it has been a bit of a stretch since he had last been able to take his leisure in properly doting on his mate, though a few times were especially memorable, to say the least. his brothers often teased him for it, though only seamus had yet to brag of his fertility as yet and it sounded as though none of them were slacking, either.
they never had, when they had any mates to speak of at least.
even when they had taken mates at the command of his father to meld in with the pack of the nanruans, they had not shirked what old moladion treated as a male’s duty to their bloodline and pack. women were encouraged to be fickle, though not disloyal once their choices had been made. it is for this reason that it will be good neirin died before he realized the extent to which church’s heart was swayed.
presently, he was woken from his dozing in a rather comfortingly close-to-spirane thicket in the woodlands. or, rather, as close as one could be when having first to pass through mecor or go around the bowl of the valley. her voice had many varying levels of earnestness, and even more joy than he had any right to expect when she called to him considering the rather poor state of his presence in regards to sticking near to her as he would have liked to. it felt redundant - like his son’s dislike and the queen’s subsequent agreement was perpetuating a cycle of being unable to be a father he had been intent on stopping.
but if she was happy, there was a knot in his stomach that told him he must not get his hopes up. not - at least- until he could be sure she was not simply happy to be free enough to come to find him.
that is when he noticed the sound of the approach was swifter than he would have liked her traveling, listening to how the brush is positively infuriated with her trouncing of them.
“I am in the pine copse!” he shouted, listening as the trouncing of underbrush suddenly was sounding as though it had turned in his direction rather than passing him by.
and then there she was. postively aglow.
as one more learned my say was salubrious.
oh, yea. there was no face quite like that face. he had seen it so often before.
this was the first time he could be unadulteratedly happy for it. no mate to command him to leave with her where whatever children would come of their amorous pursuits. no brothers to insist the child would be better without a stoic bore of a father. no torn allegiance. this was his doing, as much as this was her doing, and they would go through it together.
“my life-bond,” he greets with an encouraging smile, not wishing to ruin her news by telling it to her before she could tell it to him. he might be old enough to recognize the appearance of a mother well along, but that didn’t make him rude enough to steal a mother’s thunder… instead he was rather content to wait while he thought of the various game trails that was nearest to spirane and that he could otherwise hunt for her on. “are you quite well?” he asks instead.
FENRIR
the dragonborn ; of scotavia
male | 17 years | 37 inches | 150 pounds
tactician of the fantastic four | mate of natu
father of : abel, alexander, alistair, ankh (x natu)
sire of : weylin (x charlemagne), taliesin (x doe)
|
