Sleeping Dragon is 'i love you' a fact or weapon?

If it had not been for Seregrýn, for Drageda as a whole, she wouldn't have seen Gavriel on. Unable to provide for the Fos Goufa as she needs, it had been best to send her back to the wolves that can do the things she can't. If the escort hadn't been necessary, she'd imagine the warrior would spend his nights nearby out of duty, bound by Drageda and by his own paternal responsibilities. In the meantime, she'd taken that place until he returns to his post. Thuringwethil doesn't mind, enjoying seeing the little balls of pudge and cuteness, swell each day and their little habits yet to develop into much of a personality.

The doubt Thuringwethil has in Gyda as a leader has, for the most part, subsided. Gyda had someone to fall back on when it came to their leadership, even if they did provide a bit of a strain, and things haven't been all that different when it comes to their duties. It keeps her busy, distracted, and there's a guilted sort of relief for having not seen much of @Wildfire in a few days, no matter how much she'd drop something to spend a few minutes with her—for which gives her a little surprise.

The sun had begun to set and Thuringwethil takes her nightly stand outside the den, dismissing the wolf guarding for the day, and eventually lowers to the ground several years away. She can hear an occasional comforting word or a gentle squeak, but it comes and goes as they all alternate their sleep. With the sun sinking into the sky, Thuringwethil not quite tired, she simply rests in leisure, enjoying the time to herself as much as she can manage while she guards the den nearby.

When Wildfire approached the whelping den, a quail hanging limply in her jaws, she spotted the Heda and froze indecisively. She meant to drop the meat off for the new mother, yet if she left it at the usual spot, that would mean engaging with the commander. She could turn back instead, eat the quail herself and hunt something else for Gyda. But that was stupid, silly and selfish. A muffled sigh exploded around the feathery body in her mouth as she reluctantly slunk forward.

She came to a halt perhaps six feet from the reposing Thuringwethil, slowly lowering her kill to the ground between her forepaws. "Hello, Heda," she said amiably enough. It wasn't that she didn't like her—she had the opposite problem, of course—she just wanted to keep things businesslike and not particularly familiar, for her own sanity. "This is for Gyda," she explained, staring at the dead quail for a long beat before finally lifting her eyes to look at the Heda.

If she had hoped time and distance would dispel her feelings toward the dark woman, the yearling had been sorely mistaken. The mere sight of Thuringwethil made her bones ache with a strangely poignant longing. It left her chest and stomach feeling empty. Her amber eyes dropped again, her mouth dry as she drew in a very long, steadying breath and tried to tamp down her feelings, crush them into some sort of black hole deep inside her so she wouldn't have to experience them.

She hears the approach before the scent and turns her head to see a flame of a wolf step up to the area. Thuringwethil frowns and looks away, uncertain about their space together. Time, she said she'd needed, space, but what is enough? Would the girl let her know? Would it ever be enough? She swallows a hard lump and shakes the thoughts from her mind once Wildfire is close enough to speak.

Still, she uses her title, and where she'd once corrected her for when they were in public, she much preferred the shortened version of her name. Her frown remains and her eyes are equally diverted too. Thuringwethil points her nose in the direction of a nearby cache, finding words unable to come out of her mouth. Words built up behind her teeth but they were not the simple direction for Wildfire's purpose for coming and keeps her silence, watching her from her peripheral vision.

Thuringwethil made no reply, which surprised Wildfire for reasons she could not explain, even to herself. She should be grateful. When the commander pointed her to the nearby cache, the yearling mechanically plucked the quail off the ground and carried it there to stash. She smiled stiffly when she saw several other bits of small game still in there. The pack was rising to the occasion, despite the ongoing famine. Quickly, Wildfire made her deposit, then pivoted.

She felt torn between wanting to stay and talk with the Heda and beating a hasty retreat. She knew the latter option was better for her heart but even as Wildfire began to move away, she slowed and stopped, squinting at that familiar, lithe figure. She swallowed at the knot that formed in the pit of her stomach. You need to go, she told herself. Just say good night and go. Yet she lingered there, biting the inside of her cheek until it bled, her mouth flooding with the bitter flavor.

She doesn't say anything, and Thuringwethil remains silent, and she realizes she doesn't understand what's going on. Her confusion had remained since they last spoke but she can't force her to explain if all she wanted is to be away from her. Her absence since then has left an unwelcome home, no matter how much she can keep herself busy. Not having her friend to go and talk to, or rest nearby for a while, that she vaguely wonders if it would ever return back to normal. There's a part of her, deep down, that knows it won't.

