Balrog's fiery markings seemingly pulsed with his emotions like embers stoked in the wind, a storm obviously brewing inside of him. He stood rooted to the spot he was in, watching Citadel's retreating form vanish into the forest. His brother's bitter words, the finality of his declaration, and the icy disdain cut deep. For a moment, Balrog's fiery demeanor dimmed, replaced by the same raw hurt that he knew his mother was feeling. How could Citadel walk away from them? From her? He had hoped the words he had barked at him would cause him to turn around, to retaliate, but Citadel gave them nothing.
When Iskandor spoke, Balrog's obsidian stare glinted as he looked towards him, fiery frustration brewing within him with each word that spilled from his brother's mouth. He wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that Citadel chose the path he walked. "We never turned our back on him, he did that to us. Everything he needs is still right here, available for him." His voice cracked again with the weight of his anguish; but his brother had made up his mind. His retreating form soon set off in the same trail of Citadel. He understood Iska's need to make sure Citadel was alright deep down, but it didn't make the pain of losing both of his brothers in one day any less.
Balrog's heart ached with doubt when Iska shouted back his promise, could Citadel even be brought back from his current state? Was Citadel truly lost? His chest tightened with anxiety, fear for both of his siblings filling him. Why had this happened? Why was their family so broken?
Then, Ignita's grief-stricken scream shattered the silence, drawing his attention sharply back to her. The sight of his mother, once seen as so regal, now broken and trembling, struck him like a blow. As Basilisk's powerful presence loomed beside them, Balrog stepped forward, his fiery form also pressing close to Ignita.
"Citadel risked war, trespassing into foreign territory. Mom.. tried to punish him by.. turning him into a Songbird. He... attacked her demanding his right to leave," he spoke, his blood still clearly boiling as he tried to calm himself enough to relay the events to his father. "He left, and Iska went after him.. promising to bring him back." His ears flattened a bit with his pain, his anger fleeting to be replaced by sorrow as if speaking everything outloud made reality set in.
"Mom," he whispered, his voice trembling as he buried his face in her white coat and leaned in to her. "This isn't your fault," he stated again. "He doesn't see how much you love him - want better for him." His gaze flicked up to Basilisk, searching for reassurance in his father's piercing blue eyes. He could not stare long, tears welling his eyes that he did not wish his father to see. He looked away again, and spoke with a soft but fiery tone. "We'll make it through this, Mom," he tried to comfort her. "I'll protect you. I'll protect Armada. No matter what."
He turned his gaze toward the path that Iskandor and Citadel had taken, his jaw tightening involuntarily. "If they come back, it'll be when they are ready to be a part of this family again.. and we'll be here as we always are." Despite his brave words, a flicker of doubt lingered in his obsidian eyes as he stay pressed into his mother, attempting to ground her grief with his warmth.
"Balrog"
