Shadewood the sun's blood on my hands [M]

The world-
it turned.
Every feeling abound within him, even mortality itself, seemed suspended as his heart pushed the rotation of the planet the pair stood upon. The silence- it stuck to him as though the roar of Stavanger’s Bay itself could not break through the numbed wall the ex-assassin was stranded against. He couldn’t feel himself. His face, his actions, his breathing...almost as though he was completely detached from existence as a whole. As though what he wanted to say, to do, to feel, think- as though all of it was meaningful, but not allowed for him, anymore. He felt weighed down and weightless at the same time...-
he was freefalling. It was finally over.
But it had only just begun.
His final wonder: ‘Was this what Slade had gone through? Was this what led him to become what he had? Was this how it felt?’

His dove, the sweet and serene lady, his angel, his salvation- she too had tipped over the edge of the abyss, and she took that perilous leap with him. 
Together they fell, hand in hand. 
And forever would they.
Until soon, the ground came to greet the lovers, once again.

”I do not want help.” His voice was calm, even, controlled. A mask to the insidious king within.  He hadn’t even noticed how he wound up before her, midnight chest at height with the skull of the broken and cowering queen. He hadn’t come to realize that as quickly as he had come to her presence, that the regal crown of his own had been dusted off, and lifted back atop his maned skull. But he had come to witness her gaze, her begging gaze, her gaze that sought to follow him.

Would this love story last until they no longer had? It better had. The newly born draconian would not tolerate disloyalties. That would be dangerous. Not for him, no, but for whomever thought his grasp was limited. “But should you never leave my side, I will never leave yours.” His snout traveler then, lowering the the base of her own, tucking under, pushing up, and picking her face up from the ground. His breath was miraculously cold, a sharp twin to the frosty stare that previously met her own. “I can not guarantee that even if you do leave me- that I will ever leave you.” Something predatory flowed liquid and molten through those frozen words. Something that even Kovertol himself would flick his ears back and retreat from. Something much larger was at scale, ridged with prongs that would seize, catch, and hold.
Him.

”I love you, Mrs. Eruna,” his artic breath traipsed like an iced scalpel over the most tender places of his wife’s neck.

”I will make sure you never forget that.” The Phantom brought himself to meet her ceaseless blues, a frozen sea meeting the living ocean.
Her and his children. They were his.
His.
The pack, the woods, this whole goddamn place, and everyone and everything in it-
His.

And no one would take it away from him.