"Mochof," she murmurs a thanks, swinging her head around to watch her go, but when she catches her gaze, she's not quite left. Standing there, waiting, stalling, expecting...? Thuringwethil can't quite tell so she shifts enough so she can face her, but still she does not stand. "Will you tell me?" she asks then, her breath lodging into her throat, "when you... you've had enough space?"

A sudden compulsion gripped her. She wanted to close the distance between them and sweep Thuringwethil into an embrace, the nature of which she wasn't entirely sure. Wildfire just wanted to be close to her, so close they fused together, moved inside each other. But that thought halted her in her tracks before the yearling could even move a muscle. The commander didn't want her in that way and the last thing on earth Wildfire would do was force herself upon someone the way Goober had forced himself on her. The memory made her innards twist and she shuddered outwardly.

As the urge disappeared, another feeling took root in its place. Even as Thuringwethil posed her question, Wildfire realized the truth of the matter. She shook her head lightly. "There will never be enough," she said quietly, mostly to herself. "My feelings aren't going to magically go away. I'm not sure I can do this, Thur," she admitted, unaware that she'd used the pet name even as her face contorted, then crumpled. "I don't know if I can stay here, after all..." She would be heartsick forever, just like she would have been brokenhearted if she'd tried to stay near Floki at Moonspear.

Thuringwethil knew, perhaps not that she will admit, that something is different. Wildfire is different, even from the beginning, that she couldn’t quite place. She’d let her get away with things she might not let another and she’d always felt softened. When it came to Magpie—wherever she may be—it was never quite the same. Tense and unsure, spurred by a hormonal rise in both of them, but with the woman missing she’d never find out. And maybe there’s a part relieved that she won’t, because here she sits with the one that had left a bitter impression in her than anyone else.

And the thought of losing her, before she found out what exactly lay hidden, before she could search for an answer, it was potentially being made for her. Thuringwethil stumbles to her feet and covers the distance, but leaves a sizable different between them. Thuringwethil could play dumb all she wants, find ways around that it is not she she feels a certain way toward. It would be easier, she knew, if it were anyone else.

“I don’t want you to go,” she croaks, distressed, but her words are maybe only half audible with a mix to hide her own feelings and give her the freedom she desperately needs. Thuringwethil can’t stand in the way, if she really wants to leave, but the very thought leaves her stomach in knots. "Why won't you talk to me?"

Only after the words left her mouth did Wildfire remember that Thuringwethil didn't remember her midnight confession. Goddamn her traitorous tongue. Then again, things were coming to a head here. She needed to come clean, to explain why she couldn't stay. And maybe, just maybe, the commander would say or do something that kept her here. There was that chance, she realized, even as the Heda stood suddenly, giving voice to match the distress on her face.

It was now or never. She needed to just lay everything on the table, clear the air and then let the cards fall where they may. The inside of her cheek still ragged and bleeding, Wildfire squared her shoulders and faced Thuringwethil. "I'm in love with you, Thur, and I'm pretty sure you don't feel the same way...?" It came out as a question, of course, but only because there really was room for wonder left there. "And that's okay," she continued hastily, lips tugging downward, "but if I stay here, I'll never be able to get over you properly." Her heart beat wildly in her chest, Wildfire trying not to hope—trying to prepare for the worst instead—and failing miserably at both.

Even with Magpie and their hormone influenced actions, Thuringwethil hardly felt her future would be different. With Magpie gone, little had changed. Since Wildfire had come to her, there had been change happening the younger leader hadn't really noticed. Their absence, however, hit her like a brick wall, and Wildfire's confession only repeated the blow once the words have hit their mark. Assuming feelings had been one thing but love? Heda's love has always been reserved for her wolves, all of them, and equally.

She knew the history of most heda's over generations and she is to learn from their mistakes and perfect where they have faltered. Love, over and over, has been weakness in some form. A lesson they never seemed to learn, a lesson she'd been sure she would.

"I..." what?

Thuringwethil swallows a lump in her throat and she takes a few steps forward. Words might not be easy in that moment, uncertain of what she wants to say, but Wildfire feeling like she doesn't care is the last thing she wants. Love stays tucked away, hidden behind the teachings of Heda, but Thuringwethil lets herself out, if only enough to assure her companion. Her nose reaches out and touches her chin, lifting her snout to hold her dignity with higher esteem.

