Really, she had been thankful for the girl but it was an awkward thing to admit, so a nervous grin was all she could really manage in the way of a 'thank you.' No wolf wanted to admit that they'd been a little stuck in some mud and water - especially not a wolf of Cersei's age! Wasn't she supposed to be wise?

In any case, being welcomed back into Iromar made her completely forget about how messy she must have looked, and how awkward she must have been. Instead, it made her face light up into a broad, toothed grin. Even her tail waved behind her, though it was a little less charming than she might have intended as the mud slowly - but surely! - shook itself off. It didn't matter though! Your old home. Those words stirred something within her but it was the premise of being welcomed that really made her feel like her heart was aflame.

She shuffled forward, though she kept her distance for a moment as she flashed another apologetic grin - then she gave a mighty shake of her fur. She'd done her best to make sure she'd not get the other dirty too, but she imagined any wolf of the moors had long since accepted mud and mist as part of their very core. In any case, she felt a little more confident in herself with that out of the way, so she stretched her legs and moved back towards Whisper with a small bow of thanks and respect. The girl though? Well, it took Cersei a moment to really feel the way she was being looked at. When her eyes met Whisper's, she felt the intensity of her interest - the words were there, sure, but it was her eyes that made Cersei understand the weight of her question.

The Traitor King. She wondered who that might have been. Once, they had called her grandmother the Traitor Queen when she had turned away from Trenus and Heyel. Her grandmother had been the first alpha, and the wolf to begin stirring Iromar's waters towards war even before Baphomet had taken her rank from her. She had heard of...conflicts when she and Sinclair had first arrived. Her brows furrowed - had that been the Traitor King? Or another? The Darkbringer...she had heard that name when they had arrived, but wolves could wear many names.

"My grandmother was Iromar's first queen, and after her came Baphomet and Ishtar, then Andras and Lillith." Those names she did remember, though she hadn't the full knowledge of who came after Andras, or who the Traitor King might have been. Who had he betrayed? she wondered. "My father had distanced himself from Iromar during his mother's rule. It had been a turbulent place, full of pride but full of conflict too. It was during Baphomet's rule that Iromar went to war against Diveen, but my grandmother had been the one to plant the seeds when she had housed cannibals and ill-hearts alike." Cersei's lips were taut, and her heart fluttered at the words. Her father had never let Ruvindra far into their lives - he had despised one of her mates and he had come to detest her acceptance of foul-hearted folk despite his own transgressions. Cersei had come to learn just how...unusual her family had been, and she wondered even now if it might paint her in a new light. But...she couldn't see hate in the girl in front of her, not yet at least. Cersei wore few of her bloodline's colours, more pride and silliness than pride and malice. Sinclair had been a blessing in that regard, she knew.

"Baphomet and Ishtar were followers of the Demon Code, much like the Angels of Diveen and Trenus in their own right. Their Code might have become part of Moladion in time but they had dragged their grudges along with them, and that had been what drove Iromar further into darkness. At least, for outsiders. The wolves here often seemed proud, and many did not succumb to the warmongering." She had gotten caught up talking, but she felt it important to clarify - to really state history rather than let imagination's run wild. It had never occurred to her that her age had made her a historian, but when she spoke, she slowly felt it to be true. It made her grin, though she held it back. She liked to feel important - why hadn't she been sharing history more?

"Andras came next," it was easier to not feel proud or to be smile when you spoke, after all, "after Ishtar ruled for a time. Andras' mind was a place of war and blunt words, but it was his mate Lillith who had been wild. Imprints, they had been. They were brutal creatures to the outside world. Lillith was killed, by who or what I cannot say, and given to the moors, and then Andras followed her into them. After that, I cannot say for certain, but I do know that whoever had taken Iromar from Andras had not been a beast as dark as its previous rulers. Their name, their creed...I would like to know as well." She paused, her eyes intense like Whisper's own. It felt...rude to ask, but she had to for she had shared her own tale, hadn't she? "I would like to...know of this Traitor King, if you would, and what has become of Iromar since my knowledge ended. I understand if it is too much to ask, and I've already taken up so much of your time and kindness...but...this pack. This place means a lot to me. I wish to know if it's ever been freed from its ghosts."