No oath, no spell,
No prayer and no hell but the one we made,
Let's cast off, turn tail."
— No Oath, No Spell by Murder by Death
@Kisla @Lachesis @Lilya @Lorcan @Inna @Laike @Lekalta @Aytigin @Otter @Mace.
Aleksei couldn’t see this place as home, he couldn’t see the life that was supposed to be thriving. He had felt a strong urge to protect his mother and newest siblings, but he found himself wondering if that was fear manifesting in some overbearing way—fear he would disappoint, or disgust, if his actions were not akin to his father’s. Through rain and sun, he laid by Kisla’s den entrance, brought food, and felt a brewing bitterness about it all. He was not his father, he was his own man, and he hated the shadow the lived under.
Maksim would be proud. The words made his stomach churn. It was as if they were content to lie to themselves about the man they so desperately wanted to represent, to be. Aleksei knew (or so he told himself). Maksim would not let his subordinates, child or not, mate with a stranger. He loved his family, but he demanded respect of his laws. That was the father of the river children; king first, and father second.
Gods, Aleksei hated this river, and hated the expectations of it all. His heart was not in this place, his mind was conspiring against the wolves of Hearthwood, family be damned. They all wanted him to be the oathkeeper, the paladin, a bastion of his bloodline, the first born heir of Maksim Baranski! Be like his father, as if anything less was failure. Why would they not be content with him being Aleksei? Was he not good enough for them? Was his only redeeming factor his ancestry?
No more. No more! He was not his father, he was his own man. He was a beast, he knew how the world worked. He had grown disillusioned with it all. They would not pin him down with guilt he need not carry. Aleksei had not killed his father; they had.
He stood at the line between Hearthwood and Kingsfall’s free lands, his breath visible in the cold night air. He cast a look over his shoulder once, worked at gathering his courage. They would hate him, denounce him, call him a coward … that would be fine, he didn’t mind as much as he once would have. He straightened his posture, tilted his head back and called out. I wish you well. Take care.
Somewhere in the forest, a branch snapped and fell from its tree. It tumbled through the canopy before hitting the floor.
Aleksei left Hearthwood River behind him, strode past the border. Behind him, his tail curled over his back. A small smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes, tugged the corners of his lips upward.
The branch had fallen from the tree.
He cast off into the night, a broken shield.