Arrow Lake abbatia

chastity and purity. no one could accuse them of either. and germanicus no longer wanted the careful sidestep of their meetings. the eagle saw his shortcomings written in stone across the halls of his heart and veered away from it into the comforting brusqueness of the exquisite craving wrought in him.

meadow whispered. her voice was the promise of a future which he felt squandered now.

and ever in his mind, arsenio's words reverberated, tearing open the scar tissue of longheld control. if there was redemption in her, he sought it now, surrendering to the roseate thrum of her banner-shout in the air.

not a ruler. not a father. a nameless man who acted in the selfish reclamation of title and of revenge and maybe a silver taste of what that beating heart wanted to do, how it wished to act in disconnect from his flesh and spirit.

his mouth moved over her brow, her ear, her throat. he wondered if reyson had touched her in this way and felt a darkweave satisfaction to do so now. 

for she belonged also to arsenio's care and to the vale.

his embrace was tightening; a wave of warm breath filtered into her hackles as he tried to gather himself with a ragged breath.