Midas did not comment on his quiet observation about the Throat, but Paladin seized it, turned it over in his hooves, and spoke. Mauja had expected some kind of question, why do you say that?, really?, why have you been in the Throat?, but after simply admitting he'd never thought about it, he went on to talk of a meeting with Kri. Mauja had to fight down a smile: at least he wasn't the only unicorn stallion around she didn't like, though in this case he assumed she had less of a reason to dislike Paladin. Why, he even seemed perplexed, and much as the pale beast wanted to know, poke and prod and quietly bleed their wounds dry to slake his own curiosity, he let go of it. There were times for everything, and this was not the time to pull the secrets from their brains and examine all their cuts and bruises – nor was it the time to admit that a God had taken somewhat of a personal interest in him and, for lack of a better theory, banished him to an alternate dimension.

So he was glad to let the talk turn to Ophelia and Ktulu, and Paladin's relationship with them, just as he was surprised to find that he longed to know every detail of Phi from the lips of another, to complement the picture he already had of her, but whatever bits and pieces Paladin gave him were sparse, woven into a tapestry of passion and disapproval. Mauja could understand that, his own mind spinning to colder temperatures and harsher times, to the flicker of braziers on icy crests and the huffing of breaths in icy tunnels. Vendettas and revenge were the things which caused the structure to collapse, individuality sacrificed for the cause, the union; mercenaries had no place in the world of his birthland, they would slip on the wet ice and bring more than themselves down. To survive the teeth of winter and the powerful jaws of their enemies; not for glory.

Come to think of it, when was the last time they had fought equines? Centuries ago? Never?

Briefly Mauja debated saying I understand, for some part of him did, but he allowed the silence to reign, and the moment for an interjection passed as quickly as it had come. And while he was wary of Paladin's opinions, what Paladin might say of him to Ophelia, or what Ophelia might say to Paladin, he decided that it was a small victory that he'd not brushed his words off, but rather considered them and took them to heart. And maybe it showed that Mauja was not carved wholly from ice and marble, but that there was something of warmth and life and blood in him, too.

Midas once again betrayed something of youth, and Mauja turned his face away, feeling a flicker of amusement and bitterness. Was there a plea in the question, a prayer for a brighter future with some lady who had trapped his heart? A lady who did not fit the schemes of the Throat, the space carved out beside him? Paladin revealed more of himself, and once he was silent, Midas' golden eyes turned to Mauja, who had turned his head again to look at him. "Is not family part of life?" he asked softly, but understanding, in his heart, what he meant; it was, he realized, the thing he'd been asking himself for an eternity, whenever his dreams ran full of milky white and the blood red. "Sometimes duty forces you to run against what you wish, herding you down a path you would not otherwise have walked. Is it strength to bow your head and follow it, carry out your orders until the last breath, or is it strength to break away and leave that path for another?" Mauja had no answer, simply asked it, half-rhetorical, of them both. His upbringing told him one thing; his heart another.

He doubted they would ever agree.

Mauja Frosthjärta