Northstar Vale Chandelier's still flickering here.

None of this was what he had expected. Champagne eyes swept over her—noting the tremble of her lip at the admission of abandonment. Her loneliness. And then a proposal. He could have balked at that—not for the reason of complete commitment but because somehow, an inkling of old tradition pulled at him, suddenly feeling as if he had failed to be the one to sweep her off her paws and court her properly. To be the one to propose. To be the one to keep her safe.

And so he would. His form went to wrap around her, to fold her into his embrace as he only wished to absorb this hurt and uncertainty from her. He hadn’t expected marriage right away—and a part of him was nervous at the aspect, after witnessing his parents over the years. But he hadn’t followed after her just because he enjoyed her company—there was a kindling of feelings there, and there was no reason that her pregnancy meant they could not continue to explore that.

He buried his muzzle to the thick fur of her nape, breathing her in, planting kisses along the base and up toward her crown. “Is leatsa mé,” he murmured, the tongue of his father and grandfather seeping through; “Agus mise leatsa.”

He nuzzled, holding her, his nose finally trailing down toward her side and belly. “You are mine and I am yours,” he translated, feeling awe at the simple fact that life grew within her now—life they had created.