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The abode was ensconced in darkness. Not a single candle shown from within. To any passerby, it would seem as if the occupant was fast asleep, succumbing to the tantalizing call of slumber. This was merely a deception though. A portrayal done for the benefit of solitude. Where he could be alone with his thoughts. Obscured by the dark, his musings were less likely to be interrupted, as no light held no welcome. It was him and solely him within the inky blackness. Yet it felt like the space contained the world’s entire essence, condensed down and pressing upon his broad shoulders.

I should have finished it when I had the chance. The stallion sneered into the void. A look of disgust screwed up his features. Disgust with himself. Disgust with the constant failures. But, above all else, disgust for his brother. How could a stallion blessed with so much, as his brother had been, be so naive and idiotic? How could that mess of an heir not have seen the signs? Not paid attention to the rising tensions and shifting allegiances? His brother, so lost in his desire to be acknowledged and accepted by their father, failed to ever realize exactly how much of an impact his selfish ways had. If Polaris Frost had been more attuned, if he had been less impish, then perhaps things could have been different between them. It was a big “if,” however.

Sigma Rime had always resented being second born. The spare to Polaris Frost’s heir. The one who could only ascend should something happen to both their father and Polaris Frost. To be certain, his status was never explicitly stated in such terms. It was sweetened with words of encouragement and bolstered with praise. Nobody dared to contradict the sparkling, flower-coated version. It was insulting really. Sigma Rime knew his place and knew it well. He also knew there were ways to become more than simply the spare. Which was why he filled his days with more productive things than his brother. Where Polaris Frost was perceived as the carefree, loveable mischief-causing brother, Sigma Rime developed the persona of the quiet, studious, well-behaved one. A guise he carefully cultivated throughout his foalhood.

He was nothing if not patient. Even as his anger towards his brother grew, he understood that he could not act on impulse. A rash act could bring about the opposite of what he strove to achieve. Instead, he observed, waited, listened, and planned for the perfect opportunity.

WC: 418

Yes, it should not have been long before his status as spare became heir. It should have been settled within the week. As with all matters where a slight had occurred, the Holmgang should have taken care of his problem. After all, Polaris Frost was, for lack of a better descriptive, a lover and not a fighter. He could defend himself if needed, but Sigma Rime had no doubt that the Raven Guard would prevail in the end. They would do what he could not. They would end his brother’s life and catapult him to a greater height. The beauty of it had been that none of them were aware of this fact.

But then…THEN, on the eve of the Holmgang, Polaris Frost had shown his cowardice. Instead of facing the challenge, he fled from their home and into the lower lands. Sigma Rime could remember well his rage upon hearing the news. It had taken every ounce of control he possessed not to lash out at the messenger, no matter how much he had wanted to snatch the other’s tongue from his mouth. He could still feel that immense rage bubbling beneath the surface of his skin. Just a hair’s breadth from boiling over and causing him to lose control. As he feared, the gods had shown their fickle nature. His golden opportunity, his careful planning, it had all gone to waste in the end.

By rights, he should have laid claim to the throne by this point in his life. Under normal circumstances, given his advanced age, the Alpha would have already abdicated, passing along the title to the next generation. To the shock of many, his father refused to do so. Boreal Dust declared his unwillingness to proclaim Sigma Rime as heir as the incident with Polaris Frost had remained unresolved. Should the elder brother return and partake in the honor fight, then and only then could he affirm the next Alpha. Sigma Rime had silently screamed at the injustice of it all. How could a carefully cultivated plan go so drastically wrong? Killing his father was out of the question. Dealing with his brother was one matter, but even he had certain morals and ethics to uphold. Yet with Polaris Frost gone from the herd, the likelihood of him becoming the heir had dwindled to nearly nothing. Or so he initially thought.

Once more, the gods toyed with him, blessing him with a most unusual encounter. He had been wandering the outskirts of the herd’s territory when he happened upon a traveler. This traveler was no ordinary sort. It took some doing but, through their discussion, he learned that the other’s trade was not what one would call…pleasant. An assassin for hire who had been seeking their latest quarry in the mountains. Sigma Rime recognized a gift when he received one. After pointing the direction where he knew the quarry to be, he offered the assassin the chance at another, well-compensated job. Thus, the hunt began.

Sigma Rime currently had four assassins after his brother. Four hunters whom he hoped were as proficient as they professed themselves to be. So far, none had delivered on their promises. Polaris Frost still roamed the lower lands of the Kawani. By now, he might have even fathered children, which would add another level to this game he played. He had been thorough, however, making certain the assassins kept an ear out for such news and acting accordingly. Sigma Rime furrowed his brows. He flexed the muscles in his pawed feet, scraping at the dirt with his claws. “You can run brother, but you cannot hide forever,” he whispered. “I will find you and any children you may have, and I will see to your end. The spare WILL BE the heir. This I promise.”

FIN

WC: 635