brother, i've found you and i won't let you go

Waking was like dredging his hide from the depths of a raging river, clawing over silt and stone for just a whisper of air to invade his lungs. Everything spun in darkness and sparks of light that stung his eyes and made his tears join the abyss around him. His head broke the surface, and his body bled relief, an inhale wrenching through his body with the force of a stormwind, as his ribs cracked like he was taking his first breath of life once more. Reddish-orange hues glinted with confusion and fear.

His head pressed against the ground, the side of his snout digging into dirt and grass. He clenched his eyes shut, ears pinned to his skull as he curled in on himself even further, his shoulders burned. For a moment, he let himself lay still — he imagined the hums of voices around him, verbally sparring with obvious amusement hidden beneath fake anger. An illusion of home to comfort him, to fill his marrow with something stronger than the want for slumber.

He shoved it all away, jerking to sit up in one ragged movement, a shaky exhale leaving him now, eyes forward and lips parted in a faint pant. His gaze focused on nothing, before zeroing in on a blade of grass. Then... his head rose, and his jaw stilled, his legs pushed him to stand, and his ears perked forward; his entire body a line of action, the four-legged arrow of a compass honing in on its north star.

He could smell him. It was different. But beneath the layers of unfamiliarity, there was the scent that cloyed in the dens, that used to smother him in their play-fights — those notes of sleet and clove, the paradox of wood and spice interposed with the freshness of a storm. A scent that drummed kinship on his bones. The pack scent of Winterhelm was gone, washed beneath something new, something different, and something Ludon immediately despised. Too many questions bubbled to the forefront of his mind, clamoring to be answered.

Had Vahaelarr truly left Winterhelm in his past? The pain and aches were beginning to fade, and his paws carried him forward through the unfamiliar valley. Where had Ludon found himself? How had he ... he didn't even remember falling asleep.

Mountains raised all around him, corralling the landscape into a valley, and making him feel utterly small in its grasp. Even worse, a sense of urgency consumed him, like grains of sand tumbling over a cliff and into the vast ocean. The scent was strong, but already here: it had begun to fade. Vahaelarr had traveled through, but there was no telling if he stuck around, nor how long. Ludon wouldn't let the trail go cold, he began to walk, then run. He ran until his nose stung with the cold of the wind and his ribs burned. Grass and gravel crunched under his paws, he slid to a stop on a small drop-off, where the scent halted for but a moment. But a moment was all that was needed; his eyes scoured the land beneath and beyond, heart thudding in his chest. There was a dark wolf following the river, and he had no doubts of who it was. He wanted to run and shout and grab a mouthful of his ears, but he was locked in place.

Every breath felt smaller, and every emotion dripped away into the pool of exhaustion. His lips formed an almost silent word, begging the wind to carry it for him,"... Lēkia." — ... Brother.

---

@Vahaelarr

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Vahaelarr knew snow, he knew the crunch of hardened ice beneath his scathed paws and the pup-like joy rolling about in a fresh blanket of snow brought. He knew ice, knew the shudders for warmth that disappeared as one grew up within the Winter, becoming one with the frost. But he did not know this. The Valley stretched outwards for miles, cloaked in a never ending greenery plush with scattered wildflowers. They called upon wildlife, it spoke of eternal Spring; bees sought out flowers for their succulent offerings, small critters ran about searching for fallen treats. Within the arching trees, birds chirped their songs and their lullabies, coaxing their offspring into peace. 

Vahaelarr had been with Velaris for what felt like forever now, but he could never shake the feeling it brought him. Underneath it all, no matter how warmly his pelt smelled of their familial fragrance, he would always belong to the Winter. Atop mountains he remained in his dreams, wading through snow. When he closed his eyes for the night, Vahaelarr was a steadfast protector of his realm, bitten by frost and by the night's embrace. 

But it was all dreams of yore. Vahaelarr was Velarion now, but was it something he could ever truly come to terms with? Would he ever shake the guilt that came with it? Though they were gone now, could he ever truly turn his back on his family? If Winterhelm were to come calling again, would Vahaelarr go? 

