Raven's Watch raven's watch

he huffs, a light, airy laugh.

a queen with no throne. a mother with no children. the gods would appear to be against us.

ironic, how he finds the sardonic, grim humor in that. calloused as the north that has raised him, there boils a belly laugh from the man. thick, a shivering rasp against her bared throat before he raises his head yet again.

then the gods have piss-poor aim. he lifts his head only slightly, enough to look at her fully, the red of his eyes softer than any other creature has ever witnessed. he takes her in,

a starving man.

you are still a queen, blackfell projects into the world, crown or no crown. makes no difference to me. his stalwart shoulders flex as he squares himself upon where they perch, and casts his eyes forwards, above the territory he has found for them to reside.

he seeks her eyes now, that winter-flame pale stare. if it is a mother you wish to be, then you’ll have them. ours, if that’s your choosing. or I will go back north and drag your stolen ones home myself.

he touches her nape with the softest breath. the gods may be against us, but blackfell crownore is not.