Moonspear blood [m]oon rising

Of course it would be here, for had that ever been her end goal in all this? For lengths longer than he could recall quickly she had worked him until he had returned; he desired even now to steal her away, to disappear into the wilderness to whatever whim suited them. His heart longed for this as much as it did for her. He was hardly an animal tamed, not so readily caged and kept to be put on display at will, but he also did not believe she would do the latter entirely. Tame him, perhaps, maybe cobble the many needy desires so that it seemed a perfect cage.

Or perhaps not, he reasoned at the tail end of her words. Perhaps he could twist this all in his favor—have his cake and eat it too—and all would seem right beneath the grasp he held on those silvery strands of thread. There was little in the way of doubt that she was incapable of achieving what she set out for; he had seen that passion at work, he had seen the means she had taken to justify every end.

He hummed in the rising tide of struggle to giving in, thinking solely of himself and naught of anyone else. Such may have been in the blood that they shared, albeit however muddied and distant it may have been, but not this crossed his mind. His muzzle sought to slip lower along the crown of her head, towards the coil and curve of her shoulder. Away from her face, ever aware how swift and sharp those teeth were.

"You would risk this in their land," he answered, almost questioning. Were her kin truly that gracious, or blind? He doubted it; they were all cut of a shrewd, sharp cloth, their arrogance honed to fine needlepoints and enough tact and skill to follow it through. He wanted to ask if it would be worth her life, but the words would not come. Dirge could not find the words to explain and not surprisingly found himself unwilling to force them to come. He wondered, instead, if perhaps his own parents had considered such an undertaking. Too late to ask now.

He summarized: "I want to say yes. I truly do, princess. But I do not like the uncertainties." It was a gamble, a risk to conspire and propose. He did not want the empire laid out for her there, but rather one of their own. He had once hoped to tempt her away with such a thing, to reduce that risk for others to interfere or impede, perhaps most of all avoid the swing of a vengeful blade on high. He did not spare a thought whether or not this even crossed her mind, maybe it had, but it was a very real fear in his. If enemies were oft kept closer than friends, then family most certainly sat before it all.