The silence was steady, and in the midst of it he remained seditious, masked by the indulgent smile, scorched by the conquest brewing from his tempestuous, hallowed figure – staring once more back at the caves, before sweeping his eyes over the lake, the horizon, the egg clutched between his forelegs. It was a symbol of his dominance, his supremacy, the ability to defy and unravel, and that someone, somewhere, thought he was capable, thought he could be more than the stumbling prince, the lackluster scion, the boy who’d steadily begun to grow into his role in life. Where the pieces fell thereafter was unknown, but he knew where he pledged, he knew what he’d promised, he knew how persistence had defined him, and all those oaths, all those assurances, would hold more meaning. He’d become the definition of tenacity, of fortitude, of defiance against the world, press his schemes, his sword, his shield into the realms and show them the keen, ardent edges of his power. He’d be justice and vengeance contorted into a singular vessel; an insurrection brought to life, an inferno, a blaze, a righteous fury born from death and rain.
 
Consumed, devoured, and swallowed by the mercenary upheaval, he almost didn’t catch Enna’s presence – Orsino alerted him with a gruff movement, and the General’s head swung to watch her approach, uncertain on how where they stood, on what would catch, snarl, and snare them again. His gaze studied her quickly, only gave a hint of scrutiny, trying to gauge if she was still scarred, still marred, still plagued by prior demons, by beasts and monsters who hunted within caves (struggling not to bite his tongue in rage – and then the egg moved, shuddered some more). “Enna,” he offered with a smile, with a slight lean towards her touch (not forgetting the last; when all he’d done was sob, weeping on the banks, trying to remember his father, strong and proud, instead of deceased, withering, decaying upon the shore). Through all their trials, arguments, quarrels over rights and wrongs, on peeling away the lacquer of distorted movements, of fiends who should’ve been broken and torn asunder (not left alone, consequences damned, forgotten, free to strike again without mercy), at least she still remained, and that counted for so many things he couldn’t express or give name to. His grin was natural again in the wake of her presence, a little haunted, a little more withdrawn, a little anguished, but the youth still gave it freely – nodding at her proclamation. “I discovered it in a cave,” he proffered, but didn’t proclaim the rest of the story (how kitsunes had hunted down its mother, how he’d granted them one chance to flee, to stray, to escape, how they’d refused, and how he’d bestowed pain, renewal and resurgence, and how he’d felt powerful, unrelenting, ferocious).
 
The weight of his stare lingered upon hers too, tucked neatly within her sash, and his smile grew for her, excited, ebullient, still reminiscent of days with charms and charisma, taunts and snickers, chases and duels. Erebos parted his mouth to speak again, to offer her congratulations, but she continued, and he fell silent, listening, ears perked, swiveling on top of his noble crown. Her egg had been unearthed by far more honorable measures, and his stare flickered to the ground as she spoke of her daughter, the little lost girl he’d never met, and how the orb had been nestled there, beneath limbs and boughs. The General wanted to bestow all sorts of thoughts and expressions, bent on ruminations and sentiments (like then it must’ve been meant for you or perhaps it was yours all along), but he didn’t know how they’d be received, if the words held enough meaning, enough grace, enough dignity. They stuck to his throat, rasped and grated there, seemingly insignificant and unruly, and all he could muster thereafter was a wild exuberance, catching fire, simmering past his bones, past his sorrows, past his anguish. “Maybe it was waiting for you,” he shrugged, curling his smile back into something regal and real, trying to ignore the sudden throbbing in his heart. He shifted slightly, patting his muzzle along the embankment in invitation for her, winking, bright, puzzling over the reel of his emotions. The prince’s gaze then found his egg again, watched as it shook, a tiny fissure, a little crack, beginning to bloom along the top. “What do you know about companions?” He posed to her, inquiring even as he found himself incapable of taking his eyes off the artifact, he and Orsino both absorbed by the significant changes surrounding them.