Firestone Hot Springs [m] newly

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she told solharr he must come away with her at once.

he would know that the time had come upon them.

in the cold air of a winter morning, she was gone. running free beyond the woodlands they had made their home. here was hotsprings that overwhelmed the senses in all ways. warmth and smell alike.

she did not know if this would be their resting place for the days they might spend as newlyweds, but it would be the first.

sólhárr came at once, his towering form cutting through the winter landscape with urgency and purpose. her call stirred something primal in him, a blend of protectiveness and anticipation that quickened his steps. when he found her, the warmth of the hotsprings clashing with the frigid air around them, he slowed, his gold eye locking onto her like she was the only thing that mattered.

wife, he rumbled, his voice low but filled with a fierce, protective undertone. without hesitation, he closed the distance between them, brushing his muzzle along her shoulder, down to the curve of her neck. he lingered there, his breath warm against her fur, as though grounding himself in her presence.

you run so far, he murmured, his lips brushing the edge of her ear. his tone was teasing, but there was a tension beneath it, a quiet worry that he couldn’t quite hide. his broad frame shifted closer, almost encircling her as his touch remained, firm and unyielding. you’re mine, now. no slipping away.

his gaze softened slightly as he pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. you found us a place, he said, glancing around the steamy expanse. his touch lingered on her side, grounding her as much as it anchored him. this will do, he added, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, though his tone carried no doubt. it would do because she had chosen it.

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eiginmaður,

a new word! tested upon her tongue with favorable boldness now. husband she called him — she hoped! weeks had been spent learning words for his ears in his tongue. she meant now to wash them over him for pleasurable listening.

i will be yours here. i will be yours in the mountains. then perhaps once more in the field before we return home...

she leaned into him almost wishing to end the talking now. yet she found herself like a drunken poet, spilling forth each thought that radiated in the warmth between them.

i will hunt with you. i will share blood with you —

and from it new life will grow.

eiginmaður.

the sound of it pulled a low, rumbling growl from deep in his chest, something primal and possessive. his wife—his wife—claiming him in ways that no others could.

mine, he rumbled, his voice rough, frayed by the hunger that simmered just beneath his skin. the word was simple, but it carried the weight of his every thought. the mountains, the fields, the blood—she spoke of them, yet all sólhárr could focus on was her. the way her body leaned into his, the warmth that radiated from her like a flame he couldn’t resist.

he drew her closer, the tension in his body coiled tight, ready to spring. his teeth brushed the curve of her ear, his voice low and hungry. you speak of sharing blood—then let’s begin now. his lips curled into something between a snarl and a grin, the fire in his veins demanding more of her, all of her.

callyope, his everything, his always. the mountains could wait, the fields could wait. but her? never.

timeskip? <3

she can't breathe.

it is not for fear or for worry or for anything bad. it is for the overwhelming good, the way her senses seemed to open in ways she had not known before.

the creation of the world lived between them now.

they had made forneskja and now — they would make their future in blood.

she kissed him once, twice, beneath that wild woodsman grin. she welcomed him in full. in heart, in spirit, in body.

her husband.

a man meant to be such — one she trusted to make father to moon-blooded children.

yus!

sólhárr leaned into her, the golden blaze of his single eye softening to molten warmth as her kisses found him. her breath against his fur, her touch upon his skin—each one felt like the forging of something ancient and unyielding.

his love was not fragile, but he was gentle. it was the roar of a storm against cliffs, the unrelenting fire that melted steel to shape swords. she welcomed him, and he answered with reverence, with power, with everything that he was.

his calloused lips sought hers, a silent promise spoken through the press of their bodies. the woods around them seemed to hold its breath, the trees witnesses to their union, the earth beneath them thrumming with life.

they were creators now, bound by a devotion that ran as deep as the roots of the mountains. their love a hymn sung to máni, to the gods of the moon and earth, their future etched into the stars above.

and as the night deepened, forneskja held its king and queen in its embrace, their shadows melting into one as the world turned quiet.