Was I made from a broken mold?

She was at a crossroad. At one hand, she appreciates him - those who he recruited and what he brought to Elkshire, but on the other hand his displeasure has slowly become more ambient as time went on. As her royal guard, she thought she could trust him, the comfort of having family be at the beckoning paws of royalty, the thought to help raise the future of the Deorwine heirs.. And yet, all she could see was his scornful, mocking-full face. One who gave even threats, where he didn't desire her blessing, as the rightful ruler of the Land, at his wedding.

Oh how she told Meissa she'd give her blessing, a wonderful blend of children to come. Though she couldn't let it go on, feeling the power of Elkshire slowly slip through her paws and the unruly attitude that gradually came with each time she spoke to him, his tone once of a happy boy, a cousin of a jester, and now becoming a man of change.. Was it the woman to blame? Though she saw no reason for the guard to do so, but.. Flynn grew too bold.

In the late of the night, did she trust @Remus, with her children. He most likely knew what she was going to do, as the gladiator who strung of war knew more then anything, her reigns on Elkshire seemed to be weak.

"Oh dear cousin, as days pass it seems you grow more frustrated with me - despite neither scorning your existence, and blessing Meissa for the future.." She called her cousin, @Flynn, in the midst of the night. She expected him alone, away from them all. A glistening, firey eye looking at the 'deer' prince, "you're attitude is unacceptable, as someone I once trusted."

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She'd sought him out; alone, seated below the inky swell of their starless sky. For what felt of hours passed between them as they dressed dapperly in the silence. He, not giving her the satisfaction of eye contact. She, listing words that gained their weight in circumvention. In a conversation where his faults defined whether he left alive, he was already pronounced deceased. Her dissatisfaction far surpassed her worry, expressing her stress upon the frail golden fawn he'd become. Not even a blasted ounce of curiosity; only greed.

Flynn knew why she was here. With or without impairment, he remained the stronger of the two, he refused to falter. “You come to me—to my house. To bleed your annoyance of me?” Thank God Meissa was out, probably hunting or patrolling or tending to something she saw more important. “Haven't asked why I performed said actions, no, because why would you? This is of power, is it not?” Truly, if not, then what was this? It didn't feel like a check-in or a home visit, but an ambush at an hour she knew his only sense of saftey wouldn't be home.

“And what is this? These children that... that resemble faces from the past? Or the fact they've been conceived with a murderer? A molester? Have you not gone to ask any of us how we felt?” The male was no possesser, knowing Celnes had a right to her own body, but he... “I expected better.” Her selfish need for security through power had driven her to become a person he didn't recognize. “I thought I knew you better.”

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"I'd say the same, oh cousin of mine, so disgusted by my actions, but rather as a trusted individual, someone to be counted as a guard - I expected more then that of a tantrum." How he has grown, to the little fool she once knew in Kingslend, abandoned by his family. A shame to be, a disgrace they so called, but neutrality she tried to be, for what purpose was to treat them like disgust? Though times have changed, and so has the betrayal's to the Queen, resolving into her religious fanatic, even at times.. Does she question, and use her own faith as a weapon of choice.

So says the Queen, so shall it be.

 Célnes had only been bedridden for a week, though with numbers to her womb, her body may be smoother as it was, she still carried the weight of one who was a hefty woman. Her body was weary, the stress of it all causing a headache ; she sat down, a glare to the boy with a smile not so pleasant to the eye. A malicious woman, someone who had destroyed bonds for the sake of what she so desired. Could she do the same to him? Though it was different, so slightly - she did not have the same power as she once had, nor' the current ability. Patience, young lamb, so they say, think thoroughly once more, before it repeats. The end of her cousins, but the renewal through herself, would that be the curse the High Elk Gives?

"Though a man who I saw none, news that I did not know, nor' reported," yet, she held suspicions, "Flynnigan Déorwine," she hummed slightly, crescent eyes motioning toward the sky, "do you not pledge to Elkshire anymore?"

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“A tantrum? Is that what you call an attempted suicide? Or did the milkman not tell you?” Oh how she'd fallen, a woman once rich on love and lavish things. She'd fallen from her high horse, trampled and beaten into the submission of power lust over a crown he wondered even belonged to her. Thoughts spun so loudly in his cranium, words held on bated breath and respect alone. Yes, yes, surprising, wasn't it? The fool, the puppet, the babbling jester with locks of curling gold and eyes so fresh they made spring envious—respected her.

Had it not shown in his willingness to gather troops? Had she not taken notice of his failing body marching along the painstaking borders, as her one and only scout? Of the desperate acts of attention he so pleaded with her to give him, this is how he was repaid? She only cared when he wasn't bending to her every need. Fuck those who didn't show their faces at all, they didn't matter here. It was her and him, something told the aging boy it always had been.

For who else questioned her?

But she, she questioned him.