In his thoughts that consumed him, the wolf found himself trailing the trickling river that flowed through the valley. It was a constant in all the madness Vahaelarr felt consumed by, its rhythmic thrum of power an anchoring noise that kept him tethered to reality when he was lost in fantasy. Silence fell like stones over the wolf. Above the clarity of the river, Vahaelarr heard little. He heard the sound of his breathing, his blood rushing through out his ears; he heard the occasional croak of a frog, heard the whistling of the wind... and then something else. Something he nearly missed, but he heard it all the same. A voice so familiar carried atop the drifting winds, narrowly coming to meet his awaiting ears; Vahaelarr stilled in his trot, slowly leaving into a walk, before he had stopped all together. He stood there, gawking into the distance ahead of him, trying to make sense of the sound. 

Was he going insane? He had finally lost it, that was the only explanation. Ludon was gone. But still, Vahaelarr turned his neck, bringing his lilac eyes to wash over the region behind him. The bile that'd collected in his throat was narrowly swallowed as he gazed upon the silvered wolf that stood upon the outcrop of earth, disbelief swimming within his pools of pink. The Pale Knight. Ludon of Frostfyre. But how could it be? Vahaelarr took several hesitant steps that brought him pulling around to face his brother, gaze pooling over the several meters that lay between them. “Lu? But how can it be?” His voice came out as a rasp, one full of emotion Vahaelarr had pushed down moons ago. Emotions such as grief, longing, love. They'd been confined long ago in desperate attempt to hide them, to ignore them--and yet laying eyes upon his sweet little brother once again brought them all rushing to the surface. 

Though Ludon showed restraint, Vahaelarr did not. It was but within mere seconds that the masculine was rushing forwards, quickly drowning the earth between he and his brother beneath the tides of joy and pain, kicking up earth in his wake. It was almost desperate, his scrambling up the hill Ludon poised upon, and it was that of pure relief the way the wolf threw his arms around his brother's form, burying his face into the crook of his neck. Ludon's scent burned within his nostrils, it spoke of home, and Vahaelarr all but let himself be consumed in it. If he'd have let them, tears might have spilled over his eyes, stung his cheeks and perhaps they did, only to be swallowed in Ludon's fur. 

outrider

---

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His paws felt weighed down by gravity; but his spirit felt like it slipped from his body. It yearned to flitter in the air, knocked loose by the sheer brunt of relief, surprise, and anxiety. A paradox of emotions trapped him in its web, locking him further in the depths of the earth, dragging him down by his fur, strand by strand, and making him wish to disappear within it. Ludon never did well with emotions, and this moment, as joyful a reunion as it was.. It was no exception.

The moment their eyes met, even in the middle distance that threatened to blur with tears and the breeze, Ludon felt a surge of homesickness, locked together in a death's embrace with happiness. The one he had sought for tirelessly, ever wandering further and further into, and out of, their birth pack's territory, was there just before him. To even think of his mother's reaction to the news when he was at last able to tell her — the question of how to return home was so far from his mind that he fed it no attention, shuffling it beneath the words that threatened to bubble over his tongue like a waterfall of curiosities. Where have you been? Where did you go? Mother's worried— you left us! Do you have any idea how much my paws hurt?

Every gallant stride Vahaelarr took toward him, made his heart slow. Where it had raced and rioted in his ribcage, it now began to grow quiet, as if it realized it was too loud, and wished to hear his brother's heart over itself. It was only when Vahae's presence registered right before him, that Ludon noticed his vision was indeed blurry. It was like he was looking through the raging river he had dragged himself from in his waking nightmare. But this was no river, it was instead the drip of his tears, each one heavy with the burden of heartache and love. A pathetic sob hitched out of his chest as he leaned against Vahaelarr as much as the other did, his veil of melancholy giving way to the true grief he had smothered for so long to search for his brother instead; for not only had he lost his closest sister, he had lost his closest brother, too. His shoulders slumped, and he felt like there were no bones left in his body; just trembling muscle and fur.

