Northstar Vale i don’t understand us, you should find your way home

forward dated to the 7th at night

Well here he was again, back in that familiar dome. He knew he'd be back in the end and he had prepared for the emotions that would assault him. Nothing could prepare him for how he felt when he actually stepped into the vale.

Cupid couldn't breath. He wanted to cry, or scream, or run. Any blissful feeling that was present before was gone within a second. This was a prison in which he could not escape from. Looking over the land, knowing freedom was just beyond these walls, made it all the more torturous.

Deep breathes, he couldn't break down now. He was at the bottom of the vale where most of the courtiers roamed and he didn't want to be spotted by any of them. A bit of Mal's scent was still intertwined with his fur, and that would make lying about his whereabouts much harder. Cupid fell into a brisk stride

i hope you don't mind me & melkor!

at some point during the thick of melkor's patrols night has stolen the heavens, painting it is masterful strokes of velvet navy blues and deep violets, dusted with starlight and besmirched with glow of sugared moonlight. the frostborne warlord finds patrolling the borders protected by the fortress of mountain teeth a bit useless he walks them all the same, strengthening them despite being protected by the wombwalls of the sunspire. all in all, though he personally favors the colder climates of the taiga, the vale was not a bad place to call home.

and in truth, home is found within the arms of the fey queen and in the them that the pair intend to build.

with his patrol wrapped for the night; the moon is nigh high in the sky, melkor heads deeper into the heart of the vale. the path he treads is fresh-lain by a ( biologically ) female in the tell-tale throes of heat. he smells it upon her trail — that intoxicating and spiced scent that is all too familiar to the ansbjørn; subconsciously he follows it, interested more in the unfamiliar musk of male that interlaces so arrogantly with it.

it does not smell of any male within courtfalls ranks and the male musk and what it means is nigh unmistakable. quellcrist had come from such a union ...not that melkor could claim to be much of a father to his daughter, for even when they'd travelled together it was hard to enforce that role upon her when she had so clearly looked to another as her father.

outstepping his rank as valitúrë is not a tactic that is remotely new to the tundrian; but he justifies it here and now as a security risk courtfall ...and does that not fall within his role here? does andraste know of this? he ponders as he comes across the other wolf of whom he has not formally been introduced to yet. the other courtfallen's brisk stride only heightened melkor's suspicion that union was not blessed by their fair fey queen and glacial gaze locks upon the other as a low chuff meant to intercept leaves melkor's lips.

Busted. Cupid halted in his tracks, closed his eyes and held his breath. Who had caught him at his weakest point? Andraste? The old woman? Oh for the love of all that's holy don't be her.

He spun around, expecting to see the hag with a dissapointed frown on her face but.. nothing was there. He squinted and looked over everything again until he spotted cold blue eyes staring back at him. No wonder why he'd missed him at first, the man melted into darkness. Well apart from his mane, and those eyes, and the scars. Cupid liked scars.

What?

the other courtfallian halts in their tracks, spinning 'round to face the tundrian; though a small near inaudible chuckle slips from betwixt melkor's lips as the other's gaze appears to flit all around before finally settling upon him. not realizing he was standing so wholly in shadows and takes a few steps closer; inadvertently only strengthening the scent of heat coiling off of the woman and by extension the unfamiliar and unmistakable ( for of course, he would know ) musk of man and seed.

❝been enjoying yourself, hm?❞ though more of a statement and much less of an actual question. it prickles uncertainty in him. would the stranger she coupled with come showing up at courtfall's borders? ❝it's not safe to be wandering outside of the vale while in your heat.❞ he was far too old to speak of it with giggles, secrecy and hesitancy. if the coupling took it meant another, a too young to fend for itself mouth to feed. though not as a leader but as a warrior and defender of the borders he disapproves.

❝you should tell andraste of your coupling.❞ there was further no sense of beating around the bush. tell her or i will, lingers unspoken in the air between them.

