Sunset Valley mine to hold

I apologize its so long, explored some of him <3

Astier remained still as stone, only the gentle shift of his breath betrayed him, silver vapor curling from his muzzle like smoke from a distant fire. The wraith moved with the silence, stepping closer to the water’s edge, each motion deliberate, as if even gravity dared not weigh him down. A shadow cast in frost and thought. His gaze followed the glinting surface, but his mind wandered far from it: a kingdom not carved in ice crept through the corners of his mind. One untouched by bloodshed. Frost throne stood beneath open skies, and at its heart; the wraith and a shadow by his side. Her. A foolish dream, quickly buried.
When he finally spoke, it was low, tempered by cold reason: „Darukaal is strong,” back when they first met, the dark man recognized his scent and briefly mentioned the glacier wolves, „A kingdom of the mountain. We were shaped by cold and hardship… and we do not bend.” Faust was a wise and formidable Kaan, but this; it was not his path. He was no wild northman, no untamed brute driven by impulse, eager to claim women as conquests and scatter his lineage without thought. The blood of the Valerian ran colder than that; measured, dignified, frost-bitten and proud. Though he had not yet earned the right to sire, he knew he would not give himself lightly. Not without bond, not without oath. To him, the act of creating life demanded more than desire; it demanded intention, and marriage was no fleeting vow in his eyes. It was sacred, immutable. And he would not bind himself for anything less.
His gaze lifted from the water, meeting her briefly: „But the winds shift. The caribou hunters wounded one of our own,” his thoughts drifted, fleetingly, to Gjalla and the caribou they once hunted side by side. He could almost taste the metallic rush again; the warm surge of life as his fangs tore into its throat. Soon, that memory would find its mirror in flesh not of beast, but of man. One of the hunters would fall beneath him, and he would drink vengeance as he had once drunk blood. 
„It is only fair they pay for their mistakes. War begins soon,” though his loyalty lay with Darukaal, it was the fall of the Sun Eater that truly steeled his resolve. No man, under any sky, had the right to raise tooth or claw against a woman. That alone marked him as weak; a coward hiding behind strength he did not deserve. And soon, the weight of his sins would crush him, as all brittle things break beneath the force of justice. The wraith turned his head slightly, but did not look away from her. The chill did not touch his stare; it was not warmth that stirred behind it, not exactly. But there was something still there: a curiosity, a pull. Not enough to draw him closer, but enough to make him pause.
„I came to offer a warning. Nothing more.” Was he truly? He caught himself thinking of her while tracing the edges of Darukaal’s claim, pale gaze drifting to every shadow, wondering if she might appear again. Even in the hunt, when the thunder of hooves filled his ears and the copper scent of blood clung to his tongue, her image slipped between the chaos. A silent muse among the snowdrifts. Astier made a quiet note in the recesses of his mind: the next caribou he felled, he would offer its hide to her. A smirk curved his lips, subtle and knowing, as his tail swept once behind him, steady, deliberate, as if moved by a thought he had not yet dared speak aloud.