Moonspear love the child

She sounded very assured that nothing would befall her daughter, at least in the sense that some unfortunate creature would come to whisk her away. It humored him that she thought so, but he knew there would be a time when they thought fully for themselves. Hydra could have had any pick of suitors that could catch her attention, and yet he had won out in the end. This he wondered of from time to time, though ultimately it wasn't worth much of it.

But she wasn't wrong to think that a knave would know a knave, least of all one who had suspicions to begin with. It was not entirely in his nature to be trusting—even now, he was keenly aware of how he even held her at arm's length. Yet she never pushed for the sordid details and for all purposes in her affection, still held love for him. It was a tender moment that served to whisk him away, from ponderings and considerations, and he let a smile grace their presence.

"At least we needn't worry of such things for quite some time," he murmured. "And at least things are quiet." Strangely so, maybe, given the equally sordid past that he knew Moonspear to possess. The lull was deceptive at best and this too he did not trust, but it hardly kept him from occupying the moment he shared with Hydra.