Neverwinter Forest starshine

the glade, bathed in soft hues of pale gold and silver from the rising sun, was a serene haven in the stillness of winter. sólhárr stood tall at its center, his massive frame commanding against the backdrop of frost-dappled trees.

he tipped his head back, the sound of his howl cutting through the quiet like a blade. it was low, deep, and resonant, a summons meant only for one. @Iruna.

the glade held its breath, waiting, as his lone eye scanned the treeline for her arrival.

sólhárr.

as she approached, the glade unfolded before her, bathed in the gentle light of the rising sun. frost clung to the edges of the earth, sparkling like tiny shards of silver, and there he stood—sólhárr. his massive frame, powerful and commanding, seemed almost otherworldly against the serene backdrop of winter’s embrace.

íruna slowed as she entered the glade, her presence quiet but unwavering. her lavender eyes met his lone gaze with a steady confidence, her tail swaying lightly behind her as she came to a stop a few paces away.

“you called for me,” she says softly.

íruna, sólhárr rumbled, his voice carrying the weight of the earth beneath them, steady and resonant. his golden gaze swept over her with quiet approval as she approached, her confidence unmistakable.

you have proven yourself exceptionally, he continued, his tone even but filled with an unspoken pride. your dedication, your skill—it does not go unnoticed. forneskja thrives because of wolves like you.

his tail shifted once, a gesture of finality to his words. you should be commemorated, honored to sit at my table as laeknir. it is a role you have earned. what say you? his gaze remained steady, awaiting her response, though his posture conveyed he already knew her answer.

íruna halted before him, her lavender eyes lifting to meet his golden gaze. his words settled over her like the first snowfall of winter—unexpected but not unwelcome. she stood steady under his scrutiny, her confidence unwavering, though the faintest flicker of emotion softened her sharp features.

“sólhárr,” she began, her voice even but carrying the weight of gratitude. “it is an honor to serve forneskja. to be entrusted with such a role…” she paused briefly, her tail swaying faintly behind her, “is something I do not take lightly.”

her gaze shifted momentarily to the frost-dappled glade around them, the beauty of the land a silent reminder of all they worked to protect. when her eyes returned to him, there was a resolute strength in them, one that mirrored the pride in his own.

“i accept,” she said simply, her tone firm, though the faint curve of a smile softened her response. “i will continue to serve, with all that i have, for forneskja and its future.” her words were a promise, spoken without hesitation, as sure and steadfast as the land beneath their paws.

it is good, sólhárr rumbled, his voice a deep resonance that carried across the frost-laden glade. his lone golden eye rested firmly on írúna, the weight of his words matching the gravitas of the moment.

you will not falter. the gods have chosen you for this path, and their will is clear. forneskja must have the finest laeknir, one whose skill surpasses all. his gaze swept across the glade briefly, as though to remind her of the weighty future that rested upon their homeland.

you will study, learn, and become unmatched. every wound you heal, every soul you mend—it will be in their name. in our name. his tail flicked once behind him, a brief but telling motion of his resolve.

he took a step closer, his imposing frame casting a shadow over her smaller form. írúna, this is your purpose. the gods will see to it that you succeed. as will i.

a brief pause, then his voice softened slightly. are you prepared for what lies ahead?

“i will not falter,” she said firmly, her lavender eyes lifting to meet his lone golden one. the weight of his presence, his belief in her, was a grounding force, and she would not shy away from it. “the gods have my devotion, as does forneskja. i will honor this path with everything i have.”

she let her gaze drift briefly, following his across the glade, taking in the quiet beauty of their home. it was a reminder of what they all fought to preserve—what she would dedicate her life to protecting.

when his shadow fell over her, she did not flinch or waver. instead, she tipped her head back to look up at him, her voice steady but resolute. “every wound, every soul,” she echoed, her tail giving a faint flick behind her.

“in their name. in yours. i will not disappoint you, hárkonungr.”

her conviction resonated with him, the kind of strength that came not from size or force, but from a deeper well of purpose. his trust in her, forged by her unwavering dedication, was not something he gave lightly, yet it sat firm in his chest now.

good, he said simply, his voice like the low rumble of thunder across the glade. the word carried more than approval—it was a bond, a promise that he believed in her. his gaze swept over her, taking in the steadfast resolve etched into her every movement.

you have their will, he added, his tone solemn, a nod to the gods who watched over them. and mine.

he stepped back, his massive frame cutting a striking figure against the winter horizon. with a flick of his tail, he turned toward the heart of forneskja, trusting that she would follow in her own time. she was more than capable, and for that, he would rest easy.

