Cersei wondered if he had expected to ever meet her again. Then again, she suspected as such – though, likely much sooner than now. As it were, they stood before one another wearing skins far older than they had first been when they had met in Glorall all those years ago. She had been a princess then, a disgraced one but one nonetheless, and he had been a conqueror, a usurper, her alpha in name. He had likely expected to meet her soon after then, likely calling out for him on the sands of Glorall with battle in her blood and blood on her mind. Yet, she had never returned. She had simmered, but the simmering had subsided, and she had lived out her years elsewhere as somebody else. Even when she had returned, finally, she had not intended to lay any claim to the shores she had been raised on. Yet, she had always expected to meet him again, nonetheless.

And so, they had met. Unexpectedly, sure, but that was to be expected, at least in Cersei’s mind. She hadn’t sought him out, but she had simply known they’d meet, after all. Where, she could not say, and yet now she stood near him beneath the shadows of the crags by the Ruieze river, its snake-like curves cutting through the autumn landscape with a hiss of turbulent water. She was thankful for that sound – it gave her something to focus on, to ground her, otherwise she might have simply stared for hours.

Instead, she composed herself. Hell, she even offered him the slightest bow of respectful greeting, as one might expect any wolf to offer a known leader. In return, she was surprised to find him just as amiable, though she knew his eyes were wicked with thoughts she’d likely never know. Tesseract had possessed that same look, but his face had always lacked a certain something that she saw in Eden – a threat, unspoken but ever present. Even now, she thought, when our bodies grow weary.

"Eden, it has been some time,” she said simply, offering the slightest of grins. Polite, sweet, just as a princess ought to be, no? But she kept her eyes on his, alive with her own cunning. "How fares Glorall?” Beneath her skin, she could feel her blood run hot, but she made it simmer. It was easier to simmer, better. Cersei had spent years learning to control the fire she had been born with, and she had no intentions on bending beneath a wolf like him.