The day had grown dark, the sun falling from the sky in what seemed like record time to the ex-reaver. He had many things to think about, most of which had to do with his life and his decisions. He had been injured many years ago. A severe blow to his leg and hip made it impossible for him to go out viking, as he would slow the group down tremendously. He supposed that's when everything had gone downhill for him. Unable to fulfill his duties as a reaver, even unfit to patrol the borders for rogues as he was easy to out maneuver in this state. There was no glory in the way he lived now. No sons to carry on his line, no wives to win honor and affection, and no purpose in the pride but to get drunk and cuss at everything that moved. The large ruddy colored lion pushed himself to his paws, mind made up, and began to hobble his way down the path.
Gala felt downright miserable. She had hoped her outburst would make the hurt go away, but it only dug itself deeper into her chest, prodding at her with every beat of her heart. She had never been a nasty lioness, and very rarely allowed her temper to get the better of her, but for some reason she'd absolutely lost it with Magnus. Oh dear. She'd known he'd be in a bad shape, she should had done more to control herself. So what now? Her body ached and felt fatigued from the encounter, yet she could not sleep. It was all she could do to bring herself to the spot where she had left Magnus, in a desperate hope of finding him there. Unfortunately, the spot was left empty, leaving her to wonder where he had gone.
Not far from where she stood on the open path, actually. Magnus had a slow, lumbering gait and he had not made much progress up the path. It was a long, winding journey to the tops of the cliffs after all, and it made for a good period of time to consider what he was planning. It wasn't unheard of for injured or old lions to throw themselves from the cliffs, and Magnus had no other ideas on how else to obtain glory before death. It was better than dying in a bed, and better than the way he was living now, as a waste of space and resources. Everyone had seemed to know it, everyone except him, that is. A thought occurred to him that made the ruddy lion snort in dry humor. He could always try picking a fight either within the pride or out of it, but his body was slow, and rusty, he'd probably never convince anyone to fight with him-
"There you are!" relief rushed through the silver lioness as she trotted up to rest beside him, hesitant to get any closer. She had heard his snort from up the path, and had luckily spotted him before he completely disappeared from her vision. Now that she'd found him, what was she to say to him. Her ears twisted back in shame and thought, though the hurt still burned deeply in her chest. She wanted to apologize to him for her earlier behavior, but on the other paw she still wanted to strike out at him with vicious words. In the end, her lovely voice was paralyzed by her dilemma, and she merely fell into step beside him.
It shocked him for a second time to come face to face with Gala, and judging by how her earlier visit had gone, he expected the whip of her tongue to chastise him further. Suiting. He should have the hurtful words of the one he'd caused so much pain to drive him up to the cliffs, giving him the courage to do what was necessary. When her voice did not come, Magnus took upon himself to shift his gaze in her direction, watching the beauty in her face as it twisted with some unsaid torment. Of course there was no reason to say it, Magnus knew why it was there, for he had been the one to place it upon her pretty face. Old as it may be, and not as youthfully striking as before, age had dealt her a better hand than he. She was still beautiful. "I am going to the cliffs," he offered, somewhat gentler than his gruff voice should have allowed. "To find my final glory." He hoped that would bring her peace, to know that he would not be there to torment her with his very presence any longer.
It did not. The misery she had felt before nearly doubled as she stumbled in her gait, staring at him with unbelieving eyes. He was what? She knew what she had said had been hurtful, but this was Magnus! Or at least, it use to be. The lion she once knew was gone it seemed. Or... buried deep in this shell of self-hate and pity. Well, Gala was not going to give up on him so easily! Even if he had! "You have no sons Magnus, no one to carry on your legacy. You cannot truly believe that this is your time... or way to go."
The old lion merely snorted at her concern, attempting to shake it off. However, it did manage to rile up his temper, just enough for him to muster a rebuttal. "And who do you think would give me these sons? I am worthless Gala. I can't fight anymore, I can't go out a-viking with my fellows, and I'm old. My bones would ache even if I weren't crippled", he explained as gently as he could despite his growing temper, he had wounded her enough this day. "I have nothing left to offer the pride in this state, its best I die with honor than in my sleep." She should understand that, she was Stormborn after all.
Worthless? No one was worthless in her opinion. They all had the potential to grow into something more, even a lion such as Magnus. Her pace quickened as she moved to overtake him, stopping to block his path further up the cliffs. He probably could have bowled her over with a shove from his large head, but luckily he came to a stop, appearing hesitant and from what she could tell, confused. "You're still breathing, and you've got years of experience reaving. I bet you could even best some of the younger reavers, if you'd just give it a chance", her voice was firmer now. Not in a mean way, but a steady, determined manner. "We're both old, I know that, but we've still got life left to live. You, of all lions, know the dangers of reaving, who best to inform and train our pride's youth in the profession? Some hotshot upstart that's only gone a-viking once, with burning blood and a head for only glory? That's how lions get hurt or killed. True Stormborn, though proud with a hunger for glory, do not act like foolish youngsters with their heads firmly up their own arses. You, more than I, know what it takes to be a reaver, and to come back alive." She wrinkled her nose at him when she thought he was going to protest, raising her head to squarely look the old lion in the eye. "And who else do you think would give you sons? Deny me this, and you may as well jump off that damned cliff of yours," she asserted, unwavering in her demeanor.
It was a lot to take in, as the old lion had been set on his little idea. Granted, not that he was looking forward to it at all. Jumping from the cliffs had always seemed unappealing in his youth, and he had hoped for sons. The ruddy lion's shoulders slumped forward in mock defeat, and in one fell swoop one of his large arms reached out to pull her close to him. Her words had reached him alright, but it was more the love and determination he saw in her than it was the damned words themselves. "You win, my love. You've got me for as long as you can stand it." If he didn't know this to be true, he would have thought he planned it all along to happen like this. He pressed his heavy forehead to hers, watching those beautiful blues sparkle like they had in their youth. "My den or yours?"
Had she actually expected that to work, she might have given off a little surprised squeak when he pulled her close. In all honesty, she'd thought he'd put up more of a fight than this! She truly began to wonder if it had been his plan all along, and she could only manage to play a little smirk on her maw. She had waited so long for this moment, when he'd finally come back for her and break out of his shell of self-destruction. Her ears flicked back at his voice and the hot breath that tickled her fur, and it took her back to when they were young things just getting on in their adult lives. Oh the time they'd wasted without each other! "Mine, it smells better", she teased, nipping and pulling at a strand of his mane before turning down the path, with Magnus following close behind.
(Word Count: 1582)
