Duskfire Glacier guard

his gaze lingers on the horizon, watching where the ice meets the sky, endless and unchanging.
he thinks about her words, about the weight of them, about what they mean. he doesn’t know if he agrees, not fully, but he nods once.
thank you. it is gruff, but not unkind.
her next question makes him pause.
children.
his mother had them. his father had them. too many, scattered like seeds on the wind, left to grow wild or wither away, forgotten.
he shifts his weight, considering.
i don’t think it matters to me, he finally says. if it makes her happy, then fine.
because in the end, that’s all he wants. a wife who is happy. everything else is secondary.