That unfamiliar stench filled his nose but beneath it all — it was still the smell of the brother he had reluctantly sheltered with in the face of unexpected storms, the brother he had shared his fears of failing their family and pack to, and the one who pierced that prison of listlessness with nothing more than a few words, igniting annoyance and competition in its place.

"Rōva lēkia," — Big brother. Ludon's voice twisted, a vex of mournful and whimpering; a streak of youth he rejected, but one he could not fight in this moment. Like a feverish pup, he cried for his elder brother without shame. Never had Ludon crumbled like sand in another's presence; it almost terrified him, and that only made his eyes and throat burn worse. It was like a flame was licking from the inside of his skull, refusing to be doused as it consumed his thoughts and buried them in the soot of conflict.

"Where did you go?" He implored weakly, voice hitching on ragged breaths as he smothered his sobs in a struggling calm."Why did you—"

His voice fell apart a scant moment later, biting off with an edge of anger — nay, frustration. The curtain of sorrow and happiness shivered, while the flame threatened to breathe from Ludon's lips like a dragon's breath.

---

@Vahaelarr

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My brother. Little brother. The tears Vahaelarr had been holding back poured from the floodgates of his eyes, turning his lilac eyes tear stained and red, irritated with the emotion that broke free of him. He did not want to let Ludon go, not now, not ever--if he could hold onto his brother forever, he would. They would stay in this moment until the end of time, never to be separated again. 

But time was cruel. 

As Ludon pulled away, his warmth was replaced with the cold that'd been there in his absence. He looked upon Ludon through sorrow filled eyes, meeting his brother's distraught questions with a disarray of his own. Vahaelarr found himself stammering, struggling for air and for words. He took a hesitant step back and his paw lifted. 

How did he tell Ludon all that had happened? How did he tell his brother that he had all but forever closed the door on Winterhelm? Vahaelarr did not want to go home. He wanted to stay with Velaris. 

He said it the only way he could, finding the way to be resolute in his voice despite the way it wavered with anxiety. “Brother, I... there is so much to tell you. I do not know how.” He swallowed. “I have been with Gjalla. We found... a Pack. Called Velaris. I am Velarion now.”

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Both an eternity and a mere blink, the mournful silence felt fleeting and yet eternal. It only made his heart ache as the two brothers pulled away from one another; it was so easy to shut his eyes and pretend that they weren't in this unfamiliar land, missing their home-pack scent, and— Ludon froze at his brother's sudden anxiety. A speechless Vahaelarr had been a rare and humorous occurrence, but in this instance, it was damning.

It shook Ludon's frame with a single tremor — almost a flinch like he had been stung. To see Vahaelarr step backwards even further, warring with himself, it felt like arriving home to find a shattered life all over again. It was like an empty den had opened beneath him, a yawning darkness ready to swallow him in dirt and roots to join his sister.

"Gjalla..?" The name was lax on his tongue, a word devoid of meaning in this moment. Ludon's heart stopped with Vahaelarr's declaration. His aching paws felt numb, his ears and tail couldn't decide whether to lay dead or fluctuate with the brewing maelstrom of agony and disbelief and rage — so much rage.

"You are ... Velarion..." Ludon's voice was like an ocean held still in the lock of a hurricane's eye. At first, it was deceptive in its safety. Then the eye glanced away, constricting in an instant, like the veins of a rushing heart as the organ revived, driven into a dizzying flurry inside his chest. The Frostfyre children always at first seemed as icy as their home, as hard-edged as the cliffs. But the truth was, that anger and fire lived in the core of their souls, for they were not only borne of Winterhelm, but also one of Vargrheim's infamous.

He had trekked for miles, pushing himself through starvation and exhaustion to reunite with his brother, with no certainty he would ever find him again. Only to find him and be crushed, utterly. His every relief and joy buckled beneath an immense and growing vitriol. It was only right that Ludon hardly looked like more than a senseless creature between blinks, a bristling mass of silver fur and reddish eyes as his head bowed and his body tensed until he trembled. His ears were full of static, a droning sound of nothingness as red swirled in his vision and the flame of his breath slipped between his teeth in a rushed hiss. The last thing Ludon spoke was a slash of noise more than words, "Don't be a fool!"

