The wintry world held its breath; time frozen in ice. Nothing seemed to move but the clouds overhead that floated by, and the snow that shifted as if stirred by a ghost’s hand, yet was only moved by silent breaths of wind. The land stretched bleakly on for miles, the ground having developed a hazy blue tinge as it was encased with ice and covered by snow. In the distance, the line where faded mountains met the watery blue sky was smudged and uncertain. The seemingly constant winter had made this region indecisive. Was the reflection of the sky in the mirror-like ice not a fraction of the heavens, captured until the sun’s caress melted it into water? Were the thick drifts of snow simply that, or clouds that have lost their wings and fallen ungracefully to earth? If this were the truth, it came as no surprise that the mountains were bleeding into the sky, as if reaching out to embrace the sun and covet its warmth.

Through the frozen silence, a Unicorn walked. The stallion’s hooves etched deep marks into the snow, crunching over brittle ice and dead grass hidden beneath the cloak of white. His golden hide was a fraction of the sun, shining with all the star’s brilliance, yet laced with silver frost that aged him years beyond his youth. The metallic horn that parted his champagne forelock reflected the image cast before him; a watery painting of diluted ink, patched up with whiteout so all the colour had bled from the canvas. It was a horribly bleak, lifeless picture. Roland shivered against the cold hands that sank their fingers into his fur. Aside from the thud of every bitter footstep, the only sound to liven the deathly silent valley was the hiss of his breath through his throat. Condensation clouded before his face, spiraling like dancing smoke until it dispersed into the frostbitten air.

Before all hope was lost, a blemish appeared through the sifting snow; a sudden break in the land as it sank below the stallion’s sight, the fingertips of a giant pressed into the earth itself. From this gaping maw rose a curtain of steam, shimmering like a winter specter against the backdrop of purple mountains. As Roland neared, blue eyes brightened in hesitant curiousity, the murmur of moving water manifested in the shell of his ear, beckoning his weary limbs closer. Against the protest of aching muscles, he moved, until the tips of his charcoal painted hooves brushed the edge of the pool. Below him dark water frothed and bubbled, swirling like a well of black ink in the confines of the earthen walls. Warm mist rose into his face, clouding his eyes and condensing on his finely boned face. Soon water dripped down his chin, and for the first time in days he felt a renewed energy.

He hesitated only slightly as he bent his knees and stretched first one limb towards the writhing water. It swallowed up his leg to the elbow, hot and swirling like liquid fire. Roland expected to never reach the bottom, but soon his hoof struck the sandy terra, cradling his foot in a mixture of soft clay and small rocks. His golden hide was consumed by the hot springs as the stallion lowered himself down, letting the water knead the aches and pain from his taut muscles and melt the frost from the tips of his golden fur. His wandering mind was pacified as the warm water swirled against his sides, blocking out all other sound. From beyond the sheet of steam his eyes could make out nothing but the bleached white of snow and the shadow of distant hills. A heavy sigh escaped the stallion’s lips as his eyelids lowered, and his head drooped against the shelf of earth bordering the spring.

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The peaceful, uninterrupted silence that ensued as Roland lowered himself into the water allowed him time to think, though his eyelids drooped from fatigue. He recalled his meeting with Lena in the Threshold, a memory that seemed so foreign, a mere haze of imagery even though it had only been a few months since he’d spoken with her. During their short time together, she had spoken of a northern land and the herd that lived there, called the Aurora Basin. Something about it had sparked his curiousity, and the yearning to see it had lingered in the back of his mind ever since they had exchanged goodbyes. Now he was thrown in the midst of all the ice and snow, finding himself regretting the choice to venture north in a daring investigation.

He had enjoyed the warmth of summer in the more southern regions, so it had come as a great shock that even in summer the Basin seemed so cold and wintery. He had assumed that Tallsun would be the safest time to venture forth, but he had been proven wrong as soon as smoothly sloping fields had blended into rocky ground and towering snow drifts. On top of that, he was pressing a gnawing feeling of embarrassment to the back of his mind, as he had become unquestionably lost in the barren wasteland, with no outstanding landmarks to guide his way across the bleak terrain. Tired and frustrated, he had gravitated to the nearest promise of warmth; the hot springs set into the earth, melting through the thick layer of permafrost and radiating precious heat from its murky depths. Bubbles rose from the muddy floor, brushing against the stallion’s gilded hide as they floated to the surface and vanished into the air.

