Neverwinter Forest my undoing, oh my love,

sólhárr held her as tightly as he dared, her trembling form cradled against him as though she might shatter if he let go. his breath was steady, his strength unyielding, but her tears—her tears were a storm that his walls could not keep out.

elska mín, he murmured, his voice deep, a quiet anchor amidst the swell of her emotions. his muzzle brushed against her crown, a soft kiss to the place where her thoughts ran wild. your tears are the rivers of forneskja. they flow because you feel deeply, because you honor the spirits with your heart, not just your words.

his glacier eyes, normally piercing, softened as she pulled back to meet his gaze. the rawness there—her trust, her faith in him—struck something primal, something tender. he leaned his forehead to hers, grounding her, grounding himself.

i see you, he said simply, his words a promise. i hear you. in every breath, in every word you’ve ever spoken to me, i see and hear all that you are. and i will never shy away from it. not from you, not from this place, not from the spirits.

he pulled her closer again, if it was at all possible, his warmth enveloping her. you carry the spirits in you, call-yope. their emotions, their wisdom, their grief. and where you may weep for them, i will be the strength you lean on. this is what it means to be seiðkona and hárkonungr. we are not two halves—we are whole, together.

a pause, heavy with meaning. his voice softened, a gentle reverence now. let your tears fall, elska mín. they honor the spirits. they honor her. and they honor us.