He struggled to compose himself once more, his brows pinching together as he attempted to calm his breathing. She was safe—she had to be. Lachesis refused to believe anything else. She had gone in search of her brother but found herself, and a place where she belonged. The pale Stark was a smart girl; the father was confident that she had not succumbed to her surroundings or the wolves around her. She had forged her own story, just like her brother had.
A’… A’m sorry. The ghost shook his head softly, his chartreuse gaze seeking out his son’s golden pools despite Kyrios’ persistence to avert his gaze. It’s okay, he responded, his voice more composed than it had been before. I don’t think she’s lost. No—not his Atropos. She found her way. Just like you did. He attempted a soft, lop-sided smile as he took a hesitant step toward his son. Kyrios did not need to apologize. Not for following his gut, or his heart. He took another step forward as his ears flattened against the back of his skull, his nose reaching forward to press against the ivory Aegina’s cheek. You don’t need to apologize. Not ever.
stick with those who stick with you