Gyrfalcon's Keep son of a sinner

rusalka had not come to these wilds with ambitions beyond stepping out of the ever encompassing shadow of older half-siblings and the man that had sired him so severe and as ice cold as the northern seas.

he feels her lean more firmly into him and the commander feels the roots he's begun to grow here, nurture, sink ever deeper. mooring him here. to her, to their children.

and in the soft want for more, and the soft vow that followed the commander of the warriors adds 'husband to the queen' to his list of hearthborne titles.

he lifts his head to press his muzzle against the top of her head for a moment; though brief, the touch intimate, exposing a side of him that was prior reserved for their children. it is a relief to share it with her, to slowly tear apart his fortress brick by brick to share what affection had unintentionally been growing for her since their first encounter.

at her invitation, he tips his head back and lets out a howl that starts low, changing in tempo to harmonize with her own song.