íruna dips her head deeply, a gesture of respect to her hárkonungr, her lavender eyes briefly closing as she acknowledges the weight of his trust. when she straightens, her resolve feels sharper, more defined, as though his words have carved something new and solid within her.

she falls into step behind sólhárr, letting the winter air fill her lungs, her breath forming soft clouds in the crisp glade. her lavender gaze lingers on him as they walk, his powerful frame silhouetted against the frost-laden trees. a quiet fire stirs in her chest—not born of ambition, but of the purpose she now shares with him.

“the gods shine on you, hárkonungr,” she says softly, her voice steady and reverent. “i feel their pride in the winter sun, watching over you with strength.” her eyes flick upward briefly, the pale light of the season filtering through the trees, before resting back on him.

“himinráfn sees your choice in the seiðkona and approves. the sky raven watches over you both." her tail swishes happily as she walks alongside the larger man.

sólhárr’s gaze lingered on the frostbitten horizon as írúna spoke, her words a quiet but steady melody beneath the rustle of the glade. her reverence for the gods and their supposed favor stoked a tempered pride within him, though his features remained stoic. the gods had always been fickle beings, weaving their blessings and punishments in the same breath. he could only hope their favor would endure.

may it remain so, he rumbled at last, his voice low but carrying the weight of his belief. his lone eye shifted toward her, studying the conviction etched into her delicate features. she was steady, as he had hoped, and her faith gave him a faint spark of reassurance.

if the himinráfn watches, let it guide us both, he added, his pace unchanging, though his tail flicked once in quiet approval. the road ahead demanded much—of them both. but for now, under the winter sun and the gods’ gaze, he could trust in the strength of those who walked beside him.

the himinráfn guides, but it also watches, she replies, her tone calm but firm. it tests us as much as it blesses us. we must be ready for both. her gaze flickers briefly to sólhárr, catching the faint glint of his lone golden eye before returning to the frost-dappled path ahead.

the winter sun catches on her silver and blue coat as she continues, her voice softening but losing none of its conviction. the gods demand much of those they favor. strength, resolve, sacrifice. but it is through those trials that we prove ourselves worthy. you, hárkonungr, are already their chosen. the himinráfn watches because it sees what you are capable of.

sólhárr walked in contemplative silence, his lone eye casting a glance toward íruna as her words wove through the frost-kissed air. her guidance was steady, a compass pointing him toward what he already knew but had strayed from.

you are right, íruna, he rumbled at last, his voice low and steady like distant thunder. her calm conviction was a mirror to his own wavering faith. i have been favored, yet i have been lax. that must change.

he slowed his stride briefly, as though the weight of the gods' gaze had suddenly become heavier. his gaze rested on her for a moment longer, a flicker of respect glinting in his golden eye. faith is not only words but deeds. i will not falter again. the himinráfn watches, and i will not disappoint.

his steps resumed, purposeful now, each one a silent promise to the gods above.

íruna watches sólhárr as his stride slows, her lavender eyes unwavering as he speaks. she nods slightly, her tail giving a faint sway as she matches his pace once more.

the gods are patient, hárkonungr, she says. it is not weakness to waver.

her gaze drifts briefly to the frostbitten horizon ahead before returning to him. it sees you, sólhárr, as do your people. and we follow because you do not falter for long.

she exhales softly, the mist of her breath curling into the chilled air. together, we carry the gods’ will. we will not fail them.

sólhárr halted his steps, turning slightly to face iruna. golden eye gleamed with something between amusement and sharpness, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

together, he echoed, the word carrying a teasing lilt as he stepped closer, the weight of his presence as unyielding as the winter around them. his gaze bore into hers, an intensity that seemed to strip away the cold entirely.

then it is also your task to bring life to forneskja, iruna, he murmured, his voice low but firm, laced with the faintest edge of mockery. you must choose a husband. the gods will not wait forever, even for you.

he tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening as he watched her reaction, the frost around them forgotten in the heat of his words. his tone softened a fraction as he continued, a rare flicker of gentleness behind the teasing.

sögumaðr needs a wife.

@Rokkur for visibility

íruna halts. leaving snow to scatter in her wake, weak to her large frame. eyes of icemelt narrow slightly as she looked upon the fireman, sharp as the winter wind. his teasing smirk is met with a scoff, and a quick swat of her tail to his flank.

the gods’ will is not something to be rushed. their plans unfold in their time, not ours.

still... she cannot deny that, despite her reluctance to wed, the sögumaðr is strong. and a man of strength is one that íruna does not turn eye away from. a man of the gods, devout in his faith. her eyes tail away from sólhárr and into the distant ice of neverwinter, a soft hum upon her lips.

the sögumaðr is wise, she knows this, and side glances at the man she moves alongside. and i am a woman of my gods; should they will it, i will heed. but perhaps it is he who must prove himself. her chin lilts upwards, a sort of defiance in her stare.

she is a woman of drákensvágr; her love is not easily won, nor is her paw.

sólhárr let a deep rumble of amusement resonate in his chest at her defiance, his smirk growing sharper. the chill of her gaze, the challenge in her posture, only kindled the fire within him. stepping closer, his broad frame brushed against hers, the warmth of his golden pelt striking a stark contrast to the icy night surrounding them.

