The Shore King (how strange to not say prince?) was restless, even as the sun set and the moon rose into the night sky. It wasn’t the sort of feeling that was from unspent energy. The long twisting line of the borders had made for a full day’s trek at the slow pace his leg afforded him. The pull of the sands, the heat of the sun; no, his restlessness was certainly not from that. Nor was it from his lack of company. Halcyon was always present. Even now, he stood next to the mare as their two children lay resting at their hooves. Fritjof let his blue eyes caress her pretty face, wishing that he could draw his lips lightly across her jaw instead. But he would not wake her.


To keep himself from it, Fritjof stepped away from the sleeping figures. Drifting from the shadows of the vegetation and out into the silver wash of the moon upon the shore. In the silence it afforded him, aside from the gentle lapping of the sea, Fritjof’s thoughts now ran unchecked. Was he failing them somehow by doing this? He was sure someone else would do a better job of being the Shore’s King. Someone who was not bound here, as if they were locked in a cage. The hitch in his step from his crooked leg feeling more like a ball and chain. For all the entitlement and bravado that Fritjof liked to display, inside he was just a boy grasping at being a man.


He should have noticed just how far he had walked. Especially when he crossed the borders of the neighboring territory. But his mind was too wrapped up in his conflicting thoughts. Until the voice of another broke through his own mental words, making Fritjof halt immediately in his tracks. Head lifting, his dark blue eyes glinted with the moonlight as he looked around for the one responsible. Everything was unfamiliar, and with his nose flaring to drink in the surroundings scents, he realized his mistake. He supposed he should turn around and head back home, but then the voice spoke again, and Fritjof knew he could not.


Moving forward again, Fritjof finally spotted the young mare. Her body glowed like a ghost, while the splash of color upon her skin looked like blood. He wondered if she would be angry that he was here. Visiting at this hour was certainly not mannerly. “Do you know what you are looking for, to know when you do see?” his deep baritone voice broke the silence, though he spoke gently. Fritjof keep some distance between them, waiting to see how his approach was taken before going any further.