Malekith
i wanna let go but there's comfort in the panic
His sire had always hated the traits that seemed to run rampant across Beqanna; the Chamber was a sanctuary to those who despised their magical counterparts. She had refused to let them cross her borders, and when Malekith's grandsire had been gifted magic from Beqanna herself, the Chamber had thrown him out, threatening to tear herself apart if he were to remain ruler. Malekith's family life had been... less than stellar, but he'd heard the story of his parents' ascent many a time. Those days things were easier—if a kingdom said nonmythicals only, it would strip them of ther powers if they attempted to cross the border. Otherwise, the kingdom would react poorly to them being there.
It was never anything that Malekith himself had to worry about; he had been born as plain, as traitless as both of his parents and the Chamber had welcomed him with open arms. He belonged, he was true to the kingdom, but they had never truly loved him. He was mean and unforgiving, and before long, his entire legacy was forgotten. Tatter had left behind a powerful daughter, borne not out of love—for why would he betray Frost, if not for just a moment of passion?—and she was his entire legacy, her and her wretched children. The trueborn heirs were forgotten and while she forged a path for herself elsewhere, the Chamber had been left to ruin.
Now, the Chamber doesn't even exist. For many of them, the Chamber never even existed at all. All that exists now is this strange world with no familiar faces. The days of pine forests and adventures with his sister are long behind him, though he still clings to the memories as if they were yesterday.
The girl moves closer to him, and his eyes roam her grey-brown body, noting the small white patch across her withers. They are birds of a feather, marked with white patterns, though Malekith's own markings are broader than hers, decorating almost his entire body. Starlin, she names herself, and he smiles again.
"I was never a social butterfly as a child," he says, tipping a hind hoof as he relaxes. "Therefor I never made many friends, at least none that would remember me now." She asks if he was headed somewhere and apologizes, and he moves his head to catch her eyes again. "I was a prince once, but those lands and that title no longer belong to me, or to Beqanna at all. So, no, I wasn't heading anywhere, and I'm not sure I have anywhere to go. I'm just exploring, you could say, and looking for companionship. It's quite lonely, going it alone."
She is so unlike him and how he was as a youth, and he can't help but appreciate her company. Growing up in a classically evil kingdom had done nothing good for him and he had never known niceties before. "You don't have to apologize, by the way," he adds. "I'd rather be here talking with you than wandering in the cold."
Oh gods, now he just sounds creepy.