Moonspear cadw addewid

paging @Hydra, @Lyra, and @Arcturus, as he knew them from before, but AW!

 

He is very much still awash in the glow of victory. Some days, he wakes and can hardly believe it. It had taken much blood to rip the crown from Ioan's undeserving head, but when the dust settled, the swarthy usurper lay dead and Llewellyn was king. Just as he had been born to be. Just as he had always been promised.

Now, he must fulfill another promise, one made with the utmost sincerity. Charon and Amekaze had been more than generous, both in letting him stay within Moonspear and taking his departure with grace. Llewellyn is a man of his word, but more than that—he wants to keep this particular promise, just as he wants to lay eyes on his old home, see how it flourishes. He comes to Moonspear with a newfound vigor, a fresh pep in his step. His gilded coat gleams in the sunlight; his sapphire gaze is wiser than before.

And with gold comes silver, a burly young man of iron. The king turns his gaze to @Cadogan, standing alongside him, with an expression almost a smile. Cadogan had more than proven himself in the war against Ioan, fighting with a skill that defied his youth. Who better to send to serve Moonspear than this able warrior?

Dyma hi, Llewellyn rumbles, nodding toward the peak that rises, a stone behemoth cloaked in evergreen, before them. Dyma'r Moonspear. And the presumptive beginning of Cadogan's new journey, as well. He will miss having the man within his ranks, but more will come. Not to take his place, for that is impossible. . .but at least to, somewhat, fill the gap left by his absence.

The regent of Mynydd raises his head, sending up a long, joyous howl for Charon and Amekaze.

I have returned. Just as I promised.

he did not recognize the howl that cut a keening song above the mountain’s bladed peaks, and already set to watch the borders like some grim gargoyle anointed to a task, arcturus set to the ridgelands below. 

whatever visitor on their doorstep was assured a cruel and rude awakening; both souls he called for had since departed, and the idea of breaking such news set arcturus’ teeth on edge as he approached. there was a pair of them; one gold, one silver — arcturus took a moment to inspect the aureate traveler, his expression one of misplaced familiarity until he called to mind the noble features of llewellyn. 

arcturus fought back a hoarse gulp, his throat dry as he stood before them. he did not wish to even speak the words that lingered at his tongue; these immutable words that he wished a thousand-fold were erroneous. they’re dead. his golden eyes fell on llewellyn almost challengingly; it was a brusque and unnecessary delivery, but arcturus had never been an eloquent wolf, and did not beat around a bush — not when its sides were so agonizingly thorny.

“Mae'n... impressive,” the inked surmised, surrendering both his mother tongue and shy smile for his war-lord in favor of clambering over the Common of this land. Mynydd sapphires of his own — of the crown’s — flicker from the gilded face of Llewelyn, to more properly fixate themselves on the eve-spire, which eternally tore into the sky’s belly.

Secretly, a bit selfishly, the knight hoped that color from the heavens’ entrails would ribbon out on the night of his coming here. ...But there wasn’t time to drift upon his futile figments, for one of Moonspear’s soon answered his king’s call; that dark face was drawn, the tongue like spearpoint as “They’re dead” lanced from between readied fangs.

The smile that’d begun to flourish on Cad’s own lips now faltered entirely, and his blue-bright gaze leapt to his lord’s; nothing in their depths, unless stricken astoundment counted for anything. In the meantime, his jaw hefted, wordlessly— Dead? His king had spoken of them with such frivolity, and the knight’d been so yearning to pledge his services— but, now?— how?—

Of all the wolves to come and greet them, Llewellyn did not necessarily expect the dark young man. He has grown so much over the past moons, from the gangly boy the king had once known to the yearling stood before him, face inscrutable. Arcturus, he murmurs in warm greeting, dipping his nose respectfully. I—

But before any sort of introductions or pleasantries are made, the sentry gives news that sends Llewellyn's stomach plummeting. Dead. It cannot be. His eyes widen, mouth suddenly dry as he tries to formulate adequate words. There are none. There never will be, for this kind of moment.

I am so sorry, he finally croaks, shaking his head. How? When? There are so many questions and none of them are appropriate; all he can do now is mourn Charon and Amekaze, and wonder what to do next. Will their successor still be willing to utilize his warrior? Llewellyn casts a slightly-awkward glance at Cadogan before returning his gaze to Arcturus, face grave.

