Mauja the FrostHeart
ice cold man watches earth die, eternal winter takes its reign

The right bloodline? The right bloodline?

What a pitiful kingdom it must've been.
Memories of vast expanses of snow, cold winter nights, the roar of warriors; the whispers of them, too, huddled together in sparse shelters from the cold glacial wind. Of a general's voice, crying out. Calling out. Mauja stared silently at the water in front of his chest, watching it lap against his sweat-soaked body. If all it had taken to rule was blood... He snorted, and shook his head. Aurelius parents proved his theory right, though: if blood was all it took to lead, the weak and unworthy would one day sit upon the throne. Foolishness. And the queen? If her mate was to suffer a misfortune, wouldn't she remain the sole ruler? His words had seemed to indicate the contrary, and with a strangled sigh Mauja gave it up. He didn't really want to ponder the failure-riddled mechanics of other kingdoms right now. Besides, too many questions about Aurelius' past would probably lead to too many questions about his own, and his kingdom. They'd had a near brush with that already, and he wasn't too keen on revealing his motives all too soon. He needed to know where the pony's heart lay before he took a leap of faith.

Mauja's motions grew fainter, calmer, slower, until he all but stood still in the water; Aurelius had turned back to shore, and for a moment the King was tempted to remain where he was. After all, the pony had just turned, without a word of explanation, nor an invitation to join him at shore again. A bold move, for one who mere minutes ago had been lordshipping Mauja's ears off. He gave a hushed laughter. Perhaps such things had been necessary in his past, to strengthen himself, if he, indeed, had been the Omega. The pack's bitch. He grinned at the horizon, then swept his pale form around and began to kick back to shore. At least he didn't follow by reflex - he'd made the choice to. Soon enough the sand returned to beneath his hooves, and the King surged out of the water. It ran down him in rivers, eventually pooling around his hooves once up on the ground again, dripping off the tips of his clumped mane. Like a dog he gave himself a shake, enjoying the oncoming night. The wind had grown cooler, but the water still clung to daylight's heat and the contrast had been pleasant. He stifled a yawn, but closed his eyes for a moment, until addressed - and then, he only cracked one blue eye open to peer at his pet.

"Oh, it might be for the best that they're not here," he said with a dry laugh. How could he possibly explain his pack of misfits? "Korra would probably try to eat you. She's, uhm... special. d'Artagnan, our Moon Doctor, would probably examine every inch of you." He gave the pony a sly smile. "While his nurse Kou keeps you pinned to the ground so you can't run away. Psyche will delight in trying to frighten you. Ulrik is probably busy building something, and, uhm, don't expect him to always make sense." He gave another of his hushed, half-strangled laughs. "We seem to share a fondness for mischief and a flair for being socially awkward, or a little weird. As long as you don't insult Korra, you should be safe from physical harm." He frowned a little. What could the others be up to? Then again... it wasn't like they were confined to the Edge.