His weight slammed forward, jaws not yet parted for a bite — he struck with claw and limb, determined to overwhelm his brother. Maybe then, Vahaelarr would see sense if it was knocked back into his skull.

---

@Vahaelarr

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A gust of wind. A slap of Ludon's scent in the face. His brother had leapt forth towards him in a sudden and unexpected motion, the vigor that clouded his muscles uncontested by the unprepared wolf. His brother did not weigh as much as he, but that didn't mean he was light- Ludon came at him with a force that knocked the wind simply from his lungs, causing him to gasp for breath as he was barreled over. His side crashed bitterly into the grass, a plume of dust rising from the dislodged soil and gravel, and he found himself reeling. His paws scrabbled for a foothold, but there was none to be found--he was rolling down the hill, and he thought alone, but he hadn't realized when he'd grappled his forelegs around Ludon's neck.

They tumbled together, a flurry of dark and pale fur, and Vahaelarr had the upperhand whenever they landed. He didn't wish to bring harm to Ludon, and perhaps it would be his downfall-- 

It, however, did not stop him from reeling backwards one of his muscled forelegs, bringing it bearing down over his brother's face in a mighty smack. Should his hit strike, claws would dig furiously into the side of his face, ripping up scraps of fur in it's wake. 

 “You will not understand what you don't see!” Vahaelarr hissed between his clenched teeth, looking to push Ludon's back down into the ground with a mighty shove and pin from his arms. 

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His heart shivered and trembled in throes of turmoil. Attacking his brother like this was against every fiber of Ludon's being, but he couldn't begin to understand what he had heard. Everything stacked against each other like pillars of stone, only taking a good shake to crumble and fall into nothing but utter confusion and torment. To hear a new allegiance uttered by one of Winterhelm's truest... it was ridiculous. All that ruin that swirled in his mind became nothing to him, like stepping from a snowstorm and into a cave — the storm forgot the instant he shut it out.

It was all a fuzzy blur, even in the moment — his vision smearing as the two fell down the short ridge, the ground unforgiving and unhelpful in slowing their fall. Ludon's spine stung as the rocks and terrain dug through his fur, pressing on skin uncomfortably as Vahaelarr's weight pressed down on him. The anger still burning on the tinder of his betrayal flared as pain burned across his brow and cheek — he could feel the warmth of blood flowing to the wound despite skin not being broken, a bruise already sure to blossom.

Ludon jerked his head away in response to the blow, but refused to let it shake him; his righteous outrage dulled the effect. He retaliate with a snap of his teeth at Vahaelarr's nose, the speed of his jaw making his teeth click loudly between them; echoed by a snarl of only noise, no words or sense to be found even in Ludon's furious eyes.

He refused to let himself get pinned to the dirt without a fight, every part of him buzzed with adrenaline, and he rolled and twisted and writhed on the ground so violently his head spun with the force of his movement — doggedly trying to disbalance and dislodge his older brother. He didn't have a weight advantage, but he had pure liquid fire beating through his veins, and he refused to let it be doused so soon. If he got free, he wouldn't hesitate to flip their positions and make his own attempt to pin Vahaelarr to the earth like he were a massive insect, every action unforgiving and unhesitating.

---

@Vahaelarr

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Violence was like venom in his blood, a toxin that no serum or antidote could cure. His heritage was drenched in the ichor of fallen foes, even of innocents; no matter how foul it was, Vahaelarr was plagued by the sins of those before him. The crimes they committed, the laws forsaken -- it was as if he was destined to walk in their sullied paths, his honor stolen, and he brandished a sinner. That was what he was, wasn't it? No honorable man would take up arms against his brother, one who was noble would bow the head and accept defeat -- no matter what form it came in, be it by a white flag or death. 

That Vahaelarr was long gone, murdered by the injustices of his family. They had tossed him aside like he was nothing, unwilling to hear him, and so quick to believe the lies his traitor sister uttered. Had Ludon believed it? The possibility squeezed the air from Vahaelarr, and it was just like that that his focus was stolen from him.

