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[Kratos]

When the titan arrives, the Field is wrought with bodies, as it often was and a frown creases his black lips. Kratos was not overtly social, which was not a trait becoming of a prince – but then again Kratos had never been good at being a prince. At least not the kind his father had expected him to be, Lyric had just been satisfied with her savage son. But his father had recognized his faults, recognized that he was too eager to let his blood spill, too wild at heart and unheeding of cautions - the riot that lived in his chest wasn’t fitting for a prince then. But even still, a prince is what he was (twice over actually) and so he was charged to stay in the Dale where his mother ruled as queen, he was to be her protector by order of Vanquish (as if Lyric needed any) and representative of his father’s presence there, too. But when Lyric had passed, Kratos’ will was still too unruly to sit upon her throne and so his father had allowed him to traipse between the kingdoms, without responsibility, without consequence. Hoping one day, his favored son would shake off his juvenile temper and allow the weight of familial obligations sit there instead. But the old dragon is gone, he is a prince no more and he has long shadows to fill. Sooty eyes slide across the Field until they come to rest upon Errant and the mare before finally resting on the spotted stallion that they gathered around. At first glance Kratos assumes perhaps it is one of his siblings, but as he closes the distance between them that thought is soon abandoned. It was clear he was no child of Vanquish, his size told that much, but there was also no resemblance between the purple appaloosa and his mother either – just another stranger wearing familiar spots. There’s a thickness that weighs in the air as he comes, a subtle shift of electricity that prickles the hair on their necks and brings a surge of anxiousness to sit atop their skin. Just as the body recognizes and reacts to the coming of a storm, it recognizes Kratos. He nods a heavy white head in his grandfather’s direction as he joins the trio, “they’d both be wise decisions,” he says to Ruan, “the Tundra or the Deserts, I’ve lived in both,” he adds, letting a single black ear flick in Camrynn’s direction. He can smell the spice and sand of his father’s kingdom (the Deserts would forever belong to the black dragon in Kratos’ mind) on her skin. He knew his stepmother had no intentions of ruling long without her Nightwalker, he knew of the competition but knew not the name of the victor. He wonders who now sat upon the throne he did not want, but instead of asking he says, “My name is Kratos, a warrior in the Tundra.” His eyes never leave Ruan as he continues, “But if you come to the Tundra you have the opportunity to lay with us a foundation that a  mighty kingdom will be rebuilt upon. If you take the brotherhood, you will endure nothing alone.” His focus shifts to catch Camrynn’s gaze with charged, electric eyes, there was a quiet power that hummed from her skin and drew his interest – much like his father, Kratos is drawn to powerful women like moth to flame. He would make it a point to visit the Deserts soon. K R A T OS vanquish x lyric