"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Not once had the Chamber wolf actively sought out Killdare, or any kingdom member in particular really. He’d spent his time here when it was necessary, but preferred these days to be outside of the inner-kingdom ordeals. Politics and succession had never intrigued him the way it had Dacia but lately, the mare who’d (unlike Lupei) spent all of her time within the borders was suddenly being found more often than naught outside of the Chamber’s confines. At first, he’d thought nothing of it. She’d given birth to twins - after looking over his own with Zojja at his side he’d been more than understanding about needing one’s space sometimes. Now though, now it was not about the boys, nor the need to ‘get away’. It was something much more intriguing.
He’d found her lurking on the beach of his empty herdland, staring out over the sea with an unusually sour expression to match. “I’m leaving.” He’d told her. “My sons have grown, Zojja has gone. I gave these lands willingly to Chemdog.” He’d explained, expecting something close to surprise light up her eyes. Instead, there was nothing. “Then go.” She’d said, turning her tail and heading further down the beach. Once upon a time, Lupei would’ve let her go. But age has softened him, and so he’d done what any concerned brother would do and he’d prodded her for information.
When she’d finished explaining, he was already wolf and already on the move, backtracking through the pines to seek out the slimy toad of a king. With nose pressed to the ground and an energy he hadn’t felt in years, the black beast loped his way right into the heart of the kingdom - the same spot where the flaming tree stood, and planted himself there, waiting as the burning plant cast a shadow across his raised scruff. “Killdare!” He called, baritone hovering into a howl that was cut short by a snarl. Where was his beloved monarch hiding? The anger that his sibling had suppressed rolled over him in visible waves of blue flame, sparking in bright bursts of light along his spine. “KILLDARE.” The bellow rang out, a demand rather than a request.
He remembers greatly and perhaps more importantly, vividly, the day she left. Killdare recalls the sight as if it were burned into his eyes, into his very memory and indeed, it was just that. Singed by great measure everlasting into his thoughts, branded there for eternity for him to mull over when the night came and his brain ruled his restlessness. It was not likely that he would soon ever forget when she had turned tail and left, he hind disappearing into the pines. Stock still he remained as she went, he could not call her back, he would not, not when she had cast him aside as though he were nothing and what is more- for a moment she had made even him believe that very thing.
For a time he had succumbed to the pain he had caused himself, for a moment he was for all the world to see, ‘lost.’ Lost? A Chamberling? A King? Yes, even Killdare was subject to all things mortal, he was no God, he was no maker or undoer, not yet anyway. Would he ever be? It’s hard to say what may and may not come in the years but for now he was no longer somber over the leaving of Dacia. Killdare was a King, he had a country to preside over and somewhere deep within the reaches of Beqanna he had faced the power of her undoing him and decided he had not been undone after all. Who was his mistress? The Chamber. Who would always be that very thing? The Chamber. Oh, and a jealous and all encompassing thing she was, let him spurn her not for that in truth would be his final downfall.
When the wolf comes the King does not ask why because he knows the sound, the edge of rippling guttural noises that issue forth from his savage maw. He doesn’t ask, nor does he proceed forth with haste, he would come as he pleased and he would receive the wolf at his door, make no mistake.
It is true that even now the Magma Lord held no ill will to the boy was horse and lupine all the same- for now at least. Even as the creature snarled for him to come forth, even as he made demands that no King should follow.The hurt he may have unintentionally caused their family he had never sought, when Killdare had thought long and hard on the subject he was assured he would be just as angry. Well, perhaps with a different sister he would have been, Killgore was not an easy creature to love. Still, what was done was done and in the end what matters is that Killdare came, as was his duty. Steadfast and true to a fault, even Straia had seen it, had she seen how much hurt it would cause him too? Did she always know the price he would pay with his proverbial riches and glory? Surely she must have.
Ash and dust purges itself from the nearest opening in the treeline, parting before the shapeshifter until Killdare molds into view.Charred and blackened, as he most often is, crackling beneath with the fires of the Earth and he simply stands before the younger man, bearing witness to the anger that washes over his raised hackles. “You have my attention Lupei, I will not pretend that I do not know why you are here.”
