The truth was clearer now than it had ever been: Osmanthus was never meant to be a king. He'd never been destined for that sort of life and he was certain of it after his failed attempt at ruling the Harbor. Perhaps he'd been a fool to think he could fit into such a role. He'd failed at being a warrior and protector, he'd failed his first lover by abandoning him, and so far he felt like he was failing at being a good father - what ever made him think he would succeed at being a leader?

He was wrong to think that he could change himself enough from the bloodied beast he'd always been to be worthy of that title. He'd thought he could fit that mold but no matter what way he tried to bend he could not do so without feeling as if he were going to break. And so he decided it was simply easier to abdicate his throne, leaving the Harbor for any wayward mare or stallion to find and make their own. With Honeycutt and Tiare and Anso in tow he said his goodbyes to Atlantis and ventured again into the unknown.

Eventually their wandering hooves brought them to Luthien, and it was there that the group chose to settle for the time being. Perhaps good fortune would favor them and they would find a place to call home under the rule of a generous king or queen. It would be nice to have a place to raise his daughter without fear or trouble. He only wished he could have both of them here.

It was hard not to wonder what became of Vesper and their daughter. The otherworldly woman had flitted in and out of his life so briefly that it felt like she had hardly been there at all. When the desert-bred stallion had come calling after their battle, Vesper had taken Daybreak with her. And so the former king was left with nothing to remember her by but sepia-toned memories that continued to fade as time went by. Was Daybreak even with Vesper anymore? he wondered. Had the invisible terrors that tormented her during the night finally been driven away by age and wisdom? There were so many questions that Osmanthus feared would remain unanswered for some time to come.

Besides, it hardly mattered anymore - what good was it to concern himself with a mare he had little chance of finding again, when he had his lovers by his side and his daughter at his heels? They were what mattered, and Osmanthus knew he ought to remember that if he didn't want them slipping away, discontent with his wandering mind and inability to leave the past where it belonged.

A call somewhere to Osmanthus' left echoed through the dark forest and pulled him from the tumult of his thoughts. He swiveled his broad head towards its source, golden eyes settling upon a great black beast that metamorphosed from the shadows, sea-slick coat glistening in the dim light. He was a fair bit shorter but the way he carried himself made up for that, the proud curve of his neck and the determined gleam of his similarly-colored eyes denoting confidence and purpose. For a brief moment Osmanthus wondered if he had just come face-to-face with the king, but as his nostrils flare to drink in the stranger's scent he realized this was just another vagabond, the smell of salt clinging to him.

"Hello," the once-was king called out a simple greeting, ears tilted forward to form a golden halo around his head. He shifts to face the stranger more fully, tail flicking gently against his hindquarters as he takes a few steps closer, then pauses. "If you're lookin' for the king, m'sorry to say you're in for disappointment, 'cause I ain't him."

Somewhere in the back of his mind a tiny voice echoed: 'No, you're nothing.'