But if it had to perish twice,

Artorias was not afraid of Sirius. He was not frightened when the Warlord stood back up to his full height, just a few inches taller than the boy who had just about grown into his full height as his first birthday approached, not frightened when he sneered and revealed the sharp teeth and saber fangs protruding from his jaws, not frightened when he began to snarl those venomous words at him. Artorias held Seer's hard gaze with one of his own, the furious fire in his amber eyes burning into the bitter ice of the Warlord's blue. Sirius was angry and hurting too, he could understand and respect that, but in no world would he allow any wolf, loner to renowned alpha, to treat his mother with such disrespect and disregard for her safety. He had never been afraid of confrontation, as was obvious from the way the boy stood firm before his adversary, ignoring all the ways Sirius' mere existence made it a David and Goliath situation, and he would not back down to harsh words and a cold stare. He had a strong opinion on morality and justice, and Sirius had done his family wrong. Adult or not, someone would hold him accountable for his actions.

While the dire wolf went off, Artorias' jaw clenched, fighting back the words he wanted to growl back. He wanted so badly to tell Sirius all the ways he was wrong, how pain for the dead gave him no right to do harm to the living, how it wasn't pride that kept him between his home and the massive brute but his duty to protect them from all threats—of which Seer was making himself one. Instead he bit his tongue, waiting out the brute's enraged rant. He was given an ultimatum: stand down or fight him. Artorias' eyes narrowed into furious slits; that choice would be easy. He would never back down when it came to standing up to a threat. It had become crystal clear that Sirius had been responsible for whatever happened to Tamsyn up north.

Art's lips began to curl back into a snarl of his own, ready to reach for his sword to stand his ground and defend his mother where she would not, mentally preparing for what would no doubt be the hardest fight of his life—and was halted by his mother's hard voice shouting his name, his full name, and demanding he stop. Artorias froze where he stood, not looking away from Sirius the entire time with those hurt, angry eyes even when the older wolf's face began to droop with dread. Something had extinguished the fire in the Warlord all at once, but what it was he couldn't place, nor did he care. He snorted and finally relented, dropping his smoldering gaze from Sirius to his mother, then wordlessly turned and began to walk back to the castle. He was equally mad at Tamsyn for her reckless disregard of her own safety and importance to her family. He would make sure Gwyn knew all the details, of who had the blame for this, so she could at least fuss at her too.

He paused a few steps away, turning to look back at both Tam and Seer with a glower of disillusionment and condemnation. He wanted so much to tell Sirius that despite what he believed, Tamsyn was no longer his General and no longer under his rule to pluck up when he pleased. He wanted to remind him that she belonged to wolves who needed her more than he did. But worst of all, he wanted to snip back at the horror-struck wolf that maybe this behavior was exactly why all his children kept running away from him. He wanted to remind Tamsyn of the family she had run off from, and what position she'd put them in if she had gotten hurt worse or even killed from her own stupidity. He wanted to cut her back by telling her maybe she should go back to the Armada and leave them on their own, since her priorities seemed so skewed and divided. If she wanted to pretend to still be the Warlord's vassal, then she should just leave them and go back with him. He was going to have to figure out how to live losing one mother—what difference would it make if he lost the other one too? She'd be doing them all a favor by making that choice to cut and run so he wouldn't have to keep worrying about her running herself ragged and killing herself.

Artorias shook his head and growled under his breath, heading back for the castle on his own. He couldn't be around either of them right now, he was so angry at them both. He hated this feeling of powerlessness at everything; he had been expected to behave and stay in line, but nobody was holding the adults accountable or to the same standards and it was so godsdamn frustrating! Art didn't know any way to release this pent up fury other than destroying things, so he would go back to his training gym to wreck a few more dummies and swords. Right now, he didn't want to be anywhere near Tamsyn or Sirius. As he walked off, ears flattened and jaw clenched, he let out a howl for a healer—any healer—to come collect his mother. He would make them explain the situation to the others again, just to really drive home the guilt. It wasn't his responsibility to do so. After all, he was just a kid who'd been forced to grow up that nobody took seriously...

— Exit unless stopped —


"Artorias" | Thoughts | "Corbin"