Dragoncrest Cliffs you could be king but watch the queen conquer

for hero & her @Melchior ! <3 eske's so bitter omg, lol.

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Fresh snow had fallen, loose and powedered as it sculpted to and around her paws with each step leaving a trail behind her as she dutifully tended to her patrol. The early morning sun was bright and as it often tended to do when she was alone (which often these days) Eske’s mind wandered. Not enough to render her patrol automatic, nor to claim that she wasn’t paying attention for any time she heard the snap of a branch beneath the weight of a tree limb (from outside and within Drageda’s borders) her steps would cease, her entire body going taunt as her ears pushed forth atop her skull, alert, her gaze scanning the free territory outside the borders with a scowl ready to morph into something more fierce and sinister the moment someone unwelcome made their appearance. That never came and after she assured herself it was just a branch unable to bear the weight of the snow she continued forth, letting her thoughts consume her as they swam endlessly.

She thought of the Fos Goufa she had met, whose presence was now gone from Drageda and could not help, despite that it was not truly her business for she was simply a Gona as to why she would leave. Had she not wished to train under Heda? To prepare for her role as the future Heda? Eske couldn’t help her nosy personality: she wanted to know why others came (as Gona surely this was acceptable) and why they left. She had never truly cared before but then again her lack of interest in why others left and why they turned traitor to Drageda was before her three siblings all turned their back and left without word or reason. Eske would have bet her life that Freyja and Hvitserk were alive and yet still they had not came back. And though there was little basis but the vague evidence Freyja left in her wake by becoming less attentive and less of a presence in Sleeping Dragon when they let that outsider into the pack — a mistake if she ever saw one — Eske’s only conclusion as that Freyja and Hvitserk had followed the outsider and turned traitor to Drageda.

Try as she might Eske struggled to make sense of it. Why would Freyja just turn her back upon them for some stupid boy? She’d had everything. The adoration and admiration of every wolf in Drageda. She was the golden child, groomed for leadership and greatness; and she threw it all away for some outsider that would likely grow up and toss her away when something prettier came along. Those assumptions weren’t very fair of Eske but she couldn’t find it within herself to feel guilty about it and if she ever saw Freyja again she would have no qualms spitting those questions in the Lodbrok’s face, demanding answers that she could not fathom out herself. Why was an outsider more important than what she was building? Than her family? Without anything to tell her different Eske was left to believe that her assumptions were the truth and they stung.

There was much unresolved within the warrior princess who wondered if she had any right to call herself that any longer. Princess? Princess of what? Or blood and death? Of shadows? Her scowl deepened as she stalked upon the borders, her tail lashing behind her in clear annoyance at the direction her thoughts had taken. She had to let them go. Yet, Eske wasn’t sure she could ever forget their believed to be betrayal. She gave a slight shake of her head followed by a huff of breath and drew her salmon pink tongue across her lips as she paused to sniff at a urine marking, trying (but sort of failing) to reel her focus back in.

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Melchior found that he was often drawn to the dark forest, rather than to the sheer drop of the edge of Dragoncrest Cliffs that overlooked the rolling sea. For once, he did not question himself, as he so often did, allowing his whims to guide him along. Perhaps it was simply because the forest offered more shelter, and until he had proven himself, he would have to rely on the land, rather than his kin, for protection. The yearling remained optimistic. This experience would make him a stronger wolf, he reminded himself; a wolf worthy to be part of Drageda. Duty and honor were his driving factors, and he would do his best to see them through.

For now, he would have to stick to the simple tasks of patrolling, hunting, and helping out the dragedakru. These jobs suited him just fine, for he enjoyed being in the company of others, and as much as he loved his brother, it was a welcome change to be able to interact with someone else. The brothers had very different interests, so it was better for them to be able to explore those aspects separately.

Cutting through the forest, Melchior began a patrol along the borders, trotting along at a steady pace. He felt as though he could run like that for days, and soon enough his mind began to drift as he daydreamed about running south along the coast, running until his legs have out. It was such a liberating thought that he could not help but be lulled into a state of natural euphoria.

The feeling was short lived, however. He saw Eske before he could process what that meant, and only gracelessly slowed to a walk by the time he was within clear sight. Suppressing a sigh, he greeted the youth with an expressionless glance, and then a terse nod. Eske. He was obligated to be of service to her, and so he lingered as he would have done with anyone else of the dragedakru.

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The sound of footfalls drew Eske from her thoughts, the bitterness lingering upon her tongue even as her hackles bristled at the sound of approach. The foliage of the dark forest parted and she watched as Melchior emerged from the shadows of the trees, her steps grinding to a halt. Though her bristled hackles smoothed back to her nape and spine the Drakru’s tail gave a flick against her hocks when he spoke her name. “Careful. That enthusiasm might cause you to combust, Melchior.” Eske teased wryly, though she supposed she understood. She wasn’t overly friendly and her aggressive personality had the tendency to rub others the wrong way. For some reason, this bothered her but instead of generalizing she narrowed it down and drew the dots haphazardly: Melchior and his pale brother, Arlo were the only others in Drageda close to her age now and she realized that even though she wasn't sure how she felt about the two boys she had youth in common with them, at the very least.

On the opposite spectrum, she told herself that letting others close just opened up the opportunity for them to hurt her, so, perhaps, she thought, things were better this way. Without anyone that she truly considered close to her there was an impregnable wall between what made her vulnerable and the outside world. She’d had three betrayals that would always sting smartly: she didn’t need (nor want) any more. She drew in a short, near inaudible breath as she eyed the blonde boy, left to her assumption that he, too, was patrolling. “I can walk and talk at the same time,” She informed him, subtly offering for him to join her without coming out any saying it forthright. After a moment she added as an afterthought and a cant of her head: “but you’re free to keep going on your own.” with a shrug of her elegant shoulders. Either way, she intended to keep going on her patrol whether he joined her or he did not.

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