangerously, the idea of usurping came bursting behind his eyes like an exploding star. Or my own. Though Týrr would never dream of stepping on Tuwawi's toes to get there. If she wished for her throne back he would help her and if she didn't then he would attempt to take things into his own paws. Even if he failed he could branch off and attempt to find his own pack. He would find a new Coatl's Rise if he could not (what he believed to be) restore the Sveijarn's rule and ideas in the Glacier.

Týrr did not fail to notice as Manauia's face hardened in response to his warning, though it was not meant to disrespect his Guardwoman. It had been borne of his admiration and his infatuation for Tuwawi, despite that he recognized that she belonged to Njal and he, her. Still, her mateship to the pallid man did not mean that Týrr could not appreciate her though he recognized the boundary. Týrr had a hard time imagining in any world that Tuwawi would not wish to rule her own pack, a pack she had founded for the her children, carving a future and a home for them but he did not wish to start an argument with the Huntress. All an argument would bring with it would undeniably be a great redundancy. Their views were different, and though Týrr would make no assumptions for Tuwawi he could not help but wonder.

Týrr was silent when Manauia went on to claim that Malachi was a weak King, which sparked a question of his own, Then why have you not taken it from him? Týrr might have known Manauia well at some point or other in his life but if he did he no longer remembered it; but he did know that following a male's rule made her just as uncomfortable as it made Týrr himself, if not more. Was Manauia contended with her role as Huntress? As Guardswoman to a lost and amnesiac Prince? Or did she, like him, yearn for more? Týrr could not say and was unable to read her well enough to determine one way or another. The Glacier should be led by, if not Tuwawi herself, than someone who knows the Sveijarns and who would do it justice. Who knows why and for what the pack was founded for. There was a legitimate fear within him that anyone else would screw it up and make the Glacier of their own design when as far as Týrr cared: it was not their right.

If Tuwawi will not take back her throne, Týrr turned his crystalline gaze to the claimed lands of the Glacier, eyes softening with affection for the idea of it before they hardened. Then I will. Or, rather, he would try too, but first he needed to get inside the Glacier, to assess and plan. There was little sense in fighting the destiny he was born to, he realized now. The royalty in him, in his blood was too strong and fighting it was like trying to keep his head above the surface in the middle of a hurricane. Useless, especially with the knowledge that eventually he would drown. I would speak with Tuwawi first, and of course rejoin the ranks, if the Glacier will accept me to ...assess. He was not so careless nor ignorant to just bulldoze his way through. This would take time and knowledge.

In some semblance of a manner Týrr regretted his question almost as soon as Manauia's lips parted to speak her answer. It seemed logical enough, now that she had explained it to him, but at the same time felt like it had been obvious before. It was her talk of him returning to Quetzalcoatl that made the Rekkr fidget. The only sign that he gave to the fact that the idea of returning, without much of anything as far as memories went, to a mother that he could not even remember. Absolutely not. It was off the table — not even an option. He would not be that source of disappointment, a constant reminder of the son that had been stolen from her and returned in less than perfect condition. I can never return, Týrr whispered to her. I will never remember and I will not be the source of her disappointment and sorrow. He cared for Quetzalcoatl, loved her even for she was the woman that had bore and born him. He might not have remembered her but the love of a son for a mother could not easily be stolen or taken. Even so, Týrr was not so ignorant as to think that it would be enough. My place, my home is here. Duskfire Glacier. Teekon Wilds. I'm not commanding you to stay, you know. He was not sure what would happen to her if she returned without him but he wasn't forcing her to stay with him, or for him.

Týrr didn't need to be babysat and basically that was her job. To keep him safe, but he'd eluded them, tired of an entourage and ...something had happened. He didn't remember, of course, but he assumed it had something to do with the word Tartok and how it played into roughly put together timeline via his echoes of memories. Manauia stated that she would stay too then, and that she must aid him. This aggravated the Rekker some, but he shrugged it off. He would not turn away her help so readily if she was offering it. Who are you to me, Manauia? Týrr asked suddenly, wanting to know what they were ...before. Were we...friends? Lovers? Or has our interactions always been business? He didn't know but he was curious and he figured that his curiosity might work to sate her irritation at having to choose to stay in the Wilds with him. It was interesting that she was not willing to leave him despite the chances and opportunities she had been given, that he had given her. For Týrr it did not seem like such a far fall to want to know why.

Seeing the Amazon smile, something that though Týrr had nothing to compare it too, felt was rather genuine. He got the feeling from the few meetings he'd had with Manauia that smiling was not something she did often — though he was not one to talk. Týrr could clearly remember the last time he'd smiled: when he was teaching Jökull to fight many months ago. Those memories felt like little more than a lifetime ago. Over the course of the past several months Týrr had done a lot of growing up, physically reaching his full stature and build as he hit his sexual maturity — the true passage into adulthood. He was ready for his destiny, as vastly unknown as it was. All Týrr knew was that he would carve his own path, that he would not follow in the footsteps of anyone else. He was the son of no one, he was no one's legacy but his own. Even if she told you too? He was not sure how his command was any different than Quetzalcoatl's own, especially given that he assumed he had authority over the Huntress at the Reigning Queen's, of whom was not here, word.

The only conclusion that the Rekkr could come to as to why Manauia refused to acknowledge his rank in retrospect to hers was because he was a male, which brought about the internal question of: if he was a female would she have listened to him? Would she accept him as her superior?

Alas, Týrr was not a female — and quite glad for it even it meant that she would continue to operate out of the hierarchy, established as it was.

Týrr did not capitalize on the fact that considering he'd gotten captured and injured by the Northmen of Odinn's Cove that she and her “sisters” had failed on their job and wondered if perhaps that was not a reason as to why she had not returned to Coatl's Rise. I see, The Rekkr mused quietly, inhaling deeply and exhaling, and settled for silence, curious as to if she would let their conversation drop or pick it up by diverting it to something else. Either way, it did not bother Týrr.