“Oh please, Celnes, I never pledged to Elkshire, I pledged to you! I bloody love you, can you not see that? Have you never had someone genuinely love you to the point where they would throw away their own emotional standing just to fucking see you succeed?” Pressing sentences through sharp teeth, finally turning to face her. “You are Elkshire. You kept everything alive when it all burned away, I followed you into this self-sabotage because you were all I had, and for a while, you still were.” Until Meissa. Mayhaps the straw that broke the camels back.

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She was surprised. Her look turned back to the man, a look of suspicion as if it wasn't true, "Do you think I'm omnipotent?" she so questioned. Though the Queen knew much about what has happening to Elkshire, all was only due to her own actions that had been said, and no one, had told her so. She paused, looking at Flynn, a mellowed look from her previous glare, almost like sympathy - but the fire she felt swelled her heart could not last enough to continue that so. The God they so claim - an elk with so many horns, the High Elk, was someone of so, but she, was but a mortal wolf, onto the land of strange beginnings, and seemingly endings, "that I would know what was not spoken of?"

Also she did not know what the milkman was ; an odd saying.

"Do you think our family knows of such love, cousin?" oh but she laughed. Not a mocking at him, but so the name they carry. Such a blue-blooded family, through thick and skin, the way they carried themselves and the name they held so dear, even within death, she feel the judgement of gazes from the deceased ancestors, "do you think, as we, the ignored heirs, were ever loved by our parents?" she could still remember her mother, often wisked away by the uncle she so buried long ago. Alone she may be, at least there is Cenric, as even their father, would only give a gaze before retreating away for his 'duties,' all for the sake of a throne he was not officially given.

A sigh then escaped, lavish as it all was, a fantasy, "do you think I do not desire the same?" a whisper so faint though perhaps he may not hear. To such love she remembered, a night of thought with her dearest brother, within the wake of their first beginning.. He laughed at such thought, but she always held that childish dream, even if it may not be real within the end. She shook her head, for though it was a thought, her plans would deny such love and envy.

"Yet you say all of this - I do not recall doing anything in particular to you, to owe such dismay and disrespect in tone and voice. Peaceful as we were, were we not? A co-existence.."

Though not said, 'until you met her', she so thought, but not exactly blame. She could not see the other party coercing Flynn to do these deeds ; oh how he reminded her of Rohesia! Someone who grew a tongue over time and did the same! If it was in the past, maybe she would try to silence him. Yet, here was Célnes, alone, with neither suitors, nor' guards to the mix. Only untrusted deviants.

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“Could have fooled me.” The essence of his voice faded with every second they bickered, uttering his complaints to the wind. Her Majesty had always been a wonderous liar, or perhaps that was only his mind conjuring up more whims to belittle. But yes, her Royalness, the one who sought to know all and save all... She wasn't omnipotent? Hm. Oh, but that was right, wasn't it? How on Elk's green earth did she receive any information that wasn't personally handed to her from that maggot-man?

He wondered who spent countless hours mapping out her pretty little forest, all while she got to sit upon her royal arse looking like the cat who killed the canary. He wished he could ask the poor foolish bloke, that old lad had his head so far up the ass of disguised sins that his own ears had come out brown the moment he yanked them out. Oh, how he wondered who his name was...

But all of this—the leap, the racism, the birth of her cursed young, it wasn't her fault, was it? She was simply following her ancestry, whipped black and ignorant by generational trauma. The male scoffed. Perhaps if he weren't so disgusted he'd offer his sympathy, but why had she decided to wait until a wedge came between them to pull the trigger? To spit at him with a history that only glorified and pissed on her name? He'd been shat on his entire life, crown or no crown.

“What's this shite about 'the ignored heirs'? Why must you bring up matters that don't pertain to me? At least you were born pure, born royal, and blessed. I never had a chance, Celnes. You had something to prove, an empire that kisses your feet clean of error! The only reason I'm even still here is that I thought that maybe I could make a comeback and become something other than this fucking ass-stain on my shoulders!” And then, as quick as a running hare, blonde jaws snapped. Thundering noise echoing through a scene hastily becoming... Hostile. He'd never dream of hurting her, but this was his own personal nightmare.

“I...I don't understand how you say you want the same yet sit here and allow innocent people, your own children, to be proven guilty before they have yet to sin. You have the power to stop this, but instead, you insist we live in what? A-A-A so-called co-existence?” As much co-existing as a mouse to a cheese-laced trap. “We never co-existed. I was manipulated, I was used because I was too blinded by my love for you to see how much you hated my kind.”

Standing, he'd turn from her.

“How does it feel to know your children are of my people? Will you hate them too, Cousin?”

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"That is why we will never truly bond. You will never understand my own issues - a victim in an endless cycle, and in the end, blame me for what has been ancient custom." She scorned to think the man who she once thought closely was like this - saying that her life was but an easy throne. Ignored and scorned by her own father, though settled upon by many, she had it easier ; far easier then most who carried any other color. Yet, she had lost her childhood through the sins that the Queen committed, the vile claws into her uncles neck, and watching her mothers demise in a remorse. Oh the tragedy! Her father, uncaring, cooling and stoic, ignoring his poor children, who slowly strayed away from the High Elk. She was no victim at the moment know, and knew so.. Though her heart torn to remember those who betrayed her.

