i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell
The change in the air was as thick and heavy as smoke. It clung to the very trees of his kingdom, to the rocks and the mountains and the horses themselves. It was a change brought forth by ancient magic and family discord, and the black warrior relished it. He relished the mark seared onto his flesh. That glowing brand that marked his debt also marked his loyalty to his kingdom, everything that he’d ever strived for burned infinitely into his skin. She owned his soul now in the truest sense, for without her he would wither and die, a mere mortal like the rest of them. But with her hands on his heart he would live. He could live a thousand lives now in her service, should She wish it.
He moved easily through his kingdom, her paths as familiar to him as the planes of his own body. Though the lava had destroyed them for the most part, it could not take from him that innate sense of direction horses were gifted with. It was an age-old thing, borne of necessity and a thirst for familiarity. While he may have been blessed with speech, he was still a horse, and therefore subject to the base instincts that had kept them alive for so many years. There was new life here now, both flora and equine. A child born wholly of this kingdom, the first in several years (that he knew of, anyways). He himself had been such a child- no love was involved in his conception, at least not the love that most people talk of when mentioning children. Such things were necessary to keep a kingdom striving forward. There must always be new blood, blood born of the kingdom only.
He knew Straia would slip off to birth the child, and he was content with that for the most part. Of course he’d been keeping a close eye on her, but not so much as to smother her. He merely watched her from the shadows, alert to danger and trespassers but never hovering. She could take care of herself for the most part, probably using only that silver-edged tongue of hers. But he notices her absence is prolonged this time, and he feels himself getting on edge. Though he was by no means an expert at child birth, he felt it his duty to offer her help. So after some time has passed, he resolves himself to go after her. But it isn’t long before he meets the spotted mare, an ebony colt tottering at her side. A smile passes over his rough lips, and he gives Straia a bump on the shoulder with his nose. “Erebor. I’m Warship, your father.” he said, his eyes sweeping over the colt as he checked for anything out of the norm. Fortunately, the colt seemed healthy and strong, always a plus in such an unforgiving kingdom. “That thump? That’s your grandfathers heart. You’re a special child to this kingdom, Erebor.” he said quietly, though the infinity symbol at his chest glowed a bright, bright blue. New life, it seemed, helped to fuel his own life. Here is where they would rebuild, here is where they would rise from the ashes.
warship
