Don't say you love me then turn around and drop me

His reaction did not pit her against fangs even still, and, instead, the man offered a question. The name, at first, meant little to her other than the fact it was a Kedieo. One of the royal family… but… it was the description that caught her attention. She managed to ease her anger down, if only a bit, watching him as she spoke, trying to keep her anger under control. The fact she didn’t have to fight for a change was a good enough reason not to.

“The cursed one, they call him.” Bellamy spoke as she breathed out. “I know of him -- and to answer your questions yes, he is. All of those in or around the Empire did. He was the Queen’s blood after all. Her grandson. Unless there is some other winged beast trotting about I should be made aware of.” Bells shook her head. “I have never met him myself… merely rumors from those that sought to see my spill the blood of their enemies. Talk of how the Queen’s heir, the red giant, threw her future away to save the boy from a maim for his wings and retaliated against her.” She managed to take a breath, trying to steady the rage in her heart.

“He is not… like the other ones from what I’ve heard. They call him cursed, yet I believe he may very well be on this plane on behalf of the Goddess of Foi herself. The Gods and Divinities would not allow a creature that would taint the land continue to roam as long as he has.” Talk of her religion, her beliefs, brought Bellamy comfort.

The knowledge that another Lyennian exile was here gave her mixed feelings, however.

“...even though he is one of those Kedieo bastards I’m not necessarily after him.” Calm, Bells tried to tell herself.

Breathe.

“If rumors are true… he couldn’t hurt anyone… not in size nor mind. A naive, foolish heart filled with kindness.” She shifted her gaze away, wondering, if Gavroche had been the leader when she was born, how different her life may have been. Maybe she would have known her parents… maybe she wouldn’t have seen so many wolves die… just… killed…

The anger on her surface broke, revealing, at least temporarily, the softer being Bellamy was at her core. Sure she was angry, hell, who wouldn’t be? Who wouldn’t be bitter about being brought up to kill, to be so desensitized to death, that it was just a “normal” occurrence? The fur on her body lay flat and she took on a thoughtful, distant look.

“Those who play with the lives of others like Gods…” Bells shook her head with a scoff.

“They are monsters that need to be silenced. They no longer give a fuck about the lives of those around them, who they command… blood… always more of that damned blood! More lives taken. Young, old, it doesn’t matter to them.”

Yet, as much as she tried to resist her hurt to feel “normal” for just a moment her darker thoughts and feelings rose back to the surface as if the dying embers of a flame were stirred and came back to life.

Bellamy fixed her gaze on Acere again.

“What of you? Are you some fucking tyrant who plays with the lives of others, or the sort of king I was long lead to believe failed to exist? What beliefs do you stand for?” She shifted some, still wary. Somewhere in her mind she was aware he couldn’t be that bad. He had yet to act aggressive… to attack…

...and maybe it was that flicker of hope that others could be different from the bloodsoaked path she knew that had Bellamy trying to resist her own aggressive nature. As loud as she was, bristling and calming… then bristling again… she had yet to attack him either and that was progress right?