"Even I, can feel sadness."

Yet she returned, with sins to carry and the loss of her brother, "I thought you have - someone to be trusted. Though now I know, The Royal Guard is disbanded as of now. For all that I thought could trust, was for naught ; co-existence that was met with scorn!" She spat her words in a vengeance, an anger to him. Her fangs snapping at the mere' voice of this man she thought to trust, someone who had redeemed himself! Though to her, to Célnes, he had fallen. Now instead a man of sunshine she saw him but a dark cloud, for all the hells that High Elk would give, he was one who would be smited!

"They are none of your concern, my own kin will be reformed." And no more, of this cousin of hers. She almost thought to banish the boy, but at what cost? More family to leave.. Another one to go? A fallen look that her brother would give. Ah, but at least she would dismiss them from their roles. A man so close to the other, had Meissa, also been filled with same rage as the two talked Someone she thought to trust with her kids? And even so Flynn, who she thought would be a splendid Uncle! Perhaps it was best she knew of his nature of now.

Though them.. Unholy as they were, they were her own. She would shape them away from the prophesized sins. She will, make them divine.

At least there was Remus - for now. A deep breathe, she so took, a calming of attitude after a snap of jaws, though not an attack, just of anger. It was unlike Célnes ; the hormones still arise, so she convinced herself. She should not act, no. A banishment? The thought for another day, but for now, at least a motion to keep him away from her so.

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“No offense, but I'm surprised your breath doesn't constantly smell like ass with all the bloody shit you talk.” Standing in his self-haterade, soaking in her own. A mirror divided between them. The victimization, the clamour of affliction. Had he stayed stuck to her, like a bur to a passerby, would he have ended up as amaurotic?

Her intelligence had fathomed him at an early age, the naivety of his mental state craving to understand the justness of his slowly growing world. The woman—his queen—educating him on heavy topics, elaborating to his blooming lobes the rights and wrongs on every situation he could have imagined.

How often were her solutions correct? Of the lot, which was biased in her own judgment? How long had the Prince, cursed as the moon was pale in the sky... How long had he been a bigot? Not born, but raised into the damned soil of discrimination and vile heritage? A'many years had he known wrong but never had there been an exit in sight. What was a young man to do out on his own? A toddler without guidance?

He'd squint at her, he'd spit at her. 

Cowardice seeped from her shaken limbs, the strength that bled from his bosom creaking out with every chip that fell away. May he be a fool no longer. “Of course that's how you see it,” But that's certainly how he was about to act. She disbanded them, demoted them all. If he was cursed, then he'd tainted them, hadn't he? “because you can't trust just anyone to kiss your ass, can you?” This was his mess to make, but her fear and anger stank to high hell and he was bathing himself in it as if she radiated the finest perfume. “Celnes, how do you plan on trusting anyone if you can't even trust yourself?”

That was the question, wasn't it?

Many moons had passed since she had been handed the throne, and with little resources over her claim had brought upon little complaint. She had been blessed into an area of plenty—her pretty finger swiping a lick of everyone's cake. How do you deny a civilization its power when you glanced at it from the outside? You couldn't. Not unless its people were shattering themselves for everyone to see. But Flynn had lived here. He had grown alongside these people, he had witnessed their ups and downs and all things in the middle. Through all the time he had been too blind to notice the flaws. “Because I don't trust you,” Albeit, now, he had changed. “they don't trust you,” He registered her insecurity, he turned them against her. “Who in this climate will trust you if they find out who you are?”

He pivoted. Lifting stiffened appendages to slink his way back into his den.

“Go back to your children, Cel. You will have less to bitch over by morning come.”

exit for flynn. <3

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Likewise, she would retort, but now Célnes had grown tired of the back and forth. She looked at him in a silence of disdain, knowing no matter what said, he had come to the conclusion she was vile. Saving her breathe she let Flynn continue his rampage, saying so how she could not trust herself nor' could anyone else. Though at the moment, she knew it was why she could never truly rely on the wolves of Elkshire, for wolves like him. A rightful reason to only trust herself, and once the brother she had lost, who sadly, started to become but a shadow in memory. A blurr in the past, like he was there, but she could not place a face nor' name to his task.

If he was here, surely he'd help her decide what to do. Cast him or, or wait for tantrum to go by? A late bloomer some would call him, she wondered if this was the teen phase coming to fruit, despite being an adult. Even saying to return to her whelps, to assume he also now detested. She thought of hypocrisy, that the lives he claimed so innocent, but being tied to her would now be disliked. Though assumed now by the sheer dislike he held toward her.

"I expect your departure in the future."

Oh she wasn't banishing him, not just yet, but in the way expecting he would simply leave by his foul choice of words. Who would stay in such a place he disdained the Queen? Though she did not know if he heard, for he always left before she finished.

The question would be though ; who is left?

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