The flame prince stood frozen, his fiery markings seeming to dim as Citadel's bitter words struck him like a blow. His brother - no, the stranger Citadel had become - refused to even look at him. The air felt heavy with betrayal, confusion, and heartbreak. Balrog's ears flattened against his skull as his brother turned away and rejected them all, as his mother cried on his shoulder.
"Tch. Just going to leave?" Balrog barked, his voice cracking with emotion. He stepped forward, shielding his mother as his obsidian eyes watched Citadel's form walk away. "Just going to run because things don't go your way?! One day you will realize how wrong you are, Citadel. I know you know it, deep down."
Staring at Citadel's back to him stung worse than any fight. Balrog's form was shaking in quiet anger before he turned back to Ignita, rushing to her side as she slumped against the ground. Without hesitation, he pressed himself against her, his warmth a silent promise that he would never leave her, leave the Armada, as Citadel had.
"You tried, Mom," he murmured, his voice trembling but honest. "He's the one who failed us, not you." He glanced at Iskandor, searching for solidarity in his silver brother's gaze. He wasn't sure what to expect from Iska, would he turn on their family, as well?
Balrog nuzzled Ignita's neck gently, his fiery pelt a shield against the cold emptiness that Citadel had left behind. For now, he would focus on what mattered most - his family... even if it was smaller now.
"Balrog"