"It'll be okay," she murmurs into the girl's fur, not quite pulling away as she buries her nose into the fur of her neck. Thuringwethil breathes in sharply, making up for the days and nights apart. The fear she might not see her lingers, but her eyes squeeze shut as she presses herself into the smaller wolf and searches for the comfort she'd gotten used to.

The commander started to say something and Wildfire's breath caught in her throat. You... what? she prompted silently, still trying to compress the hope blossoming in her chest. She began gnawing on the hole in her cheek again, her heart doing a funny little somersault before stuttering and falling when Thuringwethil said the words, "It'll be okay," and pressed closer to her.

The yearling just stood there, frozen, wanting to enjoy the intimacy of the embrace but also coping (poorly) with her mounting disappointment. She was so stupid. She should have known better. Cringing, she withdrew from Thuringwethil's touch. She shook her head, taking a backward step. A whimper from the nearby den momentarily captured her attention and she looked toward its dark mouth before dragging her face back toward the Heda.

"I can't," she stammered simply, feeling suddenly as if her bones had turned to jelly. "It's okay—you don't have to—I just can't..." And, of course, the urge to run away—to really run away, leave all of this far behind her—became nearly overwhelming. But, for once—and possibly only because her skeleton seemed to have exited her body somehow—she didn't move.

Wildfire doesn’t stay there for long and eventually takes a step back, putting space between them. Thuringwethil frowns, ears back against her skull, and takes her own step away. Her stammering doesn’t settle well with the young leader, realizing how much she doesn’t want to do this now. There are things the girl doesn’t understand, things she might not ever—things that might, ultimately, cause her to run away. The thought leaves a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach, with the knots still in place, and she thinks it might be easier to let her go.

“Wildfire,” she says quietly, trying to soothe the troubled woman. If she darts away now, she’s not sure she’ll ever see her again—did she really mean she can’t stay? Thuringwethil swallows and closes her eyes for a moment, trying to gather herself. The mewling from the den is enough of a distraction that she takes a step forward, only to encourage Wildfire away so they did not disturb the new family. “There are things that… I haven’t told you. Things that, I think if you did know, you’d understand. Because I—”

The pause lingers between them, uncertain, unfinished, because she isn’t sure herself what she wants to say. There isn't anyone around Drageda to enforce them, to encourage her to stick to their ways, but what has she done so far since the genesis of Sleeping Dragon? Defied plenty of their traditions in the make of something new, straying from the path she'd been born for.

“I have feelings, Wildfire, for you, and I’m not supposed to.”

The Heda said her name in a way that kept her grounded, the urge to flee still loitering in the background but not so great as to overwhelm her. Wildfire waited to see if there was more, ears flicking in slight surprise when Thuringwethil did, in fact, continue, admitting that there were things she hadn't told the young Sjötta. Wildfire's brow furrowed, lips parting wonderingly, a question forming on them only to be swallowed back when the commander motioned her away from the den, momentarily distracting her.

When they came to a standstill again, Wildfire faced Thuringwethil even as the quintessential words—ones she had not so secretly hoped for but nonetheless not actually expected—tumbled from the Heda's lips. The yearling's heart skipped a beat. She almost couldn't believe her ears. Could the other woman really feel the same way? Hope swelled in her chest once more. But then her brow furrowed yet again as she realized the significance of those last four words: "I'm not supposed to." The same heart that had begun to soar began to crash.

"You do?" were the first clumsy words that tumbled from her tricky tongue before, rather desperately adding, "Why?" It was meant in reply to that cursed admission, though Wildfire belatedly realized it sounded like she was questioning the commander's very feelings for her. Well, it just figured that Wildfire would pull a Wildfire at the most crucial point in the conversation.

A lot happens in a matter of seconds, Thuringwethil biting her tongue as she tries to sort through what information needs to happen first. Being new to Sleeping Dragon still, despite her successful climb in their hierarchy, she might not get the full effect of Drageda and their way of living. It differs from Gyda’s side, in a way, as they merge, but the only wolves she has to keep set up for are those from her former home. Gavriel, Rebekka, Seregryn (even in her absence). Saria.

It is to all of them that she needs to treat equally, as if they all understand.

Thuringwethil shakes her head and holds her breath, realizing she doesn’t have any real answers in the way she wants.

“Because, Heda isn’t supposed to. Our family is Drageda. There is danger, weakness, when it comes to love,” she says though the explanation may be vague. “It has never ended well when a Heda has their own family,” she adds, swallowing a hard lump in her throat. For her, she’d been too young and wrapped up in the workings of her hierarchy. With Seageda gone, and Drageda here, a whole new generation of wolves for their way of life, she’d been busy. But here stands Wildfire, opposite of her, and Thuringwethil can’t imagine a future without her.

