Chess, Not Checkers

Artorias watched while Sirius managed a much smoother draught than he had, proving that alcohol did indeed come easier with experience. He looked at the Warlord, grizzled with wisdom and weathering, wondering if perhaps one day he would be like Sirius. Or would he be more like Resin? Ulric, even? Every alpha was so different, so unique in their own ways and how they led. How was he ever supposed to consider himself an equal to someone such as them? Self doubt was not something Artorias was used to grappling with, but after being named heir to the Hallows and realizing the responsibility on his shoulders, it was impossible not to. That was why his time in the Armada was going to be so important.

The smile on Artorias' face grew a touch when Sirius called him family. He knew there was always the connection between their families, but now as more and more of the wolves he loved and knew seemed to disappear, it felt more and more like the young wolf was trying to hold onto sand. The ones that stayed mattered more to him all the time. It was why he had been so cavalier about coming, despite his mother's reservations. Sirius was his family too. Family looked out for one another.

"And you're my family too, Sirius," he replied while he took the bottle and swallowed a longer swig this time, perhaps in some misguided way to prove he wouldn't be beaten by a liquid. That proved to be a mistake, as this time did start a bit of a coughing fit in the young wolf who had to swallow quickly or risk spitting it back up. "Wait, wait, give me a do-over. I got this." Artorias took another smaller sip once his coughing had settled, feeling the warmth of the wine reach his stomach smoother this time. He gave a triumphant sigh and handed the bottle back, beginning to feel that warmth spread throughout his body. Was that what alcohol was supposed to do? Make you feel warm?

"Artorias Carpathius"