bittersteel ; d1 cb ; fin

War has always been in your blood.

Petulant tantrums of childhood morphing into the battle cries of men, the anger in your bones is nothing new. Th heat raging under your skin spurred from father and foe, often one and the same. Because for you, blood has never meant family.

You're a distant echo of the man who cast you aside, but you can't be accounted for bad taste. Men and women, gold and silver, changing from cold stars and lipstick bruises to flower petals and butterfly wings. Hardly a sentiment, because to you fondness is a foreign thing.

Look at your father, a different wife every week, and how can you ever hope to feel love?

( My captain. My king. )

Damon. Darkfire blood, the love of a brother, dripping into the holy water that is your salvation. Your excuse. A namesake and a mind equal to your own. The firing squad stood like an omen and you watched a blonde head from the back of the crowd, shoulders drawn tight with the weight of a damned family. You push and strive for action, grooming egos and pointing fingers. 

( You know that Brynden betrayed me, what makes you think he'd spare you? )

A rivalry that's run bloody and long, you can't remember a time when Brynden was ever your ally. He stole Shiera from your arms and you stole a eye from his socket in return. All's fair in love and war, let no one say you are weak.

Surviving on harboured spite and the promise of revenge, nursing a scorned pride that was never repaired. You crave loyalty after being cheated, burns and battle scars soothed by a following. Vengeance runs in your blood, bitter steel hidden under molten gold.

Not a good man, but a mighty one.