Even when they are apart, she is never far from her king of fire and ash. Buried deep in the marrow of her bones, the rivers of her veins, there is an urge to protect him. She feels it in the echo of her heartbeat, in the flash of those liquid green eyes when someone new shows up unwelcomed within the borders of the Chamber. It isn’t that she thinks Killdare unable to defend himself, one look at the veins of magma seeping from the stone and ash of his skin would easily prove otherwise. But this ability was given to him by the kingdom herself, and Malis would never trust the Chamber.
So when the wolf lopes unimpeded through the forests to the heart of the kingdom with the name of her king howled on his lips, she becomes wild. She catches a glimpse of them across the open clearing, bristling when she thinks she sees the wolf looks past Killdare to where she watches with her daughter, Victra. Without a moment’s hesitation she presses her lips to the curve of the bay and indigo girls ear, “Go find your brother, I’ll join you in a bit.” It must have been the waves of tension rolling off of Malis, of an almost tangible electricity crackling in the green of her wild eyes, but Victra left immediately, casting one curious glance in the direction of the wolf and her father before turning to disappear into the forest.
Malis turned to join them immediately, a strange fluidity to her stride that belied the way her muscles coiled like furious snakes beneath the sleek indigo of her skin. It takes a moment to cross the clearing to where they stand, but she refuses to make a fool of herself by hurrying any fast than that languid walk. Instead she uses the time to absorb the scene unfolding before her. Killdare has his back turned to her, which she notes with tight-lipped smile that is gone again in an instant, so she has a long chance to take in the wolf standing in front of him with hackles raised.
She doesn’t recognize him, but she wouldn’t, Malis had never met Lupei or any of the other shifters in the area. Nor does she realize he has any connection to the green mare who had so recently disappeared from the Kingdom. Perhaps if she had, the furious blue fire licking along his spine would make more sense. She joins them in the next instant, drawing alongside Killdare so closely that her skin ached from the heat. Her expression is dark and indistinct, the row of horns down her nose gleaming like a cold obsidian promise. Had she known that this was in part about her, that she had played a vital role in creating the fire that burned both within and without the black wolf, she might’ve stayed away.
Instead she watches him with eyes as green as emeralds buried in a burned earth, offering him only her silence as she remained poised beside her King.
He comes, in a rather similarly bold fashion, leaking out from between the trees behind his curtain of ash and ruin. It doesn’t surprise the wolf that his once king would make such a fuss, trying to match boast for boast. What King would ever back down from a challenge? But the two are filled with vinegar and piss and between them, it’d be hard to guess which had a bigger ego at the moment. Lupei’s willing to bet he wins. “Oh that’s good, because I didn’t take you for an idiot.” The dark wolf says, nose wrinkling to expose a tightly clamped jaw. He hunches then, body lowering slightly before he begins to pace, keeping at the larger horses front. “But then I remembered, only idiots cross me and defile my family members.” He accuses, a single snarl ripping through the static air around them.
Perhaps Killdare has never been threatened since he gained the throne. Lupei is here to remind him that no creature is slave to one man. “You should have known better. She was merely a child. You were my Dam’s closest friend.” He growls, shaking his great head in disgust. He remembers Dacia’s birth - he hopes Killdare does too. Hopes he remembers when he had been only a horse with wings and Lupei had crept out from the bushes to threaten him then. He had protected Dacia from the moment she’d taken her first breath, nothing - not even a king who breathed molten fire - would stop him from doing that now.
“Where is she?” The wolf snaps, bright blue eyes darting around the charred male. “Where’s your little whore?” He teases, and like clockwork suddenly the great horned beauty makes herself something of a fearsome sight beside Killdare. The wolf cackles. “My my, I do agree. She must’ve been a hell of a time, what with those things.” He spits, nose jutting out to indicate her black horns. But then he grows quiet, entire body stilling as his gaze slides back to the Chamber ruler. “But I’ve had better.” He says, voice dropping dangerously low. His head rises, ears falling flat against his skull as he speaks his last oath on the sacred grounds.
“You listen to me and you listen well, you puffed-up, arrogant little shit. You’ll regret the day you ever thought twice about my sister.” He finishes, head tilting slowly back to the dark blue mare. “And you - “ He threatens, the air stilling, “-You better be good with those.” He warns, fire roaring suddenly to life in a blaze of white-hot inferno. So much for subtle hints.