He was blinded by gnashing teeth, deafened by the cacophonous snarls that reverberated free of both he and Ludon. They were both Warriors in their own rights, their prowess proven time and time again. No true wars had they fought though, only the phony war between brothers. His paws scrabbled against Ludon's shoulders, struggling to keep hold of the slippery wolf beneath his weight--he squirmed and writhed, lashing and snapping his teeth against the air, searching for any hold he could grasp. Vahaelarr's nose bled ruby red whenever it caught in the teeth of Ludon, his lifeblood trickling from the new gash and down his snout, sullying his mouth with the taste of iron. 

 “Agh!” He snarled in pain and instinctively winced backwards, allowing his brother just enough time to turn the tables. Before long, Vahaelarr had been slammed upon his own back, pinned beneath Ludon. It was his turn to writhe and thrash like a beetle stuck upon its back, and Vahaelarr did his best to swing his legs upwards to find hold against Ludon's underbelly, attempting to kick the wolf off and over his own head. To his paws he would jump then, wasting no time in leaping for Ludon's scruff, jaws wide in waiting. 

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Every hair stood on its end – his hackles splayed like a cascade of frost and silver down his shoulders and spine – every heartbeat shook through his body like a drum. It beat a frantic ballad of fire and indignity, screaming in Ludon's ears until the pained noises that left them both were smothered. In the blinding moments of pinning his brother, he had reeled up and backwards, bringing down his weight on his front legs twice, his paws on Vahaelarr's chest; wanting– no, yearning to leave nothing more than a riot of bruises up and down his brother's back. A blanket of ache to remind him of his idiocy.

Then his own belly radiated burning pain, from the wide paddles of Vahaelarr's hind paws. Disbalanced and incoherent, he went, his world twisting in a mosaic of colors and confusion, before it was torn through by a flurry of bitter, defiant refusal. His paws scrabbled on the ground, claws ripping scourges in the ground as he flew to his feet, rolling off his shoulder where he had collided with gravel and grass.

A flash of alabaster teeth had his own bared, warring off his brother's attack, uncaring if his maw caught the top of his brother's or vice versa – he couldn't begin to tell the difference between his own blood and his kin's where it stained and oozed from his tongue. His ears pinned to his skull, but it did little to lessen the cacophony bouncing around his mind. A new storm was swallowing him whole, dredging the core of his soul and tearing free shards of his being. The howl of his anger whistled with the snow of his sorrow, pressing him onward even as his body began to ache from the mere collision of their weight in each exchange. Two titans of Winterhelm squabbling on the shore of a river like rabid beasts, all nobility gone, and yet only ever to be scrutinized by the few trees watching them from the valley sides.

Tomorrow, Ludon would feel the deepest of regrets — but today, he had lost himself.

---

@Vahaelarr

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Vahaelarr struggled against Ludon's might, something that scalded him like hot rocks. A burning knife that sliced through him, a vicious stab to the chest. Like his heart being ripped out and laid bare for all to see as it burned in shame. 

He had always been the best. Amongst his siblings, who all had their unique trades, Vahaelarr had always been the best fighter. A man made to stand blow for blow, to endure the pain of a physical fight and to come out on top. Yet this... he wasn't winning. His legs stung something fierce and his lungs burned as if he'd been deprived of air as he struggled to fight his brother off, his jaws snapping and snarling, searching for any hold against him they could find. 

“Ludon-” The name came off strangled when suddenly the brute felt a paw against his throat, smacking the wind and word from his tongue. The wolf coughed, leering suddenly and digging his claws into the gravel and grass as he fought to stagger to his feet. With a sudden last burst of effort, he tossed Ludon from him and he clambered away, fighting to his feet and whirling around, tear stained and bloodied face glowering as he looked upon his brother. 

Apart from one another they stood, suddenly at an impass. The violence flooded away from Vahaelarr. He didn't say a word, only turned bitterly and quickly walked away, his gray fur bristling with the weight of the shame and anger that broiled to a simmering stop beneath his skin. 

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