He shood Mojito away so that he and Magnus might speak in private. It was important that Sirius be very clear on what was going on here. On what Magnus had done, and the position Sirius had to hold as leader. He wanted to part on good terms, and might have, if Magnus had been true to the pack and his position. If he had fought Asla as he was supposed to, with his heart, with the intention of winning. Instead, the pack had seen his mockery of a fight, and heard him admit before the pack the law he had broken. “You have broken our law and sired children that have given you ties to other people and other places. You have failed to uphold your position of Reaper. You have done little since becoming Reaper. What apprentices have you taken on? What challenges have you set the warriors? and your constant absences to Deathbelle have been felt. That farce you call a fight gives Asla a weak start. But she will persevere, only because of who she is, and not what you have ‘given’ her.” “I love you Magnus, and you are family to me and mine, but I do not know if I can forgive you for what you’ve done here, but I will not take you as a slave for it.” He turned a dark blue gaze to his friend, meeting Magnus’ eyes. Willing him to understand that Sirius was not just his friend and family, but his Alpha. “So you will pack your bags, and you will leave. Your... “ gods, what was she? Once Princess, once Empress, once closest of friends to Sirius. Almost lover, but never… never quite. “...Mate needs you.” "Speech"

Magnus listened as Sirius spoke, spouting all his failures like a fountain and making him feel worse than he surprisingly already did. He didn't expect forgiveness from Sirius in the least and somewhere deep down know that whatever friendship they had would one day be pushed aside for business. Today was that day, it would seem. Through all the points Sirius had made, he made it abundantly clear the Armada was better off without him. He knew that anyway, but it still stung hearing it from someone else.

"Sorry to disappoint you and waste your time." He spoke quietly, biting his tongue from saying anything else. He wasn't welcome for even another night and he understood, and was since then eager to gather what little things he had to leave and get on his way.

The Warlord itched to reach out to Magnus, and grab him into a hug. He made himself feel stoic, standing there like a stone as the man apologised, the words clearly bitter on his tongue. He remembered finding this wolf out in the woods one night. The large cat they had taken on together. He thought of the challenges he had accepted in the Armada’s name. Of searching further and harder than anyone else when Seer’s daughter, Malalia had gone missing. Of Magnus, blind and confused, stumbling back home. Of learning to lead Magnus around by a gentle touch well he adjusted. Then he had become distant, and he had appeared less, did little of his duties as Reaper. He had gotten caught up in the fog of his love for Deathbelle. Deathbelle. How did things always go wrong when his oldest friend was involved? He had broken pack law. Sirius let out a sharp, long breath, frustration bubbling under the surface. “Fuck it.” he reached forward, and grabbed Magnus, pulling him into a bear hug. “The Alpha in me, and the man are at War. To the man, you are still my friend, Magnus. I’m sorry our paths have gone this way.” It was the best he could give the friend that had hurt him. He released Magnus, and pulled back, his eyes old and sad. "Speech"

He'd made a fair share of mistakes in his life, but they were all things he could live with. He couldn't live with not being there for his love and blood. He wouldn't, he refused to be anything like his own parents. If that meant cutting ties with Sirius and the Armada, then so be it. As he so readily pointed out, he'd done nothing of worth for the pack and was better off elsewhere than within their ranks just taking up space. Asla was a better wolf for the job than he would ever be, hell even Naiche would be better.

As he was pulled into the hug, he felt stiff and awkward. He hardly felt like a friend to the Warlord anymore, after what he'd done or rather hadn't done. "The Armada is better off without me. Anyone else could do a better job." His words were emotionless as he stared off in the direction of his den. "Goodbye." He said finally, although he was sure he'd be followed to the den and back to the border to ensure his exit. He began the walk to the den to collect the only possessions he had and leave quickly.