Sleep was nearing him as he rested, each breath from his nostrils casting ripples across the surface of the steaming water. Lulled into a false sense of security, he was slow to react when the sudden sound of hoof beats cut through the silence, muffled against the soft snow. He started violently, the water tugging at the angles of his body as he turned around and looked up into the amber eyes of a horned stallion. The moment the brute opened his mouth, Roland felt an overwhelming sense of dislike towards him. He had initially been startled by the sudden intrusion, at the harsh voice cutting through the curtain of steam and jerking him from his reverie. Though his eyes had flown open in shock, he regained his composure with practiced ease, meeting the man’s venomous glare with an expressionless gaze.

Beneath his calm exterior his blood was racing, heart pounding as he seethed with annoyance, yet not even a whisper of it showed upon his face. He appeared to be ultimately unbothered by the sudden appearance, even as his chest tightened in resentment. The turmoil of his feelings was kept hidden beneath the surface; a practiced act as Roland has had to do it many times. He blinked and forced a smile onto his face, though his body was tense and wary. To an outsider who was aware of the workings of his mind, they might look on in fascination to see how flawlessly he trimmed his manner to suit the situation, but he had learned years ago to live on several planes at once. The art of it was to forget everything except the ground you stood on and the face you spoke from at that moment.

“I’m merely looking for a break from the cold, trespassing was not my intent. You say you’re from the Basin?”

( No worries ^^ )

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As sudden as the wind changing direction, the crowned stallion lightened the mood with a chuckle, dismissing his earlier insults. Roland relaxed slightly in the water, unsure how to react at being called boy, but he made no mention of it. Arguing was not going to get him what he wanted, and if the brute thought he was no threat than it was to his own advantage. He listened to the paint erupt into cacophonous laughter, not sharing his amusement at the situation. Though he didn’t admit it aloud, he was slightly troubled. Lena had told him that the Basin was a northern place, but he hadn’t expected the weather to be so bitter and cold, especially when the world was in the throes of Tallsun.

On top of that, he wasn’t sure what to think about the crude man who stood before him, and the way he spoke that was so strange and informal. Perhaps they all spoke so brusquely in the northern herd? But then again he had conversed with Lena, and she spoke with a much more affable dialect. He dismissed it as merely the stallion’s attitude; it wasn’t an obstacle that would be difficult to overcome. Yet as he listened to the stallion speak he realized that there were deeper conflicts that ran within the Aurora Basin besides the odd bit of ill-breeding. Roland frowned slightly, the minute gesture beneath notice as the paint gestured to the knife that curled from his forehead. It only took a moment before he realized what he was alluding to, and his heart clenched in uneasiness. He had been in Helovia for little more than a season now, yet this was the first breath of news that he had heard about the Basin being racist.

It wasn’t something he believed in personally; as an orphaned child he had been taught to welcome all, and no physical feature would define the way he treated someone. But even as a sickening knot of disgust formed in his chest, he decided not to mention his aversion to the practice. He was here, suffering through the cold, to gain a one-up on life, and if he wanted to accomplish great things he would have to be like them. His breath once again rippled across the steaming water, sapphire gaze drawing away from the paint to look out across the bleak hills in the distance. Was this really what he wanted? Would he be able to stand the cold and eternal winter, when he had the option to enjoy the sun and heat of a greener country in the south? Would it be too difficult to maintain a flawless façade under the gazes of his soon-to-be herd mates?

Roland had always enjoyed being among the elite, and this seemed to be the place to achieve his ambitions. It would be worth the challenge in the end, he assured himself. If they were racist, let them believe that he was too. A con artist was used to making sacrifices, and he was no different. His icy gaze swept back towards the painted stallion as he spoke again, and his muscles tensed in annoyance at the stallion’s jest. The irritation didn’t show on his face, and he even smiled amiably at the joke the brute tossed at him, letting a chuckle escape his throat. He wasted no time mulling over the silence, and steeled himself for what he was about to say, knowing that it would require his full commitment and loyalty. “A tempting offer, I’m sure. What I’d truly like is to join your herd. ”

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Roland’s sapphire gaze turned away from the painted stallion as a new shape materialized out of the snowy background, pale and seemingly incorporeal behind the curtain of steam that cloaked the bubbling hot springs. The new arrival, a heavily built stallion with a horn like a shard of ice upon his head, bore a cold and unwelcoming look in his eyes, and Roland began to feel slightly anxious under his icy gaze. Despite the venomous, chastising words that reached his ears, the dun gyp hid his unease behind and amiable smile and inclined his head. “My apologies, I have not been part of a herd for many months. Their customs have slipped my mind,” he explained, wondering silently at how else he was supposed to get their attention. Perhaps waiting at the borders would have been a wiser move, but it was too late now.

