Neverwinter Forest starshine

she is begrudging, now. but her eyes slide over her leader as he walks at her side, pressing his fur of fire to hers, and she relents. his words settle heavy in the quiet night, and yet they do not weigh her down.

so this is no choice. it is the will of the gods, spoken through the strength of her hárkonungr. his will is fire, through strong jaws and strong teeth, to be heeded. íruna swallows her sigh and turns gaze to the man, head high and strong.

you are right, hárkonungr, she says softly. there is new strength in her now. in strong shoulders, in strong hips and legs. she moves as one with the man, shifting through the snowy canvas of neverwinter's midnight. they should both be sleeping, now, and yet here they are.

discussing the future.

she wonders if he has already spoken to rokkur about this. she wonders if this was already planned, without her knowledge, and only just now brought to her. she feels the bitterness of a woman scourned, to be left out, but it is merely assumption and she turns kind eye on her king. so instead of wallowing, she asks: does sögumaðr know of the god's intention for us?