With every blow and kiss of bruise Kaj had winced and felt the echo of old pain against his own canvas. An old challenge for a winged belle, Aaron's sister. A spar between himself and his old mentor. A thousand with Destrier, back when they had been inseparable, brothers in arms. Golden light and ebony shadows. They had been partners, equals. Kaj missed him with an ache that he did not like to linger on, for it would only grow into a chasm with the awareness that the beast had lost so many more than just Destrier. He fought with honor, with pride, with valor. Kaj did not find any fault in him for losing, for there would always be those in the world who were better. Who were wiser, more experienced. He had fought well in Cetan's place, and Kaj found something precious and valuable in that. He had always respected Thor, long before he became the Gentle Heart and the mantle was the brute's for the taking.

By the time the match was over, Kaj's wings and spine ached and shuddered from hovering and circling the battlefield for so long. Archibald's words rang in his mind, reminding him that he could not interfere on Thor's behalf. He would not doubt the brute would find offense in it, regardless, considering Kaj now held a title that had once firmly been Thor's. When the blows had been dealt and the exchanges made, Kaj allowed himself to fall, with ease and grace to give his muscles the relief they so desired. His wings had never failed him, however; the skies had never become a battleground of danger or insecurity. His landing came with ease, a whisper of his hooves upon the grass and the familiar ache of a flight held too long, too low. Away from the currents of air high above where he belonged.

Striding down into the sands, hips rocking beneath his weight, Kaj approached his Specter with a quiet air that broadcasted to those gathered round that they were momentarily unwelcome. Body language was his finest gift, after all, and the Edge denizens had grown used to his ways in the long seasons he'd led them.

Sand hushed and sprayed from his hooves, wings loose but tucked to his sides as his shoulders twinged. A little pain could be forsaken if it meant giving soft words to his Specter, assuring him that a loss was no damnable notion for the King nor anyone else in the Edge. Or so he suspected.

"Thor," he greeted softly, a roll of thunder echoing in his deep vocals. Head dipped briefly to chest, a gesture of respect, honoring what Thor had done for Cetan on the battlefield they stood upon in that moment. "Thank you," was at first all he said, a mere whisper. No more words were required. Cetan could not have stood against Thranduil, not triumphed against him in his youth and foolishness. They were both aware of that particular fact, and Kaj suspected that was why Thor had stepped in on Cetan's behalf in the first place. Kaj would have to clean the child's mess politically, once again, but there was little distaste in that manner. After all, it would give him an excuse to travel north, to be rid of all the stress that coated his shoulders like snow did a stubborn tree.

"Do you require a healer?" Was next off his lips, kind but quiet, if only for the sake of Thor's potential pride on the matter. "You have done well. There is no need to hurt yourself further." Just in case, of course. He was clueless to the turmoil in his Specter's mind, to the depth of his anger, his outrage. The two had been separated so long, it was as if the Gentle Heart were a stranger anew. And though Kaj's heart twinged with the reminder that the brute was clearly better than Kaj in Evangeline's eyes, he would not begrudge his kin that. Kaj had always failed, when it came to love.