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The strangers did not stick around long, and Archibald was glad for that. He did not have many intentions of trying to recruit them for his herd--what a bad king, Loretta mocked--though he did nod to each of them in turn as they left.
He only cared about Ranjiri. Seeing her face, when so recently he had seen her mother's, was a breath of fresh air that the Dauntless could not describe. The words fell from her lips like liquid gold--Uncle Archi--but the Czar had always partly felt this child his own. Midas had never been the father she deserved, and through his rank in the Grey and his standing in her adult life, inwardly Archibald claimed her as his daughter. This idea of his made even more sense when one looked at the pairing he and Ktulu took part in, declaring their love for another, and the way that Lakota seemed so cold at the Constrictor's return. Ktulu was his. Ranjiri was his. They would always be his just as Circe, Callisto, Reginald, Abraham and Macaria were and would be.
His broad neck arched and he coiled himself around her, letting her fall into his strong chest. He breathed his relief in her mane, resting his chin on the tangled white crest. "Jiji." He whispered, the shortened version of her name sounding sweet on his tongue, just the same taste as when he called Macaria, Mac. Archibald did not hesitate in sharing his thoughts with her, as they embraced, and he felt her muscles relax. "Come home with me."
And I was made of wood and stone and won't diminish or bend
So when the heavy hand of death is here to take me away
I'll be the solid grip of time, forever holding my stay
@Ranjiri
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.
please tag me
