Paladin, recently healed from the battle against the monster of darkness, crested the hill to the familiar copse of trees he had come to call home. However, the pleasant quietness and gentle whisper of the wind through the trees did not greet him warmly on this day. Instead, the cries and screams of war met his ears, a sound he knew all too well. Steeling his heart against the emotion that threatened to overcome his rationality, the Valiant boldly cantered into the fray, crimson eyes watching his comrades battle against the invading force of the north.
Where was Mauja? Where was his sister? Paladin's gaze narrowed, trying to spy Psyche in the midst of invaders. Why would she not show up to her own party, he wondered? Was the blood too thick? The black mare had impressed him on the beach that evening, but he had given up hope that her black heart would not burn in the light. She was too corrupted by his father's madness. Sad, but reality. He could do nothing about it; there was no point.
What met his ears then broke his heart in a way he knew that he would never remedy. In all his life, the single, vicious word would haunt him, add to his nightmares which already plagued the old warrior.
"Father."
Paladin turned his gaze, graying muzzle pointing in the direction of his son. Sorrow and mourning crossed his tragic, crimson eyes, and the stallion felt his chest ache. He had failed as a parent. His children could not escape the blood thirst he had passed on through his own line. How could they not see the road they followed lead only to death and heartbreak? Ktulu and Ophelia were mercenaries, killing for trinkets, and his son... Varath...
No hope existed in this world for him. The sins of his past too quickly tainted any hope of a future. He was a fool to think that he could have a life of love with children and a home. The guilty did not receive mercy. However, with every action he took from the moment he ran from that war, he had tried to set every wrong right. But with so many bodies littering his past, the blood was too much to mop up, but oh how he tried.
"Son." The Valiant's response was dim. All of the emotion that had once painted his face was gone, hidden behind the well constructed, second skin of a warrior. Varath was not his son. Only blood tied them now, not heart or love. He would have to destroy his own creation, like an artist painting over a used canvas.
"You are an idiot." Paladin's crimson eyes turned hard, cold. "You are my regret." And like a mad dog, you must be put down. The Valiant pulled his lips back from his teeth in a violent sneer, and the warrior lunged forward, his time spent exercising on the beach having done wonders for his body and arthritis. He had more experience than Varath would ever hope to gain. The only edge his tall, lithe son had on him was the fact that he was younger, and youth was a disadvantage all on its own.
The stallion aimed to lurch at his son's left shoulder, head turning down, aiming to pierce the flesh of his child. Paladin quickly removed the weapon, should he be successful, and run quickly by, aiming to bite along Varath's spine as he sped past.
[[(594 words) | (1/4) | writing with myself, so I will just do a quick summary lol
- ran to meet Varath and tried to stab his left shoulder
- tried to bite along his spine]]
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