He was caught red handed, sneaking across the vale at night with a stranger's musk still cling to his body. There was no way in hell he'd convince anyone he was doing anything else at that moment, especially not this dude. 

Alright so he couldn't lie, but what was so wrong about the truth? Sure he'd been gone for a bit and he fucked some stranger but there was no harm done. That's why Cupid was so baffled by his following statements.

What? An amused huff passed through his nostrils. What I do with my free time is my business. I don't need to tell anyone anything.

❝under normal circumstances, yes.❞ melkor agrees. ❝who you fuck is generally your own business.❞ so crass; so very like arturo. ❝but in your heat ...that scent you're giving off,❞ a twitch of his tail is given, black leathery nostrils flaring. ❝those urges — you might very well end up with child.❞

it feels a bit ridiculous to melkor to be explaining this to an adult old enough to go into estrus, but it's obvious to melkor from the other courtfallian's statement that there might be missing information about the nature of couplings and what they mean in her ...condition. ❝it'd be best to say something to andraste now as a precaution.❞ he advises despite that it wasn't asked for.

What was this, some kind of joke? Cupid began to laugh, louder than he normally did. He had slept with multiple men in the past and nothing ever came of it. What made this time any different? So what if he was feeling a little off then? It wasn't anything he needed to worry about! It wouldn't result in a baby.

He can't have a baby.

Ha ha. You're real funny man! His laughter continued. That was the only thing that had a chance of blocking off this growing dread. But no amount of noise could silence the thoughts that overwhelmed him.

You we're acting stange. You had no control. That can't just be a coincidence. He's right, Cupid. You fucked up, Cupid. You. Fucked. Up.

Cupid fell silent and his eyes dropped to the ground. Bile threatened to rise from his stomach and spew from the mouth. You're joking, he whispered, Say it. Say you're joking.

the other courtfallian laughed at him then, only solidifying melkor's previous assumption that she wasn't aware of the very real consequence of coupling in the throes of heat season. melkor let her have the moment of delusion, feeling it was a last shred of kindness in the eventual burst of the other's bubble. melkor tries to be tactful about the whole situation but doubts he's actually managing it. maybe she'd get lucky and it wouldn't take ...but given the fact that breeding season was what it was melkor doubts it.

❝i don't make a habit of joking about such things.❞ melkor says gruffly. ❝is there any chance that man's gonna show up at courtfall's borders? or his pack?❞ could it ruin chances of alliances? or alliances already forged?. melkor could only hope that this did not mean things would get incredibly messy for cupid or for andraste and courtfall.

feel free to stop him or archive!

Tell him he would not bare a child. If that were not the case lie. Let him stay blissfully unaware of the possible consequences to his actions. Perhaps if he forgot it would not happen.

There were no lies nor truths he wished to hear. Just the cold, hard reality and a dreadful future. While the Valitúrë went on about Cupid's lover, he was preoccupied with the battle in his head. Deep down he knew if this baby was born his life was over. Hell it'd be over as soon as this first signs showed. But that was an if not a when. As long as that were the case, Cupid would try to avoid anything having to do with a baby.

Without much thought, he raced in the other direction with no intentions of stopping.

melkor watches, with a mixture of sympathy and apprehension filling the barrel of his chest as he watches cupid's reactions. the other courtfallian does not appear to hear anything melkor says following his reaffirmation that he doesn't joke about such things. if cupid does, she doesn't answer. melkor calms his inner annoyance at the question being bypassed by telling himself that cupid's in shock. thus, when the other flees melkor does not call out nor attempt to stop. cupid, melkor assumes, will need time to process this information and being interrogated endlessly by the tundrian surely wouldn't help anything.

he lets out a soft sigh and goes to find andraste to inform her of what has transpired and that cubs might come out of the tryst cupid's had. not out of desire to see her punished but simply because if courtfall had young mouths to feed in the coming months it was best that their fey queen be prepared or at least in the know.