íruna, his voice dropped lower, his words coaxing yet firm, like the steady beat of a war drum. the gods speak through us, and their will cannot wait forever. with your children, the next gods will walk among us—seiðkona's, mine, the blood will remain as it should. their strength will be yours, their light will be mine. together, we make forneskja unbreakable.

he hoped his intent was clear. their children would be entertwined, bringing forth future for forneskja's longevity.

she is begrudging, now. but her eyes slide over her leader as he walks at her side, pressing his fur of fire to hers, and she relents. his words settle heavy in the quiet night, and yet they do not weigh her down.

so this is no choice. it is the will of the gods, spoken through the strength of her hárkonungr. his will is fire, through strong jaws and strong teeth, to be heeded. íruna swallows her sigh and turns gaze to the man, head high and strong.

you are right, hárkonungr, she says softly. there is new strength in her now. in strong shoulders, in strong hips and legs. she moves as one with the man, shifting through the snowy canvas of neverwinter's midnight. they should both be sleeping, now, and yet here they are.

discussing the future.

she wonders if he has already spoken to rokkur about this. she wonders if this was already planned, without her knowledge, and only just now brought to her. she feels the bitterness of a woman scourned, to be left out, but it is merely assumption and she turns kind eye on her king. so instead of wallowing, she asks: does sögumaðr know of the god's intention for us?

she was strong, as the gods intended her to be, and he would not see that fire extinguished.

he leaned closer, brushing his fur against hers with deliberate warmth, the bite of winter tempered by his presence. his golden eye glimmered as he turned his head slightly, his voice low but resolute.

sögumaðr will know in time, he assured her, his tone like the steady crackle of a hearth. just as the máni speaks through him, it speaks through me. it guides this path. it is not ours to question, only to walk.

his stride slowed, his head dipping as he placed a kiss against the curve of her hip. the gesture was neither timid nor overbearing, but a mark of reassurance, of something ancient and sacred.

this is the right path, íruna, he murmured, his voice softening for her alone. he straightened, his towering form beside her as he began walking again, the snow parting beneath his steady steps. through you, the gods will bring life to forneskja. through us, they will forge the future. and it will be stronger than either of us can imagine.

íruna listens, her breath curling faintly in the cold air as she absorbs his words. the warmth of his fur pressed to hers tempers the bitter sting of being left out of this decision. so she walks beside him, the eyes of a strong woman fixed ahead, but her thoughts churn like restless waves.

so it is not hers to question, only to walk. the gods' will, spoken through him, her hárkonungr. she swallows the sharp edges of her pride, forcing herself to see the greater picture, the one he paints with such assuring strokes. his touch, the brief kiss against her hip, catches her off guard, and she glances at him, her expression unreadable for a moment. there is reassurance in the gesture, a reminder of something sacred, and though she does not melt into it, she does not pull away.

her paws kiss into the snow beneath. sögumaðr will know, then, she says, to no one but herself. calming the restless spirit within.  and so it will be. i will be the wife to him that the gods demand of me. strong in body, strong in spirit. her tail sways once, deliberate, as she lifts her chin. i will find pride in our daughter, who will lead with wisdom and the will of the gods. she who will rule alongside the beserkr son of you and seiðkona.

this is the path they have chosen. she must believe it so that she does not cripple beneath the weight of such prospect.

her words resonated in the stillness between them, painting a future that neither could escape—a future forged by gods and men.

you see it now, he said softly, his voice low and deep, a rumble against the cold expanse of the night. with your children and mine, with callyope, the tapestry of forneskja will grow strong and unyielding. woven with blood, faith, and the will of the máni herself.

he brushed against her once more, his massive frame grounding hers, a silent promise of solidarity, of shared burden. they were bound by this purpose, by the weight of what lay ahead.

íruna, he murmured, his tone carrying both a command and an unspoken respect. the gods have chosen well. trust in that. trust in what we will build together.

with that, he looked ahead once more, the moonlight casting long shadows against the snow. his stride lengthened, deliberate and steady, as he led them forward into the quiet, endless night. the conversation faded with their steps, carried away by the wind, leaving only the promise of what was to come.