All my life I’ve been searching for something

The prince had been taught loyalty from an early age. His mother had whispered it throughout her legends and stories, and his father had wielded it through his blade, through his actions, through the testimony and creed of his movements and motions. But Erebos’ commitments hadn’t always been entirely to his herd - his devotions had been spread far and wide in convictions and friends, allies forged by brotherhoods and silliness, mischief and ambitions. He’d recruited when it suited him, when he was tired and bored of some other monotonous thing. He’d fought and sparred against many beasts and companions because it’d suited his aspirations for strength, for defiance, for an ability to consume, maul, rip, and tear apart an opponent – it hadn’t been for the Basin, but for himself. The selfishness had crawled and gathered its way through his mind for seasons, lapsed over with thoughts of vengeance, of requital, of slicing apart bones from sinew, flesh from hearts, so when any of his actions truly benefitted the mountains or summits, it was purely coincidental. Responsibilities had only hastened him towards the battlefield time and time again, or drawn him across the great, unfreezing lake, where he was permitted to draw his sword and face invisible enemies, drown them in the wake of his disgust, of his acrimony, of the growing need to become everything. So perhaps, as he listened to Hotaru’s speech, to his father’s demands and inquiries, he’d been a part of the problem too. His focus had never been on the chilling glaciers or the emptying caverns, only pinpointed and secured on munitions, on ramparts, on power and promises to those he cherished, forgetting the ways his family had always taught him.
 
He hung his head in shame, stared at the ground, bowed his skull because he was afraid to look his sire in the eye. Deimos had never pressured him into bending and following the wake of his commands – the youth had always been allowed to choose his own path, led back when the trail seemed entirely too hazardous or stupid. He’d never stepped in line with the Reaper’s shadow, never followed the same steps, never encompassed and craved the wishes of becoming General, Lord, King, or jester. He’d been permitted to explore the vast world, and he’d done so, gallantly stomping through the veins of the Gods, valorously journeying to the ends of the earth, through sands, sun, blood, and acrimony, tasting whatever drove his curiosity, sated his intrigue. But along the way, he’d discarded the hopes and dreams of their nation – sauntering as a lowly soldier, held only to protecting and conquering, growing more powerful, more daunting, barely a name to a face, meant for security and guardianship of a herd he barely knew. He’d taken it all for granted.
 
When he dared to bring his features back towards his leaders, the boy found Hotaru’s stare coiled upon him, then to the armor, resting, nestled between frost and might, bite and menace. It’d belonged to a General he’d never known, rarely seen, like a whisper on the wind, like a burst of flame gone out. The whole area felt the same – naked, decrepit, stripped, bare, and depleted, and he wondered why he’d never noticed, never seemed to care. Deimos had done his duty for Erebos’ entire life, and not once had the scion ever asked him what it was like to serve his herd for so long.
 
Now, seemingly, there was an expectation upon him. He almost thought to look around, to see into the eyes of others he hardly recognized, those he was meant to safeguard, to see if anyone else wanted the role, to see if there was anyone else who desired the rank, who’d yearned and earned and fought their way to the top. But everything, everyone, seemed so empty, so worn, so fragile, and he pressed the wariness away from his skin, away from his chest, his heart, and took a step forward. Where there was once always exuberance, a wild, passionate gaze, now Erebos only bowed against the grain, the chilling wind, the remorseless, tired, exhausted, haunted figures of his leaders. “I know I have been remiss in my duties,” he murmured, incapable of displaying anything but modesty in the face of so much desolation. “But I want to be stronger. I want this herd to be stronger.” The scion paused there, muted for a moment, leaning down to touch a piece of the cool metal thrust upon ice and snow. A slight smile dimpled into his cheeks, along his lips, not defiant, not unruly, but purely driven by something grander (maybe an infernal hiss, spiraling through a sable kitsune’s maw: take it – we can conquer, we can triumph), something greater, as he raised his head to the masses. “All I’ve ever heard are stories of how powerful the Basin once was. There shouldn’t be anything stopping us from becoming forceful again.” More poetic, more regal, more charismatic, more refined than his father, capable of speech beyond swords and nonchalance, the boy resounded once more. “We just need to try.” Then his eyes finally flickered back to the masses, smaller now than before, but still defined against the isolated landscape, the backdrop of snow and might, nodding towards them as a prince, as a born beast of the glaciers and walls. He chiseled his stare back to Hotaru, back to Deimos, and bowed his head anew to whatever sentence they yearned to proffer. “I will serve in whatever capacity you wish of me.” If he was due to become General, Corporal, or maintain the simple position of a warrior, he’d be devout to it – and take what meager morsels he’d earned.

(something never comes)

erebos

never leads to nothing—nothing satisfies

but I’m getting close