Ankyra Sound 별빛달빛

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Kjalarr could not say if he felt relief or a pang of sorrow as she listened to him and found her courage. Perhaps both. It was not that he enjoyed seeing other subservient to him (he was not a tyrant after all) but these sands had once belonged to him and that possession was not an easy thing to shake even though he knew it very much to be true. The ghost of his crown bore a phantom weight upon his skull but he had abandoned it to the waves when Saltwinter had fallen. For as long as Kjalarr could remember all he had ever wanted was power: to shove himself into a position of leadership to prove that he was his father's son. Those moments appeared when he least expected them, though, not when he willed them and he had ascended to leadership when he had earned it not just because he demanded it. Still, the desire to do better than Ragnar was strong within him. So far, he wasn't succeeding and Kjalarr knew it.

He wondered for a moment why she did not verbally respond to him but understanding came a few moments later when she gave a soundless bark, and nodded vehemently at his rhetorical question: that he could rewrite what the Norns had already decided for him. He came to the conclusion that she was mute. He did not pity her for it, instead choosing to recognize it as something that made her unique: as his monochromacy made him. A terse frown pulled at Kjalarr's lips as he doubted her response. “To what consequence? I think of myself but not of those whose lives are tied into my story.” No, perhaps it was better not to battle against a force Kjalarr knew he could not win. It was a romantic notion — defy the Norns and win — and perhaps he would win but who would suffer for his victory? Maude? Ondine? Floki? His unborn babes? The Frostfurs? He offered her a tense, apologetic smile, not having meant to let loose the turmoil of his thoughts upon her when they were naught but strangers to one another.

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