Altar of Twilight my own lived mythology

He was direct and to the point, which was good.

But he also spoke on wishing to join their fold due to familial issues. That was neither bad nor good at this point in time—it was something to be explored, certainly. We have common ground then, it seems—we, too, have an issue with your family. Hydra's eyes remained upon the russet wolf, her eyes observant and seeking any change in his demeanor. Though, not the whole of them. We three seek only one, her eyes flashed at the words. It was very fortunate he was not that wolf. Drogon escorting him was the only thing that kept him safe for the moment. Had he been alone, the scent would have been enough for Hydra to attempt to be rid of him. He might be a spy, after all. Drogon had informed her of their ways, after all.

They were his family, at the end of the day—he called them that. And so she wondered why he had truly come. Are you here to speak on their behalf? He was leaving, he had said. Not on good terms with them. Hydra did not dream that he might think to join Moonspear, but that he might be here to plead the case of the scarred boy, the boy who lived at present... but who would certainly die. Already it was perfectly clear that Hydra was disinterested in having such a conversation, but to hear it from him would direct her feelings on the man before her, at least.