King Elk Forest tell me again how rome burned, how our bodies became the sun

there is some pp here, if i need to change it let me know!

She does not miss the way he hides when she calls him his king but what he does not understand is that to be king is not a position.  It is not something inherited or fought for, it is earned and she has deemed him both righteous and just.  If he is to crown himself the Morwinyon of Tindómë then she will crown him her king.

Perhaps she will tell him this when the time is right.  She very nearly begins after his first exclamation, the way he questions if she truly cares for him so.  Her thoughts surge back to their night together beneath where the stars met the sky and the long days they had spent together recruiting.  How could she not care for him?  Dare she think it? How could she not love him?

A matured man had emerged where the boy at the lake had one stood and though the work that his fruitful nation had stolen so much of his time she nearly appreciated him more for it.  These moments are what she lived for between the bustle of daily pack life!

Her prince snags her attention once more with a hurried statement that almost worries her for it would not be unlike him to delve into another, separate discussion.  What is this?  Trades?

“— would you do me the honor of being my mate?”

Aerlinn's eyes soften, the most slight smile gracing her face and then suddenly —

if he would accept it she is upon him, closing the distance between them with sure paws and an urgency she did not attempt to understand.  Wordlessly she nuzzles into the thick ashen fur of his neck, seeking what? solace? composure?

Oh, Mato!  Her breath escapes with the effort of the words she has summoned forth. I would be more than delighted.