Blackfeather Woods You were both born to be kings

Words were said, opinions and facts alike having filled the air around them all. No matter what was, or was to be, said, Kove would remain on the side of his late queen's son. However, his head had turned, gaze regarding the other male spiderling as he'd started to speak. He had always seemed to be the more docile member of their family, and yet, he'd stepped up in that moment to ensure his voice was heard. He'd spoken with a stern tone, first to his sister and then, seemingly, to the entirety of the group. The children would not be taken away from Malice, nor would they be harmed. Safety was to be granted to them, or so the younger had said, but the Inuit soon found his gaze drifting back to Damien. Cicero was a child of Meldresi just as Damien and Potema were, but the northerner could not view him as his leader. As an individual, he was loyal to the three of them equally, but as a member of the pack he could see only the eldest as being the heir to the throne. It was how his mind functioned, nothing more nor less, and his thoughts were unlikely to change.

Slowly, his attention drifted towards Burke, for his time to speak had arrived. He'd spoken of the tenets, justifying his actions and claiming to have not broken any of them, but the accusation had already been made. If they were truly open for the interpretation of others, then it was not the man's place to declare whether or not he was in the right, for of course he'd be able to see himself as having done no harm. Kove, on the other hand, saw things differently. No matter what was said, he believed, still, that one of the sacred tenets—in the very least—had been broken. It'd been broken not by a new recruit, either, but by a man that had been with the Brotherhood for quite some time already. A man that had, by default, been titled as the leader of the Brotherhood. Burke was meant to set an example for the rest of them, but as far as the Inuit was concerned, he had failed in doing so. Feelings of betrayal had since nestled themselves deeply into the inner workings of the pallid being, and were reluctant to leave no matter how many more words were said. There existed no justifications for the man's actions, there existed no sympathy for him, and Kove would not bow down and pretend to think otherwise.

When he had been addressed, he'd listened closely. Never before had the Inuit claimed perfection, and never would he. He had been raised better than to think so, he understood that he was fully capable of making mistakes, and that was okay. Yet, even still, Burke's mistakes could not be accepted. His poor judgement had resulted in Cicero's terrible health. His poor judgement had resulted in some fiend being granted access into their home. His fellow northerner had made a mistake and, because of that, would not receive Kove's support on any matters. "My mistakes never resulted in any members of my pack starving," he'd stated, the sentence blunt. "Neither in the present nor the past have my mistakes resulted in someone nearing death, but the same cannot be said for you." He remembered, vaguely, his past meeting with Sebastian. The words shared that day, the look into the great leader's past, floated through his mind every once in awhile, such as what was currently happening. Burke had chosen for himself before. He'd acted selfishly, and things had not turned out well at all. "In the past, you chose for yourself. Do you remember? Do you remember all the damage that you had caused to the pack you were supposed to protect? I am sure your other son does. Do you plan to do the same thing here—to us? I cannot speak for the others, but I know that I do not want to be left in the same state as your previous pack." He didn't want to die, nor did he want to see those that he cared about die. To allow for the man's misdoings to cause such tragedy was, of course, out of the question, and so the only logical solution was to watch Damien rise to power. It was how things should be, and how he hoped the situation might end up. It was clear that, even if Burke said otherwise, the pack now came second to the wench he'd returned with.

There, Kove fell silent. He listened to Damien, his eyes showing the support and agreement he felt towards everything said. The words were taken to heart, especially when Meldresi had been brought up. Burke had betrayed her, in the Inuit's eyes. She'd been betrayed by the man that had claimed to love her, that had acted as if he'd devoted himself to her. Perhaps it was normal to want to move on—hell, he'd done so, hadn't he?—but their cases were different. Scarlett had been a mistake, his feelings having been incorrectly read, but it was supposed to be different with those two. Meldresi had been everything to the pack: a wonderful queen, and exceptional priestess, and a caring mother. She had been strong for them, and when she'd died it had hit them all fairly hard. Yes, maybe it wasn't healthy to mourn for the rest of their lives, but to give away her space as if her presence there meant nothing? Unacceptable. Kove had been loyal to Burke only because the late queen had seen something in him. She must have trusted in him, for a position of leadership had been granted to him. Yet, no longer could he feel in that way, for her memory had been betrayed. Though he could not speak for her, and never would he even attempt to, a part of him wanted to believe that she wouldn't be pleased with all that had transpired. For as much as he had wished to do so, no comments relating to his thoughts were made, for the floor was not his and he would not steal it from the male that had received his true loyalty. He would remain silent and listen in, glancing from face to face as the outcome was worked over. No matter how it ended, though, he knew things would be different. A rift would form if Burke did not bow, or a great change would be made if he did. Either way, each of those that stood there were beholding history right as it was made, and forever may the memories of that fateful day live on within them.