Like her, Crito is an outsider in his own home. It’s ironic that in the most desolate kingdom one can be considered a recluse, but it’s certainly true in his case. He is a loyal Brother – bears the scars of one and remembers each and every word of his unspoken vows – but he is not a social one. Not like the fiery exchanges of the younger men; not like Kratos or Hurricane. He’s not a wizened warrior like Brennen or a leader like Errant. Crito likes to contribute in his own little way. Currently, he’s the only true diplomat of the bunch. It’s still a strange twist of fate, he thinks, to finally find your voice just as age is ready to steal it from you.
He is blossoming even as the years wither him.
Working has leant him a newfound vitality, though. As he regards Lagertha, he does so with a sharper eye. He looks for subtle cues, for vulnerabilities she might not realize she is showing. After all, she’s a warrior first and foremost – the art of deceit is likely not her strong suit. Although she doesn’t name herself a kingstealer for her absence of trickery…
The smile on her face gives her away when Crito thanks her. It’s the most open and honest smile he’s seen from her, and just as telling. He can see that she believes, not just hopes, that the deposing of Mountain will benefit her later on. He wonders how she knows that. He wonders what deal have been made and by whom – who benefits more than Errant? Confusion stirs uncomfortably in his gut but he tries to ignore it for now. There are other questions he is equally interested in, and pushing her too far on one matter might cause her to withhold on others. So far though, her arrogance makes her free with her information.
The bay roan scratches his nonexistent itch as his sister’s name sounds between them. He nods encouragingly in the space before her next words and lifts his head when she speaks. Aha, so Scorch does leave a fissure in her wake. It doesn’t surprise him that the fire-queen’s methods don’t sit well with everyone. He is rather an expert on (and a victim of) her infamous nature and changing moods. He wonders how deep the cracks are though, how split the Sisterhood is in her favor. Crito almost keeps their relation from Lagertha but decides he likes her too much to hold back. What can she do with the information, besides? He flicks his black tail once across his hocks before interjecting, “we are twins. Triplets, actually, though we’ve never met the other one.”
He waits to see if she will squirm with this new information and with her admission of queenly preference. After a few breaths, a smile begins to slowly curl his lips. “She is the most difficult woman I’ve ever come across and too hot-headed by half.” He laughs lightly before adding, “I grew up in the Jungle and now live in the Tundra, what does that tell you?” It’s not true, of course, that he left the ‘Zons because of Scorch. He simply had no future in the Sisterhood. Lagertha asks him of his own monarch and that also brings a quick smile to his face. This time though, it’s a smile of obvious fondness – a formalness that he lacks in regards to Scorch. “He is also my blood brother. I have nothing but appreciation for him.” She says that he is cold, but Crito knows it to be a façade. Behind his icy exterior is a man of deep loyalty and familial attachment. “Errant is a good man and a good king. He shows what he believes he should to the other kingdoms.” He finishes his assessment and looks across the meadow thoughtfully before focusing his gaze on the steel lady’s again. “You seem to be a woman with endless plans and ambitions, Lagertha. I only hope our paths don’t put us at odds someday.”
( c r i t o ) |
