take me back to eden

Life had shifted as it always did. Kingsley remained sharp and guarded as the pack dispersed from the loss of the Luminary, and he shepherd Willa safely like he always did. As well as he could, the Lil Lily liked to test him with the way she frolicked — but he could never stop her. Too engrossed in the way she looked at the world as if it were the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, the wolfdog was a willing straggler to her whims.

All he could do was guide them in a general area.

They had been comfortable, for a minute. The chess pieces had started to align, and Kingsley should have known better than to get comfortable. Comfort brought only pain, and he had not been on the top of his game as he grew complacent in the way it felt like they had been building a home. Gone, he thought bitterly. Now she was gone, torn from him like his Master had been by the unfair graces of shaped metal, and Kingsley was alone. He didn't mind being alone — he minded being without her.

He was grumpy on the best of days, and temperamental on his worst. It wasn't as if he couldn't be charming or friendly, but he didn't want to be when the likes of wolves and fuckin' annoyin' twats — he flared his nostrils as he breathed down his temper. Huffing, the wolfdog grumbled to himself as he leaned down to rummage through the bush to see if he could spy some berries to ease his sweet tooth.

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well.

the would-be king had walked a good length of the land he intended to claim. ælfrǣd found the soil dark and rich, the trees strong and ready to fruit, the shrubberies upright and able to be harvested for other things. edible plants could be dug up and carried here, to grow in the fertile place which he had not yet named.

no name had come to him, no matter his prayers nor his wandering. the man hunted and slept, ate and prayed, explored and prayed, hunted and slept. and still no answer had come to him on that front. how did one create a kingdom out of thin air? his father had not had to do it, nor his father, nor his father's father. this lot fell solely to ælfrǣd, and he was not doing well with its analysis.

he supposed first you must inspire others to follow you. then you must convince them to fight for your aims. but what what? and how?

there was a stranger in the foothills, a very tall fellow with a canine cast to him. ælfrǣd's innate prejudice for all things non-wolf would be his undoing. calmly — regally — he strode down a sunny green slope, raising his voice in greeting. "hello, friend. welcome to winchester."

was that it? was that what he would call it?

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Wolves.

Fucking wolves, he couldn't escape them no matter where he went. This wolf was not one of the ones that Kingsley had let himself put up with, but he turned to the voice regardless. Friend. Grumpily, Kingsley scoffed and let his storm filled gaze settle upon the boys features. Winchester?

He sighed, uncaring to the way it would sound rude to the emboldened wolf. "We ain't friends," Kingsley told him roughly, rolling his shoulders as he stretched out his aching body, stiff from whatever goddamn stupid magic had ripped him away from his Heart in the first place. He regarded him coolly as he turned, shifting his frame so he faced him fully as he descended the hill. Bold, wasn't he? Or stupid? Kingsley's tongue ran along the edges of his teeth as he regarded his options.

"Winchester," he repeated, "sounds dumb as shit."

To this day, he readily ignored the fact Willa was a wolf, and instead thought of her as a little husky. Despite his hatred — a hatred that Kingsley was determined was earned, from his time on his Farm — there were some wolves that Kingsley tolerated, and even respected, but this one wasn't yet one of them. So he made it difficult, as he wanted, and wondered what the dark wolf was made up of.

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king ælfrǣd's jaw tensed, but nothing more was offered to so rotted a reception. he knew he could not yet command aplomb, but basic respect existed among all creatures. save this one, he supposed. yet it would not do to act in haste nor ruth. "it is a work in progress," he said of winchester, remaining as he was and choosing not to address the first response.

"a great work. but it is one i will need help to accomplish." pointed. direct as ælfrǣd was able to make it, with his noble breeding and propensity to ask for little even it was necessary. a small smile attempted to lighten the air. "we are not friends, no. i would like to be."

he must suffer slings and arrows of indignity. he must suffer the obstacles the one above had set before. and he must not question. a king understood when to press and when to walk away; the next moments would decide his own path.

but if this land was his, should he not defend it?

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Kingsley isn't so nice without Willa. He isn't a lot of things, and kinder is one of them. He had gotten lax with his distaste of wolves, of their greed, of their insatiable hunger in the way they would gun and gun for his Flock. No matter how many times he fought them off or threatened them, try tried each time to take from him. From them. Kingsley knew he wasn't so lost in his hatred that he thought them all the same, but he was lost here, without her. So he hated them from what he knew and let the ugliness of loss and a broken heart push his actions.

