The harshness of Frostfall was upon this world already, the pair knew. Both of their coats grew thick and their muscles tight with the cold. Loretta was pleased by this weather, the female desperately loathing the season of Tallsun. She was bred and born for the cold; naturally, she was a survivor. Her hellish personality matched the raging storms she was able to withstand by her blood. And so she bound, tail happily waving as a curled banner above the straight of her back. She yipped and whined and howled, bursting through the snow and chasing small woodland creatures that had yet to make their winter beds. Every so often amber eyes would belgard to her bondmate, his behemoth mass stalking behind her.

Archibald was merely roaming the Edge in this time of freole. His duties were done, and his restlessness needed to be fed, and so he wandered. He was in search of nothing, but merely admitting each step and turn, each tree and path and rock(albeit snow covered) to his memory. He knew the land well already, but with seasons everything changed. Helovia was not a land to stay stagnant, much like his birth home. Finally, reaching the point where the earth dropped in to the sea, Archibald stopped. Loretta continued to play in her wintertime wonder. Archibald watched her with soft eyes, not unusual to this private contact between himself and his soulmate.

Loretta stopped, the wind whispering gently in her ears as they perked to the hoofbeats of a newcomer. She lowered her head some, nearly level with her shoulders, and a warning, rumbling growl gave way from the depths of her throat. Her amber eyes shifted onto her bond, sending the image of the orange stranger--to her--to Archibald. A single flick of his inky ears calmed his bondmate, silencing her threat. She led me in Isilme. Be still. Obediently, Loretta turned and cantered towards her master, though her fur still prickled along her spine. Archibald seemed to trust the orange mare and her orange dragon, but Loretta was not so easily swayed.

"You look fair, Evangeline." The Captain turned his molten gaze towards the mare, the change in her face from aging and their separation not diminishing the warmth he had always remembered to follow and embody the Pure. He had not seen the young, but wise, mare since they both fought to protect their families from the shades that attacked Helovia. "It is Archibald the Dauntless, now. Many things have changed since you ruled the Mystic Woodlands." Archibald's voice was flat, and his eyes hardened some from the state they had been in when he was watching his companion play in the snow.

Loretta, with amber eyes calm but skeptical, looked to the orange dragon that had responded to her threat. She gave a small huff in his direction before she lay in the snow beneath Archibald's massive frame. Her thick coat protected her well, and she panted calmly as she watched the Pure and the Dauntless converse. She did not enjoy this feeling, the uncomfortable itch in her chest from being unaware of her bond mate's history. All in Helovia that Archibald knew, Loretta knew. However, creatures from the depths of Isilme, a land which Loretta was not born in to like her warlord, were foreign to her. Evangeline smelled like the Edge, and Archibald's calmness towards her solidified her rank, but Loretta did not want to give her the time of day. "I served for many years in the Windtossed Foothills. I climbed the ladder ranks from warrior to General, and I took up leadership after I dethroned the malicious beast Ricochet for attacking a young mare, Ophelia. In time, I was challenged for my crown." Archibald continued to look out to the sea, letting the scenes play in his mind's eye. "In my downfall I found new glory. I took the position of General in the mercenary band The Grey and I lead an invasion targeted at the Foothills with the leaders of the Grey, Ophelia and Ktulu. Perhaps you know of them--their father is Paladin the Valiant and their mother Soliel the Virtuous, and the pair led the Tides in Isilme." Archibald's ears twitched on his poll. "I served several seasons as General for the Grey, before stepping down after an invasion on these very lands." The behemoth made a sweeping motion with his head and neck. "After Helovia fell to darkness the Foothills were no more, and I gave my services and skills to the Edge. I fought in a tournament and defeated three opponents for my title of Captain."

Archibald's golden gaze swept from the sea back to Evangeline's emeralds. He kept her gaze hard, solid, but his face did not break from his stoicness. His recall of his rank history was not enough, it seemed, for she had more questions. She asked of his family, and the Dauntless' eyes narrowed some. "My family is dead. Only my sons share my blood now." Archibald did not know for certain that the entirety of his family was deceased, but none of them were in Helovia. He hoped, in the back of his cavernous mind, that Knox was thriving somewhere free from the demons of his life in Helovia. Perhaps Evers was prospering somewhere, teaching foals and adults alike the ways of wisdom and leadership. He suspected the youngling, Darwin, the product of ash and fire had not made it to adulthood--but, he knew the colt held Mandrake's blood, and it was not so easily washed away.

A thick, black tail swung behind the massive beast and tickled his hocks, his ears finally ceasing their incessant twitching. They did that when he thought, a beacon to his ever-churning mind. Most had a tendency to peg Archibald for nothing more than a slab of muscle, his brawn outweighing his brain, but those who made the assumption were sorely mistaken. Archibald wondered if Evangeline found him more than just a warlord, found him intelligent and deserving of respect. He was a leader by nature, able to rally those around him with ease and bring them to greatness. He held high expectations of those in his keep, only stimulated by his vast mind. Mandrake had not been an idiot in raising her greatest son, just misguided.

When the Pure asked of Ophelia's unicorn blood, Archibald gave a simple nod. He need not delve into her full heritage, explain her hybrid blood that bonded her to a dragon whilst being crowned with a silk-white horn, for it was not his story to tell. It was Phi's, and he would not take it away from her. In the depths of his chest, he missed the crimson and alabaster mare. While she did not hold the same level of bond that Ktulu had within Archibald's soul, Ophelia was still a part of him. They had been family once, and he had protected her for years. They respected each other and saw strength in each other, something Archibald wished to still have in his life. He wondered what the mare was up to now, was she with her children, the demi-gods she had birthed and adopted? Whatever it was, she was most likely living successfully. The Dauntless would not see her living with anything less.

"Empathy is not needed. She deserved to die. Her heart was black." How would Evangeline take this? Surely, from knowing the jaguar mare she agreed, but would she peg Archibald with having the same heart? His life was filled with war and battle, something the Pure had fought against with peace and diplomacy in her time as lead. A simple blink gave way to the lifting of his head, a sparkle of pride brightening his stoic gaze. "They are twins, born of strength. Reginald, the oldest, is a strong grey lad. Abraham, the younger, is a black and white boy with a dragon bonded." Archibald looked out to the sea once more, recalling his sons. As deep as his desire for them to be at his side, learning his ways, discovering what he already knew under his iron hoof, he knew his sons needed to explore the world and make their own decisions. He would never parent like Mandrake, never bend the wills of his children to match his own. Never.

How?