Whether or not she imagined a life with Wildfire or if she's there, somewhere in the background, she isn't entirely sure. There's a haze over her expectations as things began to become difficult to differentiate but she knows as the future begins to instill fear within her, that it's only a matter of time before harm comes upon any of them. Wildfire could have her head cut off.

Her jaw worked as if Wildfire intended to rectify, clarify, something... but her mouth clapped shut when Thuringwethil began to explain. The little redhead listened raptly, swallowing a time or two. She felt a jab of disappointment but, the funny thing was, she understood. Actually, she couldn't agree more. And though she had no clue where that left them, at least they were on the same page, kinda sorta?

"All relationships end in breakup or death," she murmured perhaps too softly to be overheard. Okay, maybe they weren't on the exact same wavelength here but they were surfing in the same harbor or something. A little more loudly (and a bit sadly), she said, "I get what you're saying." She paused, huffed a breath, then tilted her head and voiced a question even as it came to her, "But it's not like you and I could have a family anyway. Could we...?" It was probably a completely inane question but it was begging to be asked.

In her own way, Wildfire is able to connect the logic behind it but perhaps not the gravity. The threat here in Drageda might be slim, compared to their lives in Seageda, but that doesn’t mean it could turn that way. If those wishing to destroy her are not satisfied, they could come. Or Reek’s insane cult could come for her or learn of her relationship. A surge of anxiety rushes through her veins, heart beating out of her chest until she feels like she can’t take it. Thuringwethil squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head a little, taking a step forward so her nose bumps against the smaller girl’s muzzle.

Her process is lost on Thuringwethil, suggesting that they could not have a family—it isn’t the message she’d intended to get across—when she knew that, technically, they could. In their own way. However, for fear of hurting Wildfire’s innocence, she keeps the horror to herself instead. She can protect her, she has so far; she’s protected nearly everyone. They’ve made it to the other side of the famine, a punishment Heda had given her as a lesson, but could she waste it on throwing away their traditions?

Another time, she decides to debate, and lets Wildfire lead with her own questions and Thuringwethil offers whatever answers she can: “there were all sorts of families in Seageda. There are ways for any two wolves to create their own—” If I were not Heda— "so, yes."

Even as the commander answered her, a quiet whimper from the nearby den reminded Wildfire that not all families were traditional. Gavriel and Gyda were not mates, after all. The yearling licked her lips and retrained her focus upon Thuruingwethil. She was getting way ahead of herself, in any case. She had only just learned that her feelings weren't unrequited only moments ago. This was no time to jump into alternative family planning. Still, the Heda's quiet affirmation made her heart beat a little faster for a split second.

Clearing her throat, Wildfire found herself just sort of gazing at the other woman for a second before inarticulately blurting, "Well, ummm." She still didn't have any idea where this left the two of them. She had been so convinced that none of this would ever happen that Wildfire sincerely hadn't thought of what she'd do if it did come to pass. What now? she sort of mouthed to herself even as she gravitated toward Thuringwethil, lightly touching their muzzles together and letting her eyes close momentarily.

Their breaths mingled for a few seconds before Wildfire whispered, "Is this okay?"

Her answer is enough for Wildfire but she isn’t sure she understands the gravity of the situation. Thuringwethil doesn’t know where it leaves them, what will happen tomorrow when the sun comes up and she has to go about her business. The former commander of her wolves did not have her own family, did not get to experience what it might feel like. She lived and died by her people, just as Thuringwethil is meant to, had been taught to, and here she stands in the face of tradition and ignores it.

“I don’t know,” she murmurs softly and leans her muzzle further into Wildfire’s. Her eyes close again, resting into her touch. It has been days since she’d really seen Wildfire, left in a whirlwind of confusion, that their proximity is more than welcome even if they don’t quite understand what they are.

The answer initially hurt her feelings, but actions spoke louder than words, a lot louder. The commander's touch warmed not only her nose but her cheeks (which flushed) ad also her heart (which caught, aptly, on fire). For a moment, Wildfire just kept her eyes closed and breathed, drawing in her companion's scent and reminding herself that, whatever else happened now, Thuringwethil had feelings for her too!