He stood rigid, unflinching in the way he supposed he could see that in a way, they both held their tongues like weapons. Kingsley wasn't so lost yet that he wanted to use his body as one as well, but he wasn't going to eliminate it as a possibility yet. Work in progress, he said, and Kingsley's laugh came out as a scoff, rough against his tongue and filled with disbelief. "Right," he stated, letting what he wanted to say slip away.

Kingsley may be a mans Guardian, but he wasn't stupid. He could read between the lines, and what the dark wolf was telling him, without telling him. Kingsley wasn't one to beat around the bush. He didn't play games and didn't say things he didn't mean, but it was clear the wolf before him was made up of different flesh and bones. "Why?" He asked flatly, what business did this wolf have to wanting to be friends?

If the wolf wanted Kingsley to play nice, and easy, the wolfdog wanted him to speak plainly. The scar on his chest throbbed, as if reminding him wolves like him were the reason he had accidentally died to begin with, but it was Willa's face that flashed in his mind that kept Kingsley from sneering and walking away.

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"because a kingdom is only as strong as its weakest part. for now, that is me." lord nagito was a fitting and apt companion, yet if ælfrǣd's claim should be seen as bluster, the fox too might find himself endangered. and a king could not have those who ran from service at his side simply because he was not able to protect them. uncharitable though the thought may be, it was steeped in truth: ælfrǣd had not proved himself.

"i have no idea of this area's name. i do not know the title of this realm. i am — set adrift. but in communion with the one above, i know also i am meant to be here in this place. a conundrum." quick, bland little smile. "i would ask for help." his eyes beheld those of the other, and ælfrǣd straightened.

here there might come another rejection. he was prepared to weather it, but had no delusions of driving the man away from the land which had been given to him by a higher power. "help to build winchester," he continued, lifting his chin in determination, "alongside king ælfrǣd."

king. each time he said it, another prong on that crown seemed to grow.

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He was admitting weakness. Kingsley narrows his stormy gaze to the wolf, observing the way he said it honestly, despite the way he minced his words in politics moments prior. Wolf politics weren't his business, and he couldn't give a fuck about them. Willa wasn't here, not yet, and so he had no goddamn obligation to anyone. Kingsley didn't reply, only grunting in acknowledgement as he continued his assessment of him.

Was he about to start to quoting it was an act of some God that he was here, that it was why he felt right at home? Kingsley wasn't a religious man. The closest he came to prayer and worship was Willa, and she was gone. Gone, but not dead, he reminded himself. If she was dead — Kingsley's mind would be the price to pay.

"King," Kingsley repeated, snorting all the while, and curled his lip against his tooth. "I call no one King," he warned him casually, thick shoulders rolling as he regarded him. "Wolf politics aren't worth my time," The wolfdog admitted bluntly, but thought to himself, if only for a moment, that he may be able to strike some sort of deal, here.

For Willa, he would strike a deal even if it meant selling his Soul.

"Got a different kind of alliance for ya, if ya wanna listen," king ælfrǣd was left unspoken. He could offer his body as protection, as muscle and piss-claiming, so long as the wolf kept an eye out for Willa, and remained accepting of the fact that he would come and go to find her. It would do to have some type of home for her to settle in for a while, once he found her, wouldn't it?

Kingsley wasn't elegant in his words, and he'd never be able to spin a fluffy tale of why someone should join the mans plight, but he could still point wolves in his direction whilst he was on the job.

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the refusal of title was rough. the rejection of politics was interesting. ælfrǣd knew enough to understand he had no right to order that his title be used. and so he only inclined his head to say that the other was heard. a paw lifted, gesturing. "please," said the king, inviting the toughened dogfang to speak his piece.

winchester would need such, men who could not be ruled by greed nor ambition nor other men, not even himself. such emblems were the backbone of a productive kingdom, one fair and just. so ælfrǣd prepared himself to listen. this stranger who had offered nothing but coldness was given the ear of a king.

it remained to be seen if he comprehended such an honor.

there must have been something worthwhile in what he had said; the brutish man had not moved to rout nor run. maybe it was a good sign of sorts, and ælfrǣd would take it as such until it became elsewise.

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