03-27-2019, 10:34 PM
" every scar will build my throne. "
The sun creeps over the horizon at a pace that is agonizingly slow, casting its warm rays across the dew collected on spring flowers and grasses. The light stains everything a faint golden color but the scenery is wasted on someone like him. He slinks in without a hello or even a whisper to anyone. His shoulders feel better without the weight of a crown on his head but he always knew he was meant to be a dog anyway. Just a beast of war, nothing more or less than that to any king willing to harbor him. Much as he holds Wolfbane in high regards, the serpent believes him to be a fool for trusting their home to him. To the mad king.
A snort leaves him as he resumes his old path along the border. He used to walk through here with Adna and Sabbath, explaining how important it was for them to patrol. But now his little heirs have grown to see him for the worm he truly he and he is certain they despise him for it. How could he have expected to be a decent father to them? How delightful, to see the beast attempt the role of protector and doting parent. But his lesson is learned and he obediently sinks into his proper place once more.
His breath slips between his exposed teeth in little puffs. The scar tissue glistens wet and ugly around the pointed fangs lining the edges of his mouth. His eyes, the color of seasick emeralds, roam across Loess in search of anything familiar or even remotely interesting. This place doesn’t smell like Leliana anymore but he has nowhere else to go. No one else could possibly welcome a monster at their door, seeking refuge in exchange for the trouble he always brings.
Where is she now, his queen of the underworld? As always, there is a hunger that churns through him to seek her out and slip back to her side as he always does, but he refrains this time. Maybe she’s found something better and more worthy of her gilded heart. Maybe she found someone who doesn’t try to tear her apart from the inside. His teeth clench with a guttural hiss at the idea of someone else keeping her safe at night. His steps grow longer and more hurried as though he could escape these vile thoughts if he just went a little faster. The serpent knows he doesn’t deserve a love like hers or her fevered kisses across his tired brow.
He is only a beast of war, nothing more or less than that.
VulgariS
