At the sight of the light flaring in the elder's eyes, Mauja decided that he liked this stallion. Of course, he didn't know him yet, and unless he turned out to be a whimpering peace-lover or a sharp-toothed backstabber, the King would probably keep liking him. Though, there was always the possibility that he turned out to be annoying.. but if he was the grumpy kind of grandfather, he ought to have shown that already, no? Like Beast had? " .. born of the demon Lailoken ..." Wait - what?! He was half-demon? Even though his world grew still inside for a moment, his heart thundering in surprised confusion, nothing of it showed through; his face remained neutrally warm, gaze unflinching, blinking at the same steady pace as before this revelation. Born of a demon... It must've been a fairly equine demon, then, to give an offspring that didn't look like something taken right of a story meant to scare brash young colts and fillies. "I'm sorry, Myrrdin," he said quietly. The elder's sadness had not gone unnoticed, and unversed as he was in the lore of demons, he wondered if he was the last because his offspring were dead, or if he was unable to quicken life in a mare's womb. Whatever the case, it seemed a cause of grief, and to prod it flippantly would only be callous. Perhaps in time he would know more of it, though his curiosity begged of him to ask now. Patience. Such a virtue.

He had practiced it throughout the years, though, willing himself to own it - have it, completely. To never let a single hair fly a way he had not commanded it to. A king of so much more than a strip of land, Mauja gave his head a small tilt. "Old codger? Bah, grandfather, you look like nothing but a sapling, still green and springy!" With a lopsided grin Mauja swept past the older stallion, his icy horn pointing northwest. Someone had once told him "always follow your horn". It had been meant as wisdom, perhaps, but when you were a unicorn, you had a hard time walking in any direction but the one it pointed in - unless you were jerking sideways, or backing, but it wasn't too often you did that.

Giving a pleased shudder in the warm sunlight, Mauja easily navigated through the Threshold, setting a pace he deemed not too taxing, in case Myrddin had had a long and tiring journey. Frosted hooves whisked over mossy ground and beaten paths, sure in their balance and placement. He had walked long and often, and knew this ground nearly as well as he knew the Edge. Silence enveloped him like an old familiar friend, idle mind mulling over the elder. Half-demon. Repay my kindness. Bah. The easiest way to do that was to not stab the King in the back - otherwise, offering someone a home was not an act that required such a thing. Mauja dragged home misfits and lunatics every other day, hardly using any criteria bar a horn on their heads. Better that the unicorns lived with him, than with the enemy.