The cries of her children leave her with a buoyant spirit not to mention the fact that the birth had gone smoothly. Much easier than those before, even her first litter so very long ago that the memory is almost dimmed but not quite lost. In this moment she gazes upon her white daughter and her black son and she feels a tightness in her chest. Her first daughter and her first son had both perished many, many moons ago, but her love for them had never faded. The scars had been overshadowed since the births of Ankh, Alexander, Alistair, and Arthfael, but nothing could erase the memory of loved ones, even those well into their time in heaven. She had done what she could to protect her children as they grew up and now they were spread across two kingdoms and she did not doubt they would become loyal and skilled members of each pack should they choose to stay. Once her time here ended - if it ended - she would venture back to them for she missed the warmth of their overgrown figures pressed against her. Ankh's paws pressing into her chest or Alexander's nose cuddling into her side.

A figure shifts against the entrance and her ears prick as pale eyes snap away from her children, fully expecting Fenrir to be there but instead finding an unfamiliar figure. It makes her hackles rise in instinctive response, her children so new and fragile at her belly, but he calms her with his tones and she observes him. The grandchild of her Heyel, her soul. That brings an unexpected sting to her heart, that aching feeling of emptiness returning along with her guilt, a guilt only Fenrir knew of. Her guilt of not being there for him when he needed her after he had been there for her.

Her ears fall back slightly in a moment of respect as well as a sort of chagrin at his mention of their respect for her. Heyel had spoken to them and yet she had thought he had kept her a close guarded secret. Maybe it was all in her head, truly, for she had always been careful to stay away from his family. She had never wanted to cause undue upset and sometimes imprints complicated things. It would seem Heyel had not much cared and she smiles gently at Hadrian as Thor squeals in his endeavors, a chuckle escaping her as she relaxes once more into motherhood. "I thank you for your offer, Hadrian. Healing is a fine profession but it seems fate has smiled upon me this night for this was the easiest birth I have ever encountered. I fear that means the raising of them will be much more difficult," she jests with a grin, glancing at them with adoration in her eyes. "Perhaps it is that Heyel has given me this painless exercise as a gift from above, what do you think?" It is a private moment shared with him as she glances back, dipping her head when he decides to leave and sighing with contentment at the children she has birthed.