It was true that he had in some ways forgotten the workings of a herd. The only one he’d belonged to previously was run differently than most, and Roland had always felt more inclined to live a solitary, nomadic life. For a year he had flitted from place to place like a restless bird, scarcely landing before he packed again, changing trail and direction like a driven soul, though only Roland knew the curse; only he knew who may have been pursuing him and why, but he has locked that secret behind his smile with all the others. It was not often that he had to hunt for an answer or explanation, but he did so now. When he parted his lips to speak again his voice caught in his throat, feeling a sudden change in the water’s temperature. The comforting heat that had once swirled around him was shifting to a wintry chill as ice crystals blossomed from the depths.

The curtain of steam seemed to wane as warmth was sapped from the pool, and Roland let out a gasp of shock as he pulled himself hurriedly from the water, hooves finding an unsteady grip on the grassy bank. Gritting his teeth in frustration he cast the white stallion a reproachful look, shivering at the way the cold air felt against his skin. Water pooled around his feet, running down his legs in small icy rivulets to dampen the snow which he stood upon. Sighing quietly, he began to wonder if joining the Basin was truly a good idea; if it was what he wanted for is future, as so far they appeared none to hospitable. He didn’t like to think that the poor treatment he was receiving was because of his own faults, but it could have been the case. Either way he was going to keep his word. Something in the crowned stallion’s gaze told him that if he backed out now he wouldn’t be let off easy.

He doubted they would feel inclined to let him leave without something to remember them by. Shaking cold water from his mane, Roland’s gaze flicked between the two that stood before him before resting once again on the spotted white brute. “I could be an asset to your herd if you would allow me a chance.” He didn’t bother to hide the irritation on his face, but his voice was level and calm. Now that he was wet, cold, and miserable, he was all too eager to leave behind the now not-so-hot springs. “Do I have your acceptance?” He asked quietly, lifting his head and taking a step forwards, hoping the movement would warm him. The sun was a welcoming hint of warmth against his back, but the day had the potential to turn even more unpleasant depending on the answer he would receive.

(So sorry for the wait! Hybrid gave me permission to skip her.)

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Despite the fact that Roland had fought in a war before, he had never found himself in the situation where he’d needed to be saved. There had been some close calls; times when he’d barely escaped unscathed, but for the most part he had dealt his blows under the cover of a talented guise and never been found out. Most of his work had been done away from the battlefield, wielding words as weapons rather than a sword and shield. Now, while he wasn’t sure if the two stallions standing before him would kill him, he didn’t doubt that they would try, if he didn’t tread carefully.

Before he could be impaled upon a frozen horn or chased from the Basin’s lands- for Roland always anticipated the worst- he heard the cry of his name from soothing chords, and a vaguely familiar face appeared amidst the ice and snow. Never in his life had anyone had better timing. The cornered stallion felt a genuine smile creep onto his features as he met Lena’s auburn gaze through the curtain of steam, the tension in his muscles relaxing at the welcoming tones of her voice. He hoped that her presence would lessen the hostility that ran tangible through the frosted air, for no claim of his own that his intentions were true would be as meaningful as those from a trusted comrade.

It was Lena who had first sparked his interest in the Basin, and she was the root of the reason that he had ventured north to join them after much contemplation. After spending some time traversing the wilds of Helovia, he had determined that there was a brighter future waiting for him in a herd, amongst his own kind. Naturally he recalled their first meeting, and though her mention of snow and ice had at first discouraged him, he hoped he would grow used to it in time. “Lena, it’s nice to see you too,” he greeted her with a dip of his head, meeting the Frostheart’s gaze as he answered the mare’s question for him. Roland nodded in confirmation, limbs beginning to feel stiff as the cool air brushed against his wet skin.

The query the white stallion posed then took him by surprise, for it had been a question he had pondered over himself. He had survived on his own for long enough; why bring an end to his nomadic lifestyle now? In the end it hadn’t been difficult for him to discover the reason. There was no direction, no order, no flow to his life when he was alone. The road before him was empty and destitute, and there was no purpose he could tie his name to, no cause he could stand behind. He had once felt that and suddenly he wanted it again. “I’ve gone far too long without a direction in my life, and I’d like to put some use to the talents that I have,” he explained, finding himself hunting for the right words to get his point across; but he did not have to feign honesty. “You wouldn’t happen to have a place for an experienced con man? ” His eyes met Mauja’s with a level gaze, disguising the uneasiness he still felt beneath.

They would know now that he was an actor, dabbling in deceit, spinning lies with words of gold; yet to fight his way through difficult situations he could be naïve and innocent, an angel in a harmless world. If they wished it of him he could be a spy, a manipulator, a shadow. He could become the kindest man or the cruelest warrior, slipping into the cadences and vernacular that put his target most at ease. If he was to join their ranks it seemed proper that he should bestow his trust in them, though divulging his occupation was never an easy thing; for shadows didn’t enjoy having light cast upon them.

