Though he’s older, the thought of children has never crossed his mind.
He’s always been aloof, alone and unapologetic for it. Maybe it was his upbringing, clustered and choked in the Jungle as he was. Maybe it was his twin sister and her pushy, outspoken nature. He’d never been able to get a word in edgewise with her. But Crito also never protested his second tier status. His younger self was fine with being the runner-up to Scorch (and even Osric, to a lesser degree, though by no fault of his brother). Maybe it had simply carried over into adulthood, this inability to put himself out there and form normal attachments to the others.
But age is softening more than just the contrast of his coat. He finds that as the rich bay and vibrant white roaning fade over the years, so too does his desire to be alone. Errant has an extensive family he can never hope to replicate. Even Scorch, with her growing brood, has built her own family beyond their original dynasty. Crito sees children, and each time, it chips something away inside of him. More and more of the hard shell he has unknowingly worn disappears, and he feels lighter every day. Lagertha helps alleviate the burden of his shield in her simple way of acceptance. She gets where he is coming from.
Today, she looks distracted until she turns to him at his call. It’s obvious that her mind has been pulled in many directions (plotting and scheming? Or simply reflecting?) but she recognizes him after a few seconds. He grins at her question about the Tundra weather. “No such thing to a Brother.” Crito is sure the same can be said for the Amazons and their heat – in his opinion, they can keep it. The grey warrior admits the reason for her child and quite suddenly, Crito understands. It doesn’t surprise him that Lagertha would have a child, not when there are benefits beyond whatever perks regular mothers enjoy. Political positioning is as good a reason as any to sacrifice your body and time (just another kind of warrior, he thinks).
He waits until she is completely done speaking, mulling over all she has revealed before giving anything himself. What she says shocks him, but he is far too used to channeling stone to reveal any of it on his face. So this mare, this (admittedly tough and capable-looking) Amazon is responsible for the removal of a king and the creation of a potentially important heir? This steel woman he’d chanced upon a year earlier turns out to be a player of a game much larger than any of them? Crito is rarely impressed, but he finds that he is just then. “I didn’t know it was you I would have to thank.” The bay roan flicks his tongue across his dry lips once, buying himself time as he thinks. It will be common knowledge soon enough, he supposes. “But yes, it seems to have worked out very nicely for all parties involved. Though I’m not sure how the Amazons benefit.” Perhaps a stronger alliance than the one that was already practically assured? Perhaps they simply did it out of the goodness of their hearts; maybe the threat of a mad king was all too real. “Speaking of your Amazons, how do you like your Queen.” He is the image of innocence as he asks it, even reaching down to scratch at his leg (which serves to hide his immense interest). “I’ve heard she’s somewhat of a hellion.”
( c r i t o ) |