That sentiment bubbled in her chest, then crawled slowly up her throat and burst out of her in a quiet croon. It wasn't a noise Wildfire had ever made before; it was just for Heda. Eyes still tightly shut, she moved even closer to the larger, darker she-wolf, her nose skimming along the Alpha's snout as she swung her hips and aligned their bodies so that they stood parallel to one another. She felt the brush of soft ashen fur and smiled, eyes slowly opening.

Her ears pinned backward slightly as she found and captured Thuringwethil's gaze, her own slightly hooded now. "I don't know what I'm doing either," she quipped lightly, pausing for the space of a few held breaths her tongue darted out to taste the corner of the Heda's mouth.

Their declaration hangs between them and Thuringwethil lets the silence linger for a moment, until Wildfire shuffles a little. Her slate eyes open and she watches the girl turn to stand next to her, nose touching her muzzle with a gentle lick that the young leader leans into. The kiss is welcomed, foreign—she's never been intimate with another, closed off and put away on a pedestal—and there's a small urge to withdraw, to listen to the teachings so ingrained within her. But the night sky that cloaks them, hidden away from prying eyes, she allows herself the room to loosen up.

Thuringwethil sits down, curling her tail around her, and nipping Wildfire's cheek, further preening down her neck and shoulder.

"We need to take it slow. My wolves," she hesitates, and takes a deep breath, "the ones from my home. They will not accept this, not right away." If at all.

There's a relief that Seregrýn has been returned to Trigeda and she vaguely wonders what Gavriel might think. She knows little of Rebekka but, Saria, she worries. A wolf that has always been emerged into their culture and tradition, has had direct contact with her in Seageda and many of the other leaders. She has always followed their ways without straying, dedicated to her, but she wonders if their friendship might be tested if Thuringwethil goes against it.

And then there is Gyda while a creeping sensation of betrayal fills her and she worries what her queen might think, their history blurring her feelings.

"I don't know if they will at all," she adds as an after thought, the darkness around them hiding the frown from view. Her heart beats heavily into her chest, her eye lids heavy and her gaze gentle as she falls silent once more.

Wildfire's heart skipped so many beats—first when Thuringwethil leaned into her kiss, again at the affectionate nip, a third time when the commander spoke—that she almost grew dizzy with it. She leaned into the dark leader's ministrations with a quiet purring noise echoing the earlier croon. She could only bob her head, almost absently, ready and willing to agree to any of the Heda's terms if it meant they could have moments like this.

Besides, she was in no hurry. She still hadn't fully accepted that she could feel this way toward a woman or what that meant for her vision of a family. And her earlier words skulked in the back of her mind, always: all relationships end in breakup or death. Wildfire didn't need to rush into anything or slap a label on it. Hell, she had done that once before, sort of, with Floki, and the yearling was definitely not keen to repeat history.

She enjoyed the headiness of their shared intimacy a few more beats before letting her head clear a little to really think over what Thuringwethil had to say. She didn't want the commander to think she didn't take her words seriously. "We don't have to tell anyone," Wildfire said slowly. "This is just for us," she added, tipping her head backward to plant a kiss at the apex of the commander's brow. Maybe, if things worked out well and they decided to commit more seriously, they could go public. But, for now, Wildfire was happy with whatever she could get.

She bit her lip a little at her companion's evident worry that they might not ever be accepted at all. Wildfire instantly and inwardly refuted this fact; surely, they could win the blessing of the Sleeping Dragon wolves? But Thuringwethil would know better than her, so the Sjötta said nothing, just turned and suddenly buried her face in the juncture between the Heda's sloping neck and peaked shoulder, smiling into her ashen fur, happy with her odds.

While Wildfire enjoys the elation of the situation, Thuringwethil feels an abnormal amount of anxiety; something she doesn't often feel. It had been generations since the commander had their own family, with no success, and her teachers had always kept the thoughts away. A machine, an entity, for her wolves. She has to provide and keep them safe and her attention on a specific wolf shouldn't mean more than another.

However, looking at Wildfire, she knows the ship has already sailed. She can't imagine how the others divided their attention, and at times she didn't believe it. Thuringwethil certainly favored some wolves over the other but their treatment had remained the same: fair and just.

Stashing the thoughts aside as Wildfire presses into her, she wraps her self around the smaller wolf and nuzzles into her, tightening the embrace. The other understands, to an extent she supposes, but the gravity of it weighs heavily on her own shoulders. Wildfire's good intentions on keeping it between them worries her just as everything else, hiding away their affection when others can freely show it. A weighted sigh releases from her and simply nods her head, hoping the motion is obvious enough.