All the raging calls of challenge had brought up the ire within Aithne of recent days past. She did not like such unrest - it did not bode well for the inhabitants of Molodian. Change was to be expected, she knew, and change could often be a good thing. Still, it is not something that she much cares for. Life had fallen into a rather peaceful sort of state since the arrival of Praetor and Vesper to Iromar, having left Glorall upon the defeat of their father. Perhaps Eden's win had sparked the ruling bones in those who otherwise had been content before. Not long after that came the call for Coza but then the reassuring one that he had fought off his assailant. Then the fall of Diveen, one most unexpected, and quite unsettling. She had made it her mission upon reaching the throne of Iromar to close old wounds. To forgo such inbred hatred that the past bloodlines had been so keen on and that was all well and good but now where did it leave her? She was in a rather sticky situation, she thought, for she knew the Angel bloodline was not a small one. It ranged from coast to coast and they would not doubt chomp at the bit to reclaim their title. So she had given Covet the words that had lodged within her: they were under a treaty for now until he could prove that he could hold Diveen. It wouldn't do to become an alliance member with him only to see him ousted before winter and the Angels looking to her with some sort of vendetta for her involvement. Ah, the intricate maneuvers of diplomacy - where was Raven?

Not long had passed and the call for Asteraia had come. She had eagerly awaited the results on that one, not caring the least for the Queen Jaidah since her short stay in Iromar and her subsequent run. If a wolf cannot have the decency to stay as she was told, even for a short while, and turn her teeth upon one of Aithne's very own, well then she wasn't worth much in the eyes of Aithne. Who knew what would become of her now? It is while in such musings that she walks sedately through her territory, her body merely desiring the movement as a way to relieve any hidden tension. She wondered if she should go out and seek Raven then she wondered if she should confide such things to Praetor. Would he think her weak for her worry? A ruler too guided by her emotions?

A flash of white draws her emerald eyes and immediately her hackles rise, two lines of russet along with the obsidian of her fur. A flash of her own white teeth is warning for her mind trips instantly back to Jaidah, a most recent thought, but even as she zeros in on Isola with her body posture dominating that the females voice calls to her most desperately and the sun reveals the black and red of her fur. Aithne blinks in sudden stunned realization that this is not Jaidah but Isola, fallen Queen of Diveen, one she had not quite met in any way that might be considered worthy.

Yet Isola rushes to her like one who has known her for so long and it is strange for Aithne who is so reserved, her ears falling back in a way that is singularly puzzled by the sudden entrance. She should be furious at the trespassing of the female yet there in the eyes of Isola is a desperation and in her voice a plea for help. And Aithne, as stiff as she might be, cannot ignore such worry. Heyel, she asks, and for a moment Aithne is confused. She is not the most well versed wolf in the land of Molodian and it takes her a moment to remember such a name - the head of the Angel bloodline. Heyel, the bringer of war, or some such nonsense that had once been common place. Clearly father to Isola, a worried child adrift in this world without her family.

"Isola," she replies in her hoarse manner, slow and methodical as she tries to think through all of this. "No, I have not seen this Heyel, although I can't say I know well what he looks like. I'm assuming something of your appearance but there have been no new wolves to enter Iromar in the past season. Was he not with you when you left Diveen?" Her voice softens, questioning but still firm, now her mind turning to ways to help ferret out this old wolf who apparently couldn't see well anymore. What would such a wolf do after all he had earned was taken away? "Surely he didn't stay behind...?"

Six - Empress of Iromar - fated for Praetor

aithne