He knew the moment he arrived – the way she stood, half in their wintry world, half in the outskirts and pathways to another realm – that she was scrolling and sketching out her departure. It was the same gutting pattern, and it stung all the more because while he was powerful, while he was potent, while he was might and fortitude, stone and ice, he had no way to stop it. He hadn’t bothered with Ophelia. He hadn’t known what to say, what to feel, with Ashamin’s departure. Rexanna’s simply felt worse – and he bit down on the words he yearned to throw out into the air. Why? with a deafening roar, until all the birds fled and all the grass died from his rage and exasperation. Did I do something wrong? was another inquiry stuck to the roof of his mouth, because he presumed, always presumed it’d been his errors, his faults, his bleeding, utter imperfections that caused them to flee – no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he strived, to combat the ways in which he was rendered so weak and futile. A blunt dagger of pettiness even delved into his reach (I should not have let him in), but he didn’t raise it, didn’t poise it over her heart, but stretched it down across his and left it lying there, one more instrument plaguing his movements, motions, and motives. Have you no loyalty? was one more growl left out, because he didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend, the hows and whys of so many cast themselves adrift from them, from the mountains, from the summits. Why were there so many that filed their way out, down, down, down, across the frosty hills and out into other venues? What had they done to send them away? Perhaps he’d been at fault all along – assuming, despite everything that had ever happened to him – that she’d be amongst their crowd for eternity, just as rooted, just as settled, just as eager and fervent to fight for their glacial land. But other things moved her attention, other Kings, other prospects, children who needed attention, babes that wandered (and he’d never done that either – he hadn’t hunted for Huyana beyond the walls of Helovia, because he had responsibilities, he had duties, tied and tethered to the plain of ice and the shackles of a throne, but everyone else seemed capable of throwing them away). Maybe he’d learned nothing at all. He was still naught to them, couldn’t keep anyone and everyone together, couldn’t inspire or aspire them to reach grand heights…they succumbed to something else every time. He was no lure, no guiding hand, no King they looked to for support. He was just as empty, just as vast, just as desolate as the first day he’d held the heavy crown upon his head.
 
Even that notion hurt – and he wondered when, and why, he’d allowed it.
 
The sentiments stung, the way they discarded them like strangers barbed, and so he held himself back, listening to Hotaru’s sharpened tongue, watching and witnessing the explanation unravel from Rexanna. He molded into the shadows, into the darkness, that had long-since created him – knowing full well that he’d failed his sire’s request again – bowing his head and staring at the ground. “I doubt your role could be fulfilled,” he finally managed to utter, sharp, piercing, penetrating gaze slowly meandering to hers, trying not to harbor resentment, but some form of silent request, some pleading offering he couldn’t make because of pride, because of calamity, because of all the wounds still fresh in his mind. He meant it though – she’d done so much for their sovereignty – and her rank would fall to someone not yet worthy. But then, they were nearly ghosts to her now anyway, nothing, nobodies, another stepping stone to a path Hotaru and he had been incapable of seeing – and he was too foolish to do anything else but stare, but grieve.