It felt strange, to be reunited with the warrior. Usually those who left, left, and never came back — and those who came and went.. he wasn't sure it was a good trait, but one he inadvertently had shared. Otherwise it seemed to run in Psyche's blood, and his, given that Tamlin had disappeared, too. He could only hope the black colt returned one day.. that no one would bring him a message of his half-rotten body lying in a bog somewhere. To think that Daltoff had wandered alone, for so long, lost within the painful existence of his curse.. how come he had not grown mad, knowing what would come each night? Quietly Mauja studied him, his blue eyes glittering in the early sunlight, thinking the sturdy old horse stronger than the norm. Where he had come from in the first place had not been pleasant, at least form what Mauja had gathered, and to then suffer under this curse..? And, guiltily he thought of the passing seasons, their northern location — it was summer now, when the sky barely darkened and the sun never sank quite so low. Perhaps he'd find some respite from the madness while the days were long and the nights so short, but in winter.. Mauja knew that this far north, the sun would barely rise.

Could Daltoff spend the majority of his waking time, trapped in raven's body? Winter was a long time off, though. Perhaps they would have found a cure before that. He could only hope, for he did not want him to suffer more. Quietly he stole a glance at Snö, but she did not seem too bothered by what she'd just witnessed — thoughtful, perhaps, but not about to scream and faint. A thin ghost of a smile curled his lips. Snö was no silly little girl. Then, he let his attention fall back to Daltoff, one ear flicking to the sound of Snö's sincere mutter, and his head dipped down slightly. Gods and Kings — Mauja seldom spoke of either, and it felt weird to have all these shadows of his past come back, to hear someone call him King, and he thought of d'Artagnan. If they still wanted him as their King..

.. then perhaps he should be.

"I cannot recall the Sun ever apologizing for burning our home, or the Moon explaining why she let those dogs in," he said with quiet bitterness, white tail flicking as he dredged up old grievances. It had surprised him how strongly d'Artagnan felt about the Moon and her betrayal, but then again, he had sired a son on her. Despite the racism flowing thick in their blood, they were both fathers; in a way, d'Artagnan seemed to have seen past Mesec's wings, and known that it was his flesh and blood.. just as Mauja saw past the smell of lotus flowers and knew that he could never love Tamlin less for it. "But perhaps we can find a cure for you, or harass them until they stop this.. this madness." He reached out again, to press his muzzle to Daltoff's in a gesture, a promise. "You need but ask and I will go with you, and shout until they deign to show their celestial arses."