The dog speaks and the King knows he will let him. A display of foolish youth, a boy having a tantrum and Killdare remains still as the growls wash over him. Every snarl curls past his flesh and sizzles when pressed near enough the skin until it is no more than smoke to the Chamber leader. He listens to the fit as it escalates and the only hint of reaction is the way the fire burns brighter within him, scorches the brimstone until it threatens to lose- and still he stands idle.
Even when the beast crouches low, does Killdare only give him the satisfaction of his eyes, two blazing holes that follow each shift of the wolf’s weight with care. He had done this so many times before, perhaps not in this land but his Father’s teachings were not so dead. Acid spills heavily from the jagged snarl that spits like a cornered viper and the words fall short of the pain they might have once inflicted. “That is the mistake Lupei, Dacia is a woman grown.” he returns evenly, for he had once misjudged her youth as a sign of misunderstanding. He had hardly given the girl a chance to even accept the fact that he had never promised her monogamy.
Killdare had offered no singularity in his love, he had simply offered his love, which in itself was a great deal of loyalty and meaning had she chosen to see it through. He had made no promise of riches or thrones but once that notion had crossed into realisation in her mind, well, it seemed to him she had never truly returned his feelings after all. As it stood, with the display of raised hackles before him, no doubt that Dacia had known Lupei would come- his love had never been enough for the color-changing woman. For a moment his skin roils at mention of Astri, as if he could ever forget the friendship of the mantis green mare. As if he could ever forget (now that it was much too late) that he had once loved her as well and never said the words.
What he dislikes most is the vision in blue that curls up to him, far too close he thinks but he does not say it out loud. What he dislikes most are the names and taunts that fall unbidden from the dagger like teeth that form them. A pot calling a kettle black, a whore, when no doubt Lupei had his fair share of rolls in the hay. It was typical for a man to emblazon the scarlet letter against the woman’s chest wasn’t it? Lupei did not prove him wrong in that respect. “I’m sure you’ve had many, more than I dare count.” Killdare did not find shame in being choosy with the spread of his lines, the spilling of his seed but no doubt there would still be men in the world that would label him prude, or unmanly for it.
And when the warnings end, when the boy has had his word and his game the Chamber King answers with his own. “Oh, I have listened to your display Lupei, now hear me.” he called, as instead of burning outright the liquid began to flow from his hooves, trickling towards the wolf with hunger. Below the ground shook, quaked, as the turf buckled in places and spouted forth the Earth’s fire like a spout. “You have overstayed your welcome Lupei, and are henceforth banished from the Chamber. Furthermore, Dacia can share your unwelcome. I am sorry to learn that her love had a price, came with want. Leave this place.”
He is all fury and testosterone and she wonders how he can get it to fit in such an itty bitty doggy body. There must be more room in there without having a brain to worry about- or at least more room with it hanging as it does between his legs. She watches him darkly and for a long moment she says nothing; there are pieces to this puzzle that she has not worked out yet. But then Killdare speaks a name, Dacia’s name, and the pieces slam together like a fist to her chest. Dacia, sister, whore, and she understands.
Whore.
The smile that slithers across her blue mouth is snakelike and cunning, and it does nothing to settle the way her eyes flash like green flame. “Whore?” She repeats in a voice that sounds like she’s thinking real hard for him, “Oh you must mean the one with all the grass stains. She’s gone.” She takes a languid step forward, turning her head slightly to peer back at her magma king, “My, my, they do seem awfully close.” A pause as she shifts her face to Lupei again, that smile lengthening along the satin of her lips. “I think he’s mad you beat him to it, love.”
But there is something altogether different hidden just out of reach behind her eyes, tucked away so that the yippy mutt will never find it. Malis had never had a problem with the green woman Killdare had at one point loved. In fact once she found out about Dacia, she had been willing to leave them be. But Killdare was an intoxicating sort, and Malis a selfish creature, and as the green woman drifted away, Malis was swept closer. It is only by the wrath of the stupid wolf pacing before them that she finds any words at all to condemn someone she might otherwise have considered a friend.
He demands her attention with a threat laced into the growl of his voice, and she gives it like knife to his forehead. All at once an inferno of blue and flame lap at the wolf, and the ground between them comes undone with the fury of her King. The heat is unbearable and she can feel her skin pinch and prickle, but she doesn’t move. Her eyes harden, bright and sharp as uncut emeralds, and she drops her chin so that the row of curved, obsidian horns flash molten in the firelight. “Come a little closer, princess, and I’ll show you just how good I am.”