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The immeasurable height of the cloud ceiling lent a great depth to the sky as it stretched over the distant mountains and shaded the sun. Despite it, Roland still felt caged, especially with the calculating stares of the Basin Unicorns resting upon his golden face. He shifted his feet across the ground, grimacing as the frozen tips of his mane brushed against the damp skin of his neck. Beside them the hot springs had returned to its normal temperature and steam wafted around them in ghostly tendrils of vapor. Roland fixed his attention to the shifting condensation as he waited for their verdict, relaxing now that the tension had melted from the brisk air.

His ears perked as Lena spoke, though the question wasn’t directed at him, absorbing her words with guarded curiousity. Phantom. The term had an appealing ring to it despite sounding sinister, and he had never been menacing at heart though he was capable of acting it. There were times when he’d had to be cruel to get his way, though generally he preferred to employ different tactics. Normally he didn’t feel guilt over his fraudulent behavior, abusing the faith others held in him, but when he had to become a demon, a twisted burnt out shell of his former self, it took every ounce of his being to find himself again after the endeavor. But he could do it, and if they required it of him, he would do it. They would have every ounce of his devotion; yet his heart warned of the dangers of sentimentality unbound by reason, and it was an impulse he could not ignore. He would be loyal to them, but he would not allow himself to grow close to the inhabitants of the Basin, for affection was a perilous thing.

The slightest frown creased Roland’s forehead in response to Mauja’s question, and the stallion tipped his chin down to study the rocky, uneven ground in silent contemplation. It seemed a difficult occupation to sum up, and for a moment words escaped him. “It is the term for someone who manipulates the confidence of others for their own gain… Or in some cases, to the advantage of their herd. ” He fixed Mauja with a patient gaze, exuding calmness as he wondered at the thoughts going on in the white stallion’s mind. Would he think poorly of Roland now that he’d divulged himself as a charlatan? It wouldn’t be surprising; one would have difficulty figuring out if he was being earnest unless he slipped up, but he hoped the level gaze he fixed the trio with would show that the words he spoke were true and honest, not a single lie falling from his lips. “In the past I have worked as a spy, but I can also fight if need be. ”

(Sorry, this didn't turn out the way I wanted it to!)

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Lena’s words shocked him, for he wasn’t used to someone giving him their trust after so short a time. What told her that he was worthy of it? He had just divulged to them that he made a career out of deceit and dishonesty, had developed a determination to be a secret mover of life’s events; what part of him deserved the faith she held? Nevertheless, gratitude swelled in his chest and he offered her a sincere smile in return. It was not his intention to betray her confidence, nor any other member of the Basin’s, and he hoped that message was clear in his unwavering, meaningful gaze.

He looked upon Mauja with a sense of quiet uneasiness as the pale stallion’s voice reached him, bracing himself for the final verdict. Would he be turned away, cast back into the solitude he had been subject to for so long, or would they welcome him into their ranks? Listening intently, Roland gave a slow nod and looked out at the span of mountains before him, washed out against the bright horizon. His breath misted before his face, mirroring the steam that rose from the heated water at his side. Already he knew what it was like to have others turned against him, to hear venomous whispers of his name carried on the breeze, and he didn’t intend to let it happen again.

If they wanted him to employ his talents for their cause he would do so, and this time no room would be allowed for mistakes. Magic, as Mauja had suggested, would be a very useful tool. Roland had never been lucky enough to meet one of the Gods, but he would jump at the opportunity regardless of what obstacles he might have to overcome. It would be a change; he was very used to working with himself, molding into a different character and altering his very being right down to the way he carried his slender frame, but it would also be a welcome challenge. After so much time spent as an idle nomad, he was eager to put himself to some use once again. With practice, magic would become just another card to pull from his sleeve.

A smile grew on the golden stallion’s lips as Mauja finished, raising his head to look back at him with a gaze that had lost its frigid edge. “I look forwards to working with you,” he responded, tail flicking against his hocks. Damp hair and cold wind forgotten, he was eager if not a little nervous to return with them to the heart of their home. Finally he had a chance to leave his past behind him and start with a clean slate, and there had been no need for embellished lies or twisted truths. A laugh shook his chest as he followed Mauja’s gaze to the hot springs, and he shook his head. It didn’t surprise him that the ice crystals had been the Frostheart’s doing, but it had been a minor offence all things considered. “All is forgiven, and… thank you,” he cast a glance at both Lena and Naberius before stepping forwards, ready to follow their lead to a new future.


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