I am forever in debt of their kindness and hospitality, the king says solemnly. He nods toward the young warrior at his side. I promised them when I left that I—if I survived my war at home—would bring a soldier to take my place here. I have returned to keep that promise. This is Cadogan; I can vouch for his skill and loyalty, and he is pleased to serve in your ranks.

He turns to the other wolf of Mynydd, then, letting the youth take the reins of the conversation. No more can be said or done on his part; Llewellyn must let Cadogan make his own case, if he is to survive and thrive here.

arcturus had seen it before -- the way bad news settles in, like poison to the stomach.

first the drop in the tension held in their faces. the gradual o formed by their mouths. the way the lines below their eyes seem to draw up and then slacken, the way their ears pull and bundle the skin underneath.

then it sinks in, like stone to water.

the o closes.

the ears fall.

then the eyes darken with unfathomable emotion.

he looked away; he could not bring himself to see llewellyn's sunny features sorrowed. his stomach tightened. his jaws clenched and expression fixed hard.

he's sorry -- but what does sorry do? it wouldn't bring them back. it wasn't llewellyn's fault, but that didn't mean arcturus wasn't going to be okay. none of this was okay - none of it. not him being here, not him telling the news, not his parents being dead.

what is he supposed to say? it's okay? it'll be alright? you and your friend are here and now everything will be okay? it won't, and he won't.

arcturus was not gifted with enough eloquence to shrug off llewellyn's condolences. even if he was, it was a loss too great to hide and pretend things would be okay. he could not say anything without it cracking the mold of his composure, so instead he looked to cadogan expectantly, surprised to find himself thinking he'd much prefer that cadogan and llewellyn be dead and his parents still breathing.

sorry for the long wait

And then those mournful gazes were set upon the young knight, who properly flushed inward with his heart leaping into his throat. Both pairs of eyes, regal, resigned, looked to be very expectant too, so... well... 

With a hasty clearing of his throat, the dark male turned his attentions to Arcturus. “I am Cadogan,” — Obviously, you dolt! — “knight of Mynydd. His Majesty told me so much of His most favorable hosts, and I was so keen on meeting them. Of course,” the inked continued, sapphire eyes twinkling mutely, “I will serve in their memory with honor ...if Moonspear would have me.”

And if they would have him, whatever it be they assigned to him, well, he’d carry those tasks out better than he’d think he could. That was saying a lot, though — then again, perhaps that’s just what the wolves of the moon-mountain needed...?

He does not know whether Arcturus is able to accept Cadogan into their ranks, or who leads now. Hydra, perhaps. She had been princess here when Llewellyn last dwelled in Moonspear and would be a logical successor. Surely she would not turn down an able warrior, especially not one he vouches for? His brow, relaxed through Cadogan's confident speech, furrowed once more as he turned to the young Moonspearian.

Does Hydra rule this mountain, now? he asks gently, eyes drifting up the slope. If she wishes to speak with us, I would be more than happy to meet her. Otherwise, once Cadogan is accepted here, I must be on my way.

There are things to do back in Mynydd, things he cannot leave for long. He must return as soon as he can. A king's duties are pressing and ever-growing; he has learned this more and more, over the past moons. He welcomes the challenge but understands there is no room for argument on that front.

arcturus scarcely kept the feather end of his uncharitable thought away before cadogan spoke; his affectation of speech so similar to llewellyn's. arcturus observed the man's mein with grave importance, finally resting his sights on llewellyn as if expecting the gilded warrior to collaborate his companion's words. he was silent as he measured the man before him; tiredly so.

moonspear would take cadogan -- what little choice did they have? two of their stalwarts had been killed, their idols toppled. moonspear was limping, and in no shape to turn away those knocking at its doors. hydra was near, but not able to come -- so gravid was she that arcturus did not wish to disturb her. "hydra leads now, with her mate dirge." as an after-thought, arcturus realized he ought to impart he was the mountain's newest beta -- but instead, he seemed fixated on other news more pressing. "she is heavy with child, and unlikely to come."

stiff as arcturus was, he managed some formality during this exchange. he was secretly glad once llewellyn departed; not because it was goodbye to a friend, but because he wanted to be alone. he would introduce their newest to hydra, and then seek solitude for the rest of the night.